I had been here countless times on my own, and occasionally with Del; with Neesha, once, when we rescued him from Umir by trading him for the Book of Udre-Natha—part of Umir’s eclectic collection of things for which he conceived a desire, though perhaps obsession was a better word. Once, that had been Del. I, on the other hand, he merely wanted to kill.
It was near sundown, which meant that sites beneath almost all of the trees had been claimed already by various travelers. The smell of roasting meat, yeasty bread, spices, and pungent liquor blocked other smells. We rode the path through the oasis and fetched up at the spring. All three of us swung off our horses, but Neesha held back as Del and I led our mounts to the spring. There wasn’t enough room for all of our horses; another burnous-clad man watered two oxen on the other side. He marked the swords jutting up behind our shoulders, saw clearly that Del was a woman, and immediately goaded his oxen from the spring.
I turned to tell Neesha there was room to water his horse, but he had disappeared. Likely looking for an acceptable area to bed down. We wouldn’t need shade at night, but it would nonetheless be nice to have a tree of our own.
“I wonder,” I commented, “if our friend with the oxen departed because we are sword-dancers or because you’re a woman.”
Del shrugged as she allowed the gelding to dip his head down into the water. “Probably because of me. I’m foreign to Southroners still, and I wear a sword-dancer’s harness. How dare I? How dare I go against everything they’ve ever been taught? How dare I take on a man’s role by stepping into the circle?”
No longer was there bitterness is her tone when she spoke of such things. Del had not—and would not—accept that every woman in the South was expected to serve men, but she also had learned to pick her battles. One woman at a time.
I brought the stud in next to the gelding, and leaned down with a gourd scoop to bring water to my mouth. “Of course it could be me. People do recognize me.”
“It’s the scars,” a male voice said. “And missing fingers. And the Northern woman who rides with you.”
I looked up, then violently dashed the contents of the gourd back into the water. “No,” I said. “Oh, no. Not again. Didn’t you learn anything? Don’t you recall what I said?”
Khalid’s jaw was tight. “That I wasn’t good enough to even step into a circle with you.”
“Yes,” I declared, seriously exasperated. “That’s exactly what I said. I meant you to heed it.”
Though the sun was going down, I could still see his face and his expression. He glared at me. “I don’t want to step into a circle with you.”
I blurted a rough laugh. “Well, that’s the first smart thing I’ve heard you say. But why in hoolies are you here?”
With some belligerence, he said, “It’s an oasis. Anyone can come here. And I told you I’d go wherever I wanted.”
I shook my head in disgust. “What did you do, run your horse all the way to get here before us?”
Del’s voice was very quiet. “Who is this fool?”
And I remembered that she had never seen Khalid. Only I had, and Neesha. “This fool,” I said, “challenged Neesha to a dance. And he cheated. He—”
“I didn’t cheat!” Khalid, stung, raised his voice over mine. “I tricked him, yes, but that is something all of us can do, who dance. He was the fool for not examining the circle before we began.”
“Well,” Del observed, “then it’s not entirely accurate to accuse him of cheating, Tiger.”
Khalid looked at her warily, not certain if or why she was agreeing with him.
Neesha appeared out of the setting sun, leading his unsaddled, unpacked horse. His tone was exquisitely dry. “Are we inviting him to dinner?”
Khalid sneered. “I wouldn’t eat with you.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked. “Neither of us will dance with you, so it makes no sense for you to follow us.”
“I’ve danced with him.” He meant Neesha. “And I’ve danced with you.” Now Khalid looked at Del. “This time, I challenge her.”
“No,” Neesha and I said simultaneously.
“Excuse me,” Del said pointedly. “I accept or reject my own dances.”
“He’s a fool,” Neesha blurted.
“Sandsick,” I said.
“A fool, sandsick; neither matters.” Del met Khalid’s eyes. “Tomorrow.
Khalid inclined his head. “Tomorrow.” And then he stalked away.
“Well,” Del observed, “at least one Southroner doesn’t care if I’m a woman, only if I can dance. Progress.”
I scowled at her as I backed the stud away, leaving room for Neesha’s horse. “Beat his ass, bascha.”
“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly.
Neesha had found us a tree. There was even a fire ring beneath it, but it wasn’t lighted since there were no coals, and we didn’t feel like kindling a flame for cooking. We had perfectly good food in our saddle pouches. We ate the fresh meat first, rather than the dried and salted supply from the house stores. All of us were greasy-fingered within moments. Del used a rag to wipe her mouth. Neesha and I resorted to the backs of our hands.
“How far do we have to go to reach your mother’s place?” I asked around a finger as I sucked fat from it. And its neighbor.
“Two days, unless the weather stops us,” Neesha answered, wiping his chin. “There’s another stopping place, though much smaller. We can reach it tomorrow night, if we push.”
I gnawed on the joint bone, then leaned over to spit out gristle. “Well, it depends on how quickly or how slowly Del defeats our friend tomorrow.”
“I won’t waste time.”
I’d told her, in great detail, how things had gone, first with Neesha then with me.
“We’ll make Neesha’s stopping place,” she said.
“It’s much smaller,” Neesha noted. “There won’t be as many people, if any. But there’s good water.”
“And I take it you’ve got water at the horse farm.”
He nodded. “It’s close to the border. More water, lusher vegetation, good grass. My stepfather raises horses of a quality many people travel to see. And if they’ve got the price, they buy.”
“If they’re anything like the one you ride, indeed the quality is good,” Del told him.
Neesha smiled proudly. “I raised this one from a colt. He’s eight now and ready to be serious. My father—” he caught himself, “my stepfather said I should not grow too attached, because the colt would likely be sold. But when a buyer asked for him, my mother said he wasn’t for sale. My stepfather wanted to argue, but of course you don’t do that in front of a buyer. Afterward, when the buyer had taken a different horse and my fa—stepfather addressed the topic with my mother, he lost the argument. And so the horse was mine.” Neesha glanced over at the hobbled bay, who nosed contentedly at grain and grass.
“That man raised you,” I said briefly. “And if you called him ‘father’ for all of your life prior to finding me, you should continue to call him that.”
My son stared down at the bota in his lap, giving away nothing in his expression. Then he looked up to meet my eyes and dipped his head in a nod.
“Good.” I washed down the meat with a slug of bota water, then said I was turning in. I mentioned that Del might want to as well, considering she had a dance in the morning. She was willing, and Neesha said he’d check on the horses.