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  “Shame has no part in this,” I told her. “There is nothing for you to be ashamed of. What they did was against your will. Just as Harith could do nothing as they beat him, nor could Rasha when she was abducted. It was all done to you, to all of you.”

  This time she did not attempt to rid herself of tears. Her voice was choked. “I heard her screaming from inside the house. I thought at first they were raping her, too, but when I got outside, she was gone. And I realized they’d taken her.” She drew in a shaky breath, met my eyes. “I could do nothing. I heard it when they beat Harith, I heard it when they stole Rasha, and I could do nothing!”

  Without emphasis, I said, “Nor were you meant to.”

  It stopped her tears, stopped the pain a moment. She stared at me.

  “Tell me this, Danika, because I know you can. Harith may not recall clearly. Were they Northerners? Southroners? Borderers?”

  “All,” she answered promptly. “Two Southroners, three Northerners, and one I believe is a Borderer. You don’t find red hair often.”

  People took me for a Borderer because my hair, eyes, and skin were not dark enough for a Southroner—plus I was too big—but not fair enough for a Northerner. I didn’t fit. Not here. I was pure Skandic. Born in the South but not of it. It could be the same for the red-haired man, that he was from elsewhere. Or his people were. Neesha himself was half Borderer, half Skandic.

  “Neesha’s staying to help,” I told her. “One thing he can do is ride over to the house and pick through it. There may be belongings there that survived.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Danika said dismissively. “It’s Harith and Rasha who matter.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, “but it’s something he may do. A task. And whatever he finds, if anything, may mean something to you, to Harith, to Rasha, when you’re a family again.”

  That, she had not thought of. After a moment she nodded. “I will, then. I’ll send him over there.”

  I knew better than to offer an embrace. Del had told me it took her a very long time before she could tolerate a man’s hand on her after she had been raped repeatedly. In truth, Danika and I were strangers to one another. We’d made us a son one night, we’d shared dreams that night, but twenty-five years was a gulf we couldn’t cross.

  “Thank you,” I said. “And be very certain Del and I will bring her home to you. I can’t say when—I wish I could—but it will happen.”

  I couldn’t tell her it had taken Del five years to find her brother. Five years would feel like one hundred to Danika. It was enough, for the moment, that she knew it would be done. Though she would count every day.

  Harith did not awaken. Yahmina and Danika began to put together a meal for all. Sabir stayed with Harith after shooing Neesha away, and my son came to the tree camp as Del and I stayed out of the way. He was distracted, but also wanting company.

  “Sit,” I said. “Have aqivi.”

  Frowning, still lost in thought, Neesha set out his bedding and unrolled it. His saddle once again served as half-pillow, half-chairback. Del and I lay back, arms thrust beneath our heads, but Neesha sat upright. He took the bota of aqivi and drank absently, then handed it back.

  “I’ll ride with you tomorrow,” he said. “To the house. My mother wants me to see if anything survived the fire.” He paused. “I think it’s make-work.”

  “Does it matter?” I asked. “You might well find some things.”

  He nodded, distracted. “Sabir found my mother and father. He was on his way to Istamir for Marketday; they grow crops, as you see, and sell them in town. But he found my parents, cleared the wagon of produce to make room for them, and brought them here.”

  “It was well done,” Del said quietly.

  Neesha’s voice was curiously flat. “I think he might die.”

  That brought silence. Del was not one for attempting to assuage fear with falsehood. I took my lead from her when at last I answered. “He might.”

  “Even if you find Rasha—”

  “When,” Del declared.

  He looked at her. “What?”

  “When we find Rasha.”

  It annoyed Neesha. “When. If. It doesn’t matter. Once Rasha is home, it will be only my mother and sister on the farm.”

  “Have they coin?” I asked.

  Neesha shrugged. “Possibly. I’ll look tomorrow. But most of our coin eats grass and stands on four legs.”

  “Hire help,” Del told him. “They need not be alone. Their crop is different from most and requires more labor, but the end is the same: it’s sold.”

