Sword Bound

Chapter 35

NOT LONG AFTER DAWN, Del and I were up and tacking the horses. The stud was just about ready to go. Bedrolls and saddle pouches were onboard, as were collapsible water buckets, food, botas, all the bits and pieces one carried on the road.

It was as I was hooking the halter around the stud’s neck that Danika came outside to us. I caught Del’s glance and her plan to lead her gelding away to give us privacy.

But Danika put out a hand. “No. Stay. Please.” She swallowed heavily, as if trying not to cry. Brown eyes glistened. “There are no words. There are no words. What you did…” She shook her head as the threatened tears spilled over. “It had to be the gods’ doing that you came when you did. Because otherwise Rasha would be lost to us. Hired men would not have tried hard enough to find her, to rescue her.” She gazed at Del a moment, then walked to her and reached out for a hug. Del hugged her back, murmured something in Danika’s ear. Danika nodded, then managed to get the words out: “Thank you for bringing me back my daughter.”

Del smiled, nodded, and then as Danika stepped back from her, she led her horse away. Danika did not stop her this time.

She stood beneath the tree staring at me, with a kindness in her eyes I would not have looked for. She came close, took both my hands in hers. “The best gift I ever had was the son you gave me all those years ago. Now you give him back, a better man than he was. And Rasha—” She shook her head. “There are no words, Tiger. You have brought both of my children back to me.”

I nodded, my hands clasping hers.

Her voice shook. “Thank you for those twenty-five years. Thank you for these few days. No other man could do so much.”

She stepped close. We embraced. I set my cheek against the top of her head; she was shorter than Del. “It was you who gave me the gift,” I told her. “You raised him right, you and Harith. I am so proud of him.” We broke the embrace. “Will you be all right?”

Danika nodded. “We’ll hire men to help rebuild the house. Harith won’t be able to help, but he can direct them. That will be enough. Until then, we’ll stay here with Sabir and Yahmina. Neesha is going to put up a tent for us beside the house so we don’t get too much in the way.”

He was going to fit right in, my son. Home again.

Danika sensed my thought. “His spirit is too big to remain on a horse farm. He’s not ready to settle down. You’ll have him back. I promise. I just don’t know when.”

I nodded, finding a faint smile. “And I thank you for that.”

“Come back,” she said. “Come back some day.”

I promised it, but we both knew it wouldn’t happen. Time would pass. Any intent to return would die away. Only memories would remain.

Danika’s smile wavered. She thanked me again, then turned and walked back to the house.

I finished readying the stud. Led him over to Del. She was mounted, and I swung up as well.

Her expression was startled. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Neesha?”

I looked away from her, gazing across the gentle hills. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Oh, Tiger…wait. There he is.”

I looked back at the house. Neesha stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. Across that distance we stared at one another, though not close enough to see the details of expression.

Then he raised his hand. I raised mine. And it was enough.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Del nodded. We turned our horses and headed out.

When you’ve been with someone long enough, there is no need to talk all the time. You need put no effort into carrying on a conversation. You are content and comfortable in one another’s company, even in the silence.

Del and I didn’t speak for a long time. I suspect it wasn’t so much unnecessary as we were both lost in thought about life without Neesha; about how his family would cope with the significant changes and hardships; about Rashida’s future. Del had more insight into the latter, but her explanation about people’s views of Rasha post-rape had made me realize that women faced more challenges than I’d believed even after Del had already done much to educate me.

In the South, a woman who is raped either says nothing about it for fear of punishment or, should she let it slip, is punished by being whipped. And if the woman who says nothing is found to be pregnant later, she is fortunate if married because it could be passed off as her husband’s. If single and pregnant, she was killed so she would no longer tempt men or bring a child into the world who might well grow up to be a raider himself.

Being in the North again reminded me how difficult and sometimes cruel was the South. And a question occurred that hadn’t been asked for a long time: “Do you miss it, bascha? I mean, now that we’ve been in the North again?”

Del just looked ahead. “Sometimes. And yes…more so because we’ve been here again among the trees, the grass, the hills.”

We rode a little farther. I had to ask it. “Would you want to stay here? Make our life here?”

That brought her head around. “Why are you asking? You’ve said the South is your home. I’m happy in our canyon.”

“Because it reminds you of the North.”

“Well, certainly more so than the Punja does!” Del shrugged. “Alric is happy as a Northerner in the South. Why can’t I be?”

I was quiet a moment. “I don’t want you to feel that I’m insisting.”

Del frowned, bewildered. “Is it Neesha? Do you want to be closer, now that he’s staying here?”

