Sword Sworn ss-6

by Jennifer Roberson

  The meal apparently was over, even if we weren’t quite done eating it. Mehmet’s little wife collected the dishes from the low table and took them swiftly away even as her husband ushered us out of doors.

  Two young children were playing down by the stream; Mehmet called to them to find some of the men and have them bring our horses.

  I looked up at the chimney formation, or what remained of it, on the other side of the canyon across the stream. No horse could make it up there through the tumbled rocks and scree. I’d have to go on foot.

  The horses were brought. The stud had a wisp of lush grass hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Apparently they’d been enjoying a meal, too.

  "Go on, go on," Mehmet insisted. "Get on your horses. Hurry!"

  We did as we were told. Our host nodded. "Now, ride into the canyon. You see that elbow of hill up ahead? Go around that. The canyon curves to the right. Follow the stream. You will see."

  "See what?" I asked.

  "Go, go. Go and see."

  "And do what?"

  "Go and see."

  I gave it up. Until we went and saw whatever it was he wanted us to go and see, we’d make no progress toward actual communication.

  "You’re not coming?" Del asked Mehmet.

  He shook his head vigorously. "It’s for you. We kept it that way. Now, go and see."

  "Let’s go," I said to Del and Nayyib, and led the way.

  As Mehmet instructed, we followed the stream around the designated elbow. Here the canyon narrowed until there was very little good footing on either side of the stream, mostly the steep sides of canyon walls. Huge sections of stone had broken off the walls, falling to the floor where they blocked most of the way. The stream, undaunted, had found a new way through. But I noticed the fallen rocks were all sharply angled and faceted, not yet worn smooth and round by water. Whatever brought them crashing down was but a few years in the past.

  The horses picked their way over dribbles of fallen stone. There was no actual trail through here, and clearly none of Mehmet’s people had ever attempted to bring in a wagon. The only tracks I saw belonged to animals.

  And then the walls reared back. A passageway lay open, and the stream purled through. Beneath hooves, grass sprang up, thick, lush grass. Rocks in the water were mossy, wearing streamers of vegetation. Canyon walls became crumbled hillsides, cloaked in a tangle of shrubbery and trees.

  Old trees. Mature trees. Mehmet’s little canyon was new. This one was not.

  The path we made took us out of shadow into sunlight. Out of canyon into valley. Out of paradise into perfection.

  We stopped, because we had to. We gazed upon it, marking how the stream cut through the middle of meadow. Here was the true heart of the canyon with high walls surrounding us except for the throat we’d passed through.

  Nayyib released a blissfully appreciative sigh. "Good grazing."

  Del climbed down off her gelding and knelt on one knee, digging into the soil. She brought up a handful, rolled it through her fingers, then smelled it. "It should be," she agreed. "This is fine, fertile soil." She shook her hand free of damp dirt, then led the gelding by me, intent on something. After a moment Nayyib and I followed.

  Del paralleled the stream. All around her lay the meadow, stretching from canyon wall to canyon wall. We were nearly to the far end when she stopped and shielded her eyes against the sun’s glare as she looked up and up, studying the rim of the canyon and the blue sky beyond.

  I saw her smile, and then she pointed. "Eagle."

  Nayyib and I looked. Sure enough, an eagle spiraled lazily over the canyon.

  Del’s smile didn’t fade, but grew. She stood in one spot and turned in a full circle, taking it all in. Her expression was rapturous. "It’s almost like the North, this place. Not exactly, but very close."

  I frowned. "In the borderlands, maybe."

  "There are high valleys in the mountains very like this. You just never saw any of them." She began unbuckling her harness.

  "What are you doing, bascha?"

  "I’m going wading."

  "Wading?

  "Maybe even swimming." She gestured up the way. "There’s a pool, Tiger. See where the stream is partially dammed by rocks? On the other side there’s a natural pool."

  I hadn’t paid any attention to it. But she was right. Nayyib rode up a little way, seeing for himself.

