might be tracking us?'
'Oh, I'm not being tracked,' Del said, precise as always. 'At least, not as prey. For information, yes. But it's you they want to kill.'
'Comforting,' I muttered, kneeling to hobble the stud.
'I'm assuming a goodly number are hoping to find you,' Del added. 'Though they won't kill you out of hand, Ahmahd said. Apparently Umir's far less concerned that you dishonored the circle and your vows than he is in recovering the book, despite what the sword-dancers want. The orders are explicit: you are not to be killed until the book is back in his hands, in case you've hidden it somewhere. Then they can do whatever they like with you.'
'Comforting,' I repeated. Although it was, a little; easier for me to defend myself if they didn't want to kill me. Not that all of them would accept Umir's terms. 'Well, at least we know Ahmahd and his friend won't be following us immediately—Fouad was going to take care of that.' The stud was hobbled, haltered, and watered; he'd already eaten at the livery. I took myself to my pile of gear and unrolled my bedding after grooming the soil beneath it, getting rid of rocks. Aggrievedly I said, 'Here I am, being hunted by the gods know how many sword- dancers . . . and you want us to ride right into Umir's domain, maybe even into his very house, just to make sure the kid's all right.'
Del knelt as she unrolled her own bedding. 'Yes.'
Nothing more. I shook my head, unstoppered a bota. 'I sure hope this Nayyib is worth it.'
'He is.'
I watched her a moment, noting the slight stiffness in her movements, the pensive frown marring her face. She was defensive about the kid, as if there were more to him than she let on.
She glanced up, caught me staring at her. 'What?'
I shook my head and began to unlace my sandals.
'Tiger—'
'I'm tired.' And I was. 'Let's get as good a night's sleep as we can, then head out at first light.'
Her bedroll overlapped my own. Del took off her own sandals, her burnous, and set both beside her bedding along with harness and sword. She crawled beneath blankets. Bathed in the light of the moon, pale hair glowed. 'Are you all right?'
I started to answer her flippantly, then reconsidered. Perched on one elbow, I leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the brow. 'I'm fine, bascha.'
With the abrupt change of mood I'd come to recognize over the years as purely female, she said, 'If you truly don't wish to go to Umir's, we don't have to. Perhaps we could find another way.'
I didn't wish to go to Umir's. But Del wanted it very badly, and I didn't really have a good enough reason to refuse. I did owe the kid. 'We'll go, bascha. I said so.' I pulled the blanket up to my chin. 'Now, let's get some sleep.'
After a moment of silence, 'Tiger?'
'Hmm?'
'Did every sword-dancer at Umir's wish to kill you? Weren't some of them your friends?'
Beneath my blanket, I shrugged. 'Friends. Rivals. Enemies. That was the way of Alimat. And there's the matter of elaii-ali-ma • . . I was as sworn to execute an outcast as they are; that was understood from the beginning. But no—not everyone wished to kill me. One man didn't.' I smiled, remembering. 'Alric. In fact, he helped me escape.'
Her tone was sharp as she hitched herself up on an elbow. 'Alric was there? And you didn't tell me?'
'We've been a little busy, bascha.'
'But if he helped you, isn't he an outcast now?'
'Alric was never an in cast. He's a Northerner. He didn't make any friends by helping me, and he probably lost some—or all—of those who were there, but he didn't break any Southron vows. And it's only Alimat where the codes were so binding.' I shrugged. 'It was the shodo's way of fashioning true men out of worthless meat.'
'A very rigorous binding.'
'Are the Northern vows made on Staal-Ysta any less binding?'
No, they were not. Del's silence made that clear.
She changed the subject. 'Did Alric say how Lena and the girls are?'
'Fine. Lena's expecting again.' I made an indeterminate sound of derision. 'You know, you'd think three daughters would be enough!'
Del settled down again. 'Some men insist on sons, and their poor wives keep having babies until they get one. Even if it kills them.'
'You've met Lena. You know she loves children. She likely wants a dozen.'
'Well, yes,' Del conceded.
'And it's Alric who'll have to support them. See, bascha? There are always two sides. The woman has them, which, mind you, I don't suggest is easy or without risk, but the man pays for them. That, too, isn't easy or without risk.'
'Maybe.'
'Fools,' I muttered, trying to get comfortable against hard ground, 'both of them.'
'If it's what they want, then they aren't truly foolish.'
'It's one thing if you're a farmer, bascha. Or a tradesman. But a sword-dancer? If something happens to Alric—and he's not exactly in a safe line of work—Lena's stuck with raising the children on her own.' I shrugged. 'Though she'd probably marry again as soon as possible.'
'You mean, once she found a man to provide for her and the girls?'
'Well . . . yes.' I was wary of where the conversation might be heading; you never know, with Del. 'I mean, it is what many women do.'
'It is what most women do,' she said curtly. 'They have no other choice.'
Not being up for the verbal sword-dance, I kept my mouth shut.
'Or they could do what I did, and give their child away.' After that comment, I wasn't going to sleep any time soon. I contemplated holding my silence in case that was what Del preferred, but I just couldn't let it go. 'You mean Kalle.'
'Of course I mean Kalle.' Del sighed, staring up at the stars. 'She has a good home. Better parents than I could ever be—or you.'
The defense was automatic. 'I might be a superb father, for all you know—I just don't particularly care to find out.'
'You can't be a superb father if you have no children,' Del declared. Then amended it almost immediately. 'That is, if you know you have children and don't stay around to raise them. Otherwise you're not a father at all. Just the means for making them.'
Did the same apply to a woman? I decided not to bring it up for fear it was a sore spot; pointed debate is one thing, but engaging in it to hurt someone is another thing altogether. I wondered how often Del's daughter crossed her mind. She never spoke about her. 'You miss her, don't you?'
Del turned over, putting her back to me. 'I don't even know her, Tiger.'
'I mean, you miss what you might have had.'
'I made my choice before Kalle was even born. There was nothing to miss.'
And yet Del had once insisted on going North to see Kalle against my preferences, though I didn't know the girl existed then; she had been driven to see her daughter six years after her birth, as if it were some kind of geas. The journey had tested us both in many different ways, had taught us about strength of will, determination, the power of the binding between us; had nearly ended in both our deaths. Kalle was around eight now, I thought. Old enough to understand her mother had given her up in a quest to execute the men who'd robbed Del of a family. And Kalle as well.
'Maybe someday,' I said, purposely not mentioning that Del, by breaking her vows, was exiled from the North and thus from her daughter.
'What?'
'Maybe someday you'll see her again.'
The tone was frigid. 'And how would that come to be, do you think?'
'If Kalle came looking for you.'
