Sword Maker-Sword Dancer 3 (49 page)

"You don't underst--"

"I understand very well, Delilah. As you yourself said, I lived on hatred, too.

I know its taste, I know its smell--I know how it is in bed. And I know how seductive it is, how completely all-consuming... how satisfying it is in place

of a human partner."

Del's face was bone-white. "All of the things I have done were done in the name

of that hatred. I bore a daughter and gave her up... I apprenticed myself to Staal-Ysta... I killed many men--" she swallowed jerkily. "--I tried to usurp the freedom of a man I care about--and then I nearly killed him."

It took me a moment. "Well," I said, "he survived."

Del's gaze didn't waver. "If he had not, I would have allowed myself no time to

grieve. I would have set aside the pain and gone on, seeking Ajani... alone, as

before: a woman fed on hatred, sleeping with obsession--" The voice cut off abruptly. And as abruptly, came back. "Why are you here, Tiger? Why do you stay

with me?"

I wanted to touch her, but didn't. I wanted to tell her, but couldn't. I have no

skill with words. This particular sword-dance required more than what we both knew. Much more than what we had learned, in the circle with our swords.

When I could, I shrugged. "I kind of thought you were staying with me."

Del didn't smile. "You have sworn no oaths. Ajani is not your duty."

Idly, I kicked at a stone, rolling it aside. And then moved against the wall, next to Del, letting it hold me up. "I think there are times when no oaths have

to be sworn. Some things just--happen."

Del stared at me. Then drew in an unsteady breath. "You make it too hard."

I stared steadfastly across the alley. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"Of Ajani? No. I've hated too much for fear."

"No. You're afraid of what comes after."

Del shut her eyes. "I am afraid," she said, "that I won't feel the things I know

I should feel."

"What are those, bascha?"

"Pleasure. Satisfaction. Elation. Relief: Fulfillment." Her eyes opened; the tone was edged with bitterness. "The things that should come with bedding unencumbered or colored by hatred."

I frowned down at the ground. "When I was young," I told her, "I swore to kill a

man. And I meant it utterly; there was no room in my soul for anything but hatred, for anything but this oath. Like you, I lived on it. I drank it. I went

to bed with it each night, whispering to the stars the oath I swore to keep: that I would kill this man. I was a boy; boys swear things, and never keep them.

But I meant it... and that oath helped me survive until the time a sandtiger came into camp and killed some of the children. That oath made me take my crude

spear and go out into the Punja by myself to kill that sandtiger. Because I knew

that if I succeeded, if I killed the sandtiger, I could ask for a boon, and then

I would get the one thing I most wanted."

"Freedom," Del murmured.

Slowly I shook my head. "A chance to kill the shukar."

She stiffened. "That old man?"

"That old man did more to destroy what was left of my life than anyone else in

the tribe. And he was what made me survive."

"But you didn't kill him."

"No. I was sick for three days from the poison. Sula spoke for me, saying I was

owed my freedom." I shrugged. "I thought killing the shukar would give me a freedom--of mind, if not of body. It was the only kind I knew."

"But they sent you away, instead."

"They gave me physical freedom. No more was I a chula."

"What are you saying, Tiger?"

"That in the end I won. That what the old man most wanted was me dead, not free... and I cheated him."

"Tiger-"

I kept my voice quiet. "Sometimes what we want is not what's best for us. No matter how much we want it."

Del made no answer. She leaned against the wall, as I did, staring into darkness. And at last spoke. "Do you think I am wrong?"

I smiled wryly. "It doesn't matter what I think."

Del looked at me. "It matters," she said. "I have always cared what you thought."

"Always?"

"Well, perhaps not at first... not when we first met. You were insufferable then, so cocksure and Southron and male." Del smiled a little. "I thought what

you needed was a kick in the head, to knock some sense into you... or maybe castration, so you wouldn't think with your manhood instead of with your brain."

"You have no idea what you can do to a man, Delilah, when he first sets eyes on

you. Believe me, no man--no whole man--can think with anything else."

Del grimaced. "I never asked for that. It is a burden, not a gift."

