"No. It was my business, not his."
I released a low whistle of appreciation. "Had Abbu known, he might have offered to teach you some tricks."
Neesha's smile was slight. "I knew that. But I didn't want to learn tricks. I wanted to learn the art. I think Abbu believed I would change my mind."
I saw Del approaching. "You'll do," I said, patting the stud's neck. "At least, for a while."
He grinned. "Ten years? Or maybe seven, to match the shodo?"
"Or maybe six, to better him?"
Neesha didn't hesitate. He simply shook his head. "Who could?"
I laughed. "Abbu would say otherwise."
"Possibly. But I didn't come all this way to be Abbu's student."
Del came up and took the gelding's rein from Neesha's hand. "So, we are bound at last—again—to the fallen chimney."
"Beit al'Shahar." I gave it the Vashni name. "Yes. And if I manage to accomplish my task, then we'll head for Alimat. It's a good five or six days' ride from here, depending on the mood of the Punja. In the meantime, we can start beating up on Neesha so he understands what schooling is really all about."
Del cast him a glance, expression questioning.
He nodded. "I am duly forewarned."
I mounted the stud. "Then let's ride."
Not far out of Julah we found and followed the faint trail of wheel ruts Del and I had come to recognize, noting familiar landmarks. Somewhere along it we'd camped out on the way back from the Vashni settlement, where Del had scattered the pieces of the necklet Oziri had given me. I was aware that I no longer had any inclination to return to the Vashni encampment or to learn more about dream-walking. I had used a form of it to read my mother's bones, but there was no desire in me to sort out what my dreams meant. I knew what those involving the dead woman meant; by finding her bones, I'd fulfilled half of her repeated commandment. Now all that was left was to take up my jivatma and forget all about magery.
If I could.
Not long before sundown we rode up the familiar twisting trail to the top of the tree-hedged plateau. The lean-to against the boulders still stood. I shook my head in bemusement, recalling how Del and I had spent days there sick from sandtiger venom, and how Neesha had helped us both.
Apparently so did he, and so did Del. I saw them exchange long, intent glances. It was more than mere memory, more than a friendly recollection worth reciting to others over food and drink, but something strangely intimate. And indecipherable. It left me with an odd feeling in my belly. There was nothing in Del's behavior suggesting she was attracted to Neesha, and she had even come right out and said there was no interest on her part. When drunk on Umir's liquor the kid had divulged his attraction to her, but that didn't surprise me. Most men fell under Del's unintended spell merely by being in her presence. I was used to that. But I had seen looks exchanged between them before, glances I couldn't translate. Not the silent communication of lovers, but something else. Something—more.
But what more is there? You are lovers, friends, acquaintances, strangers, or enemies. I could attach none of those descriptions to what I saw passing between Del and Nayyib.
Could she be lying? I didn't think so. She had explained once in Skandi that if she ever intended to leave, she'd tell me. That, I believed. It wasn't Del's way to hide behind lies and subterfuge. She had also demonstrated her affection for me in physical ways, ways that were no different than had been employed before. Could a woman hide her attraction to a new man while sleeping with the old?
Well, yes. But not Del. Not with her honesty. She had never learned to dissemble.
And when Neesha had quietly bragged about his conquests of Silk and other wine-girls, it hadn't been done in a way to kindle jealousy or to make a point, the way a man might if he wanted a woman who refused him.
Which left—what?
I didn't know. Before Del, I'd kept myself to wine-girls and other women who wanted nothing more than a night or two together. I'd never sworn myself to any kind of bond. Del and I were not oath-bound, not vowed to one another save by what lived in our spirits. But I knew that could change. That it had, for others.
Hoolies, it was too complex to think about right now, after most of a day spent on horseback.
I dismounted over by scraggly trees rimming the edge of the flat-topped bluff and set about unloading and tying out the stud. The grass grazed down earlier by our horses had recovered somewhat, which suggested no one had been here since I'd come looking for Del. She and the kid found separate places for their mounts and began to unload as well. When the stud had cooled, I'd water and grain him; for now he was content to nose and lip at grass. I humped my tack and pouches over to the lean-to and dropped them outside.
"Wood," I announced tersely. "I'll be back."
"I'll go, too, when I'm done here," Nayyib offered.
"Not necessary." I stalked off, aware both were staring at me in startled bafflement.
Well, fine, so I'm prone to occasional bouts of jealousy. I'm human.
Maybe that proved I wasn't the jhihadi. Did messiahs get jealous? For that matter, did messiahs sleep with women?
Feeling somewhat better, I began looking in earnest for appropriate deadfall.
I made two trips to gather firewood. Nayyib made one; he piled it next to the fire ring, then lingered to talk with Del. From some distance away, it seemed an odd conversation. The kid stood with his head lowered, shoulders poised stiffly. Not deferential exactly but not precisely happy, either. Del stood very close to him, and her body language suggested she was doing most of the talking.
It was interesting to see them together from a distance. Nayyib was an inch taller than Del, and certainly broader and thicker of limb, but, though larger in general than most Southroners, he was not truly a significantly big man. Still, he was young yet; I didn't truly fill out until halfway through my twenties, though I had my height. Del is no delicate flower, but a tall, strong woman who moves unencumbered by the perceived requirements of femininity. They matched well together, Nayyib and Delilah.
His head came up sharply. Posture stiffened even more. He said something to Del, something definitive, because her posture abruptly tensed. Then he turned and walked away, looking for all the world like a house cat offended by the taint of splashed water.
Del watched him go—perhaps he was after more wood—then shook her head slightly. She knelt, began building a fire.
All in all, it did not put me in mind of a lovers' quarrel. Or a woman withstanding the blandishments of a man who wanted her. In fact, I couldn't put a name to it at all, save to say that he wasn't pleased by what she had told him, and she was no more pleased by his response.
But how much of that was wishful thinking?
I went over with my second supply of wood, piled it by the fire, and looked at her questioningly. "Something wrong?"
Del denied it crossly, then ducked into the lean-to to begin arranging her bedding.
Which left me even more confused than before. Wood delivered, I went off to check on the horses and to water and grain them. When Nayyib came back, he dumped his wood on the pile and came over to tend to his bay, though I had things under control.
The day was dying quickly, the way it does in the desert, but I could still see the stubbled planes of his face and the hollows of his eyes. He was unhappy about something. It struck me as odd, since Neesha seemed a mostly equable sort.
In view of my own sharp temper earlier, I didn't think it would help to inquire if he had a problem. So I lingered as I tended the stud and Del's gelding, and eventually he sighed, let the tension go, and spoke.
"Why is it we're going to this chimney place?"
"Beit al'Shahar. It's a rock formation."
"But what's there?"
"Something I left behind." I collected emptied canvas buckets and set them out of reach, so inquisitive equine teeth wouldn't chew them to bits. "Del and I were out this way about a year ago, give or take."