  I recalled the big tiled bathing pool in the metri’s house, heated by some means I didn’t understand. Del had splashed around quite happily in it. I’d never learned how to swim and thus wasn’t as enamored, though it did feel good, but the pool was shallow enough that I could stand in the middle with water up to my shoulders and not worry about going beneath the surface.

  Mehmet had said this place was for us. That he’d kept it for us. His people had settled just inside the mouth of the new canyon. This one had remained untouched. This one, much older, had been untouched forever.

  Del, who had tied up the reins so the gelding wouldn’t trip over them, stripped out of harness, sandals, and burnous. She wore only the patched leather tunic a Vashni woman had repaired for her. Long-limbed, fair of skin, she strode to the water’s edge as she unplaited her braid and shook it free. She was magnificence incarnate.

  I realized it was the first time in months I’d seen her looking so relaxed. The tension had fled her face, leaving an incandescent joy. Every fiber of her body was reacting to this place.

  I smiled, enjoying the sight. Ah, bascha, if you only knew what I see when I look at you.

  Then I noticed Nayyib but a couple of paces upstream, staring at her. Del glanced at him and laughed. "Come in, Neesha. Lift the dust from your skin."

  She had invited him. Not me.

  Pleasure was extinguished. A chill washed through my body. It left me sick, angry, and afraid.

  "I’m going back," I told her abruptly. "I’ll leave the stud with Mehmet, hike up to the chimney and try to find the sword."

  Del, picking her way carefully into the water, was startled. She halted, bare feet perched on round, slick stones. Sunlight gilded her skin. "Now?"

  "I need to do it." And as she made as if to turn back, I waved her away. "No, no — you stay here. I’d rather do this alone." Which wasn’t true, but I couldn’t face taking her away from the canyon. I swung the stud. "I’ll look for you when I’m done."

  "And if you can’t find it today?"

  "I’ll look again tomorrow morning." I turned my back on them both and headed out the way we’d come in.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Mehmet, who knew nothing about jivatmas or that I’d left one behind, was perplexed when I said I wanted to climb up to the chimney. He reminded me that its collapse might have killed me. I reminded him that it hadn’t and that I had business up there. Whereupon he, recalling I was the jhihadi, offered to guide me there.

  I shot him a strange look. "Mehmet, I’ve been there."

  "Things have changed," he explained. "After you and Del left, the earth trembled. Rocks fell. Mountains shook. This part of the canyon came into being. You don’t know what’s up there."

  "Do you?"

  He was forced to admit he didn’t.

  "Fine. You stay here. I’ll be back before nightfall."

  "But, Tiger —"

  "I’m going. Look after my horse." I unsheathed my sword and offered it to him. "And look after this."

  He was startled. "Why not take your sword?"

  "Because I hope to find another one." I clapped him on the shoulder. "I’ll be back in time for the feast. I promise."

  Mehmet was unhappy, but he nodded. I left him carefully cradling my sword to his chest.

  * * *

  The climb up to the chimney was more demanding than I remembered or expected. But Mehmet had confirmed my suspicions: Something indeed had happened after Del and I left to collapse the remains of the chimney and crack open the earth to form the newer canyon Mehmet’s aketi had made their home. Probably it had opened the e
ntrance into the older canyon, which looked as though no humans had ever been there. I groped my way up, clutching rocks for handholds, trying not to stub my toes. Sandals are not approriate footgear for climbing, but they were all I had.

  Originally the chimney had been the hollow core of a mountain. Del and I had found a tunnel and made our way into the heart of the mountain. There we’d discovered the ribbed, rounded chamber open to the sky far overhead. It was purportedly the home of what was left of Shaka Obre, the so-called good sorcerer; his brother, Chosa Dei, who had taken up residence in my jivatma and later in me, was considered the bad one.

  I’d go along with that.

  I found no trace of any tunnel or passageway. What remained of the chimney lay in pieces, broken up as if a capricious god with a giant ax had chopped it into sections. Parts of it were indistinguishable from the shattered mountain. But something drove me on.

  "Take up the sword" she had said. I would do my best. But it was possible I couldn’t. That I might not even find it.

  In which case, what?

