Sword Maker-Sword Dancer 3 (50 page)

"More than domains are threatened," I declared. "Things are bad enough in the Punja for caravans, what with borjuni and a few hostile tribes. If the tribes went into full revolt, they could cut off all the caravan routes. That would destroy the domains as well as anything else." I shook my head. "Some would survive, yes, but not the small ones so dependent on trade. What about Sasqaat?

You supplement your people with outside trade, don't you?"

"Of course. Sasqaat would die without trade."

"Well, then?"

"Well, then," he echoed. "What is there to do when the other tanzeers won't listen? We can't just send them home, though it would be the best thing."

"Challenge them," Del suggested.

Esnat blinked at her. "What do you mean: 'challenge'?"

Her voice was very quiet. "This is the South, is it not? Where things in the lives of tanzeers are often decided by a sword-dance. Two men hired for a single

purpose: to settle differences. To make a ruling by the sword. To declare a single winner."

"Southron tradition," I said, "can be a very powerful thing."

Esnat stared at us. "They have already tried to assassinate the Oracle."

"If there's an Oracle," I agreed. "Ajani may have already relieved him of his duties. And I have no doubts that if he's shown himself as the jhihadi to the tribes--or is planning to--he's surrounded himself with guards." I shook my head. "Already tonight we've seen what the tribes will do to protect their Oracle. For the jhihadi, they will do worse. I don't think the tanzeers will find another man willing to risk that."

"But there are other ways. And they will look for that way."

I shook my head. "Not if a ruling based on the outcome of a traditional sword-dance won your side the chance to defy them openly, to declare the Oracle

and jhihadi safe. If all the tanzeers attended--from both sides--and agreed to

abide by the outcome, you could end the war before it began."

"If we won," he said.

"That's always a risk," I agreed. "If Hadjib's faction won, you'd have to let them do whatever they wanted. You'd have no say in their plans, even if it included assassination."

His tone was thoughtful. "But if they lost, we could send them home."

"And probably prevent more violence."

Esnat frowned. "But the tribes. No one can be certain what they'll do."

"No. But if Ajani's behind this thing, and all the tanzeers go home, he'll lose

some of his power. If they left, I doubt Ajani could keep the tribes reconciled

long enough to march all over the South capturing domains for himself.

Eventually, the tribes would fall to quarreling." I shook my head. "For all we

know, it was Ajani's idea to lure as many tanzeers as possible here to Iskandar.

Contained, tanzeers are controllable; scattered, they are not. Much like the tribes."

Esnat studied me intently. "He is playing one against the other."

"The trick is to dilute Ajani's plan. Forcing the other tanzeers to withdraw would do it. If your side won the dance and all the other tanzeers went home, half the battle would be won without a sword being drawn, except for those in the circle." I shrugged. "Maybe the whole war."

Esnat considered it. "If I talked with the others who feel as I do and they agreed... we'd have to find the proper words, the kind of words that will cause

the other tanzeers to accept such a challenge ..."

I interrupted. "Make it a formal challenge to Hadjib. If he feels he's in control of the pro-war faction, his pride will require that he answer the challenge personally. I can give you the ritual phrases that will demand an acceptance."

Esnat continued, easily incorporating my suggestion into his plan. "--then hire

a sword-dancer worthy of the dance, one worthy of the risk, because it wouldn't

be a risk, if we were certain he could win--" Brown eyes sharpened. "Will you do

it, Sandtiger?"

I smiled. I've never been the kind of man to ignore an opportunity as golden as

this one. "You already hired me to dance in hopes of impressing a woman. For that, you offered a very generous--"

Esnat didn't bother to hear me out. "Coin," he said dismissively. "For this, you

will have a domain."

Elamain gasped. "You can do such a thing?"

Esnat smiled at her. "I can do many things."

"But--an entire domain?"

He raised a dust-colored eyebrow. "I think stopping a war might be worth the cost."

Elamain looked at me. Then she looked at Esnat.

Sabo merely grinned.

May the sun shine on his head.