  I knew what was nagging at him. “Hired help frees you,” I said.

  “Hired help,” he said, “is not the same as a son.”

  “You’ll know,” Del told him. “When we bring Rasha and the horses home, you’ll know the answer.”

  Neesha took the bota back, unstoppered it and drank deeply. He set it down again, then rose. “I have to go in,” he said. “I can’t stay out here, wondering whether my father will live or not. I have to be there with him.”

  “If he rouses enough to be coherent, please let us know,” I said. “We need to know in which direction the raiders went when they left.”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “My mother can tell you, can’t she?”

  The awkward moment had arrived. It was for Danika to decide whether to tell her son what had occurred, not us. I thought Del might answer, being a woman familiar with rape, but she didn’t. It was up to me.

  “Well,” I said tentatively, “she’s got much on her mind. And she was tending your father; it might have been difficult for her to see.” Which I knew was a lame answer because any mother would run after a screaming daughter being carried away by raiders. But it was the only one I had.

  He was too distracted to parse that out. He merely nodded and headed back to the house.

  “He’ll know,” Del said. “She won’t have to tell him. When his mind is clear, he will realize what happened.”

  I took up the bota. “Maybe so. But let’s hope it’s after we rescue his sister and the horses.” Because if he knew now, he would undoubtedly insist on accompanying us. And he would be so full of rage and revenge he could actually harm our efforts. There would be no patience in him to sort out the best way to take the raiders. He would simply get himself killed. And poor Danika would have no daughter, no son, and possibly no husband.

  “Something else we must ask of her,” Del said, “though tomorrow will do. How many horses were stolen, and is there a way to know them as belonging to this farm?”

  “Neesha can tell us the last,” I answered, “but he’s been gone too long to know how many. Hoolies, I hate to bother Danika again.”

  “There is another thing she must be asked. Again, Neesha’s been gone too long and girls grow quickly. It must be Danika.”

  “What must be asked?”

  “Is there a way to know Rasha when we see her? Alive—or dead?”

  “Hoolies, Del, that’s cold!”

  “It needn’t be phrased that way to Danika, but it’s what is needful. And you know it, Tiger.”

  So it was. And I hated it.

  I woke up at some foul point of the middle of the night; foul because I hate it when I can’t sleep through until morning. And then I can’t go back to sleep right away, either. So I lay there staring up at the night sky, aware that Neesha’s bedding was still here, but he was not. I suspected he was in the house, sitting by his father.

  Then I realized that Del’s breathing was not of someone asleep, either. “You awake?”

  She didn’t sound in the least groggy. “I am.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Oh, no. I’m thinking.”

  I rolled over onto hip and elbow to face her, even though I couldn’t see much of her face in the darkness except what the stars illuminated. “Thinking about what?”

  “Thinking,” she said, “about how I’m going to kill the raiders.”

  I stroked her arm, s
lid my hand down to draw designs on the back of her palm. “Well, you can’t have all of them. I want at least half.” I lifted her hand, threaded fingers into hers, kissed the back of it. “That’s three for me, three for you.”

  “How many doesn’t matter,” Del said. “It’s how they will die.”

  Since I knew very well it wasn’t always a decision we could make about how someone died—they usually had an opinion about it, too—I humored her. “How, then?”

  When she spoke, her tone was incredibly casual considering what she actually said. “First, I will cut off the hands. Then the feet. And as he realizes what has been done to him, and that he is dying, I will cut off the head.”

  Chapter 25

  FOR A LONG MOMENT I was too stunned to speak. Even to move. Then a wave of fear swept through me. My scalp prickled. “Bascha…bascha, no. Please don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what? Kill the raiders?”

  It was difficult to say. I had never expected this to come up. “Make yourself into what you used to be.”

  She sat up, removing her hand from mine. I sat up as well. We faced one another in the starlight, physically close, but very far apart in certainty of mind.

  Her eyes were hollows made of shadow. “I will do what needs to be done.”

