Sword-Dancer

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by Jennifer Roberson


  Elamain led me to her wagon.

  Thirteen

  The lady was properly grateful. In the privacy of her very private wagon, as it bumped gently across the sand, Hashi’s intended showed me she was no modest virgin, but an experienced woman who saw what she wanted and went after it. For the moment it happened to be me, which was very satisfactory all the way around.

  Riding with Del hadn’t been easy. I’d wanted her from the moment she’d walked into the cantina, but I knew she’d likely stick her knife into me for any unexpected—and unencouraged—intimacy. The night she’d put her naked sword between us had pretty well informed me how she felt about the matter, and I’ve never been one to insist when all it requires is a little patience. Then, of course, we’d gotten picked up by the Hanjii, and all thoughts of making love to Del had rather quickly gone out of my head.

  Especially after she kneed me.

  Del’s suggestion as to what could be considered “payment” for my services once we reached Julah had set my mind racing with anticipation and made the rest of me hot with impatience, but—once again—patience was what was required. Well, it runs out after awhile. Del wasn’t available yet, but Elamain was.

  Young, sweet, tempting, hungry Elamain. Only a fool or a saint ignores a gorgeous, grateful woman when she’s feeling amorous.

  And, as I’ve said before, I’m neither.

  We had to be quiet, of course. Hashi’s bride was supposed to arrive unflawed and untouched. How she intended explaining to a new husband why she was no longer a virgin wasn’t my problem, and I didn’t allow it to linger in my mind very long. I had other things to think about.

  A lot of women rather enjoy making the Sandtiger growl. I suppose it has to do with having the name in the first place. Occasionally, when the time and the woman are right, I don’t mind, because I really can’t help myself. But I told Elamain it was stupid to expect me to stay discreetly quiet and then do everything she could to make me growl like a big, tame cat.

  She just smiled and bit me on the shoulder. So I bit her back.

  Where Del was—or what she did—during all this, I have no idea. If she had any sense at all, she’d be making friends with Sabo, who could probably be very persuasive when it came to suggesting to his master that generous thanks might be in order. But I hadn’t known Del long enough; although I thought she was probably pretty sensible, she was also a woman, and therefore unpredictable. And, probably, prone to behavior that is occasionally not so sensible.

  “Who is she?” asked Elamain as we lay sweating gently into the cushions and silks.

  I thought about asking who, then didn’t. I didn’t think Elamain was stupid, either. “She’s a woman I’m guiding to Julah.”

  “Why?”

  “She hired me to.”

  “Hired.” Elamain looked at me. “No woman hires the Sandtiger. Not with gold.” The tip of her tongue showed. “Does she do this for you?” And she did something very creative with her hand.

  After I recovered myself, I told her no, Del didn’t; I did not tell her I had no way of knowing if Del could.

  “What about this?”

  “Elamain,” I groaned, “if you want this pleasant little tryst to remain a secret, I think you’d better stop.”

  She laughed deep in her throat. “They’re eunuchs,” she said. “Who cares what they know? They’re only wishing they could do it to me.”

  Probably. Nevertheless, I have some sense of decency, and I told her so.

  Elamain ignored my comment. “I like you, Tiger. You’re the best.”

  She probably said it to every man, but it still made me feel good. It always does.

  “I want you to come with me, Tiger.”

  “I’m going with you—as far as Sasqaat.”

  “I want you to stay with me.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “In Sasqaat? But you’re getting married, Elamain—”

  “Marriage need not stop anything,” she said testily. “It’s an inconvenience, to be sure, but I have no intention of stopping just for that.” Her smile came back, along with the invitation in her golden eyes. “Don’t you want more, Tiger?”

  “That question is unworthy of you.”

  She giggled and slid over on top of me again. “I want more, Tiger. I want all of you. I want to keep you.”

  This kind of talk makes any man nervous. Especially me. I kissed her, as she wanted, and did everything else she wanted as well, but deep in my gut I had the sickening feeling of apprehension.

  “Elamain has the Sandtiger …” she whispered gleefully, licking at my ear.

  For the moment, she certainly did.

