Which didn’t give us much time; it was already mid-morning. “Does your lord Hadjib understand the challenge fully? That should I win the dance, he and his followers must leave Iskandar at once and return to their domains?”
“He understands the challenge fully. My lord Hadjib swears not a drop of blood shall be spilled, should he and his fellow tanzeers be required to leave Iskandar. And he asks in return if your lord Esnat understands his part in the challenge should you lose the dance.”
“Lord Esnat understands the challenge fully. Should I lose the dance, Esnat and his followers will join battle as Hadjib commands.”
Simple terms, spelled out. It wasn’t a dance to the death, simply to victory.
The ritual was finished. No more need for formality.
“So,” I said expansively, “care for a jug of aqivi?”
He smiled. “I don’t think so.”
I looked at the dark eyes; at the lines carved deep in his face; at the notched arch of his nose. Remembered what I’d felt when I nearly crushed his throat.
“Too bad,” I said lightly. “You might have enjoyed the time spent retelling our tall tales.”
Abbu Bensir’s smile widened. “Oh, I think we’ll have a new and better tale to tell when this day is over. And so will the rest of the South.”
I shook my head a little. “This isn’t your sort of dance. What did they promise you?”
“Any dance is my sort of dance; you know better, Sandtiger.” He grinned. “As for what they promised me? A domain all for myself.”
I blinked. “You, too?”
A silver-flecked eyebrow arched. “A popular gift, this domain. I wonder if it’s the same one.”
“They wouldn’t.”
“They might. Do you trust your tanzeer?”
“Do you trust yours? He tried to hire me.”
“Not for this.”
“No. He wanted an assassin.”
“Ah. I see.” Abbu rubbed his nose. “I think we’ve gone beyond that, judging by this dance. Was it your idea?”
I frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“You lived with the Salset. You know what the tribes are like. I’d be willing to wager you’d want to avoid a holy war, since you have a very good idea how messy one would be.”
“Messy,” I echoed. “A good way of putting it.”
“I, on the other hand, don’t really care. As far as I’m concerned, the tribes are nothing but parasites stealing water out of our mouths. It’s better left to us, what little there is of it.”
“So, you’d just as soon win this dance so you can kill a few warriors.”
“I’d just as soon win any dance, Sandtiger. But I must admit meeting you will make it all the sweeter.”
“Finally,” I said.
“Finally,” he agreed.
Which left us with nothing much else to say; both of us went away.
I sat outside in the shade, leaning against the wall. The sun climbed the sky; everyone watched it closely. Once it was overhead, we’d all adjourn to the circle.
Massou watched me. “Are you going to die?”
Adara, of course, was aghast. I waved her into silence.
“It’s an honest question,” I told her, “and I don’t blame him for asking it. He’s only curious.”
Adara’s green eyes were transfixed by the motion of hand and arm as I carefully honed my sword. “He has no business—”
“At his age, I’d have asked the same thing.” If I’d been allowed to ask anything. “No, Massou, I’m not going to die. It’s not a dance to the death. Only to victory.”
He thought about it. “Good. But I’d rather see Del dance.”
It stung a little. “Why?”
“Because she’s better.”
Del, who leaned against the wall not so far away, smiled, then tried to hide it behind a mask of cool neutrality.
I shot her a scowl, then looked back at the boy. “That’s only because when you saw me spar, I wasn’t at my best.”
Del’s tone was dry. “You’re not at your best now.”
“Sound enough for Abbu.”
Alric stood in the doorway. “Are you?” he asked seriously. “Abbu Bensir is good.”
“I’m not exactly bad.”
Del’s voice again: “But not as good as you were.”
“And besides, it’s not like I’ve never danced against him before. I’m the one who gave him that throat.”
Del, once more: “With a wooden sword.”
I stopped honing the blade. “All right, what is it? Do you want me to lose? Is that why you’re being so pointed about doubting my confidence?”