Sword Sworn

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 entrance 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 naked, 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.

In a moment he was free, pressing a hand against his abdomen. "There went a few more layers."

"Let’s get out of here." I turned, stepped back into the darkness of the tunnel.

"Wait," Nayyib said. "Tiger — wait."

I didn’t want to wait. "I don’t want to wait."

"Please."

"It’s dark in here."

"That’s why I want you to wait. It might be easier."

The pleasure in finding the sword spilled away. For a moment I had been able to forget. "What might be easier?"

"To tell you."

I said nothing. I couldn’t. There was only pain and acknowledgment. An understanding that had everything to do with practicality and none whatsoever with the feelings of the heart.

Oh, bascha .

But I could be alone. I’d been alone all of my life, until she had come.

And now she wanted to go.

"Del said I shouldn’t put it off any any longer. That if I didn’t tell you, she would."

Suddenly I was grateful we were in darkness. I didn’t want him to see my face; didn’t want to see his.

More silence.

Then, "I don’t know how to say it."

I wasn’t about to be patient as he tried to find the right words to tell me what I didn’t want to hear. "I’m done in here." I turned, took a step.

"Tiger, wait —"

I swung back, filled to bursting with dread and anger. "Spit it out!" I bellowed. "Get it over with! Tell me what you’ve come to say!"

"All right!" he bellowed back. "You’re my father!"