Sword-Maker(152)

Alric, having moved again, now stood on my left. He smiled down at me. An odd, triumphant smile.

Smiled down at me; but we are the same size. “Wait—” I began, but the world grayed out again.

“Tiger. Tiger?”

Now from my right. “Two of you,” I muttered, “trading places with one another.”

In the circle, Del danced. But no one watched any more.

“Oracle!” someone shouted. “Show us the Oracle!”

The ululations stopped. Vashni divided and flowed aside, leaving the middle open.

“Oracle,” someone murmured. The word threaded its way through the crowd until all I could hear was the whisper. The sound of the syllables.

I squinted across the circle. Saw the hair, the eyes, the skin. “Alric,” I said in disgust, “how did you get over there?”

He sounded startled. “What?”

“There.” I tried to point. “One minute you’re over there—the next you’re here on my right—the next you’re on my left. There aren’t three of you, are there?”

Alric didn’t answer. “He’s a Northerner,” he blurted.

Northerner? Northerner?

What is he talking about?

Del and Abbu danced. I heard the steelsong threading through the humming, the shouts from everyone else.

Not shouting for the dance. Shouting for the jhihadi.

So many Northerners. So many Alrics.

I looked right: Alric.

I looked left: Alric.

Across the circle: Alric.

Hoolies, I must be sandsick.

“Aqivi,” I muttered. “It’s muddled up my head.”

My muddled head swam.

I squinted again across the circle. “Alric—is that you?” I swung my muddled head and stared at the man on my left. “Or is that you … no, neither one … then who’s that man?”

The Alric on my left looked at me out of piercingly bright blue eyes. No, not Alric—Alric’s smile is different. Alric’s eyes are different. He doesn’t cut you with them.

These eyes were cold. These eyes were icy. These eyes waited for something.

“The Oracle,” repeated Alric—the Alric on my right, mimicking everyone else.

I stared across the circle. Blond, blue-eyed Northerner: Alric was right in that. He looked a lot like Alric. He looked a lot like Del. Maybe it’s just that Northerners all look alike to me—

My mouth dropped open. “Hoolies, that’s Jamail—”

Alric’s voice: “Who?”

“Del’s brother—but the Vashni said he was dead!”

“He doesn’t look dead to me. He looks like an Oracle.”

Oracle. Oracle?

In the circle, in the dance, swords scraped and clashed and screeched.

“Wait—” I said, “wait … I don’t—this isn’t—he can’t be the Oracle … Jamail doesn’t have a tongue!”

Jamail opened his mouth and began to prophesy.

Now my mouth dropped open. “Am I awake?” I asked numbly, “or did the stud really kill me?”

Alric didn’t answer.

“Del!” I shouted. “Del!”

But Del was busy dancing. Her back was to her brother.

“Hoolies, bascha—can’t you hear? That’s your brother talking!”

That’s her brother—talking?

A flash of salmon-silver blade; the cry of magicked steel.

“He has no tongue,” I protested.

Hoolies, everything fit. A mute who wasn’t a man, but wasn’t a woman, either.

Oh, bascha, look.

Steelsong filled the air, punctuating the Oracle’s words as he lifted an arm to point.

“Jhihadi!” someone shouted. “He’s naming the jhihadi!”

The crowd behind me surged forward. Jostled, I nearly fell. A hand on my left arm steadied me, another hooked into my harness; Alric was on my right.

Alric was on my right.

“Jhihadi!” the crowd roared, as the Oracle made it clear.

The man on my left laughed. It was a wild, exultant laugh filled with surprise and gratification, and an odd sort of power. “All that money spent on a false Oracle, and now the real one picks me anyway …” He tightened his grip on my harness. “Now all I need is this.”

I knew as I turned to look. By then it was too late.

Ajani wasted no time. He locked one hand around the hilt and jerked my jivatma free, shoving me back as he moved. I very nearly fell.

He watched me out of pale, icy eyes. Saw me stagger. Saw me struggle. Saw me gather flagging wits. Saw me open my mouth to protest.

And smiled. “Samiel,” he whispered. The blade flared to life.

Oh—hoolies—Ajani—

Ajani with Samiel.

Ajani with Chosa Dei.

Who now was pointed at me.

I heard Alric’s curse. Saw Ajani’s eyes. How could I have confused them?