Sword-Maker(104)
Lena sent the two little girls—Felka and Fabiola; don’t ask me which was which—off to help Del with settling our belongings in one of the other rooms. I briefly considered lending a hand, then decided against it; Del looked pleased to spend time with the girls, even though they’d be little help, and I felt more like sitting with Alric by the fire, sharing a bota of aquivi. Lena prepared food.
Alric wiped his mouth. “Did you ever find Del’s brother?”
I accepted the bota. “We found him. We left him.”
“Dead?”
“No. With the Vashni.”
Alric grimaced. “Good as dead, then. They’re not a hospitable tribe.”
I cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “It was a Vashni you got your sword off of, wasn’t it? The blade with human thighbone hilt?”
Alric nodded. “But I put it away and got a Southron sword. I decided it was a bit too grisly to use a sword with a hilt made out of the bone of a man I never knew—or maybe a man I did know.”
“New swords,” I reflected. “A lot of that going around.”
“I noticed.” Alric’s eyes were on the harness next to my leg. “No more Singlestroke?”
I accepted a flat, hot loaf from Lena, blew on it to cool it. “Got broken in a sword-dance after we left Julah.” I blew some more, then bit. The steaming loaf was nutty, flaky, delicious. “Like you, I’ve got another.”
“But yours is a jivatma.”
Alric’s tone was odd. I glanced at him, glanced at the sheathed sword, then looked back at him. Recalled it was Alric who’d first told me about jivatmas. About Northern blooding-blades, and how rank in the North was reckoned.
“Jivatma,” I agreed. “Del took me to Staal-Ysta.”
Blond brows swooped up. Then down. “Since you have a blooding-blade, I’m assuming you are a kaidin.”
“I’m Southron,” I said. “I’m a seventh-level sword-dancer. I don’t need a fancy name.”
“But you carry a jivatma.”
Irritably, I swallowed hot bread, then washed it down with aqivi. “Believe me, Alric, I’d give it to you if I could. But the thrice-cursed thing won’t let me.”
Alric smiled. “If you enter a circle with a blooding-blade at your beck, no one will defeat you.” He paused thoughtfully. “Except maybe Del.”
“No,” I blurted.
“But she has a jivatma, too—”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, Del and I have done it once. We’ll never do it again.”
Alric grinned. “You lost.”
It stung, but only a little. “Nobody lost. Nobody won. Both of us nearly died.” I drank, then continued before he could ask any questions. “And as for taking my sword into a circle—no. Not here at any rate—this is exhibition. I just don’t think it’s fair.”
Alric shrugged. “Then don’t sing. An unkeyed jivatma isn’t much more than a sword.”
“It isn’t like that.” I accepted a second loaf. “You don’t understand. This sword wasn’t quenched properly, the first or second time.”
“Second!” Alric’s eyes widened. “You requenched your blade?”
“No choice,” I muttered, biting into the second loaf. “The thing’s a pain in the rump, and I plan to replace it. I’ll put this one away and use a Southron sword.”
“There’s a swordsmith here,” he said. “With so many sword-dancers present, a smith would be a fool to ignore such a windfall. His name is Sarad, and he’s set up a smithy out by the circles.”
“I’ll see him tomorrow,” I said, as Del came back with the girls.
A faint frown puckered her brow, though she gave nothing away in behavior. The girls joined their mother in preparing the meal, and Del came over to sit near Alric and me.
“What’s up?” I asked.
The puckered brow didn’t smooth. “Can’t you feel it? The weather is changing. It doesn’t feel right.”
Alric and I both glanced around, assessing daylight and temperature. The way the day tasted, odd as it sounds.
“Cooler,” Alric remarked. “Well, I won’t complain. After living so long in the South, I could use some Northern weather.”
“This is the border.” I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s cool, sometimes hot.”
“It was hot,” Del said, “all of an hour ago. But now it’s cooler. Significantly cooler; it just doesn’t feel right.”
I glanced up at the roof, which wasn’t really a roof. A few spindly timber rafters remained, but most had rotted and fallen in, supplying wood for Lena’s cookfire. All four rooms were in similar shape, which left them mostly open to the elements. No proper shade, but no cover, either. Alric had strung up a couple of blankets to provide a makeshift roof, but it wouldn’t do much if the weather did turn chancy.