Sword-Maker(63)

“No one can even touch my sword without knowing his name, Del. Isn’t that protection enough?”

She didn’t avoid my gaze. “You drink,” she said. “You have begun to drink already, and you will drink more before the night is through, to celebrate your homecoming. I have seen you do it before.” She shrugged. “A man who drinks often does and says foolish things.”

“And you think I might tell someone the name of this sword, thereby allowing him—or her—to touch it. To use it. Possibly even to requench it, if he or she knew the proper way.”

Del’s eyes were bleak. “Chosa Dei is no longer a story,” she said. “He is a truth, and others will come to know it. You yourself have said you don’t know what the sword is capable of; would you have an enemy gain your sword and Chosa Dei all at once? Do you know what that would mean?”

“It would free Chosa Dei,” I said grimly.

“And more.” Creases marred her brow. “A man wanting skill and strength could do worse than to quench a blade in you.”

I hadn’t thought about it, to tell the truth. But now I did. I thought about it hard, scowling down at the scabbarded jivatma.

Me, at risk. Me, a source of skill and strength. The kind of “honored enemy” others might find attractive. Hoolies, I was the Sandtiger … whatever anyone really thought of me no longer mattered. I had a reputation for being very good—well, I am—and anyone who wanted to improve a blooding-blade might indeed seek me out.

“But by putting on these runes, aren’t we telling everyone who might be interested that I’m a good target?”

Del shook his head. “They say your name and who you are, yes; they also serve as wards. A man would be a fool to tamper with your sword.”

I wasn’t convinced.

Del tried again. “Chosa Dei will do everything he can to free himself. Anyone who tried to use this sword would be asking for death … or worse. Asking for possession.”

“Like the loki. Isn’t it?” I shook my head. “I thought we were free of that sort of thing forever, since the Cantéada entrapped them in the circle … and now there’s this to face.”

Del stroked a strand of fair hair behind her left ear. “It is well that only Northerners trained on Staal-Ysta understand the power of the jivatmas and how they can be used … a Southroner has no knowledge of such things. It is therefore unlikely a Southroner will try to steal your sword.”

True. It made me feel like a little better. “So—you think Northern runes will warn away unscrupulous Northerners.” I grinned. “I thought you once told me all Northerners are honorable people.”

Del didn’t see the humor. “Ajani is Northern,” she said.

“But he isn’t a sword-dancer.”

“Nor is he an honorable man.” Del’s tone was intensely bitter. “Do you think he has become what he has become through ignorance and stupidity? Do you think he has no way of learning things he considers important? And wouldn’t you consider the habits and training of a sword-dancer important, if you knew your life could be threatened by such?”

“Del—”

“Do you think he would be so foolish as to ignore a story of how a named blade is blooded? Or to ignore the chance to steal one from someone like the Sandtiger, who is a seventh-level sword-dancer in addition to a kaidin? Do you think—”

“Del.”

She shut her mouth.

“All right,” I said soothingly, “all right; yes, I understand; no, I don’t disagree. He’s not stupid and he’s not ignorant. All right? Can we go on now?” I plucked at heavy wool. “Can we go see someone about trading all this weight in on dhoti and burnous?”

“You don’t know him,” she said steadfastly. “You don’t know Ajani at all.”

No, I didn’t. And I couldn’t. Until Delilah found him.

I sighed, closed a big hand on her shoulder, aimed her down the street. “Come on, bascha. Let’s shed this wool. Then we can set about finding people who might know where Ajani’s been keeping himself.”

“No more delays,” she said. “No more delays.”

It had taken six years. Del was, finally, at the end of her patience. And I couldn’t really blame her.

“I promise,” I told her. “We’ll find him.”

Del looked me in the face. Her eyes were something to behold. Bluest blue, and beautiful, but also incredibly deadly.

And I recalled, looking at her, something Chosa Dei had said to her in the chamber. Something even Del had agreed with, speaking of herself; thinking of her oath.