Sword Singer-Sword Dancer 2 (44 page)

chances of succeeding were slight; a woman alone, no matter how good with a sword, can't overcome twenty or thirty men." I gestured briefly in Del's direction, indicating the sword. "She could count on no one but herself--collecting a blood-debt is a thing left to kin, and she had none left--so she called upon the only man she knew capable of giving her the strength, support and power she required--she called on her an-kaidin."

"She kitted her an-kaidin!"

Stigand's impassioned cry hung in the morning air. And I thought, looking at him, I'd been a fool to hope he would suggest as a just sentence anything but her death.

I wet my lips. "But Baldur isn't dead. He lives on in her jivatma."

"Not possible," Telek declared.

I disagreed. "Don't Northerners believe that by blooding a jivatma in the body

of an honored person, enemy or otherwise, that the sword takes on the attributes

of that person?"

Telek gestured. "There is more to it than that."

"Broken down," I said distinctly, "that's basically what it means. And maybe what it is; I've seen jivatmas 'die,' when deprived of the sword-dancer's life.

First Theron's sword, then Bron's... they became merely swords instead of remaining jivatmas."

The voca exchanged glances. Clearly I'd unveiled nothing new, but maybe they'd

hoped I wouldn't know so much about their customs.

"So," I said quietly, "Del called on Baldur to help, and Baldur did. He stepped

into the circle. He danced with his best an-ishtoya. And he died, so that Del's

jivatma could live. So that she could collect the blood-debt, in true Northern

style. With true Northern honor."

The old man stared at me. I saw grief, anger, acknowledgment. But he said nothing. He merely swung around and walked away, while the other nine followed

him.

Hoolies, I hate waiting. But waiting is what we did, Del and I. While all the others stood and watched, waiting as much as we did.

Eventually, Stigand came marching back with the voca. Took his place again before Del's cage of swords. Said nothing as the others fell in to flank him; Telek avoided my eyes, as did Stigand.

Not a good sign.

The old man looked straight at Del. "You have killed one of our number. That is

unforgivable. But so are the deaths of others."

Del didn't even blink.

"You have agreed to pay swordgild to Baldur's kin; he has none. You will pay it

instead to Staal-Ysta, to help in times of need."

Del nodded once.

"As to the sentence for the murder of your an-kaidin, we will be lenient. We offer you a choice: death, or life. Exile yourself and go, or stay here and be

executed."

Instantly there was an outbreak of conversation among all those watching.

Some

clearly felt the sentence was just, others argued against it.

I looked at Stigand. So. The old man had upheld his end of the deal. I looked at

Telek. His face was stony, but I saw satisfaction in his eyes. The honor of Staal-Ysta was upheld, Del was punished, they both got what they wanted: Staal-Ysta empty of painful reminders of deaths and births.

I released a sigh of relief. Now we could go South. Now we could go home.

"How long," Del asked, "is the exile?"

"Forever," Stigand told her.

Unsurprised, Del nodded. "I'd like to buy back a year."

It stopped all the clamor dead. Everyone stared; some gaped.

Stigand was clearly puzzled. "Buy back a year?"

Del's voice rang out clearly, carrying through the cold air. "I want the first

day of my exile moved back twelve months. I will pay for it."

"Why?" Stigand demanded.

"I have a child." Del looked straight back at him. "I'd like to be a mother, if

for only a year."

Telek shut his eyes.

Stigand was shaking his head. "This isn't acceptable. You gave the girl up--"

"--because I had no other choice." Her voice was quiet, but the underlying passion carried as clearly as a shout. "What manner of mother would I be without

honor? What life could I offer a child? None. And so I swore my oaths and gave

her up so I could collect the blood-debt to regain my family's honor... to give

Kalle some honor." She looked squarely at Telek. "I don't mean to take her from

you. I mean only to share her for a year--and then she will be yours forever, undivided, while I spend my life in other lands." Bitterness crept in. "Is that

so much to ask? One year in exchange for a lifetime?"

