Sword-Singer

by Jennifer Roberson

  And here I’d expected her to admonish her children for speaking nonsense. “Huh.” Disgusted, I had nothing else to offer.

  “It was loki who put those chopped up raiders back together.” Massou’s description, I thought, was just a tad bit too happily gruesome, if eloquently accurate.

  “And loki who made horses out of smoke.” Cipriana’s eyes were black in the light of the fire. She had said nothing of her feat with the quarterstaff, locking it all away. “I know how they gain possession.”

  “Cipriana.” Her mother, quietly.

  “Well, I do. I’ve heard all the stories.” Pale hair tumbled over her shoulders. In poor light, she was Del; or Del an older Cipriana. “They bed with men and women.”

  Massou made a garbled sound of disgust and disbelief.

  “They do,” his sister insisted. “They make more loki that way.”

  Adara’s voice sharpened. “Cipriana, enough. You’ll give your brother nightmares.”

  I didn’t think so. Neither did he.

  Massou’s eyes were huge. “You mean—like puppies and kittens?”

  I had an odd, brief vision: a river of demon puppies and devil kittens. I had to smother a laugh. Massou was serious; too often we laugh at children.

  “Loki exist,” Del said quietly. “But if we’re careful, they won’t hurt us.”

  “And anyway, you can beat them.” Massou’s faith was matter-of-fact. “Didn’t you beat them before?”

  “I helped,” his sister said.

  Adara rose. “Time for bed.”

  Naturally, they protested. And naturally, she won. Massou and Cipriana retired to dream their dreams of loki, while Del sent me a level look across the fire as Adara went into the shadows to tend to personal needs.

  “You are a fool,” she said.

  I rose, popping knotted muscles. “So you’ve said before.” I stretched luxuriously, making appropriate sounds. “I think it’s just a handy excuse to keep me out of your bed.”

  Del smiled blandly. “I’m sure Adara would be happy to let you in hers.”

  Hoolies. Can’t keep anything from women.

  I fingered the scabbed sword cut on my jaw. “I’m going to bed,” I remarked, “with you or without you.”

  “Without,” she said succinctly.

  I paused. “You all right?”

  “Just thinking, Tiger.”

  “Then you’re not all right.” A heavy-handed attempt at humor. Even I thought it was poor.

  “Go to bed,” Del suggested.

  I did, and dreamed of loki.

  Sixteen

  Having displayed intense interest in the circle and in sword-dancing for well over a week, Massou and Cipriana now lost it entirely. And almost overnight; both adamantly refused to enter the circle.

  We couldn’t exactly make them. It was their free choice, and now they exercised it. But it did seem odd, until Del suggested an explanation. “They’ve all caught your cold. They don’t feel like doing anything.”

  We sat facing one another on a goathair blanket, cleaning and honing our blades. The chore was second nature and one we both enjoyed. It was early evening and, of course, cool; Del and I both wore wool and soft leather.

  “What do you mean?” I glanced over Del’s left shoulder toward Adara and her children, who spoke quietly among themselves.

  “They’ve been sniffing for two days, and just now are beginning to cough.”

  It was true. All three of them had been very quiet lately, if not downright depressed. If they were feeling anything like I had, I didn’t blame them a bit for refusing to step into the circle.

  “Well, then forget about the lessons. They don’t really need them anyway; neither will be a sword-dancer.”

  It didn’t sit well with Del. I doubted she had sincerely believed either of them would want to seriously apprentice, to assume the life she led, but I knew it was difficult for her to lose her two ishtoya. The lessons had taken her mind off the time she could not afford to lose, yet continued passing too swiftly.

  Her voice was soft. “Massou could be good.”

  Mine was not. “Massou is too young to know what he wants, bascha. He just reminds you of Jamail.”

  Del continued to clean her blade, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. “And what about Cipriana?”

  “What about Cipriana?”

  “You refused the mother. Are you waiting for the daughter?”

  I didn’t even smile. “No. I’m waiting for you.”

