Khalid turned his back on me and walked into the palace.
Smiling, I followed.
Come and see.
Inside, I headed straight for Wahzir’s quarters and Del. Not surprisingly, several men appeared almost immediately to prevent me from doing this. I didn’t protest. I held out my arms so they could grip them tightly and keep me from moving in any direction. Also not surprising, Tariq and Hamzah arrived.
“I know,” I said, “you’re his pets. Or maybe part of his collection.”
Hamzah’s smile was slight. “We are what you once were. Sword-dancers.”
“With honor,” Tariq put in.
“You call this ‘honor’?” I asked. “I wouldn’t be so certain.” Khalid was behind me. He yanked Samiel out of the sheath.
There was a note of wariness in his voice. “Is the magic in this sword?”
I smiled at Tariq and Hamzah, answering Khalid. “It’s just a sword. I forged it in the North when I had nothing better to do. The magic you refer to is in me.”
Khalid moved. Two strangers held me. Tariq, Hamzah, and now Khalid stood in front of me. Tariq looked at the sword. Hamzah did not. He looked at me—of the three, the cleverest, and thus the most dangerous.
“Khalid,” I said lightly, “don’t be so certain you’re getting the bounty.”
He look up. “What?”
“You told Umir where I was. You did not capture me. That took Hamzah and Tariq. Umir will pay them.”
“He said he would pay me.”
I grinned. “Umir lies.”
Khalid looked uncertain. Then angry. He glared at me.
“Now,” I said, “let’s go to Del, shall we? Before I open that gods-cursed book, I have a task. And you can tell Umir that, Khalid. After you ask him about the bounty.”
Khalid hesitated, then gave Samiel to Tariq, turned on his heel and walked off, stiff through spine and shoulders. Hamzah laughed quietly. “He’s a fool, that one.”
“Del,” I said pointedly.
Tariq looked up from inspecting blade, hilt, grip, and pommel. “Is it a magical sword?”
I laughed at him. “Magical swords only exist in stories.”
Hamzah was watching Tariq. He appeared to be amused. “Here,” he said. “I have an idea. Just in case.” He took Samiel from Tariq, gestured to one of the men to release my arm. He presented him with the sword. “Umir will likely wish to put this in his collection.” His amused glance slid to me. “Just in case.”
And so Khalid gave up the sword, Tariq gave up the sword, Hamzah gave up the sword. Hamzah also closed a firm hand over my arm. “I realize you know the way,” he said lightly, “but allow us to escort you.”
Wahzir was bent over items on the long table. He glanced up as I was brought in with Hamzah and a stranger attached, trailing Tariq. Wahzir jumped up so quickly he bashed his thigh on the edge of the table and upset a bottle of ink. Or a bottle that looked like ink. Still the dry little man but with hunger in his eyes.
“You have it?” he asked. “You have the magic?”
“Del.”
“Alive. I have kept her so.” He stared avidly at me. “You have the magic?”
“I did. But they took it away from me.”
It completely baffled him. “Took it—?”
“The sword,” I said calmly. “Of course it holds the magic. That’s the way it always is in stories.”
“Who took it?”
“Ask Hamzah. He’s the last one to have his hands on it.”
“Oh, stop,” Hamzah said. “Now you’re boring.” He let go of my arm and gestured for the stranger to take himself away. He knew I wasn’t going to escape, or even attempt it. Del was here, and Sula elsewhere.
“Umir has the book,” Wahzir said. “Can you open it?”
“Of course I can open it. I closed it.” I walked away then, went into the alcove. Del still lay beneath covers, her head atop a pillow. Her color was normal. “Bascha.” I knelt down on the floor beside the cot. “Del. I’m here.”
She stirred. A glow began in my heart, a small, growing spark of relief and joy. As she opened her eyes, the spark became a flame. Delilah saw me. Delilah smiled.
Chapter 43
I PUT MY HEAD DOWN VERY CLOSE TO HERS, spoke so softly I knew no one else would hear what I said. “Bascha. Whatever happens, pretend you’re still very ill.”
Awareness and understanding flickered in her eyes. Still on my knees, I turned to Wahzir. “You said she was better. This isn’t better.”
“I said she was alive,” he clarified. “That’s all that was expected of me.”
“She can’t leave like this,” I snapped. “And we certainly aren’t staying here once I’ve done what Umir wants. What do you recommend? Can’t you heal her?”
The hunger in Wahzir’s eyes was replaced with a smoldering anger. “I kept her alive. I can kill her also.”
“Umir wouldn’t like it.” Still on my knees, I looked at Tariq and Hamzah. “One of you had best go get my sword.”
“Nonsense,” Hamzah said curtly. “There’s nothing in that sword. You just want it close enough to use if you get the chance.”
“Then ask—oh. You’re here.”
Umir came in. He carried the book almost reverently. Khalid, accompanying him, had my sword. Very helpful of him.
“That’s not wise,” Hamzah warned. “Breaking codes and oaths does not make him any less dangerous a sword-dancer.”
Umir looked at him. “You have a sword, as do Tariq and Khalid. But it doesn’t matter if the blade is here. His woman is ill, and I hold his daughter. Use sense.”
I stayed on my knees.
Despite the dimness and shadows of Wahzir’s quarters, I saw color come into Hamzah’s face. He was angry, angry and embarrassed to be ridiculed for his concern. I very carefully kept my expression blank. Annoying him was one thing, angering him was quite another. Hamzah was not impressed by Umir the way Tariq and Khalid were. That made Hamzah dangerous. And Umir, I thought, didn’t know it.
“Is my daughter safe?” I asked the tanzeer.
Umir was insulted. “Of course she is!”
“Let me have a moment with Del. Then I’ll open your book.”
“Hurry!” Wahzir cried.
I’d been kneeling and I remained so. I turned back to Del, saw her watching me expectantly. She didn’t know all the answers, but she knew what the questions were. I smiled at her, then pulled back the covers. She still wore her short leather tunic. I placed one hand over her belly. Something inside me leaped. It made me gasp. This was no kindly power.
I leaned down, rested my head against the cot frame. Shut my eyes tightly. Felt a spark of something coiled down deep unwind itself. It found my spine. Ran up the cord to my neck, then down over shoulder to arm and the hand spread beneath it. I thrummed with it. Throbbed.
I saw Del’s face. Wonder filled it. But she recalled what I’d said. She lay very still, closed her eyes, did nothing they would expect of a recovered patient.
“Finish!” Wahzir shouted.
Umir turned on him. “Be silent, or I will send you from this room, and you’ll see nothing of the book. Nothing of the spells.”
Wahzir closed his eyes, nodded. Lips trembled. I thought any moment he might faint from expectation.
“Open it.” Umir’s eyes were very cool as he looked at me. “You know the cost if you can’t. Or won’t.”
I drew in a deep breath. Stood. Gestured to the table. “Put it there.”
Wahzir leaped to the table. He pushed aside everything, knocking various bottles and other impediments out of the way. They fell to the floor, spilling contents, shattering, rolling away. Umir quietly set the locked book down. Tariq and Hamzah stood by the door. Khalid was near Del’s alcove. Umir was closest of all. Wahzir hovered.