Sword-Maker(94)

“No sword-dancer wastes much time thinking about next year, next month, next week. Hoolies, sometimes not even next day. Only the next dance. He looks to the dance, bascha. Because that’s what he lives for.”

Del’s eyes were steady. “When will your dance be ended?”

“I can’t answer that,” I said crossly. “I don’t even know what it means.”

“You do. Oh, you do. You’re not a stupid man. You’re not a foolish man. You only pretend to be when you don’t want to deal with truths.”

I didn’t say a word.

Del smiled a little. “It’s all right, Tiger. I do the same thing.”

“You don’t pretend to be stupid. And you never pretend you’re a fool.”

“No.” Her mouth was oddly warped. “Instead, I make myself cold and hard. I make myself dead inside, so I don’t have to face those truths.”

There are times when I hate this woman.

This was not one of them.





Part III





One




Del’s voice was distant. “Tiger—what’s wrong?”

It didn’t make any sense. Just a jumble of words. No, not words; sounds.

“Tiger? Are you all right?”

I felt—odd.

“Tiger!”

Oh, hoolies, bascha … something’s wrong—something’s wrong with me—something’s wrong with—

I stopped the stud. Got off. Dragged the sword from its sheath. Then walked across the trail to a tumbled pile of rocks. Found a fissure. Wedged the sword into it.

Wedged the hilt into it, leaving the blade stuck up into air.

“Tiger—?” And then she sent her roan plunging between the blade and my body.

It knocked me backward. It knocked me flat on my rump. I sat there on the ground trying to figure out what had happened.

Del reined the roan around. Her expression was profoundly frightened. “Have you gone loki?” she cried.

I didn’t think so. What I was, somehow, was sitting on the ground instead of in the saddle.

Silence: Del said nothing. Her gelding pawed, digging pebbles and dust. I heard the clack of rock on rock, the scraping of hoof in hard ground, the clink of bit and bridle.

Saw the sword sticking up from the fissure.

“Hoolies,” I muttered hoarsely.

Del said nothing. She watched me get up, watched me slap dust from my burnous, watched me take a step toward the sword. Then put the gelding between.

Brought up short, I stuck out a hand to ward off the roan. “What are you trying to—”

“Keep you from killing yourself,” she said flatly. “do you think I couldn’t tell?”

“I’d never—”

“You just did. Or would have.”

I stared up at her in astonishment. Then across the roan’s bluish rump to the waiting sword jutting patiently into the air.

I couldn’t have. I couldn’t have. It’s not something I would do. I’ve survived too much travail in my life to end it willingly, let alone by my own hand.

“Let me go,” I said.

Del didn’t move the gelding.

“Let me go,” I repeated. “I’m all right now, bascha.”

Her expression was unreadable. Then she moved the gelding out of my way. I heard the hiss of a blade unsheathed. I was visited by an odd thought: would Del try to kill me to keep me from killing myself?

Somehow, I didn’t laugh. Not looking at my sword.

I approached it carefully. Felt nothing. No fear, no apprehension, no desire to do myself injury. Just a mild curiosity as to what the thing had wanted.

It didn’t say a word.

I bent. Closed one hand around the exposed portion of the hilt, avoiding the blade itself. Worked the sword from the fissure and turned it right side up.

Black crept up the blade. This time it touched the runes.

“It doesn’t want to go,” I blurted.

Del’s voice: “What?”

“It—he—doesn’t want to go.” I frowned down at the sword, then wrenched my gaze away to meet hers. “Chosa Dei wants to go south.”

Del’s mouth flattened. “Tell him we’re going north.”

“Northeast,” I corrected. “And he knows exactly which way we’re going—it’s why he pulled this stunt.” I paused. “One of the reasons, anyway; he also wants out of the sword. Killing me is a way of succeeding.”

Del sheathed Boreal and edged the gelding closer. “It’s black again.”

“Some of it.” I turned the blade from edge to edge to show both sides. “What do you suppose would happen if the whole thing went black?”

Del’s tone was odd. “Do you really want to find out?”

I glanced at her sharply. “Do you know?”