  “Del, please. You can’t do this to yourself.”

  The stars were kind to her face. Always. Whatever she said, they were kind. “I will do what needs to be done.”

  I wished very badly for daylight. For torchlight. A lantern. Hoolies, even a coal. Just to see her. Just to look into her eyes, to see Delilah. “You won’t need to butcher them, Del. Just kill them. That’s all that needs doing. Not a deliberate, step-by-step plan.”

  She was silent.

  And I knew that silence. “It’s not necessary, Del.”

  “Oh, it is very necessary.”

  I tried with great effort to keep my tone level. “This is not about you, Del. This is not what happened to you ten years ago. The circumstances are different, the people are different—”

  The heat of her anger replaced icy self-control. “What is different about a young girl being kidnapped by raiders? About a man who was beaten nearly to death…about a girl’s mother who was raped repeatedly by multiple men. What is different, Tiger, from what I experienced?”

  “Del—”

  “No. No, Tiger. You can’t know. You’re a man.”

  A man. It wasn’t me that mattered. It was my gender.

  I couldn’t help being sharp. “Bascha, we fought that battle five years ago. Or began that battle five years ago, and finished it some while back. I’m not the same, you’re not the same, the circumstances are not the same. Don’t erase those five years. Don’t become what you were. How many times must I say it? This is not the same.”

  “Tiger—”

  I put it into words a Northerner trained on Staal-Ysta would understand. “This is not your song.”

  She began to stand. Before she could, I grabbed an arm and pulled her down again.

  All of her went stiff. “Let me go.” She tried to twist her arm out of my hand. “Let me go, Tiger.”

  It would have been easy to be angry, to use that anger to underscore anything I might say. But I didn’t do it. “We have a daughter, Del. We have a life at Beit al’Shahar. We have friends there in Alric and Lena, in Mehmet and his aketni. We have a business partner in Fouad, who will cheat us whenever he can, thinking we don’t know. We have circles under the sun, watched over by a ruin of rocks where our blooding-blades lie broken: your Boreal, my Samiel. Hoolies, we own goats and chickens! Our daughter spends far more time dirty than she ever does clean. And we are happy there, Del. Contented. Certain of our course. Any songs we had, any songs we once sang in the circle—even me, who can’t sing to save his soul—are finished.”

  “Tiger—”

  I raised my voice over hers. “We are not the same, neither of us, as we were five years ago, when you walked into a cantina searching for a guide to lead you across the Punja in pursuit of your brother. We are not the same. And you are not Rashida, not stolen by these raiders. You are you, and you are whole, and to become what once you were is to turn your back on me, on our life…and on your daughter.”

  She hissed in anger then fell silent. I knew to wait, not to continue to spew words even if I badly wanted to. You can drown a person in words, in reasonings, in your own fears and angers and biases. I had to let her think. Even if sometimes my words, and my silence, did not immediately plant a crop.

  At some point, I had loosened my grip on her arm. Now, she twisted that arm free and rose. She walked away.

  Ah, hoolies. The remains of the night, I knew, would not be spent in sleep. By either of us.

  Shortly after dawn, on a gray, heavy day, I got up to see to my needs and to begin the bucket run for the horses, but found Del had already done the horse chores. Her gelding was saddled, bridled, haltered, pouches on board, ready to go, and the stud was still picketed under the tree. Taking that as a message, I got my gear together and prepared the stud for the journey. I didn’t see Del and assumed she’d visited a nearby shrub. Eventually, when she did not appear despite my being ready to go, I headed to the house, and found her about to come out the door. I stepped aside and let her pass.

  No sign of our argument reached her face as she spoke to me outside. “Harith hasn’t wakened. It’s possible he never will. We won’t get any information from him.”

  “And Danika can’t provide what we need, either.” I scratched thoughtfully at beard scruff; I really needed to shave. “So, we go to the farm and hope to find hoofprints.”

  In silence, Del pointed to the sky.

