Sword-Maker(151)

All right, I’ll admit it. I had thoughts of forcing Del out of the circle by claiming the dance mine; after all, it was. But just as I broke through, nearly falling flat on my face, someone told them to dance.

“Wait—” I blurted.

Too late.

It was a true dance. Both swords lay in the precise center of the circle. Abbu’s back was closest to me; Del stood across from him. He blocked her view of me, but it didn’t really matter. Now that the dance had begun, Del would see nothing at all except the man who danced against her.

At the word, they ran. Scooped. Came up. Swords flashed, clashed; screeched away to clash again.

All around us the people hummed.

Hoolies, my head hurts.

“Are you all right?” Alric asked. “You’re looking kind of gray.”

I didn’t bother to look. I knew where he was: on my right.

“Tiger, are you—”

“Fine,” I snapped. “Fine … just let me watch the dance.”

The dance was mostly a blur. Abbu’s back was still to me. He wore only a suede dhoti, as is customary, bare of legs, arms, torso.

The crowd muttered and hummed. Talking about the man. Talking about the woman. Discussing who would win.

To a man, they said Abbu.

I squinted, spreading feet in an attempt to maintain balance. “Watch his patterns,” I muttered. “Bascha—watch his patterns.”

Alric’s voice was calm. “She’s doing all right, Tiger.”

“She’s letting him tie her up.”

“Del knows what she’s doing.”

Abbu blurred into two people. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “She has to take the offensive.”

Blades clanged and scraped.

“Bascha—drive him back. Bring him across to me.”

When he moved, I could see her. She wore only the ivory tunic and a relentless ferocity. She didn’t want to kill him; she most certainly wanted to beat him beyond the hope of redemption. It was what she’d have to do in order to force his hand. Abbu wouldn’t yield unless he knew she could kill him.

Unless he knew she might.

Del’s patterns were flawless. His better still.

“Come on, bascha, watch him … don’t let him draw you in—”

She drove him across the circle. Behind me, the spectators moved, fearing a broken circle. I knew better. They’d neither of them break it.

“Yes, bascha—yes—” The dance blurred again. I tried to squint it away. “Hoolies, not now—”

Abbu Bensir’s turn to move. I nearly moved with him.

Alric’s hand clamped around my right arm. “This isn’t your dance.”

Someone bumped my left elbow. He’d come in close, moving across the outer circle, usurping the little space left to me and Alric. I reeled, nearly fell. Scrubbed my eyes again. “Two of everything …”

“Aqivi,” Alric remarked. “I should have given you water.”

I felt drunk. I felt distant. Noise increased, then receded. The clamoring hurt my head. Around me, the world squirmed. Even Alric squirmed.

“Stay in one place,” I suggested, as he moved closer on my left. “Come on, bascha—dance—”

Everything was gray. The steelsong hurt my ears.

“What’s that?” Alric asked.

I chanced a glance to my right. Waited for vision to still. “Will you stop switching sides?”

“What’s that sound?” he asked.

All I could hear was the steel. It cut my head right open.

Del broke through Abbu’s guard and stung him in the elbow. Abbu skipped back, but the trick was a telling one. The woman had drawn first blood.

“Better, bascha … better—”

“What’s that noise?” Alric asked.

I heard the clang of steel, the screech and scrape of blades. What did he think it was?

“Come on, bascha—beat him—”

“Tiger—look at that.”

All I saw was the dance. Two moving bodies: one male, one female. Both perfectly matched. Both moving easily to a rhythm no one else heard. A desire no one else felt.

Come on, bascha—

“Tiger!”

Alric’s voice got through. It stole my wits from the dance, from Del; it made me look beyond.

Across the circle from us, behind Del’s back, the crowd abruptly parted. Lines of spectators peeled away like bark from a willow tree.

Leaving Vashni in their place.

Vashni. Vashni?

“Tiger,” Alric repeated.

In the circle, the dance went on. Steel rang on the air.

The ululation began.

Softly, first; then rising. It swallowed. It swallowed the song of the swords. It swallowed the murmuring. It swallowed the whole world.

I rubbed at aching eyes. “Too much noise,” I complained.