“There’s Kalle also.”

We had not spoken of Del’s daughter in years. She had been fostered to a good family in Staal-Ysta when Del left the North to find her brother.

Del shook her head. “No. As you saw at Staal-Ysta, Kalle has real parents, not a mother who deserts her.”

“The exile is over. You could go back to Staal-Ysta if you wished. To see her.”

“I don’t wish,” Del said quietly. “We’ve got Sula, you and I. You didn’t know Neesha even existed until two years ago. And Kalle doesn’t even know I am her mother. Neesha has done very well; I’m sure Kalle has also.” She met my eyes. “I’m happy where I am. It’s you who matters, not the place.”

I nodded, frowning. “But you’ll tell me if you’d like to go back, won’t you?”

Del’s smile kindled. “I’ll tell you, yes. I vow it.”

I couldn’t hide the relief in my voice. “All right, then.”

We spent the night at the small stopping place, then rode on in more haste. Now that we were bound for the canyon, our urgency was different than it had been going north. Quite apart from it being our home, Sula was there. She was deserving of a settled place, but if Del wished to move to the North at any time, I’d do it.

Without Mahmood’s caravan to attend, we made much better time. South again, we arrived at the big oasis with a few hours left before dusk. As always, plenty of people were there, but more yet would arrive with the sunset. The spring was thronged by people trying to fill buckets or water animals, so Del and I hunted down a tree and found a sparse-limbed one with modest shade.

As had been my habit in the past, I rode the stud around the perimeter of the oasis, through the tents and wagons. I saw no sword-dancers. I went back to Del and, as she had already done, completed the usual horse and human chores. I grabbed up two of the water buckets and went to the spring.

Where a sword-dancer had just arrived.

Ah, hoolies.

I very nearly turned to go back to our tree. But he had already glanced at me briefly, noted the sword above my shoulder, and nodded matter-of-factly to acknowledge a fellow sword-dancer. Apparently nothing alerted him to my identity. He watered his mount, then walked away. As I filled our buckets, I reflected that it was arrogance to assume that every sword-dancer knew me on sight. Many did, but probably there was a fair number of them who either hadn’t heard of me or did not recognize the scars on my face. Many of them were young. Alimat no longer existed. Other than by rumor, the younger men might not even know what elaii-ali-ma meant or that I’d declared it.

Then again, Khalid knew me. Kirit had known. Eddrith knew. Even Darrion was aware.

Other men crowded forward at the spring to fill buckets of their own. None were sword-dancers, merely family men driving wagons, merchants such as Mahmood, solo male riders. I saw no harnesses, no swords sheathed in them. Tension began to melt away. I had not yet taken off my harness and sword, which had marked me to the sword-dancer; I intended to, but were I unarmed, others could attack.

I moved away from the crowded spring and walked back with full buckets, trying to keep the water from slopping over the rims. I wasn’t entirely successful, but most remained in the buckets when I set them before the horses. Maybe later, in the dark, I’d lead the horses back to the spring when it was less crowded. Just now it was a mass of jostling as animals crowded to water, and the stud usually let everyone know he did not approve when he was in the middle of such things.

I found that Del had already laid a fire and was coaxing tinder. She nursed a flame carefully, and once it was established, she carefully laid larger branches on it.

As I arrived, she glanced up. “We have stew makings. We could boil one on the fire.”

I screwed up my face. “Stew again? I think that’s all we’ve had for days.”

“Well, short of begging for food at other fires, this is what we’ve got. Tamar sent the makings with me.”

“Tamar’s stew? Is that all we’ll ever eat for the rest of our lives?” I sighed heavily, feigning deep regret, and stripped out of my burnous. The harness and sword followed. I set the sword, unsheathed, immediately beside my blanket. “I suppose it will do.”

She then suggested I go to other fires and beg a pot. Apparently this was different than begging for food. When on the road we carried dried foodstuffs and hoped now and again to catch a sand coney, wild fowl, or, if we were fortunate, cattle or goats that had escaped their herds; even, occasionally, snakes. But many animals were scarce as we camped on the edge of the Punja. Del and I had a little cumfa meat left, journey bread verging on stale, fruit that was starting to spoil. But Tamar had sent more dried meat, tubers, herbs, onions, and potatoes. Mixed with water and heated over a cookfire, it would do nicely. We lacked a spit so we’d set the pot right down on the rock ring. That is, if I managed to borrow a pot.

“I have a better idea,” I said. “You go.”

She was tending the cookfire once more. “Because I’m a woman?”

Uh-oh. I turned on my heel and went off to scrounge a pot.