"Funny," I said idly, "I've never found it a burden."

She slanted me a glance. "Vanity doesn't become you."

"Everything becomes me."

"Even Chosa Dei?"

I scowled; the game was over. "As far as I'm concerned, he has no stake in this.

He's not part of me. He's not even part of the sword; he's merely a parasite."

"But deadly. And now that we know Shaka Obre is in no way linked to this jhihadi

..." She let it trail off. "I still can't believe it. Ajani--a messiah?"

I shrugged. "He's an opportunist. Maybe there really is something to this jhihadi business--after all, it was the old holy man in Ysaa-den who first mentioned the Oracle and jhihadi--and Ajani concocted a plan based on what he'd

heard."

Slowly, Del shook her head. "I can't reconcile the man I knew with the man Bellin knows."

I gave it a moment, then spoke carefully. "Are you so sure you can reconcile him

with anything? What you remember is brutality and murder... you saw Ajani and his men kill your entire family. You saw Jamail on fire. You suffered Ajani's--attentions. At fifteen years of age--and under those circumstances--you

could never judge a man. Never see his potential for anything as complex as this. All you could do was feel... and emotions--or the lack of them--don't allow for much objectivity."

Del's tone was flat. "What they allow for is the ability--and the desire--to kill a murderer."

"And so we are back where we began." I straightened. "But maybe not."

"Maybe not? Tiger, what are you--"

"Come on," I said intently, "there's someone I have to talk to."

"Now? It's late."

"Come on, bascha. This won't wait."

Elamain, of course, thought I'd come to see her. Until she saw Del.

"Esnat," I said succinctly.

Sabo, who had greeted us at the door, went at once to fetch his master. This left Elamain standing in the room swathed in the silk of her hair as it poured

down the front of her nightrobe. Delicate feet were bare. I found it oddly erotic; then recalled that to Southroners, any part of a woman was, since she hid it under so much.

"Esnat?" she echoed.

"Business," I said briefly. "You may as well go back to bed."

Elamain flicked a glance at Del, then looked back to me. "Only if you're in it."

"Don't waste your time," Del suggested. "He is a man, Elamain, not a tame cat...

and I, unlike you, believe he has more sense and integrity than you give him credit for. Teasing and tricking a man is no way to win him."

Elamain's eyes widened. "Who is teasing? Who is tricking? I hide nothing of what

I want. No more than you do what you want, wearing a man's weapon--"

But she didn't get to finish, because Esnat came into the room.

He'd been asleep and was not yet fully awake. He blinked as he saw us, pulled his robes into order, raised brows at Elamain's presence. Thin dust-colored hair, now unencumbered by a turban, hung lankly to narrow shoulders. The spots

on his chin were worse. I realized all over again I was supposed to dance for this man, so he could impress a woman.

Except his courtship might have to wait.

"I want honesty," I said. "Why are you here?"

Sabo, Elamain, and Esnat stared. It was not what they'd expected.

"Why?" I asked again. "Sasqaat is clear across the Punja. It's a small domain.

Why would you come all the way to Iskandar? Why, for that matter, would any tanzeers come? What's in it for them?"

Something flickered in Esnat's eyes. Now I knew I had him.

"Don't waste my time," I said. "You're a tanzeer, and not a stupid one, no matter what you've led Elamain and others to believe. The masquerade is over, Esnat. I want the truth. Then I'll give you mine."

Esnat glanced around. Then gestured at cushions and rugs. He sank down on the nearest one even as Del and I found seats. "The Oracle," he said.

Elamain, who had opened her mouth to protest the situation, now closed it. A crease marred her brow. Clearly Esnat's answer was unexpected and baffling; she'd believed they'd come to Iskandar for another reason entirely.

Esnat gestured irritably, "Oh, Elamain, sit down. It would do no good to send you to bed--you'd only listen at the doorway. So sit down and keep your mouth closed; maybe you'll learn something." He glanced now at Sabo. "You, too, Sabo.

You know this man better than I."

Elamain sat. Sabo sat. Esnat looked back to me.

