Sword-Maker(103)
“Alric,” I said suddenly, “how is your dancing these days?”
His brow creased. “Well enough. Why?”
“How’d you feel about going a few matches? For old time’s sake.”
He grinned, displaying big teeth. Alric was big all over. “You always beat me,” he said. “But I’ve been practicing. Now maybe I can beat you.”
I glanced across at the circles. “Shall we go find out?”
“Not now,” Lena said. “First you will come to our house. You will eat. Rest. Give us the news you have. And we will give you ours.” She slanted a glance at Alric. “Time for dancing and drinking later.”
Del came forward with a girl on either arm. The roan trailed behind them. “We are grateful for your offer. Your news will be welcome.”
I was a little surprised. I expected Del to want to go haring off after news of Ajani, trying to track him down in Iskandar, or find out if he was expected. But apparently she’d thought about what I’d said. If she was to kill the man, it would have to be carefully planned.
“Come,” Lena said. She turned and waddled away.
Alric looked at Del over the black-fuzzed head of the baby. He smiled, said something in Northern dialect, slanted an oblique glance at me.
Del’s chin came up. She answered briefly in the same dialect, then told the girls to show her the way to their quarters. Tugging on her arms, they led her toward the city. The roan trotted behind.
“And what was that?” I asked Alric.
He grinned. “I asked her if a Southroner was enough man for a free-hearted uplander woman.” Blue eyes glinted. “Speaking as an older brother looking out for a sister’s welfare.”
“Of course,” I agreed dryly. “And what did the sister tell the older brother?”
“There is no Southron translation. It was a Northern obscenity.” Alric’s grin stretched wide. “Which says something all on its own.”
Well, I suppose it does. But he didn’t tell me what.
“Let’s go eat,” I said sourly.
Alric’s eyes were guileless. “Would you like to hold the baby?”
Which gave me an opportunity to use an untranslatable Southron obscenity.
The toothy grin widened. “And here I heard you were a father.”
The stud walked onto my heels. Since I’d stopped moving, it wasn’t surprising. “A father—? Oh. That.” In disgust, I elbowed the stud in the nose and pushed him back a step. “Have you seen him?”
Alric hitched the baby higher on a big shoulder and headed for the city. “Your son? No. Just heard there was a boy here—young man, really—who says he’s the Sandtiger’s son.”
“He isn’t,” I muttered, matching my pace to his. “At least, not as far as I know.”
“Does it matter if he is?”
I thought about it. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? Maybe? What an odd thing to say.” The baby caught a handful of blond hair and tugged; Alric freed it gently. “Don’t you want to have a son to carry on your blood?”
What blood? And whose? For all I knew, it could be the blood of borjuni killers. “I figure I’m doing a good enough job carrying it all on my own.”
Alric scoffed, but gently. “A man should have a son. A man should have a family. A man should have kinfolk to sing the songs of him.”
“Northerner,” I muttered.
“And if you meet him in the circle?”
I stopped short. “He’s a sword-dancer? My s—this young man?”
Alric shrugged, frowning a little. “I heard of him at the circles. I assumed he was a sword-dancer, but perhaps he isn’t. Perhaps he’s a tanzeer.”
My son, a tanzeer. Which meant he could hire me.
“No,” I said, “I don’t think so.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. He is whatever he is.” Alric lengthened his stride and led me into the city.
Three
The building Alric had claimed for Lena and the girls was large—four rooms—but lacked a roof and half of a wall on one side. Into the room lacking most of one wall he put the carthorse and his own mount, a bald-faced bay gelding. It left two rooms vacant: he offered one to Del and me.
I’ve never been one for sharing close confinement, preferring privacy, but in some situations it’s good to have folk around. I thought it possible this might become one of them. As the city filled with strangers, trouble would inevitably break out. There would be thieves, certainly, come to prey upon worshipers, and feuds between hostile races. And if the promised jhihadi never arrived—which I believed was likely—frustration would drive impatient people to do things they might not otherwise think about. Like starting fights, and killing. All things considered, I thought Alric’s offer generous. Del and I agreed.