The Woman Who Rides Like a Man by Tamora Pierce Page A

yell.
    She dodged and circled away, deaf to the furious shouts from the tribesmen at the shaman's disregard for honor. Ibn Nazzir, at the end of his sanity, was also deaf to them. His mouth set in a crazy grin, he rushed Alanna again, wielding that deadly blade with both hands.
    The woman knight ducked away, moving easily on the packed dirt. She could feel the crystal sword humming each time it sliced past her. The sound made her slightly ill: it was as if Duke Roger were nearby, directing the sword in its quest for her life. Empty-handed, intent on the shaman's moves, she wove and danced away as he slashed at her.
    Ibn Nazzir was not the opponent Duke Roger had been. His swings were often wild; he was badly balanced and slow. It was the sword Alanna feared; she had a feeling the old man would not have been as good as he was now without it. Gripping the ember-stone, she whispered a wall-building spell.
    Violet fire sprang into being, whirling to encircle Ibn Nazzir. He shrieked and swept the sword around him; the wall vanished. He charged; Alanna jumped, kicking him to the ground. With a roll she was on him, wrestling for the sword. The humming was louder, drowning out all other sound. Invisible fingers gripped her throat even as she saw the shaman start to turn gray.
    "Stop it!" she yelled, trying to make herself heard. With a corner of her mind she gripped the magical fingers, holding them away from her. "You don't have the strength: you're using your own life-force!"
    He knocked her onto her back. Alanna clung to the sword's hilt; at this range he couldn't miss once he got the blade free. They struggled, drops of sweat falling onto her face from him. He was turning grayer, and there were blue lines around his mouth and nostrils.
    Everything went black. The cloud that suddenly enfolded Alanna cut off all air and feeling. She fought, drawing on reserves of strength that had been built up over years of work and subterfuge. Slowly her own violet fire shoved the blackness away, sparking and flaring where it touched the crystal blade. In the distance she heard a cry.
    The blackness was gone. Akhnan Ibn Nazzir collapsed against her, his eyes wide and staring in death.
    Gammal and Halef pulled the old man off her, and Ishak helped her to her feet. Alanna swayed with exhaustion; Kara and Kourrem hurried forward to support her on either side. Ali Mukhtab looked up from his examination of Ibn Nazzir's body, his dark eyes puzzled. "There is no mark on him, yet he is dead. What caused it?"
    Alanna rubbed her eyes. She had expended much of her strength, physical and magical. Just now she only wanted to go to her tent and lie down. "He was using power he didn't have," she rasped finally. "He wasn't that good a sorcerer. He tapped his own life-force because he wanted me dead." Looking at her right hand, she was stunned to realize she held the crystal sword. "If he could've lasted, maybe he would've won. But I lasted. I usually do," she added bitterly. "I'm sorry I brought trouble to you." She started to turn away.
    "One moment." Halef's voice was kind but firm. She looked back to see him pointing at the shaman's tent. "This is your home now."
    Alanna braced her free hand on Kourrem's shoulder. "I don't understand."
    Ali Mukhtab rose to stand beside the headman. "Halef Seif is right. You have slain the old shaman. You must now take his place until you teach a new shaman, or until one slays you."
    It was too much. "That's crazy!" Alanna shouted, her voice cracking with weariness. "I'm not—I'm a knight! I've never taught sorcery—"
    "Would you leave us defenseless against the shamans of the hillmen?" Halef asked quietly. Alanna closed her mouth, remembering the Bazhir tales of the hill-sorcerers. "That is the law. That is our custom." He opened the door flap of the shaman's tent. "This is your home now, Woman Who Rides Like a Man."
    For a moment Alanna's violet eyes met those of the Voice and of the headman fiercely. She did not want to