  She looked up from the weapon. “I’ve told you—”

  “You’ve told me about the loki,” I said quietly. “I don’t know that I disbelieve you, after all that’s happened, but I think you’re going too far. It’s been three weeks since I broke the circle—two since we fought those resurrected raiders. Do you plan to stay celibate forever, just in case?”

  “You don’t know what they can do—”

  “I know what they have done.”

  Del’s face was tight. “Then get it somewhere else!” She fought to keep her voice from carrying to the others. “Adara would take you. So would Cipriana.”

  Something occurred to me. “Are you jealous?”

  “No. Why would I be?” Her voice now was cool and steady; Del had recovered herself. “We’ve made no vows to bind us. And even if we did, you’d do what you wanted to do. Vows would never stop you.”

  I stopped inspecting my Northern sword. “Are you saying I’d be unfaithful?”

  Pale brows arched. “Well? Wouldn’t you?”

  Would I? Could I? Oh, hoolies, it wasn’t worth contemplating. “Maybe if a woman didn’t invent so many excuses not to sleep with a man, he wouldn’t look for other bedmates.”

  Del’s tone was decidedly frigid. “That isn’t the issue, Tiger.”

  Well, no, but I wished it was. It was easier than the other. “I don’t want to sleep with Adara, and Cipriana’s too young.”

  “She’s the same age I was when Ajani took me. The same age as her mother when Adara bore a daughter.” Del tossed hair behind shoulders. “Don’t disregard affection because the giver seems too young.”

  “Bascha—”

  Del didn’t avoid my gaze. “She reminds me of me. She reminds you of me…or maybe the me I’d be if Ajani had never happened.”

  It was true there were similarities. It was true they were much alike in body as well as in spirit. But I had never quite made the connection.

  Thoughtfully, I tapped a nail on the edge of Theron’s blade. “Maybe we’re both fools, Del…looking for something that isn’t there.”

  “Me for my brother—”

  “—and me for an unspoiled Del?”

  She nodded, looking away. “I know he’s not Jamail, but it’s hard not to pretend.”

  “But I don’t think you’re spoiled.”

  “No. Maybe not. But don’t you ever wonder what I’d be like without this sword?”

  Del without that sword was like the South without the sun. “No,” I said truthfully. “Because if you didn’t have it, I’d be dead ten times over.”

  Slowly, Del smiled, though it was crooked on her face. “Typical Tiger,” she remarked, “thinking of his neck.”

  “And other portions of my body.”

  “As well as portions of mine.”

  Well, yes. Of course. Why should I deny it?

  Del sheathed Boreal, shutting away the sheen of rune-worked steel. “Since I have lost the others, will you be my ishtoya?”

  It would pass the time. “So long as you remember who I am.”

  She snorted indelicately. “How could I ever forget?”

  I decided it might be best if I said nothing at all.

  Next day, thank valhail, thick clouds parted and sunlight slanted through, setting the world ablaze: gold and silver-gilt. Dew burned off, mist shredded, dampness trickled away.

  I hadn’t seen normal light for days and was irritable because of it. It just isn’t natural to be so hemmed in by mountai
ns and trees, not to mention oppressed by clouds so arrogant they clutter the mountaintops. I was sick of turf and sedge; blush-pink flowers and purple heather; gray-smudged, slate-blue days. I wanted sun and sand, and the heat of a Southron desert.

  We climbed down out of the clouds into a lush, rich valley thick with grass and vegetation. It was a small place rimmed with upthrust mountains all tumbled together like oracle bones. At the far end lay a twisting defile, bluish black in raisin purple: narrow entryway from the north. Through the center of the valley cut Traders’ Road, winding down from where we were.

  Massou and Cipriana, shouting aloud, hurried down the track. They were oblivious to twisting turns and wagon ruts, too excited to slow their headlong pace. Adara started to call them back but in the end didn’t, as if she as well as her children wanted company. It had been a long two weeks with only the five of us.

  The encampment was large and sprawling, spreading from cradling mountainsides to the center of the valley where it huddled in clusters along the road. But it wasn’t a permanent settlement, looking more like a caravan camp.

