She stared at him-then felt a flood of inspiration. “Done,” she said. “I accept. But I’ll need a sword and I’ll need her.” She pointed at Ekhaas a second time.
Dabrak smiled again. “Very well. She’s yours.” He gestured with the rod and Ekhaas sagged abruptly, then caught herself and looked at him with hatred in her eyes.
Ashi caught her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Not now,” she said in the duur’kala’s ear. “Have you heard what I’ve said?”
“Yes, but-”
Ashi shook her head, cutting her off. “Don’t argue. I need you to hold a rhythm for me.”
Ekhaas’s ears and eyebrows rose at the same time.
Ashi smiled. “You saw the sword dance at Sentinel Tower. While we were in the guard station, you clapped some of the drum rhythm from memory. Can you do that again for the whole dance? Slow opening, quick first part, slow second part, quick third part, slow end. Watch me for cues if you need to.”
“I can sing the viol part if you need me to. What are you doing, Ashi?”
“What Vounn had me trained to do. Give me your sword.”
Ekhaas started to draw the weapon, but Dabrak coughed like a courtier. “Not that sword,” he said. He pointed across the cavern to Wrath. “That one.”
Ashi looked at the twilight blade, then at Dabrak. Geth had put her hand on the sword once so that she could use its gift of understanding Goblin. That wasn’t exactly the same as trying to wield the weapon. Would the sword let her use it? She could only try. Bracing herself, she went over to the sword. Geth was still huddled and trembling beside it. She tried to ignore him, dropping her torch on the ground and bending over the sword. “Wrath,” she murmured. “I need to use you to help Geth and the others, and to get the rod. Please accept my touch.”
She felt stupid talking to the weapon, but her first light touch on the sword’s hilt was still tentative. Nothing happened. She curled her fingers around it and raised it, offering a mock salute to Dabrak. The emperor, risen from his chair to stand and watch her, looked disappointed. Ashi walked to an open part of the cavern and nodded to Ekhaas. It was time to see who had been right all those weeks ago in Sentinel Tower: Vounn, who’d said she couldn’t do it, or her old instructor Baerer, who’d believed she could.
Ekhaas took a deep breath and raised her voice in a long, clear note. Ashi swept into the rigid first position of the sword dance, held it for a long moment, then dropped her blade and walked around it.
Wrath wasn’t the best sword for the dance. A proper human sword would have been slimmer, with a pointed blade instead of the broad, forked tip of hobgoblin swords. At least the ancient weapon was well-balanced and surprisingly light for its size. She completed the walk-around without letting the blade waver at all.
In Sentinel Tower, the difficult step would have earned applause. Dabrak gave no reaction at all. Ashi ignored him and focused on the music. The hardest part of the dance was yet to come.
Ekhaas’s hands began to clap along with the rise and fall of her voice. Ashi moved into the attack phase of the dance, lunging and stamping her way across the cavern. Baerer had made this part of the dance look light and precise. She couldn’t match that precision. Instead, she threw herself into the raw energy that Baerer had said was her greatest strength.
She imagined that a sea of enemies stood between her and her goal. As they came rushing at her, she met each one, cutting her way through them. She could almost let herself go, could almost lose herself in the dance as Baerer had taught her. Her body knew what to do. She couldn’t do that this time, though. She kept her focus, and when Ekhaas’s song and rhythm slowed, she was ready. She entered the second part of the dance, the battle, as easily as stepping into real combat.
The unseen fight slowed along with Ekhaas’s song, but in Ashi’s mind it only became more intense. Each blow was deliberate, drawn out so that the audience could appreciate the sweep of the blade, the unfolding of a bent arm into an elbow strike, the long lines of her body as it extended into a kick. The battle was grace and power combined. Ashi didn’t look to see Dabrak’s reaction. She concentrated on the battle as if her life depended on it-which, in a way, it did.
Ekhaas’s voice rose again. The slap of palm on palm became increasingly rapid. It was different from dancing to viol and drum, but that was good. It was more primal, more suited to Ashi’s style of dance. Baerer had been elegant like the viol. She was unshaped, like a wild song. The battle she fought in her imagination took place on an open hill beneath the light of many moons. Wind lifted her hair, and the smell of churned soil filled her nose. Her enemies came at her faster and faster, in time with the rhythm of Ekhaas’s clapping. Ashi fought them off, but her movements become tighter as they pressed at her. She backed across the battlefield in the dance’s third phase, the defeat. Her enemies pursued her. She blocked their blows, feeling the impact. The song whirled faster. Her enemies crowded in close, so close she couldn’t move. Her sword rose, perhaps in an effort to parry once last attack, before a body that stood rigid once more. The dance was almost over-
Now, she told herself, and broke free of the movements Baerer had trained into her. In Deneith tradition, the sword dance ended with defeat, the warrior caught among the blades of his opponents. Ashi had to take it one step farther. In her imagination, a sword thrust up into her breast. Cold metal pierced flesh, forced ribs aside, and buried itself in her heart. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened slightly. Her rigid body arched backward.
And she died. Ekhaas’s song rose briefly into a keen of mourning, then fell away like a fading wind.
Ashi held her pose in silence, then gulped air and straightened up. Across the cavern, Ekhaas stood still, but her eyes were shining and her ears were tall. The dance had been perfect. Ashi could feel it. She turned and looked at Dabrak. The withered hobgoblin watched her with undisguised appreciation.
“In my palace,” he said, “I had twenty-five dancing slaves. I don’t believe any of them ever danced like that. The performance was flawless.”
Breathing hard, Ashi walked to Geth’s curled form, laid Wrath beside him, and retrieved her torch. She held her hand out to the emperor. “The rod, marhu.”
Dabrak’s shriveled ears twitched. “No,” he said. He gathered his robes around himself and turned back to his chair.
“No?” Ashi’s voice cracked with disbelief and she stalked over to confront him. “We had a deal, Dabrak!”
“We did. We agreed that if you died here in the Uura Odaarii, I would give you the rod.” He sat down. “Did you really think that a trick of dance would satisfy me? It was a pretty illusion, nothing more.” His face was hard. “Take your friends-I give you their freedom as a reward for your performance-and get out.” The rod flicked once, then vanished into the folds of Dabrak’s robes as his hands dropped into his lap.
Around Ashi, the others fell out of their kneeling postures. Midian gasped and gingerly worked a jaw that had been clamped shut. Near Ashi’s feet, Geth groaned and moved as well, rising slowly to hands and knees. Ashi kept her eyes on Dabrak, though, as if she could burn him with her anger. “You put no conditions on our agreement!” she protested. “I died!”
“You made a pretty show, but you did not die,” Dabrak said harshly. “I know what death looks like, and you’re not dead.”
“But I can’t die here. You said yourself, it’s impossible.”
The ancient emperor sat forward. “Of course, it’s impossible! That’s why I asked. It’s not my fault you agreed.” His lips curled back from his teeth. “This is the Uura Odaarii, you fool. There is no future here. There is no death. Nothing changes!”
Ashi’s hand thrust out to point at him. “You’ve changed,” she snarled without thinking.
Dabrak stared at her in surprise for a moment, then spat. “No, I haven’t.”