  * * *

  When the lowering sun set the horizon aglow with magenta and amethyst fire, I circled the perimeter of the tiny camp on my buckskin Salset gelding. Altogether there were eight wagons: Elamain’s personal transport and those carrying her maids and possessions. The drivers were all eunuchs, the maids all women, and I the only normal male for miles. If Elamain hadn’t been so accommodating, I might have been distracted by all the ladies. As it was, I didn’t have the time—or the energy—for anyone else.

  At one juncture I stopped and stared off across the purpled desert, lost in contemplation of Elamain’s unexpected—and undeniable—skill, when Del came riding up. Her hair was freshly braided and tied back. She had washed the dust of the desert from her face, but I was too full of Elamain to notice the exquisitely bland expression.

  “Sabo says we’ll get to Sasqaat without the slightest difficulty, now that the Sandtiger leads the caravan,” she said.

  “We probably will.”

  Del snickered. “She keeping you happy, Tiger? Or—should I say—are you keeping her happy?”

  I glared at her. “Mind your own business.”

  Her pale brows slid up in mock surprise. “Oh no, have I offended you? Should I get down and kiss your feet?”

  “Enough, Del.”

  “The whole caravan knows,” she said. “I hope you realize this Lord Hashi of Sasqaat is considered a rather short-tempered man. Sabo says he kills anyone who crosses him.” She looked out across the darkening desert even as I did, exuding neutrality. “What’s he going to say when he finds out you’ve been dallying with his bride?”

  “He can’t blame me,” I declared. “She’s not giving away anything she hasn’t given away before.”

  Del laughed outright. “Then the lady is no lady. Well, I don’t feel sorry for Hashi. I suppose he’ll get what he’s paid for.”

  I looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “Sabo told me Elamain’s father was more than happy to marry his daughter off. Apparently she’s been—indiscreet with her affections. He was so thrilled to have Hashi offer for her that he reduced the bride-price. Hashi’s getting a discount.” She shrugged. “Used goods, after all.”

  “You’re jealous.” Belatedly, it dawned on me.

  Del grinned. “I’m not jealous. Why should I be?”

  We stared at one another: Del genuinely amused and me generally disgruntled.

  “Why should Sabo tell you all this?” I demanded. “Hashi’s his lord. How could he know so much about Elamain?”

  Del shrugged. “He said everyone knows. The lady has a terrible reputation.”

  I frowned, shifting in the shallow saddle. “But if Hashi doesn’t know …” I considered it.

  “It seems likely he would,” Del pointed out. “But I suppose there’s no telling what a desert prince will do—I’ve been told often enough how acquisitive they are; how jealous and possessive. How poorly they treat their women—although that seems to be the generally accepted custom in the South.” She cast me a bland glance. “How do you treat your women, Tiger?”

  “Keep this up and you’ll never find out.”

  She laughed. I rode away to circle back in the other direction, and Del laughed.

  I didn’t think it was funny at all.

  Before long, Elamain gave up all pretense of
being a circumspect, virtuous woman and openly declared her current passion by keeping herself as close to me as possible, even when I rode at the head of the caravan on the lookout for borjuni. She made one of the wounded eunuchs ride in her wagon on these occasions, taking his horse for herself. Underneath all the flowing draperies she wore the silken jodhpurs of desert tanzeers and rode astride with aplomb. Outside of the wagon she also wore the transparent veil, but everyone knew it was nothing more than hypocrisy. In all truth, Elamain had no right to wear the veil signifying virtuous womanhood, but no one had the courage to tell her what she undoubtedly knew anyway.

  To my surprise, Elamain made some effort to get to know Del better, even to the point of asking Del into her wagon on more than one occasion. What they discussed I have no idea; women’s talk doesn’t interest me in the least. I wondered, uneasily, if Elamain wanted to discuss something she and Del had in common—me—but neither of them ever said.

  I also wondered what Del’s answer would be if I were the topic. She could do irreparable harm to my reputation if she told Elamain we hadn’t been intimate; then again, Del was Del, and I couldn’t expect her to lie. And, knowing Elamain, I doubted she’d believe Del even if she did deny that intimacy. Altogether it was very confusing, and I decided the better part of valor was to simply ignore the whole thing.

