Sword-Maker(93)
“You have no right to ask that.”
“Hoolies, you mean you did?” I jerked the stud up short. “I was only joking, after all your natter about needing focus … do you mean to tell me you went off with Abbu last night?”
Del’s tone was deadly. “I did not lie to you about requiring a focus. And if I have told you plainly I desire solitude, would I then go to bed with Abbu?”
It slowed me down only a moment. “Maybe. I’m not sure any more.”
“No.”
I felt a little better—I felt a lot better about Abbu’s lack of success—but was still a trifle disgruntled about her accompanying him. “You’ve got to admit, I’ve got a right to be concerned.”
“No,” Del retorted. “It’s not your place.”
That got my back up. “Why is it not my place? We’ve spent the last—what, eighteen months?—together, in bed and out, and you say it’s not my place?”
“It’s not your place to ask whom I choose to sleep with,” Del declared, “any more than it’s my place to ask the same of you.”
“But you can ask,” I said. “You’ve been the only woman in my bed since—since—” I frowned. “Hoolies, see what you’ve done? I can’t even remember.”
“Elamain,” she said dryly.
Elamain. Elamain—oh, Elamain.
Del saw my expression. “Yes,” she said, “Elamain. That Elamain.”
How could I forget? How could any man forget? Her appetite was insatiable, her skill beyond belief, her stamina unbelievable, her imagination unparalleled—
“Of course,” Del remarked, “she did nearly get you killed.”
The dream evaporated. “Worse,” I said—with feeling.
“What could be worse than—oh. Oh. Yes, I remember. She almost got you gelded.”
I shifted in the saddle. “Let’s not talk about that. Besides, what did you expect? You weren’t giving me anything. Why shouldn’t I sleep with Elamain—”
“—especially since she didn’t give you much choice.” Del smiled. “Tiger, you may think other women don’t know, but we do. I know very well what kind of woman Elamain is—or was; Hashi probably had her killed—and how she worked her magic on you. Women like that have power. Men can never withstand it.” She tossed loose hair behind her shoulders. “You can be sidetracked so easily … you can lose sight of what you intended just because a woman—”
“—tells me a story about how a Northern borjuni killed her family and sold her brother into slavery.” I smiled. “Sound familiar, bascha?”
“That’s not what I meant, Tiger.”
“No. You meant women like Elamain luring poor fools into their beds. I know. I won’t even deny it hasn’t worked on me other times, either.” I shrugged. “You used a different method, but the end result was the same.”
Del didn’t say anything right away. She’d turned her blue roan to face me, and now she had to rein him back to keep him from nosing the stud. Once she had him settled, she met my gaze stare for stare. Then tilted her head a little.
“What would you have done?” she asked. “What would you have done with your life if I hadn’t found you in that cantina?”
“Done?”
“Done,” she repeated. “You said I’d sidetracked you as much as Elamain might have—sidetracked you from what? Made you lose sight of—what?”
“Well, if you hadn’t found me in that cantina, I wouldn’t have been left as a Sun Sacrifice by the Hanjii. I wouldn’t have been thrown into Aladar’s mine. I wouldn’t have lost Singlestroke and gotten stuck with this Northern sword, or sucked up Chosa Dei.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Those things wouldn’t have happened.”
“Tiger, you’re avoiding my question.”
“No, I’m not.” I shrugged. “Hoolies, I don’t know. I’m a sword-dancer. I hire on to do things. I’d probably be doing things; does that answer your question?”
“Yes,” she said, “it does.” She waved away another fly. Or maybe the same one. “You asked me once what I’d do when Ajani was dead. Once I’d ended my song.”
“Yes, I asked. As I recall, you didn’t have an answer.”
“Because I refuse to look past that. To look beyond Ajani’s death is to lose focus. To dilute the vision. And I can’t afford that.” Del flicked a hand in the air. “So, I don’t look. But you don’t have the same restrictions. You can look. What I ask now is, have you?”