  Portions of mountain towered over my head. I picked my way carefully, gripping boulders as I pulled myself up. I remembered our flight from the collapsing chimney, knowing we might be crushed at any moment. I remembered how Del had shoved me out into the passageway when I wanted to turn back for the jivatma. She had no doubt saved my life.

  Up and up. Eventually I found the bottom portion of the chimney surrounded by fallen segments of rock. Sections had broken off and collapsed all of a piece, like a stone cairn purposely kicked over. I prowled around, trying to sort out one part from another. If there was no actual chimney left, where might my jivatma be? How could I find it?

  I stopped, looked around at the remains of the mountain. I wondered if Shaka Obre and Chosa Dei had brought about the additional change in topography.

  Had they died? Had their essences faded away? Or had they merely taken their battle to another part of the world?

  I went on, rounding a bulge of stone. And found the opening.

  Here. Right here. The last section of tunnel. It was mostly blocked by fallen rock, and beyond the jagged mouth the interior was dark. I lingered on the cusp a moment — I hate closed-in places — then decided that jhihadis and mages had no reason to fear anything at all.

  Or so one might think.

  I took a breath, ducked my head, began to make my way in.

  "Tiger!" It echoed oddly in all the rocks. "Sandtiger!"

  Startled, I stood up and whacked my head on the tunnel roof. Cursing, I backed out. "Here!" Rubbing my head, I made my way around the nearest boulder. "I’m up here."

  Nayyib was picking his way through rockfalls and boulders, head bowed as he watched his footing. He had taken off his burnous and now wore only a dhoti, as I did, and sandals. He was brown all over, darker than I, with no scars of significance and none at all from a blade.

  If he was serious about becoming a sword-dancer, that would change.

  When he reached me, there was no sign of shortness of breath. Very annoying. "What?" I asked testily.

  His gaze went past me to the tunnel mouth. "Is that where the sword is?"

  "Maybe. I can’t be sure. Everything’s changed. But this is a portion of the tunnel that existed, so it’s possible I can get to the chimney floor."

  He nodded vaguely, looking everywhere but at me. Something was on his mind.

  Having seen how he stared at Del in the stream, I had a good idea what it was. "Why are you here, Nayyib?"

  His eyes flicked to my face, then swiftly away. He turned and stared down the way we had come. "You can see part of the valley from here."

  I waited. His posture was stiff even as he ran a hand over his head, smoothing springy hair.

  And I knew. Even though I asked. "Neesha, why are you here?"

  His back was to me. It nearly vibrated with tension. "Del sent me. She said I should come."

  I closed my eyes a moment, then made myself cold and hard. "Not now."

  "She said —"

  "I don’t care what she said." Because I knew. "I don’t want to hear it." Because I knew. "I have business to attend to."

  I bent and began to make my way into the tunnel section, leaving the kid behind. In the darkness I took care not to bash my head once again on some unseen protrusion. Hands followed the line of the walls, testing solidity. There was air aplenty but no light. I should have brought a torch.

  I heard Nayyib’s sandals crunching on grit. He was right behind me.

  "Cool in here," he remarked.

  I wasn’t happy that he’d followed, but I felt a little better knowing someone, even he, was with me in a confined space. "There was ice in here originally. Not much, but a little." I peered ahead. "I think there’s light up there."

  So there was. The tunnel ended against two large boulders, but sunlight crept down through the cracks. It wasn’t much, but it allowed me to see.

  There was a slot to the left. The tunnel ended against the boulders straight ahead, but the narrow opening gave into something else. I pressed myself up against it and peered through. "I think that’s it."

  "The chimney?"

  "What’s left of it." I thought about it a moment, trying not to shiver in front of the kid; then reconciled myself with the memory that I’d been in here before and survived. I turned sideways and tried to edge my way through. Abdomen and spine scraped against rock. "There’s a little light in there… it sure looks like it’s a portion of the chimney. There’s sand."

  "Why does sand matter?"

  "The floor of the chimney was sand. Just big enough for a circle." I grunted, sucking in my belly. Left a little more skin on the rock behind me.

