“Right now,” I said, “I need to go buy another sword.”
Alric shook his head. “I have the Vashni sword. I would be pleased to loan it.”
Del waited until he went in the other room. “You are a fool,” she said. “You’re avoiding your jivatma when you should be learning to control it.”
“That’s right,” I said sharply, and bent to pick up the sword. “Here. You won the wager. The sword is now forfeit.”
“Tiger, no—”
“You won, bascha. You said I couldn’t last.” I put the sword in her hands. I knew she was safe; Del knew his name.
She closed fingers over the blade. Knuckles shone white.
I frowned. “You know better, bascha. You’ll cut your fingers like that.”
Del said nothing. Her eyes were wide, and black; color drained out of her face.
“Bascha—?” I thought again of how Sarad’s sword had been broken. “Here, let me have—”
“It wants me—”
My hands were on the sword. “Let go, Del … let go—”
“It wants me—”
“Let go—”
“Boreal,” Del whispered.
It shocked me. It turned me to stone.
“He wants us both—”
I took one hand off the sword and stiff-armed her in the chest.
Del fell away, releasing my sword, hands springing open. She tripped over the bedding, landed sprawled on her back, gazed up at me in horror.
Not because I’d hit her. She understood that. But because of what she’d learned. Because of what she’d felt.
“You have to kill it,” she said.
“How can I—”
“Kill it,” she repeated. “You have to discharge it. You have to strip it of Chosa Dei. You have to—”
“I know,” I said. “I know. Haven’t I been saying that?”
Del gathered herself, rearranged herself, remained sitting on the damp dirt. “He wants me,” she said. “Do you understand? He is a man; he is a sword … do you realize what that means?”
It was a hideous thing to consider. Bile moved in my belly.
“Kill it,” she said again. “Before it does worse to me.”
Six
Del didn’t like the idea. “It should be watched,” she declared. “It should never be left alone.”
Quietly I continued wrapping the jivatma in a blanket, wincing as I jarred my swollen little finger. We had determined it wasn’t broken, but it hurt like hoolies. Tight wrapping protected torn flesh, but didn’t do much for the pain.
I set the bundle aside, next to the wall, and rose. “I’m not taking it with me. I’ve got the Vashni sword to use; this one can stay here.”
“You saw what it did.”
“When you touched it. If no one knows it’s here, it can’t do anything.”
“The girls—”
“Lena has them well trained. They won’t come in here because they’ve been told not to, and they respect privacy.”
Del was unconvinced. “It should be attended to.”
I sighed. “Yes. Why do you think I asked about the jhihadi?”
Eyes widened. “But you don’t believe—”
“Right about now, I’ll try anything. I think this messiah is probably nothing more than an opportunist, but why not give it a try? The tanzeers will demand proof of his divinity … they’ll ask for specific signs, give him specific tasks. Why not ask him to ‘cure’ my sword.”
“Because maybe he can’t.”
“Maybe he can’t. Maybe he can.” I shrugged. “I figure it’s worth a try.”
Del frowned at me. “This isn’t like you, Tiger.”
“What isn’t? My unwillingness to agree with you, or my willingness to let the jhihadi try?”
“You’re almost never willing to agree with me; that’s not what I mean. I mean the latter. You’re the one who claims religion is nonsense.”
“I used to say the same about magic, too, and look where it got me.” I hooked arms through my harness, settled my borrowed Vashni sword. “Look, bascha, I’m not saying I believe in religion—I really don’t think I could—but who’s to say this jhihadi, if he’s real, isn’t something more than a messiah?”
“More?”
“If he’s supposed to change sand to grass, I’d say he’s got something more than divine charm going for him.” I grinned. “Maybe he’s a sorcerer. Maybe he’s Shaka Obre.”
It startled her. “The jhihadi?”
“Well? Isn’t Shaka Obre the one who once held the South? Who made it green and lush? Doesn’t it make sense that if he really did create the South, he might want to restore it to what it once was?”