Later--actually, late--I sat contemplating my future, scratching idly at a kneecap. I guess the scratching was loud, because Del rolled over.

"Tiger, can't you sleep?"

"No. I'm sitting here thinking about what it will be like to be a tanzeer."

" 'Will'?" she asked ironically. "You're sure of yourself."

"Why shouldn't I be? I'm the best sword-dancer in the South."

"Who hasn't danced for months."

"I danced against Nabir."

"You sparred against Nabir."

"Besides, I've got this sword."

"Which you swore not to use in a dance."

I decided not to answer. Seemed like every time I said anything, Del had a retort.

Which meant we were back to normal.

I sat against the crumbling wall in our private room. Del was snugged up in blankets next to me, nothing much visible except a little hair, pale luminescence in the light of the moon. Next door, Alric snored. I'd tried to sleep, but couldn't; too many thoughts in my head.

Me: a tanzeer. A sword-dancer-turned-tanzeer. It seemed impossible to consider,

in light of my origins. A baby, left to die in the desert, born of people no one

knew. And then a slave, in bondage to the Salset. And finally, a killer. A man

who lived by the sword.

Me: a tanzeer. It made me want to laugh.

I stretched out legs and carefully adjusted the arrangement of my knees from the

inside, shifting tendons and cartilage through interior muscle control. I heard

the dull chatter, the snaps; felt the catch, the pop into place. I'd need my knees to dance. I wished they were a bit younger.

Del, whose head was close to my legs, peeled a blanket back. "That sounds terrible."

"You should hear the rest of me."

"I don't sound like that."

"You're not old enough to." Not an encouraging thought; except, maybe, for Del.

"Be silent as long as you can."

"I have a finger that cracks." Del demonstrated. "I broke it on Staal-Ysta."

"Hoolies, I've broken fingers and toes so many times I don't even remember which

ones." I looked at the still-wrapped little finger the stud had tried to eat.

"Except for this one. This one I remember."

"That one's not even broken." Del shifted and rolled over onto her back.

"Maybe

it will be a good thing, this domain. Maybe it's time you settled down. No more

traveling, no more dancing--no more broken bits."

Settled down. Me. I hadn't thought of it that way. I'd just been thinking about

the things that came with the title. Coin. A place of my own. A stable for the

stud. People to cook and clean. Aqivi whenever I wanted it. Maybe even a harem.

I slanted a glance at Del.

Maybe not a harem.

I scooched down the wall and stretched out on my bedroll again, pulling a blanket over me. Del lay very close; her hair caught on my stubble. I picked it

away, then moved a little closer. Thought about how it had been for so many years, sharing nothing with no one.

The question occurred again. "Bascha, what are you going to do once Ajani's dead?"

"Ask me when he's dead."

"Del--"

"I'm hunting him tomorrow. Ask me tomorrow night."

Her tone of voice was definitive; she wanted no more questions, especially about

Ajani. I watched her shut her eyes.

"Bascha--"

"Go to sleep, Tiger. You're older than me; you need it."

I lay there in aggrieved silence for long moments, trying to think of an appropriately cutting retort. But by the time I did, Del was sound asleep.

So then I lay there wide awake and wide-eyed, glaring into darkness, thinking uncharitable thoughts about the woman by my side, and snoring Alric, and sleeping Lena and the girls.

Why do people who have no trouble falling asleep think it's easy for everyone else?

It just isn't fair.

If I were tanzeer, I'd make everyone stay awake until I was asleep.

If I were a tanzeer?

Hoolies... I just might be.

If I managed to win the dance.

Fifteen

I went out to inspect the circle, and that was where he found me.

His words were mostly ritual. "I'm sent to tell you my lord Hadjib accepts Lord

Esnat's formal challenge. His personal sword-dancer will meet you in the circle

when the sun is directly overhead."

Which didn't give us much time; it was already mid-morning. "Does your lord Hadjib understand the challenge fully? That should I win the dance, he and his

followers must leave Iskandar at once and return to their domains?"

