Sword-Maker(123)
“I have some,” Garrod said, and took Adara and Massou with him.
I found it somewhat discomfiting to be discussed as if I were not present, but since basically I wasn’t—only my spasming body—I didn’t bother to protest. I just lay there tied up in knots, trying to breathe in and out through the cramping of midriff and back.
Alric, catching Del’s twitch of the head, herded Lena and the girls back into the other room.
“Bascha—I can’t—breathe—”
Del moved the sheathed sword aside, out of the way. “I know. Try to relax. Try to think about something else.”
“You try it.”
Her tone softened. “I know,” she said again.
It took effort to speak an entire sentence. “Has this—happened to you?”
Del was busy trying to knead out the worst of the cramps. Trouble was, I was cramping all over, and she only had two hands. “Not like this,” she answered. “A bit, yes, the first time I invoked my jivatma. But never again, and nothing like this … this is the worst I’ve ever seen.”
Trust it to happen to me. “If these swords are supposed to be so helpful—” I broke it off and ground my teeth. “Oh, hoolies … this hurts.”
“I know,” she said yet again. “It must be because of Chosa Dei … if it were only the jivatma, it wouldn’t be so painful. I don’t know what you did, but it roused too much of the wild magic. And now you’re paying the price.”
“I don’t know what I did, either.” Oh, hoolies, it hurt. Sweat ran off my body, stinging sunburned skin. “I just—I just tried to stop Chosa Dei from taking Nabir’s body—from trying to take mine.”
Del dug into my neck, trying to loosen a locking jaw. The pain was exquisite. “You changed the weather, Tiger. You called up a storm.”
She sounded so certain. “How do you know?” I demanded through locked teeth. “You weren’t even here.”
“Because with mine I call up a banshee-storm, which is known only in the North. Your storm is a samiel … a hot desert wind blasting straight out of the Punja.” She paused. “Don’t you understand? You have the strength of the South in your sword. The strength, the power, the magic … your sword is the South, just as mine is the North.”
It took some thinking about. “Since when—ouch—has this been so clear to you?”
“Since you used the sword against Chosa in the mountain.”
“So why wait until now—ouch! … hoolies, bascha, be gentle … you sent Garrod for huva?”
“Yes.”
“Huva weed is a narcotic.”
“Yes.”
“It will muddle up my head.”
“No more muddled up than it is when you drink too much aqivi … ah—here is Garrod now. Lena will brew some tea.”
Lena brewed tea. Del kneaded. I sweated and cramped. By the time the tea was ready, I was ready for anything if it meant the pain would go.
“Here.” Del held the cup. “It will be bitter because it hasn’t been properly brewed or steeped as long as it should be, but drink. It will help.”
It was worse than bitter. It was horrible. “How long does it take?”
“This concentrated, not long. Try to relax, Tiger.”
“I think I’ve forgotten how.”
She worked the rigidity of my shoulders. “Give it a little time.”
I gave it time. I gave it a lot of time. And then when I wasn’t looking, the tea snuck up on me.
“Bascha—?”
“I’m here, Tiger.”
“The room is upside down.”
“I know.”
“And you’re floating in midair.”
“I know.”
“And I’m floating in midair.”
“I know.”
Pain diminished a step. Relief tapped at my consciousness, but I wouldn’t let it in. I was afraid to let it in. If I let it in, and it didn’t stay, I’d never be able to bear it.
Drowsily, I said: “He unmade Nabir’s feet.”
“And tried to unmake you.”
“He wanted Nabir’s body …”
Her hands still worked sore flesh. “Do you see now, Tiger, why you must be vigilant? Why you can never set it aside, or sell it, or hide it, or give it to anybody? Why the sword is yours to ward?”
I didn’t answer.
“You are right to seek out Shaka Obre. He may be the only one who can aid you … the only one who understands Chosa Dei well enough to defeat him.”
I slurred everything together. “If things keep going the way they’ve been going, Chosa may get to know me well enough … he wants my body, you said?”