  I followed her finger with my eyes and saw what she meant: The clouds had significantly darkened and were now hanging quite low, fat with rain. “No. No, no. Oh, hoolies, that’s the last thing we need. Rain will wash tracks away.”

  “That’s why I got the gelding ready and brought the stud over. But you were still asleep, so I let you be.”

  I found that amazingly unlike her, considering our goal. “Why?”

  Del sighed. “First, because I hoped Harith could provide an answer. Second…well, because of last night.” An uncharacteristic darkness shadowed her eyes. “I understand now what you meant. But Tiger—it needs doing. Those raiders should all be killed for what they did to Neesha’s mother and father, and Rashida.”

  “I wasn’t arguing that. I agree with you. I was scared to death I’d lose you back into the constant coldness and anger that defined you when we met. It was a hard journey for you, becoming a kinder—but not a weaker woman—and I didn’t want you to go through it again.”

  She nodded, looking past me to the sheltering tree. “But I still might take a head.”

  It was almost, but not quite, worth a laugh. “Hey, if a head ends up in front of my blade, I’ll take it myself.” I touched her on the arm. “I’ll go see Neesha. And I need to ask Danika a question.”

  Del nodded again and walked toward the horses. I went into the house and found the cluster of people gathered near the bed. Harith’s breathing did not sound normal. Like Del, I felt it likely he’d never wake. Danika glanced up as I entered the crowded room. I gestured with a lifted chin, and she got up and came to me. I led her into the kitchen area.

  She was exhausted. It showed in her face, in every line and posture of her body. But I knew better than to suggest she get some rest. She wouldn’t until she collapsed from exhaustion. “What does Harith use to mark the horses as belonging to your farm?”

  “He shears the mane to the neck.” She saw my brows go up. “You can’t disguise them as someone else’s horses that way. If we tied something into the mane or tail, it could be found and removed. And he won’t burn a mark because that, too, can be altered. Only time will alter a shorn mane.”

  Well, yes. I hadn’t thought of that. Rather clever. “And what should we tell Rashida when we find her? She’s not likely to trust us any more
than the raiders, after what she’s been through.”

  Danika smiled wearily. “She’ll know you. How many sword-dancers have sandtiger scars in their faces? Do you forget? She and Neesha used to spar. He spoke of you often, saying one day he’d find you and tell you he was your son. She’ll know.”

  “And how will I know it’s her?”

  She blinked. “She’ll be with raiders. Won’t you be able to tell? Besides, she can certainly tell you who she is.”

  A dozen answers went through my head. Raiders often kidnapped and kept women with them, which meant Rashida could be one of several. Some captives were sold. There were no guarantees Rashida would still be with them, depending on where they were bound. And no guarantees they would not have removed her tongue.

  Danika saved me from having to say such things. “She has Neesha’s eyes, all warm and cider-colored. Her hair is brown, but the sun streaks it gold in places. She was wearing a yellow tunic and skirt.”

  I opened my mouth to say something more, but heard the sound of raindrops on the roof. Danika and I both looked up, then at one another. “Yes,” I said. “I’d better go if we’re to make the farm before rain washes away the prints.” I leaned forward, kissed her briefly on the brow, and told her we’d bring home her daughter and the horses.

  Danika shook her head. “Just bring my daughter home. Don’t worry about the horses.”

  “Neesha,” I called, “we’ll be back.” He barely had a chance to nod before I left.

  Outside, Del had the stud ready to go. She wore her hooded oilcloth coat, belted around her waist. She had once insisted we needed these and I had disagreed. Now I was glad I’d lost the argument. I pulled on mine, buckled the belt, then grabbed the stud’s rein from her. I stepped into a stirrup and swung a leg up and over hastily. The rain was falling harder.

  “Wait!” It was Neesha coming after us. “There’s a horse fair. In Istamir, on Marketday.”

  A horse fair. And here we’d thought to learn details from a badly injured man, rather than from my son who actually knew the answer.