“You do,” he said defensively, as if he thought I didn’t believe him.
In exasperation, I asked, “Don’t tell me it’s Umir again!”
“It’s Umir,” Khalid said. “Whoever he is.”
This annoyed the hoolies out of me, enough that I articulated a rather long litany of swear words. Umir the Ruthless, a very wealthy and powerful tanzeer who liked to collect unusual things—even people—had put a bounty on my head to be taken alive for his little competition. He wanted to hire a sword-dancer, and decided the best way of finding the right man for the job was to hold a competition. Winner got the job of dancing against me. I was supposed to be dessert to the main course. “Umir already paid. He paid off Rafiq,” I said. Rafiq and his friends had actually captured me, sick and weakened by sandtiger poison, right here by the lean-to, and delivered me to Umir. “And I killed the winner. And then escaped.” Neither of which was what Umir had in mind.
Khalid shrugged. “There’s a new bounty, then.”
Neesha, who had once been Umir’s captive in order to trade him to me in exchange for a book of magic in my possession, swore beneath his breath. “Is he ever going to give up?”
Del and I together had once been his so-called guests, too; he’d wanted to add Del to his collection. I began to think Umir had been put on this earth just to annoy me.
I turned and stalked to the trees skirting the edge of the bluff, staring northward toward the Punja. “Umir,” I muttered. “Umir. I’m sick of Umir!” I swung back around to face Khalid. “You’re sure about this. That it’s him.”
He shrugged. “That’s what I was told.”
It sounded just like something Umir would do, putting yet another bounty on my head. It had worked before. He’d caught me, but he couldn’t keep me.
I wished him to hoolies. I turned and walked back toward the circle, muttering and swearing between gritted teeth. I wanted to hit something, preferably Umir’s face. But I did have Khalid to beat up on. That was something.
“In Julah I wanted to kill you,” Khalid explained, oblivious to my frustration, “But now I just want to dance. Because if I win, you have to go with me.”
“Go with you where?”
His voice rose. “To Umir’s! Where do you think?”
Neesha started to answer angrily, but I gestured him to silence with a lifted hand. My attention was on Khalid. “What do you know about him?”
“Just what the sword-dancers told me. That he’s a rich tanzeer. But that’s why I’ve decided not to kill you. It’s about some kind of a book.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why a book matters so much, but it does.”
“The Book of Udre-Natha,” I told him. “It’s a grimoire, a book of magic. But Umir has it. What in hoolies does he want me for?”
“He can’t open it.”
This was pure aggravation. “Of course he can’t open it! I put a spell on it so he couldn’t!”
“Well,” Khalid said matter-of-factly, “he wants you to take the spell off. At least that’s what they told me. So he’s put a bounty on your head.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered. “Half the sword-dancers in the South want to kill me, and the other half want to haul me off to Umir’s. Again. Umir and his bounties. It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. It’s annoying as hoolies.”
“Maybe you should just kill him,” my son said.
I glared at him. “Umir doesn’t dance. He doesn’t even fight. He hires people for that. So you’re saying I should just ride in there and lop off his head?”
Neesha, clearly defensive, brushed a nonexistent smudge of dirt from his burnous. “Well, it was just an idea.”
Khalid raised his voice. “So if I win the dance, but don’t kill you, you have to come with me to Umir’s.”
“Good gods,” I said in disgust, “are you a lunatic? Why would I do that?”
“It’s stupid,” Neesha interjected. “Only a fool would agree to that.”
Khalid flicked him a glance of pure venom, then looked back at me. “So, will you swear it?”
“Swear to go with you if I lose?” I very nearly laughed at him. “Why would you want me to swear to anything? I have no honor, remember?”
Khalid remembered. He chewed briefly at his bottom lip. “Then no swearing. Agreement would work.”
“And why would you trust my agreement any more than my oath? Khalid, you can’t win this argument. If you want to dance just to dance, we can do that. But it will have nothing to do with Umir.”
He thought that over, then finally nodded. Bounty or no bounty, defeating the Sandtiger was probably worth more in bragging rights.
One should always assess his opponent. I registered Khalid’s physique, his posture, the steadiness of hands and eyes. He was somewhat taller than the usual Southroner, somewhat lighter in skin, his eyes were a green-gray color, and his hair was brown, not black. I thought it possible there was some Borderer blood behind him. He looked about the same age as Neesha, which placed him around twenty-five. Young enough to be my son.
Hoolies, I already had one of those. But I had only known about Neesha for the last two years. “Is your father really your father?” I asked warily.
Khalid did not know what to make of that. Baffled, he said, “What?”
“Is your father really your father?”
“I don’t know!” he declared, clearly frustrated. “Why in hoolies do you care? And what has this to do with a sword-dance?”
“I’d just like to know. I’m curious by nature.” A glance at Neesha showed me a somewhat stunned expression. He’d wanted to dance against me, too, before he got around to telling me who he was. I could see him doing the math.
“He wasn’t around for my birth,” Khalid replied flatly. “Nor ever after. So, I’m a bastard. Does that matter?”
“No,” I told him. “So am I. So is my son.” I tilted my head in Neesha’s direction. “Him.”
That startled Khalid. “He’s your son?” Then he looked at Neesha. “You’re his son?”
Simultaneously, Neesha and I answered: “Yes.”
Khalid shook his head slightly, clearly in disbelief. Then he cheered up. “So. I defeated the Sandtiger’s get.”
Neesha glowered at him. “Let’s make it two out of three. You’ve got the one.”
“I’ll save you for tomorrow,” Khalid said airily. “I’ve got your father to beat today.”
It was fixing to be a lengthy dispute between two cocky young men. Sighing, I walked to the center of the circle and set my sword down. I knew this time Khalid wouldn’t come after me. He’d dance. I walked back to the edge of the circle. “Any time,” I said lightly.
Khalid walked to the center as well and placed his sword next to mine. Once he’d taken his place opposite me, he looked at Neesha. “Say it.”
Neesha said it. “Dance.”
Chapter 5
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG. During the second engagement I smashed the sword out of his hands straight to the ground, then butted him just under the ribs with the pommel of my blade. Khalid went down hard, all his breath gone.
It’s a scary thing, that. You think you’re dying. But then breath begins to come back, after you whoop and gasp for a while. And as he was doing that, I returned to the wagon and sheathed my own blade, laced up my sandals, yanked the burnous over my head, worked the slit over the sword hilt. By the time Khalid was breathing normally again, I was up in the seat, reins gathered and ready to go.
Khalid got slowly to his feet. “You cheated! You’re not supposed to do that!”