Oh, hoolies, bascha. This wasn't part of the deal.

Stigand didn't look worried, though Telek's face was gray. The old man merely smiled. "You said you would buy back the year. With what? You must pay swordgild

to Staal-Ysta... what is left to spend?"

"Blood-gift," she said steadily, "for the space of that year."

Stigand's voice was gentle; he was certain of the outcome. "I say again: what?

Do you mean to give up your jivatma?"

"No," Del answered quietly. "I give you a new an-ishtoya. I give you the Sandtiger."

Thirty-eight

Noise. Everyone was talking to me, talking at me: Stigand, Telek, other members

of the voca, other Northerners. But it was all just noise, all of it; I walked

away from it easily, pushing through the throng, and finally reached Del.

I reached out, caught one arm above the elbow, pulled her close. "We have to have a talk."

The voca had uncaged her, each man pulling his sword from the ground and sheathing it, denoting acceptance of her proposition. All but two, that is; neither Stigand nor Telek had been satisfied, but they were soundly defeated by

a distinct majority, and so eventually they had plucked their swords from the ground. Del had purchased her year.

She tried once to disengage her arm from my hand, failed, gave in. Allowed me to

physically escort her away from the commotion, back through the trees to the shore to where the boat was anchored.

I released her arm, knowing I'd undoubtedly left red fingermarks in her flesh that would by morning turn blue; Del is that fair.

She stood stiffly, almost awkwardly, staring resolutely across the lake to where

mountains bumped the sky. Water carries sound; I heard horses in the distance.

I

thought I heard the stud.

Slowly I pointed to the boat. "What," I began quietly, "prevents me from getting

in that boat and leaving?"

Del's tone was flat. "You don't know how to row."

"Oh, I learn pretty fast... and you have given me more than enough provocation

to get in there now and do it."

"Then go," she said tonelessly.

I caught her arm again, swung her around to face me. "You know perfectly well I

can't! You saw to that, didn't you? You knew once I agreed to abide by the voca's sentence I'd be trapped by my own words, and you could do whatever you felt like doing, regardless of what I wanted."

"You have a choice," she said curtly. "You aren't a prisoner. You're a student,

just like all the others... no one will keep you here against your will. No one

will chain you up or lock you into a lodge. At worst they'll give you a jivatma!"

"I don't want one!" I shouted. "What I want is to get in that boat--with you--and go back across the lake, where we can collect the stud and get the hoolies out of here, right now!"

"I have a year," she said grimly. "Duly purchased and paid for."

"With my freedom, Del!" I stared at her, astonished at the depth of her resolution; her lack of compassion for me, whom she had dispensed with so readily. "You didn't even ask me!"

She swung to face me squarely. "And if I had come to you and said, so prettily:

'Please, Tiger, will you do this for me; Tiger, will you give me a year of your

life?' " She shook her head. "Why should I waste my breath? I knew what you would have said."

"No you don't. You haven't the faintest idea. Because you're so wrapped up in yourself and your own needs right now, you're totally blind to mine."

"Not blind!" she cried. "I see you! But I also see Kalle. I also see my daughter--"

"--whom you gave up the day after she was born."

"Because I had to--"

"Don't give me that goat dung, Del. You didn't have to do anything of the sort.

No one forced you to. No one snatched that child away from you and said you couldn't see her again until you'd avenged your family. That was you. That was

you--"

"What do you know about it?" she cried. "What do you know about love and honor

within a family... what do you know about responsibility to one's kin...

you've

never accepted any responsibility in your entire life!"

It hurt. "And how responsible were you to Kalle when you gave her up? Were you

satisfying her needs, or your own?"

Del's eyes were blazing. "It was something--"

"--you had to do, I know." I shook my head. "You have every right to make harsh

decisions for yourself, Del, even wrong ones, but you have no right at all to decide how others will live their lives."

"Kalle is mine."

"You gave up your rights to her."

"No."