  Del agreed with me. “They’re uplanders,” she explained, “come down from the Heights for a while. They do it twice a year, once in fall and once in spring.” Her face and eyes were alight and a spring had entered her step. “They’re good people, Tiger…generous and friendly. It will be good to see them again.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “Not all of them, no…maybe none of them. But that seems unlikely. Everybody gathers. In Northern, it’s called a kymri.”

  “Every uplander comes down?”

  “No, not every. Mostly just those who are landlopers.”

  This was getting to be too much. “Who?”

  “Landlopers. Wanderers. Those who put down no roots.”

  “Oh. Nomads.”

  Adara nodded. “Kesar told me about them. He was an uplander himself, though not a landloper. He always said I would enjoy attending a kymri.” Her face was solemn. “Now we have come to one, and Kesar isn’t here.” She watched her children run out onto the floor of the little valley. Already others were coming out from wagons to greet the newcomers. Her eyes were strangely blank. “Kesar isn’t here.”

  Down below, Cipriana and Massou were swallowed by gathering landlopers.

  Del sighed happily. “They’ll have food and drink in abundance.”

  I brightened. “Aqivi?”

  She grinned. “No. Something called amnit.”

  “Amnit?”

  “Even the Sandtiger might find it too strong.”

  “Hunh. The liquor too strong for the Sandtiger hasn’t been made yet.”

  “Maybe.” Del just kept on grinning.

  It was good to see her happy. “Willing to wager on it?”

  “Save your coin, Tiger. You’ll need it for other things.”

  I sighed in resignation. “More clothing, I suppose.”

  “No. Supplies, yes, such as food and drink and horses, but also other things.” Her eyes were filled with anticipation. “Many other wagers.”

  “Oh?”

  “Oh, yes. Uplanders love to wager. Uplanders love the sword-dance.” She cast me a bright-eyed glance. “Here they admire a woman with courage; we can’t trick them into wagering everything on only you as we have in the past with Southroners. Here the dances will be clean, and so will the wagers.”

  I thought back on all the circles we had entered on our way to this little valley. “Is this why you’ve been hammering at me so much? All this ‘be a sword, become a sword’ nonsense, as if I were Massou or Cipriana?” My tone was dry. “I do know how to dance, Del…it wasn’t necessary.”

  All the animation spilled away. The light was gone from her eyes. “I wish it hadn’t been.”

  “You will leave us here.” Adara said flatly.

  Both of us looked at her. Since catching my cold she had been listless and withdrawn, although she hadn’t been as sick. Nor had Massou and Cipriana. They coughed and sneezed a couple of days, slept poorly, but by and large they got off considerably easier than I.

  (Just goes to show you how much all of me hates the North.)

  Del isn’t the most tactful person I’ve ever met. “Yes,” she said. “You knew that. We agreed to bring you to help. The landlopers will have horses and wagons for sale—here, everything is for sale—and you can go on your way again.” Perhaps she realized how brusque her words sounded, for she softened her tone a little. “There is no need to worry about repayment, or how you will afford so much. Tiger and I have coin, and what we spend on you can be won back in the circle.”

  Adara shivered. “Circle,” she said dully. “The world is a circle, and we are trapped in it.”

  Del and I exchanged glances. We had been delayed long enough traveling with the Borderers, and could spare no more time. We had no choice but to buy mounts and supplies and head into the uplands as quickly as possible, regardless of what Adara or her children might prefer. Del’s time was running out.

  “We’ll help you all we can,” I told her lamely, and was rewarded with a blank stare.

  It didn’t take me long to discover I was at a distinct disadvantage. We had left the South and the border behind, entering another world entirely, where people spoke purer Northern without the influence of Southron words. I’d learned a lot from Del over the months and being around the Borderers had expanded my grasp of phrases, but here it was different. Here I was a stranger who spoke only bastard Northern.

  I was astonished at the mass of yellow heads. Not everyone was blond, but neither was anyone really dark, except for me. With my brown hair and dark skin, not to mention green eyes in place of blue, I stuck out like a broken toe.