  Still, I couldn’t help wondering what Del thought of it all. The situation between us was odd. On one hand, she knew I wanted her. She also knew she’d promised to sleep with me when the journey to Julah was finished, so there was no need for coyness or games.

  On the other hand, the businesslike demeanor of the entire situation dissipated all the anticipation, reducing it to a mere contract. I’d get her to Julah, she’d pay up. Before, when just Del and I were together, I was happy enough with the anticipation. Now, with Elamain so close at hand (and so active), I discovered my feelings for Del were ambivalent. There was no doubt I still wanted that fair-skinned, silk-smooth body, but the anticipation had altered from eagerness to acceptance.

  It didn’t occur to me that it was because Elamain was so demanding that I didn’t have anything left over for Del.

  The woman was insatiable. We gave up all pretense of a business relationship; I stayed with her in her wagon at night, and occasionally during the day we’d retire for a while. Her maids—well-trained—never said a word. The eunuchs also kept quiet. Only Sabo looked worried, but he said nothing to me or Elamain.

  As for Del, she no longer even joked about it. I thought it was a bit of jealousy turning her fair skin green, but I wasn’t too certain. Del didn’t seem the jealous type, and all the jealous women I’ve known aren’t capable of behaving so—normally. I wasn’t even aware of any daggered glances when my back was turned.

  Did she think so little of me, then, that an affair with another woman meant nothing? Or was it simply that she figured I wasn’t worth the trouble?

  I didn’t like that idea. I decided it was because she thought she wasn’t up to the competition. Which was stupid, because Del was up to anything. Clean or dirty.

  Finally Sabo approached me. We rode at the head of the caravan, and in the distance lay the formless, sand-colored shape of Sasqaat, Hashi’s city.

  “Lord,” he began.

  I waved off the honorific. “Tiger will do.”

  He stared at me from his eloquent pale brown eyes. “Lord Tiger, may I have permission to speak? It’s a situation of some delicacy.”

  Naturally. I’d been expecting it. “Go ahead, Sabo. You can speak freely to me.”

  He fiddled with braided scarlet reins, chubby fingers glittering with rings. “Lord Tiger, I must warn you that my lord is not a calm man. Neither is he precisely cruel, but he is jealous. He ages, and with each added year he fears to lose his manhood. Already some of his vigor fades, so he tries to hide it by keeping the largest harem in the Punja, so everyone will think he is still young and strong and vigorous.” The eyes, couched in dark, fleshy folds, peered at me worriedly. “I speak of personal things, Lord Sandtiger, because I must. They also concern the lady Elamain.”

  “And therefore me.”

  “And therefore you.” He moved plump shoulders in a shrug of discomfort, setting the gold stitching of his white burnous to glow in the sunlight. “It’s not my place to interfere between my betters, but I must. I must warn you that my lord Hashi may be very angry that his bride is no longer virgin.”

  “She wasn’t a virgin before me, Sabo.”

  “I know that.” He made certain of the fit of each of his rings. “I’m certain my lord Hashi knows it, too … but he’ll never admit it. Never.”

  “Then all he has to do is ignore the fact his bride is a little more experienced than he expected.” I smiled. “He really shouldn’t complain. If anyone can restore Hashi’s lost vigor, she can.”

  “But—if she can’t?” Sabo was openly fearful. “If she can’t, and he fails with her, he will be angry. Violently angry. He will blame the lady, not himself, and he’ll look for a way to punish her. But—because she is a lady of some repute, with a wealthy father—he can’t kill her. So he’ll search for another person on which to vent his anger and frustration, and I find it very likely he will look to the man responsible for the most recent ‘deflowering’ of his bride.” His voice was apologetic. “Everyone in Sasqaat, I think, knows the lady’s reputation. But no one will say so, because he is the tanzeer. He’ll punish you, probably kill you, and no one will try to stop it.”

  I smiled, hunching my left shoulder so the sword moved a little. “Singlestroke and I have an agreement. He looks out for me, I look out for him.”

  “You can’t bear arms into the presence of the tanzeer.”

