Sword-Maker(125)
“Hoolies,” I said wearily, “what I’d give for a Southron sword.”
Del’s tone was implacable. “That, you can never have. Not while Chosa lives.”
It irritated me. “What do you mean? What if I went out and bought another sword?”
“Like the one from Sarad the swordsmith?” Del’s contempt was delicate. “Like the one you borrowed from Alric?”
I didn’t say anything.
She sighed. “Don’t you understand? He won’t let you have another. He’ll break it, like the first one.”
Alric nodded. “Or see that it’s taken away, like the Vashni sword I loaned you.”
“That was probably Nabir … I think he went to the Vashni and told them, hoping it might buy him goodwill.” I peeled dead skin off a forearm. For some odd reason the sunburn was already fading, sloughing off dead skin two days quicker than usual. I stared at the curl of skin; at the pattern of flesh and hair. “I can’t risk another Nabir. I can’t risk another—fight.”
“Another storm, you mean.” Alric’s mouth twisted. “I don’t know, Tiger—you controlled that one well enough. And if I had the ability to call up a simoom any time I wanted—”
“I don’t want,” I stated clearly. “All I want is to go back to the kind of life I had before, when I hired on with local tanzeers, or made money on circle wagers.”
“You can’t have it,” Del said. “That is over for you.”
Alric’s brows rose. “Maybe not. I mentioned to the others earlier … there is wagering at the circles. Tanzeers are hiring, so the sword-dancers are showing off. Some of the tanzeers are pitting their sword-dancers against one another for the hoolies of it. Some are settling scores. Those dances are real.”
I shook my head. “I’m in no shape for dancing. Everything hurts too much.”
Alric shrugged lightly. “That will pass soon enough.”
“Will it?” Glumly I picked at dead skin. “I’m not as young as I once was.”
“In the name of hoolies!” Del cried. “You’re only thirty-six!”
Only. She said “only.”
How generous of her.
Alric slouched against the doorjamb. “I’d bet money on you.”
“On me, or on my sword?”
He grinned a Northern grin. “A little of both, I think.”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know, Alric … I’m not so sure anyone around here will ever risk a coin on a dance with me involved. If as many people as you say saw what happened yesterday …” I let it trail off.
“You’re sandsick,” he answered pleasantly. “Do you know how many people will pay just in case you might key that sword again?”
I twisted my mouth briefly. “Maybe. People are bloodthirsty—they might like that sort of thing. But how many sword-dancers would be willing to risk their lives against a possessed sword? I’ll have no opponents.”
Alric straightened hastily and moved aside as Lena thrust immense belly between man and doorjamb. “Tiger,” she said, “someone is here to see you.”
“See me?”
She nodded. “He asked for you.”
I glanced thoughtfully at Del a moment, then gathered aching muscles and harness and made myself get up. The huva disorientation was gone, but not the aftermath of the cramping. I hurt all over.
“Shall I send him through?” Lena asked.
“No, I’ll go outside. It’s time I got some sun.” With a glance at the blatant sky, uncluttered by blanket or skin.
Outside, the day was as bright. So was the man waiting for me, swathed in blinding silks. Baubles flashed on his fingers
“Lord Sandtiger,” he said, and grinned at me happily.
Dumbfounded, I stared. And then reached out to slap a plump shoulder. “Sabo. Sabo! What are you doing here?”
The eunuch’s grin was undiminished. “I’ve been sent to fetch you.”
My answering grin died. “Fetch me? Fetch me? I don’t know, Sabo—the last time you were sent to fetch me it was to play me right into Hashi’s palsied hands … and nearly under the gelding knife!”
Some of his gaiety faded. “That is over,” he told me. “My lord Hashi, may the sun shine on his head, died two months ago. You need have no fear of his retribution now.”
I hoped not. Sabo’s master, tanzeer of Sasqaat, had proved a very inhospitable host. Of course, he claimed retribution because his intended bride’s virginity was missing, so I suppose he had a right … except no one else had ever accused Elamain of being a virgin—ever—so the so-called retribution had been little more than an old man’s jealous spite. But it nonetheless nearly got me gelded. Only Sabo’s help had freed Del and me.