“Chosa Dei,” she murmured.
I tapped the pommel knot. “Right here, bascha … and growing angrier by the moment.”
Del looked down at the sword in her hand. “I have to dance,” she said. “It’s why I went looking for you.”
It cut deep. Right through flesh, muscle, belly wall, into the hidden places. For four weeks I had mostly put aside thoughts of personal things because we were busy hunting hounds, but now it was fresh again. Now it hurt again.
It was especially painful in view of the things she’d told me in Halvar’s lodge.
“Well, then,” I said finally, “why don’t you head on down the road to Harquhal, all of twenty miles south or so, where I’m sure you’ll find someone there who can give you a proper match.”
Del stared up at me for a long moment. Her expression was unreadable. For a woman with only twenty-one years to her name—and that just barely—she was very good at hiding what she felt.
Abruptly she resheathed, turned to her roan, stepped up into the stirrup. Swung a leg over and settled, gathering loose rein.
Hoolies, I thought, she’s going. After all this—after settling things at last, she’s really going to go—
Del walked her horse to mine. “I lied,” she said plainly.
Oh, hoolies, bascha … now you’ve got me confused.
“From the beginning, I lied.”
“About what?” I asked warily.
“About the dancing. About why I came looking for you.”
“Oh?”
Del nodded. “You are the kind of man—or were—who would take lightly a woman’s devotion. A woman’s admission of admiration. A woman’s need for you. You would take it lightly, and hurt her, because she would have offered something of value—the truth of what she felt—and you would see nothing of value in it.”
“I would?”
“Men,” she said. “You, once, certainly; I recall what you were like.”
“But I wouldn’t any more?”
Her face was oddly expressionless. “Not around me. Not in reach of my sword.”
I grinned, then hid it away behind an arch expression. “So, you’re saying—I think—you didn’t come looking for me just because of my dancing.”
“No.”
It brought me up short. I frowned. “No, you didn’t come looking for me just because of my dancing; or no, that’s not right?”
Del smiled. She smiled. “I came looking for you because of your dancing, yes—you are the Sandtiger—but also because of you. Just you, Tiger; now, I have said it aloud. I hope you treat it kindly.”
It meant something. It meant a lot—but I couldn’t show anything of it. Some things are just too private. “So, am I to take this to mean you’re devoted to me? That you need me?”
Del turned her horse southerly. “Don’t assume anything, Tiger. It can get you into trouble.”
Two
It was warm in Harquhal. A faint afternoon breeze blew sand at our faces, lodging grit in our teeth. For once I didn’t mind the crunching; it meant I was home again.
Del, however, did. She rode her roan in through the gates and blew her lips free of dust, brushing at blue woolen tunic and muttering in uplander. Something to do with dust and sand. Something to do with dislike. And something, I think, with a bath.
But a bath would have to wait. “Harness,” I said briefly, and headed off down the street.
Harquhal is the kind of place that attracts sword-dancers. It’s a border town, which means two cultures come together, and not always peaceably. This means there is often work for those of us who hire on to protect, retrieve, or bestow, depending on circumstances, and depending on the employer. Which means where there are sword-dancers, there are also swords-smiths and craftsmen dedicated to the art.
The man I went to see had been recommended by three different sword-dancers in three different cantinas. There is nothing at all accomplished by being hasty about accoutrements that can possibly save a life. I took my time, asked around, downed a few cups of aqivi just to reacquaint my tongue. Del made no complaint, but I could feel her growing impatience. She wanted to ask about Ajani, but I’d talked her out of it. First I wanted a proper harness and sheath, so that if we ran into trouble I’d be better prepared.
Although she did comment, eventually, that with all the aqivi in me I’d be lucky to remain standing, let alone dance.
“I don’t want to dance,” I told her. “I’d just as soon avoid dancing altogether, if I can; there’s no need to be hostile.”
“We want to kill a man. I don’t think we can avoid it.”