  "You’re too big," Nayyib said. "Let me try."

  I didn’t want to let him do anything. "If I can just get through this one narrow spot —"

  "Don’t," he said sharply. "You’ll get stuck."

  He had a point. It was tough enough being in and under all this rock. The idea of being stuck here did not appeal.

  "Let me try," he repeated.

  I couldn’t help the snap in my voice. "Why would you want to?"

  For a fleeting moment there was pain in his eyes. Then it passed. "Because I’d like to."

  No way could I get in there. It was Nayyib or no one. "All right." I slid back out, gritting my teeth. "It’s tight, though. I’m not sure you’ll have any more luck."

  "I’m not as big as you." Nayyib poked his head through the slot, saw what appeared to be part of a chamber, sand floor and all, then sucked in his belly, straightened his shoulders, and started the slow, careful journey.

  "Don’t breathe," I suggested.

  He released a brief hissing puff of air that served as laughter.

  "If you find a sword in there, don’t touch it."

  His face was turned toward the chamber. All I could see was a body attempting to work its way through the slot. He seemed to be making progress.

  And then he scraped through to the other side, disappearing from my range of vision. I heard cursing, though I couldn’t see anything. "You all right?"

  His voice echoed weirdly. "I think I left fourteen layers of skin on that rock."

  "Well, having less meat on your bones will make it easier to get back out." I couldn’t contain the frisson of dread that scoured my flesh. I wanted to go back out into the sun. Hurry up, kid. "See anything?"

  "Anything like a sword? No. But there’s not much light in here."

  "I left it lying on the sand. It wasn’t under anything."

  His voice sounded hollow, deformed by rock. "Well, it probably is now." A pause. "Maybe I should get down on my hands and knees and feel around for it."

  "Don’t touch it! If you find anything at all like a sword, don’t touch it."

  "Then how am I supposed to bring it out to you?"

  "Strip out of your dhoti and use that."

  I heard the ghost of laughter. "I don’t much favor coming back through that slot nake
d, thank you. There are parts of my body I don’t want to scrape off against stone!"

  "Then push the sword through first. You can cover up your precious parts afterwards."

  He was silent. I waited impatiently.

  Finally I gave up holding my silence. "Anything?"

  After a moment his voice came back. "Lots of cracks and crevices. I’m checking them all."

  "It wasn’t in a crack or crevice."

  "Then," he agreed, sounding irritated. "It may be now."

  Well, that was true. I subsided again into silence, wishing I could pace. Wishing I could leave.

  Then I heard a choked-off expletive make its way through the slot.

  "What? What happened?"

  "Is your sword broken?"

  "No. It’s whole. Why? Did you find a broken sword?" Hoolies, he’d found Del’s broken jivatma. "Don’t touch it!"

  "I didn’t intend to!" he called back. "But when you’re barefoot and you stumble over it, it’s hard not to."

  "Why are you barefoot?"

  "I took my sandals off."

  "What for?"

  "So I could feel the sand with my feet."

  "You stepped on the sword?"

  No answer.

  "Nayyib?"

  Nothing.

  "Neesha?"

  His voice sounded muffled. I couldn’t understand.

  "What are you doing?" I called.

  Now he sounded cross. "Taking off my dhoti."

  Was he bringing Del’s jivatma out? Was that what Del had asked him to tell me, that he bring Boreal out if we found her?

  "Neesha?"

  "Here." His voice sounded closer, but pinched off. "Here, take the sword…" The hilt appeared through the slot.

  Not Del’s. Mine.

  Samiel.

  Mine.

  I closed one hand around the hilt. Felt the familiar warmth, the welcome of Northern named-blade to wielder.

  Mine. Mine.

  Samiel.

  Something deep in my soul surged up. I had forgotten what it felt like to hold a keyed jivatma bound to me. I couldn’t restrain the fatuous smile that split my face.

  Mine.

  I heard grunts and mutters. Nayyib, dressed again, was working his way back through the slot. I saw a hand and arm reaching, a sandaled foot sliding through; heard the hiss of indrawn breath.