Read Online Sword Breaker-Sword Dancer 4 by Jennifer Roberson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Roberson
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comment die and set to work on legs and arms, taking great care with the creases at the backs of knees and elbows. She was right: I was raw. Abraded flesh stung.
So did my pride. "I could do this myself."
"What? You? Do you mean you don't like having a woman kneeling at your feet, tending you carefully?" Del grinned briefly, arching eloquent brows. "Not the Sandtiger I met all those months ago in that filthy, stinking cantina."
"Give me that." I bent, snatched the damp cloth away, began to swab my ribs. "We all change, bascha. None of us stays the same. It's the way life works."
She stood before me now, one hand resting on the taut-muscled border between narrow waist and curving hip. The starlight was kind to her; but then, it's hard to be cruel when the bones and flesh are so good. "Admit it," she suggested. "You're a better man now than you were when I met you."
I scrubbed at gritty flesh. "And is that supposed to mean you're taking credit for the improvement?"
A slow, languorous shrug of a single sinewy shoulder. Her answer was implicit: had I not met her, I'd not be the kind of man she believed me to be now.
Whatever man that was; who knows what a woman thinks?
The glint in her eyes faded. Her expression now was pensive. She put out a hand and gently traced the knurled scar cut so deeply along my ribs. The ruined flesh was still livid, requiring more time before purple would alter to pink, and later to silvery-white.
Where she touched, flesh quivered. Tension tightened my belly, and deeper. Del looked at me.
"What do you expect?" I growled. "I've never made a secret of what you do for me."
Del's mouth flattened. "Do for? Or do to?" She pulled her hand away from the scar. "I would have done it, Tiger. The killing. Had it been necessary."
"Which one?" I countered. "The one on Staal-Ysta? Or the one earlier tonight?"
"Either. Both." Briefly, her face convulsed. "You don't know what it was like that time...
that time I touched your sword, and felt Chosa's power. Felt the violence of his need."
Del, uncharacteristically, shuddered. "Given the chance, he will take me, with a sword made of steel. Or a sword made of flesh."
She had been raped by Ajani, and very nearly, later, by demons known as loki. Such violence takes its toll. I could see it in her eyes; most, craving her body, wouldn't even bother to look.
I inhaled deeply, oddly light-headed. "So you really would have killed me earlier, thinking I was Chosa."
Del's face was taut. White. Stark. "There may come a time when you are."
Oddly, it didn't hurt. I'd acknowledged it myself, on the sand with Chosa Dei.
I gave her back the cloth. "And there may come a time when you have to."
Seven
"Hunh, " I commented; I thought it was enough.
"Look at it," Del urged. "Do you see what you did?"
I shrugged. "Does it matter? I didn't really mean to; and anyway, I don't know that it's worth getting into an uproar over. I mean, what can you do with it?"
"Very rich men put it in windows."
"That?"
"It's glass, Tiger."
"I know what it is." I scowled at the shattered circle. Dead center was a downward spiraling funnel of pale sand, hemmed by a swollen rim resembling the lip of a bowl.
Radiating outward, stretching in all directions, was a complex network of hairline cracks.
A brittle, perfect circle, but hazardous to a sword-dancer foolish enough to go barefoot.
(Not me; I'd repaired my sandal.) "But every window I've ever seen--" (which weren't very many: one) "--had regular sheets of glass. Thick glass, maybe, hard to see through--but not little bits and pieces no bigger than my thumb."
"You broke it up last night," she pointed out. "You did a lot of things last night, not the least of which was making the glass in the first place."
I shifted weight irritably, still stiff from the night before. "With the magic I summoned."
"With something, Tiger--I don't think it was your good looks." Del smiled sweetly.
I eyed her in annoyance. "Are we not happy this
So did my pride. "I could do this myself."
"What? You? Do you mean you don't like having a woman kneeling at your feet, tending you carefully?" Del grinned briefly, arching eloquent brows. "Not the Sandtiger I met all those months ago in that filthy, stinking cantina."
"Give me that." I bent, snatched the damp cloth away, began to swab my ribs. "We all change, bascha. None of us stays the same. It's the way life works."
She stood before me now, one hand resting on the taut-muscled border between narrow waist and curving hip. The starlight was kind to her; but then, it's hard to be cruel when the bones and flesh are so good. "Admit it," she suggested. "You're a better man now than you were when I met you."
I scrubbed at gritty flesh. "And is that supposed to mean you're taking credit for the improvement?"
A slow, languorous shrug of a single sinewy shoulder. Her answer was implicit: had I not met her, I'd not be the kind of man she believed me to be now.
Whatever man that was; who knows what a woman thinks?
The glint in her eyes faded. Her expression now was pensive. She put out a hand and gently traced the knurled scar cut so deeply along my ribs. The ruined flesh was still livid, requiring more time before purple would alter to pink, and later to silvery-white.
Where she touched, flesh quivered. Tension tightened my belly, and deeper. Del looked at me.
"What do you expect?" I growled. "I've never made a secret of what you do for me."
Del's mouth flattened. "Do for? Or do to?" She pulled her hand away from the scar. "I would have done it, Tiger. The killing. Had it been necessary."
"Which one?" I countered. "The one on Staal-Ysta? Or the one earlier tonight?"
"Either. Both." Briefly, her face convulsed. "You don't know what it was like that time...
that time I touched your sword, and felt Chosa's power. Felt the violence of his need."
Del, uncharacteristically, shuddered. "Given the chance, he will take me, with a sword made of steel. Or a sword made of flesh."
She had been raped by Ajani, and very nearly, later, by demons known as loki. Such violence takes its toll. I could see it in her eyes; most, craving her body, wouldn't even bother to look.
I inhaled deeply, oddly light-headed. "So you really would have killed me earlier, thinking I was Chosa."
Del's face was taut. White. Stark. "There may come a time when you are."
Oddly, it didn't hurt. I'd acknowledged it myself, on the sand with Chosa Dei.
I gave her back the cloth. "And there may come a time when you have to."
Seven
"Hunh, " I commented; I thought it was enough.
"Look at it," Del urged. "Do you see what you did?"
I shrugged. "Does it matter? I didn't really mean to; and anyway, I don't know that it's worth getting into an uproar over. I mean, what can you do with it?"
"Very rich men put it in windows."
"That?"
"It's glass, Tiger."
"I know what it is." I scowled at the shattered circle. Dead center was a downward spiraling funnel of pale sand, hemmed by a swollen rim resembling the lip of a bowl.
Radiating outward, stretching in all directions, was a complex network of hairline cracks.
A brittle, perfect circle, but hazardous to a sword-dancer foolish enough to go barefoot.
(Not me; I'd repaired my sandal.) "But every window I've ever seen--" (which weren't very many: one) "--had regular sheets of glass. Thick glass, maybe, hard to see through--but not little bits and pieces no bigger than my thumb."
"You broke it up last night," she pointed out. "You did a lot of things last night, not the least of which was making the glass in the first place."
I shifted weight irritably, still stiff from the night before. "With the magic I summoned."
"With something, Tiger--I don't think it was your good looks." Del smiled sweetly.
I eyed her in annoyance. "Are we not happy this
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