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"But they have. Each of them." Others as well, over the long years. "For a
time."
"And you have walked away from them all."
Or been dragged away by a very determined woman. I sighed. "So, you think if I
admit what I am, I'll be safe from manipulation?"
"Maybe."
I scowled. "That's not much of a guarantee."
Del's brows arched. "With the kind of lives we lead, that's the best I can
offer."
True enough. I ran a hand through my hair, scrubbing at the chill that crept
over my scalp.
"Dangerous."
"What is?"
"A man with a sword who lacks proper training." I grimaced, said what I meant:
"A man with magic who lacks proper training."
Sahdri had said it, atop the spires. Umir's book set it into print. Oziri had
proved it.
"Unless he is strong enough to find his own way."
I grunted. "Maybe."
Del smiled. "I will offer a guarantee."
I laughed, then let it spill away. "I can't believe that all dreams are bad,
bascha. Everyone
dreams. You dream."
"But I am not a mage."
She had said it was born in me. So had Nihkolara, and Sahdri. Oziri. Even
Umir's book.
Dormancy until Skandi, from birth until age forty except for a sensitivity to
magic so strong it made me ill; until ioSkandi, when Nihko took me against my
will to Met-eiera, to the Stone
Forest; to others like him, like me. Where, atop a spire, a full-blown mage
was born.
Denial bloomed again, faded. Was followed by the only logical question there
could be.
What comes next?
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TWENTY-THREE
I AWOKE with a start, staring up into darkness lighted only by stars and the
faintest sliver of moon. Sweat bathed my body. I swore under my breath and
rubbed an unsympathetic hand over my face, mashing it out of shape.
"What is it?" Del's voice was shaded by only a trace of sleepiness.
We lay side-by-side in our bedrolls with the dying fire at our feet. Desert
nights are cool; I
yanked the blanket up to my shoulders. Muttering additional expletives, I shut
my eyes and draped an elbow over my face. "I was dreaming, curse it."
After a moment, with careful neutrality, she queried, "Yes?"
"I'd just as soon not, after my recent experiences." I removed the arm and
looked again at the stars, shoving both forearms under my head. "How in
hoolies am I supposed to go through life without dreaming?"
"I don't think you can not dream," Del observed, shifting beneath her blanket.
"You'll just have to get used to it."
I grunted sourly.
"Well unless you can learn to control them. Make them stop." She was silent a
moment.
"And perhaps you can. Being you."
I chewed on that for a moment, then shied away from the concept. That "being
you" part carried an entirely new connotation, now.
"What was this dream about?"
I scowled up at darkness. "Actually, it was a piece of one I had before. At
least, I'm assuming it was a dream. Before, that is. You swore up and down it
didn't happen."
"I did?"
"The dance," I said. "The dance where you walked away."
"Ah." She was silent a moment. "No. It didn't happen. But are you saying you
dreamed about a dream?"
"I didn't think it was a dream at the time. In which case I'd be dreaming
about something that did happen. But it didn't, so I guess I was dreaming
about a dream."
Her tone was amused. "This is getting very complicated, Tiger."
"Then there's the dream about the dead woman . . ." Oh, argh. I hadn't meant
to tell her.
Del's voice sharpened. "Dead woman?"
I tried to dismiss it as inconsequential. "Just a skeleton. Out in the Punja."
"It's a skeleton, but you know it's a woman?"
"It's a woman's voice."
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"This skeleton speaks?"
Now she'd really think I was sandsick. "It's not the kind of dreams I had with
Oziri. This is
just a dream. A dream dream. You know. The kind anyone has."
"I don't dream of skeletons who speak with a woman's voice."
I put a smile into my voice. "Of course not. You dream of me."
"Oh, indeed," she murmured dryly. "What else would a woman dream about but a
man? It is her only goal in life, to find a man to fill her thoughts during
the day and her dreams during the night."
I rolled over to face her, hitching myself up on one elbow. "So. What kind of
man did you think you'd end up with?" It wasn't the sort of thing I'd ever
asked before. Nor had I ever heard a man, even dead drunk, mention curiosity
about it. But that didn't mean we weren't curious.
"I didn't."
"Didn't? Not at all?" I paused. "Ever?"
"When I was a girl, yes."
"A Northerner."
"Of course. I lived in the North."
"And when you got a little older?"
"I stopped thinking about what kind of man I might end up with."
"Why?"
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