“Sword-mate,” I answered. “We saw no reason for words to bind us. The gods know we belong together.”
Danika said, “She’s beautiful.”
I smiled. “She is.”
“She’s a sword-dancer?”
“Sword-singer, as the Northerners say.”
“Good,” Danika said firmly, after a moment. “When you bring Rashida back, perhaps your woman—the woman—would be willing to teach her a few forms. Ever since Neesha left, Rasha has been extremely vocal about her desire to be a sword-dancer like her brother.”
I smiled crookedly. “Is that what you want for her?”
“No,” she answered swiftly, honestly, yet without annoyance or bitterness. “But it’s her choice. You taught me what freedom was, one night so many years ago.”
That astonished me. “You were already free!”
“But not as Rashida is, was.” Tears spilled over as she turned to face me, letting go of my hand. “Bring her back. Tiger, please…bring my daughter back.”
Fervently, I said, “I swear it by whatever god you like, Danika. I’ll swear by all of them, if that’s what you prefer. We’ll bring Rashida back.”
After a moment she nodded, brushed away her tears, then walked in quiet dignity before me into the house.
Danika’s husband, Neesha’s stepfather, had been settled in a bed. His left leg was splinted. His head above his eyes was tightly wrapped in muslin, showing spots of blood. One side of his face already exhibited the ugly purple of deep bruising.
The room wasn’t large, but we managed to squeeze Danika, Neesha, the neighbors—Sabir and his wife Yahmina—and me into it. Del, who came in later, stood in the doorway.
“Has he been conscious at all?” I asked.
“Occasionally,” Yahmina answered. “He knows where he is and what happened, but he doesn’t remain awake very long.”
I nodded. “Has he said anything about the raiders?”
“A little,” Yahmina replied.
“Can you wake him now?”
Yahmina was shocked. Her husband, Sabir, turned an angry face on me. “He needs his rest!”
“He’s here, and safe,” I said. “So is Danika. But their daughter is not. If Del and I are to find the raiders, we need to know details.”
Sabir looked at me, looked at Del. His jaw was set. “Sword-dancers.”
Del’s voice was cool. “Who better to go after raiders?”
“And ask them to dance?” Sabir shook his head. “I hardly think any of those men would step into a circle.”
Neesha, kneeling on the floor very close to the bed, lifted his voice. There was a perceptible edge in it. “I don’t believe Tiger or Del would do any such thing as invite them into a circle.” He looked at me. “Would you?”
“Well, no,” I agreed. “Not exactly.”
“I want my sister back,” Neesha said flatly. “I can conceive of none better to accomplish such a task and to bring her home.”
Sabir looked at Neesha, looked at me again. He inclined his head slightly in accordance with Neesha’s words.
“Can you wake him?” I asked once more.
It was Neesha who reached out, who massaged Harith’s shoulder. “Father,” he said. “Father, it’s Neesha. Please awaken. Please speak with us.”
The wounded man reacted but not in a helpful way. He moaned, shifted slightly, rolled his head away.
“Father, it’s Neesha. I’m home. I need to speak with you.”
After a moment, Harith turned his head back. A slight wince gave way to twitching eyelids, to a mouth that trembled.
“Father. I’m here.”
The eyelids cracked. Lifted halfway. What lay behind them were dark brown eyes glazed with pain, with confusion.
Neesha took his father’s hand into his own. “Yes,” he said. “It’s me. Neesha. I’m home.”
Harith’s lips parted. The tip of his tongue extruded briefly, as if to lick dry lips. In a cracked voice, not much above a whisper, he said, “Neesha’s gone away…”
“No. I’m home. I promise. I’m here. Right here. Feel my hands?” He squeezed flesh. “Feel them? I’m home.”
And Harith said, “Rashida.”
Neesha glanced briefly at me, at his mother, before turning attention back to his father. “Yes. Rashida.”
“Not here…”
“No,” Neesha agreed, more gently than I might have expected, under the circumstances. “But we mean to bring her back.”
“Harith,” Danika said quietly. “Harith, we need to know. Is there anything you can tell us?”
His eyes wandered. He saw his son. Life crept back into his eyes. “Neesha?”
“I’m here.”
He moistened dry lips. “They took her…took Rasha.”
Neesha nodded. “We’ll bring her back. I promise. But what can you tell us?”
“Follow hoof prints,” Harith said. “So many horses…” Then he roused a bit more. “Six men. Northerners. Borderers. One was red-haired.” Pain took him; he gave in to it. “Follow…”
“We will,” Neesha assured him. “I swear it.”
Harith volunteered no more. Unconsciousness left his face lax.
“It’s enough,” I said. “Probably this red-haired man is the same red-haired man who attempted to raid Mahmood’s caravan. His coloring, plus so many horses, will mark him out.”
Danika’s expression was bleak as she cupped her elbows in her hands, but her voice was hopeful as she looked at me. “You’re sure?”
“I saw him,” I told her. “I saw him from close up. I’ll know him if I see him again.”
She looked at Del, standing very quietly just behind me, and accorded her the honor of being a sword-dancer, not just a woman. “You’re sure?”
Del’s voice was frigid. “If I do nothing else before I die, I will bring your daughter home.”
Neesha carefully settled his father’s hand on the bedclothing again, then rose. He glanced briefly at his mother, then looked at me, at Del. “Let’s go out.”
I had expected it. I turned, Del turned and led us out of the house into the air, into the scent of grasses, of trees, the faintest whiff of near-dead coals in the cookfire ring. Tree leaves rustled faintly on an equally faint breeze.
Neesha paced as Del and I waited. Finally he stopped and looked at us. “I have to stay. She has nothing now, my mother. If he dies—”
Del cut him off. “He won’t.”
Neesha stared at her. “You can’t know that.”
“I can,” Del declared. “He’ll wait for us to bring his daughter home. Hope will keep him alive. And when we bring her back to his side, joy and love will mend his bones and bruises.”
Emotions and thoughts filled Neesha’s eyes, followed by tears, though he blinked them away before they could fall. “You will bring her back.”
It was as much question as it was statement, as much hope as defeat. “Del said it best,” I told him. And so I echoed her words, if with one small alteration. “If I do nothing else before I die, I will bring your sister home.”
Neesha loosed a long breath that vanquished some of the tension. “A two-fold promise. So much power in that.”
“Merely the truth,” I told him.
“Gods,” he said tightly. “I want to stay, I want to go!”
I nodded understanding. “But your mother needs her son.”
“I know. I know.” He shook his head.
I glanced at Del, then back to Neesha. “You’ll know when it’s done. You’ll hear the thunder of the horses and your sister’s voice.”