"Yes." I sighed heavily and scratched at the clawmarks in my beard, trying to maintain patience and temper, and being hardpressed. "She has a good life with

Telek and Hana--you said so yourself--why destroy it now?"

"I'm destroying nothing. I'm sharing her for a year."

"And how do you think Kalle will view that? Are you a temporary mother, coming

to see her at your convenience, expecting her to give you the same love and affection she gives to Hana?" I shook my head. "How will it be for her, Del?"

Del wrenched her head around to stare angrily at the lake. I saw tears glisten

in her eyes. "It's a year against a lifetime."

"And how will it be for you when that year is up, and you have to leave her forever? Do you think it will be easy? Do you think you can simply walk away, saying your time is done?"

"I'd rather go knowing I had a year with her, than go now having had nothing."

It was incredibly frustrating. "But you gave her up the day after she was born,

Del! You've spent the last five years apart from her--why be so demanding now?"

"Because I was wrong." Del turned to face me again. "I was wrong, Tiger." She held herself so rigidly I was afraid she'd break. "I was so angry when I came here I could see nothing else but the revenge I'd exact from Ajani and his men.

It was what fueled me, Tiger, during the journey here. Knowing I carried his child. Knowing that once I'd learned the sword, once I'd earned my jivatma, I could do what I wanted to do. I'd have the skills and strengths to do it."

More quietly, I said, "I understand revenge. I understand hatred. But you can't

live a normal life by depending only on those emotions."

Del's mouth was flat. "I lived for five years on those emotions, Tiger. Don't tell me it can't be done."

"I said normal life, Del. Your life isn't normal. It isn't even close."

"Maybe not," she agreed. "But maybe spending a year here with Kalle will give me

the balance I need."

I spread my hands. "What about Kalle? How will she feel?"

Del shook her head so determinedly her braids swung against her shoulders.

"Tiger, you don't understand. You have no idea--"

"--how Kalle might feel?" I finished. "Think again, Del."

She put the palms of her hands flat against her temples. "You don't understand,"

she repeated. "How could you? You yourself admitted you don't know if you've sired any children--maybe you have, maybe you haven't. You're sublimely indifferent to the possibility there might be sons and daughters of your blood

scattered throughout the South." She pulled her hands away, slapping them against her thighs. "Yet you stand here and tell me you know how my daughter will feel?"

"Yes," I told her flatly. "More than you can know."

Impatiently, "Oh, Tiger--"

"I know," I told her, tapping fingers against my chest. "I know--deep inside, deep in here--what it's like to be deserted. What it's like to grow up knowing

no one claims you... what it's like having no one at all but yourself... what it's like knowing the woman who bore you dropped you into the sand like a load

of stinking dung, then left you there to rot." I stepped closer to her, very close. "I know, Del. I know very well."

She stared at me, white-faced. I'd shocked her with my passion, but I hadn't changed her feelings. Too easily she dismissed mine. "It's not the same, Tiger.

I'm not deserting Kalle--"

"She won't know the difference," I said bluntly. "Oh, yes, you and Hana and Telek will try to explain it to her, but she won't understand. All she will know

is that you've left. That you've left her ...it's the only thing that matters.

She won't understand all the reasons behind your departure. She'll only know you've gone."

"When she's older--"

"How much older?" I asked. "It takes years, Del. Many, many years until you come

to terms with it... and even then you never really do. You understand it a little better, but the hurt's still there inside." I drew in a breath. "Your own

sentence is harsh. Permanent exile from Staal-Ysta, from your daughter... but have you thought about what your purchased year will do to her?"

Woodenly, "Give her time with her mother."

After a moment, I shook my head. "Hana is her mother."

"You don't understand!" she shouted. "How can you understand? You're so ruled by

your own lusts and selfishness that all you can see is the threat she provides

to the life you and I have shared. Well, it's finished! What is there left of it?"

"One year," I said grimly. "You made sure of that, didn't you? Way back when you

first started talking about dancing styles and the customs of Staal-Ysta...

way