"He understands the challenge fully. My lord Hadjib swears not a drop of blood

shall be spilled, should he and his fellow tanzeers be required to leave Iskandar. And he asks in return if your lord Esnat understands his part in the

challenge should you lose the dance."

"Lord Esnat understands the challenge fully. Should I lose the dance, Esnat and

his followers will join battle as Hadjib commands."

Simple terms, spelled out. It wasn't a dance to the death, simply to victory.

The ritual was finished. No more need for formality.

"So," I said expansively, "care for a jug of aqivi?"

He smiled. "I don't think so."

I looked at the dark eyes; at the lines carved deep in his face; at the notched

arch of his nose. Remembered what I'd felt when I nearly crushed his throat.

"Too bad," I said lightly. "You might have enjoyed the time spent retelling our

tall tales."

Abbu Bensir's smile widened. "Oh, I think we'll have a new and better tale to tell when this day is over. And so will the rest of the South."

I shook my head a little. "This isn't your sort of dance. What did they promise

you?"

"Any dance is my sort of dance; you know better, Sandtiger." He grinned. "As for

what they promised me? A domain all for myself."

I blinked. "You, too?"

A silver-flecked eyebrow arched. "A popular gift, this domain. I wonder if it's

the same one."

"They wouldn't."

"They might. Do you trust your tanzeer?"

"Do you trust yours? He tried to hire me."

"Not for this."

"No. He wanted an assassin."

"Ah. I see." Abbu rubbed his nose. "I think we've gone beyond that, judging by

this dance. Was it your idea?"

I frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"You lived with the Salset. You know what the tribes are like. I'd be willing to

wager you'd want to avoid a holy war, since you have a very good idea how messy

one would be,"

"Messy," I echoed. "A good way of putting it."

"I, on the other hand, don't really care. As far as I'm concerned, the tribes are nothing but parasites stealing water out of our mouths. It's better left to

us, what little there is of it."

"So, you'd just as soon win this dance so you can kill a few warriors."

"I'd just as soon win any dance, Sandtiger. But I must admit meeting you will make it all the sweeter."

"Finally," I said.

"Finally," he agreed.

Which left us with nothing much else to say; both of us went away.

* * *

I sat outside in the shade, leaning against the wall. The sun climbed the sky;

everyone watched it closely. Once it was overhead, we'd all adjourn to the circle.

Massou watched me. "Are you going to die?"

Adara, of course, was aghast. I waved her into silence.

"It's an honest question," I told her, "and I don't blame him for asking it.

He's only curious."

Adara's green eyes were transfixed by the motion of hand and arm as I carefully

honed my sword. "He has no business--"

"At his age, I'd have asked the same thing." If I'd been allowed to ask anything. "No, Massou, I'm not going to die. It's not a dance to the death.

Only

to victory."

He thought about it. "Good. But I'd rather see Del dance."

It stung a little. "Why?"

"Because she's better."

Del, who leaned against the wall not so far away, smiled, then tried to hide it

behind a mask of cool neutrality.

I shot her a scowl, then looked back at the boy. "That's only because when you

saw me spar, I wasn't at my best."

Del's tone was dry. "You're not at your best now."

"Sound enough for Abbu."

Alric stood in the doorway. "Are you?" he asked seriously. "Abbu Bensir is good."

"I'm not exactly bad."

Del's voice again: "But not as good as you were."

"And besides, it's not like I've never danced against him before. I'm the one who gave him that throat."

Del, once more: "With a wooden sword."

I stopped honing the blade. "All right, what is it? Do you want me to lose?

Is

that why you're being so pointed about doubting my confidence?"

Del smiled. "I have no doubts about your confidence. What I have doubts about is

your willingness to recognize that you are not in proper condition."

"I'm fine."

"Fine is not fit." Del straightened from the wall. "I don't want you to walk into that circle thinking Abbu stands no chance. He is good, Tiger--I have sparred with him myself. You are good, also--I have danced with you myself.

But

if you refuse to acknowledge the truth of the matter, you've lost before you've

begun."