  “So I won’t see the tanzeer.” I looked at him blandly. “Surely his faithful servant can tell him how helpful I’ve been, and suggest a fitting reward be given to me through his offices.”

  Sabo was astonished. “You would trust me to give you your reward?”

  “Of course. You’re an honorable man, Sabo.”

  His brown face lost color until he resembled a sallow, sickly child. I thought he was having some sort of seizure. “No one—” he began, stopped, began again. “No one has ever said that. It’s Sabo this, Sabo that; run so fast your fat wobbles, eunuch. I am not a man to them. Not even to my lord Hashi, who is not really so bad a person. But the others—” He broke off, shutting up his mouth.

  “They can be cruel,” I said quietly. “I know. I may not be a eunuch, Sabo, but I understand. I’ve experienced my own sort of hoolies.”

  He gazed at me. “But—whatever it was—you left it. You must have left it. The Sandtiger walks freely … and whole.”

  “But the Sandtiger also remembers when he didn’t walk freely.” I smiled and slapped him on his flabby shoulder. “Sabo, hoolies is what you make of it. For some of us, it’s to be endured because it makes us better people.”

  He sighed. His brows hooked together. “Perhaps. I should not complain. I have some small wealth, for my lord Hashi is generous with me.” He waved his ring-weighted fingers. “I eat, I drink, I buy girls to try and rouse what manhood I have left. They are kind. They know it wasn’t my choice—what was done to me as a boy. But it’s not the same as freedom.” He looked at me. “The freedom to take a woman like Elamain, as you do, or the yellow-haired Northern girl.”

  “The yellow-haired Northern girl is my employer,” I declared at once. “No more than that.”

  He looked at me in utter disbelief; I couldn’t really blame him. And then I got irritated all over again that I hadn’t at least tried to get closer to Del. A sword on the sand never stopped the Sandtiger before!

  But then it had never been a sword like Del’s sword, wrought of hard, cold ice and alien runes that promised a painful death.

  Still, it wasn’t really the sword at all. It was Del herself, and that odd integrity and pride. Maybe it wouldn’t stop another man, but it sure stopped me.

  I sighed with deep
disgust.

  Sabo smiled. “Sometimes, a man does not have to be a eunuch,” he said obliquely. I understood him well enough.

  I glanced around, searching for Del, and saw her riding at the tail of the caravan. The sun burned brightly on her hair. She was smiling faintly, but the smile was directed inwardly and not at any person. Certainly not at me.

  Fourteen

  Elamain was properly demonstrative during our final assignation in her wagon. We bumped closer to Sasqaat and to the end of our affair with each moment; she said she didn’t want to miss anything I had to offer. By this time I wasn’t certain I had anything left to offer—but I certainly tried.

  “Growl for me, Sandtiger.”

  “Elamain.”

  “I don’t care who knows. Everyone does know. Do you care? Growl for me, Tiger.”

  So I growled. But very softly.

  Afterward, she sighed and slung one arm around my neck, snuggling her chin against one shoulder. “Tiger, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You’re getting married, Elamain, and I’m going on to Julah.”

  “With her.”

  “Of course, with her. She hired me to take her there.” I wondered how much Del had told her of our purpose, or if that had even come up during their discussions.

  “Can’t you stay a while in Sasqaat, Tiger?”

  “Your husband might not like it.”

  “Oh, he won’t care. I’ll have him so exhausted he’ll be glad to let me spend some time with someone else. Besides, why should you let a husband interfere with our pleasure?”

  “He’ll have a little more right to your favors than I will, Elamain. I think that’s the way marriage works.”

  She sighed and snuggled closer. Black hair tickled my nose. “Stay with me a while. Or stay in Sasqaat, and then I’ll have you called to the palace. For your reward.” She giggled. “Haven’t I rewarded you enough?”

  “More than enough.” It was heartfelt.

  “Well, I want more for you. I’ll introduce you to Hashi—respectfully, of course, and properly—and I’ll tell him how wonderful you were when you saved the caravan. How you struck down all those horrible borjuni single-handedly, and personally rescued me from their clutches.”

 

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