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Sword-Maker(145)

By:Jennifer Roberson


Esnat didn’t bother to hear me out. “Coin,” he said dismissively. “For this, you will have a domain.”

Elamain gasped. “You can do such a thing?”

Esnat smiled at her. “I can do many things.”

“But—an entire domain?”

He raised a dust-colored eyebrow. “I think stopping a war might be worth the cost.”

Elamain looked at me. Then she looked at Esnat.

Sabo merely grinned.

May the sun shine on his head.

Later—actually, late—I sat contemplating my future, scratching idly at a kneecap. I guess the scratching was loud, because Del rolled over.

“Tiger, can’t you sleep?”

“No. I’m sitting here thinking about what it will be like to be a tanzeer.”

“‘Will’?” she asked ironically. “You’re sure of yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m the best sword-dancer in the South.”

“Who hasn’t danced for months.”

“I danced against Nabir.”

“You sparred against Nabir.”

“Besides, I’ve got this sword.”

“Which you swore not to use in a dance.”

I decided not to answer. Seemed like every time I said anything, Del had a retort.

Which meant we were back to normal.

I sat against the crumbling wall in our private room. Del was snugged up in blankets next to me, nothing much visible except a little hair, pale luminescence in the light of the moon. Next door, Alric snored. I’d tried to sleep, but couldn’t; too many thoughts in my head.

Me: a tanzeer. A sword-dancer-turned-tanzeer. It seemed impossible to consider, in light of my origins. A baby, left to die in the desert, born of people no one knew. And then a slave, in bondage to the Salset. And finally, a killer. A man who lived by the sword.

Me: a tanzeer. It made me want to laugh.

I stretched out legs and carefully adjusted the arrangement of my knees from the inside, shifting tendons and cartilage through interior muscle control. I heard the dull chatter, the snaps; felt the catch, the pop into place. I’d need my knees to dance. I wished they were a bit younger.

Del, whose head was close to my legs, peeled a blanket back. “That sounds terrible.”

“You should hear the rest of me.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You’re not old enough to.” Not an encouraging thought; except, maybe, for Del. “Be silent as long as you can.”

“I have a finger that cracks.” Del demonstrated. “I broke it on Staal-Ysta.”

“Hoolies, I’ve broken fingers and toes so many times I don’t even remember which ones.” I looked at the still-wrapped little finger the stud had tried to eat. “Except for this one. This one I remember.”

“That one’s not even broken.” Del shifted and rolled over onto her back. “Maybe it will be a good thing, this domain. Maybe it’s time you settled down. No more traveling, no more dancing—no more broken bits.”

Settled down. Me. I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’d just been thinking about the things that came with the title. Coin. A place of my own. A stable for the stud. People to cook and clean. Aqivi whenever I wanted it. Maybe even a harem.

I slanted a glance at Del.

Maybe not a harem.

I scooched down the wall and stretched out on my bedroll again, pulling a blanket over me. Del lay very close; her hair caught on my stubble. I picked it away, then moved a little closer. Thought about how it had been for so many years, sharing nothing with no one.

The question occurred again. “Bascha, what are you going to do once Ajani’s dead?”

“Ask me when he’s dead.”

“Del—”

“I’m hunting him tomorrow. Ask me tomorrow night.”

Her tone of voice was definitive; she wanted no more questions, especially about Ajani. I watched her shut her eyes.

“Bascha—”

“Go to sleep, Tiger. You’re older than me; you need it.”

I lay there in aggrieved silence for long moments, trying to think of an appropriately cutting retort. But by the time I did, Del was sound asleep.

So then I lay there wide awake and wide-eyed, glaring into darkness, thinking uncharitable thoughts about the woman by my side, and snoring Alric, and sleeping Lena and the girls.

Why do people who have no trouble falling asleep think it’s easy for everyone else?

It just isn’t fair.

If I were tanzeer, I’d make everyone stay awake until I was asleep.

If I were a tanzeer?

Hoolies … I just might be.

If I managed to win the dance.





Fifteen




I went out to inspect the circle, and that was where he found me.

His words were mostly ritual. “I’m sent to tell you my lord Hadjib accepts Lord Esnat’s formal challenge. His personal sword-dancer will meet you in the circle when the sun is directly overhead.”