"You view him as a threat," I said. "All his foretelling of a jhihadi has every

tanzeer frightened he might be telling the truth."

Esnat nodded. "There is no doubt the Oracle has roused the tribes. When word came he was foretelling the coming of the jhihadi here in Iskandar, no one could

believe it. But the tribes did, and they left the Punja en masse. That made us

nervous."

"So you came up here to kill him before this jhihadi can appear."

Esnat shook his head. "I don't want to kill him. I think that would touch things

off. There are other tanzeers who believe as I do, and we want to avoid a holy

war, not start one by killing the Oracle. We came to Iskandar hoping to convince

the others."

"The other tanzeers want war?"

He shrugged. "Hadjib and his followers consider it unavoidable. They believe nothing will calm the tribes now, unless the Oracle is killed. Without a leader

to unify them, the tribes will fracture again." Esnat scratched his chin, leaving red streaks. "They have brought as many men as they can hire, and are hiring more. They fully believe they can smash this rebellion before it occurs--or else consume the tribes in war." He grimaced. "These men are accustomed to absolute power. They have no conception of religion, or what it can do to unify men... even desert tribes."

Hadjib. Hadjib. Somehow I knew the name... and then I recalled how. Lena had told me about a tanzeer who'd come looking for me. Now I knew why.

"But you do understand it," I said. "You understand, you and a few others, what

could happen."

Esnat didn't hesitate. "It would be a bloodbath."

"And you don't want that."

"No. Such a thing would be harmful." Esnat frowned, glancing briefly at Sabo, Elamain, Del. "The tribes are no threat to us if they remain as they have been

for decades: insular, independent races with no specific home, simply traveling

about the South. But if they unite in a common goal motivated by faith, they become the greatest enemy we could know. They will gladly die in the name of their jhihadi, believing what they do is for divine favor... that sort of fanaticism can destroy the South. For us--for everyone--it is better left the way it is."

"The tribes might not agree."

Esnat shrugged. "They have been content with their lives, as you well know...

had the Oracle not appeared, they would not now be here."

"They believe," I said quietly, "this jhihadi will change the sand to grass."

"It doesn't matter," Esnat said. "You and I know such a thing cannot occur."

"Magic," Del said quietly.

Esnat glanced at her. He assessed her quickly, then smiled. "You have your own

share of magic, bascha, and so does the Sandtiger. But surely you must see what

it would take to alter the South. I don't think such magic exists any more, if

it ever did."

"Never mind the magic," I said. "There's something else we have to think about."

I shifted on my cushion. "Esnat, what would you and the others say if I told you

there was no jhihadi?"

He smiled wryly. "That we are all of a like mind. But what good will it do?

Hadjib and his followers don't care if the jhihadi is real or not."

I leaned forward slightly. "What if I told you a man was behind this holy war,

but not a true jhihadi? Merely a man, like you and me, but a very clever one.

A

man who has very carefully manipulated the tribes into believing he is the jhihadi, so he can gain power."

Esnat's eyes widened. "A single man?"

"A single Northerner with a gift for inspiring others."

He sat stunned, thinking about it. Thinking of what it could mean. "But the magnitude of it..."He let it trail off. "It's impossible."

"Is it? Think about it. A man hires another and calls him an 'Oracle.' He sends

him out to a few of the tribes well-primed with the kind of words that would appeal to nomadic peoples. This jhihadi, the Oracle says, can change the sand to

grass, so that the tribes will know comfort again. The tribes will know power again."

Esnat said nothing.

"After a while, the tribes themselves carry word throughout the Punja; eventually throughout the South. Bit by bit by bit this 'Oracle' seeds his ground, and eventually it takes root. Eventually it bears fruit."

"One man," Esnat murmured.

"Ajani," I said. "A Northern borjuni--a man who burns very brightly."

Frowning, Esnat rubbed his chin. "Hadjib wouldn't listen," he murmured. "We have

tried, all of us; they ignore the wisdom we offer. They are angry, powerful men

unwilling to think of compromise when war is another way." He stared blankly at

me. "They want this war, Sandtiger. They want it contained in Iskandar so no domains are threatened."