  Del was in her element. As they had with Massou and Cipriana, people came out to greet us. Children chattered, men called greetings, women asked questions of us. Except I didn’t know what they said or what they asked, being deaf to the twisty tongue.

  All was mass confusion. Wagons clustered together or straggled away, horses were staked out or contained in makeshift pens, dogs ran free throughout the encampment and so did unpenned fowl. Men sat around fires and drank and talked, or huddled over wagers, or displayed wrestling and fighting skills. Women gathered at wagons to chatter and cook and sew, or watched their men showing off. The children were never still.

  Del strode easily through the throng. “There will be many kymri-bonds.”

  “What?”

  She smiled. “In the uplands, landlopers don’t generally gather together very much except for a kymri. All the boys who long for girls and the girls who long for boys often have no one—or few—to choose from. And so kymris are always welcome, and the children who come from them.”

  I grimaced. “That explains why there are so many of them, I suppose.”

  She laughed aloud. “Do you dislike children, Tiger?”

  “No. I was one myself, once. But I prefer them in small amounts.”

  Adara’s hair was falling down. It straggled around neck and shoulders, spilling into her eyes. She shifted her bundle from arm to arm. “When can we stop? I need rest, food, water.”

  Del glanced around, then nodded, turning off the track. “Here,” she said, halting by a wagon where others gathered as well. “Cheese, amnit, bread…later we can buy meat.”

  The man at the tailgate said something about food in Northern. I gathered it was his wagon, the contents his to sell. He was tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed; typical Northerner.

  Adara dropped her bundle and scooped ruddy hair out of her weary face. “I must find my children.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Del said firmly. “Here there is no danger—landlopers are friendly people. Let Massou and Cipriana make friends…they have been too long without them.” She accepted a bota from the man, pressed it into Adara’s hands. “Drink. Rest. You have done well without your husband; you should be proud of yourself.”

  Adara clutched the bota. “I am so alone…and so very tired.”
<
br />   Del’s face softened. “Go and sit down,” she said. “You have earned your rest.”

  The Borderer, still clutching her goatskin bota, gathered up her bundle once more and made her way out of the crowd. Men watched her as she went. I thought, watching them, she would not be long alone if she wanted company.

  “Here.” Del slapped a bota against my chest. “Amnit, Tiger—enough to quench your craving.”

  I sniffed the stopper. The aroma was very pungent. “Where do you want us, then? Any particular place?”

  Del’s smile was for herself. “I think I’ll be able to find you. You sort of stick out here.”

  So I did. Glumly, I made my way back through the people and found Adara off to the side, hunched on the grass by her bundle. She still hadn’t touched the water. Tears stood in her eyes.

  I dumped my burden, sat down, leaned against it with a grunt of satisfaction. Unstoppered the bota and sucked in my first taste of Northern amnit.

  My throat shut, my eyes watered, coughs exploded from my mouth. Del came by and smiled, munching on some cheese. “Welcome to the kymri.”

  I recovered as best I could, sucked in another squirt. This one went down better, and I was able to smile right back.

  And then I stopped smiling, because I heard a sound I knew. An angry, high-pitched screaming that cut right through the crowd.

  But it wasn’t a human screaming. It came from a horse’s mouth.

  “Hoolies,” I said, “it’s the stud.”

  Seventeen

  Del frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Do you think I don’t know my own horse?” I was up before she could answer, following the sound.

  In the end, it wasn’t hard to find him. He was surrounded by a large circle of men, all gathered to view the storm. I heard the sound of coin exchanging hands, snatches of Northern I knew—all dealing with wagering—and the raised voice of a man calling for volunteers to try a ride. For a price, of course.

  So, the old man was being difficult.

  And there might be profit in it.

  He stood in the center of the human circle, much as I did each time I entered the circle to dance. He was angry but unharmed, apparently in good health and none the worse for his disappearance. His legs looked sound, his weight was normal, his conditioning apparently unaffected. The shouting man held the reins to a headstall I didn’t recognize, and the saddle was strange as well, but that was because, in fleeing Del’s banshee-storm, the stud had also fled his tack. We had left it behind because we didn’t want to carry it on foot.