The Destiny of the Sword (25 page)

Nnanji muttered an oath and looked at Wallie to see if he ought to believe this.

“So they are on their way?” Wallie inquired.

The sorcerer hesitated, and then said, “They embark tomorrow at dawn.”

“That’s very quick work!” Wallie said as innocently as he could manage. “All that food and stuff...”

Rotanxi sneered. “They have DO choice, because they have no money left.”

“Well, then we shall intercept mem and warn mem about your big thunderbolts.”

“Ha! You can’t! They are going to Wal, not coming here. It is possible that they will change their minds, but Sen is ready if they do.”

“Wal is much farther,” Wallie said, frowning. “It seems fool,

ish, especially since it was you who sent the kilts. Why Wal?”

“They think to outsmart sorcerers!” Rotanxi retorted with an ocean of contempt.

“Seems to me that Lord Shonsu outsmarted you easily enough!” Nnanji snarled. That broke the spell. The old man’s lips tightened. He had said too much.

“But I had not thought Lord Boariyi capable of such subtlety!” Wallie thought for a moment that Rotanxi would say more, but he did not. Probably Wal had been the brainchild of Uncle Zoariyi, and the sorcerer’s hesitation suggested that he might even be aware of that. He was extremely well informed about the tryst, even to its finances.

“So you have failed, Shonsu!” Doa said with satisfaction.

“I hope not, my lady.” Wallie tried to convey a confidence he did not quite feel. “I took steps to prevent the tryst from departing.”

She frowned doubtfully.

“My lord?” asked Katanji. “How does he know about Lord Boariyi being leader?”

“Pigeons!” Wallie said. “His spies release pigeons, which return to their mates in Sen. Of course birds fly three or four times as fast as even Griffon can sail, and they don’t have to go around all the bends in the River.”

“Pigeons can’t talk, my lord,” Katanji protested. His face was growing vague in the fading light, but the doubt showed.

“You saw the little piece of vellum I sent with the bird we released,” Wallie explained, his eyes on the sorcerer. “Well, they could have had a code arranged—a triangle for Boariyi, a circle for Ttvanixi...”

He was not fooling the sorcerer, of course, but he did not want to explain writing to the others. That knowledge could be fatal if the sorcerers ever discovered that they had it. It would destroy the sorcerers’ craft if it ever became widely known; it might disrupt the whole culture of the World. That was a threat he might find useful, and must keep in reserve. But he did not think he had convinced Katanji.

The wind was growing chill. He turned his attention back to the gown. “Let’s see what else we can find,” he muttered. But the next thing he found was a wicked little knife. It looked sharp

as a razor, and he thought that it was coated with something, probably a poison.

“On second thought, we’ll leave the rest until tomorrow, when die light is better. Lord Rotanxi, you will be confined in the cabin. Probably you will be more comfortable in there than the rest of us will be in the hold. You will be allowed on deck by day, under supervision. You will be fed and well treated.”

“Kept in good shape for the interrogation, of course!” The old man sneered.

“You will not be tortured, if that is what you fear.”

Rotanxi snorted disbelievingly. “Indeed? The great Shonsu is well known for castrating men in brothel quarrels. Did you not once burn down a house because a child threw a tomato at you from the window? Your idea of good treatment may not agree with mine, my lord.”

Wallie winced and could find no reply. It was Nnanji who spoke next.

“Those days are over, sorcerer. You can trust his word. If it were me, I should start at your toenails and work upward, but Lord Shonsu will treat you well. Much too well, I expect.”

Even in the blurred conflict of light from the fading sunset and the brightening Dream God, Nnanji’s young face radiated sincerity. The sorcerer seemed surprised and was silent.

“Take him below,” Wallie said. “Give him food and water and blankets. Let’s eat; I’m hungry!”

He bundled up the sorcerer’s gown and rose to his feet. Red flame flickered over RegiVul and the air stank again of sulfur. The Fire God was angry—as he should be, Wallie thought. With the evidence he had now, he could rip the mystery from the sorcerers’ craft and destroy their mystique... if the swordsmen would listen.

The River was bright. Tomiyano would keep sailing, eager to return to his beloved Sapphire.

“I wanted to see you die.”

Wallie turned and found Doa, standing very close.

“My apologies for disappointing you, my lady.”

“Now, I suppose, you expect me to create an epic for you?”

Her tone was sweet and she was smiling. With any other woman he would have taken her in his arms and tried to kiss her. The invitation was that obvious, and totally at variance with her

words. Genius was next to madness—he was convinced now that she was mad. He wondered what Shonsu had done to her to produce this poisonous hatred and the uncanny fascination that seemed to accompany it. Probably any song she composed about the day’s events would be murder to Shonsu’s reputation—a verbal assassination set to some immortal melody. Even if she played fair, an epic about the day’s events could help him little, for all he had done was use trickery. That would not disgust the swordsmen as much as the Katanji story, perhaps, but it would certainly not impress them, either.

Yet she was a lot of woman. Her extraordinary height excited him still. Having trouble keeping his voice calm, he said, “I should be honored to be mentioned in any of your works, my lady.”

Her eyes seemed to flash in the night. “You think I can’t? You mink an epic without blood is impossible?”

“I think the gods have sent me a great victory today. I am very glad that (here was no blood spilled.”

“Bah!” she said, unconvinced. She stepped over to the rail to stare out at the last red glow over the western horizon. His feet moved to follow her, although he was not conscious of having told them to do so.

“Tell me about the first time/* she said softly. “What happened to me forty,nine?”

“I don’t know.”

Startled, she turned to look at him. She edged closer—oh, so close! “You expect me to believe that?”

“It is true, Doa. I got a bang on the head. I remember nothing before Harm. I did meet with a god, as you were told. He did give me this sword. But I do not remember living in Casr, or leading the forty,nine... I do not even remember knowing you. That was why I did not acknowledge you hi the lodge mat day. I thought you were a boy.”

Her tone stayed delicate as gossamer. “You are a contemptible bastard, Shonsu. You treat me as if I were filth, but you need not think I am stupid.”

“That was another Shonsu, my lady.”

“Swine.”

Wallie threw ropes around his temper. “It is the truth—I swear by my sword.”

“But I will show you. I will create the greatest epic the World has ever heard—even without blood.”

“I shall be honored.”

She paused, irresolute. “I muat know about the forty,nine!”

“Ican’thelpyou.”

“You are a bastard. Then I shall ask the sorcerer tomorrow.” Doa spun on her heel and stalked away.

On the longest, loveliest legs in the World.

ttttt

“Oh, am I glad to see you!” Brota roared, advancing like a red galleon under full sail, her robe rippling in the wind, flabby arms outstretched. Griffon had just nudged against Sapphire’s fenders and was not even tied up yet. Wallie had newly clambered aboard. Brota enveloped him like a runaway tent, and he hugged her in return, having no option. Then she backed away a pace, and he saw die strain in her face, the tension under the joviality.

Then Jja. He was foul and fishy and not fit for intimacy, but she threw her arms around him and kissed him, and he returned the embrace and the kiss with fervor and joy. It was good to be back. It was good to hold a woman who knew her own emotions, a woman who was beautiful and loving and—above all—supremely sane.

The blustery wind that had swept him in from Sen was pitching and rocking Sapphire as she lay at anchor off Casr in cool morning sunshine. There was mention of rain in the air.

The rest of the crew were gathering around. Their faces, also, were stressed and wan, although Griffon’s crew were in much worse shape after four days on a tossing, putrid tub. There were hugs and stoppings of backs.

Two other snips were anchored in the distance downstream, and two more tied up at the waterfront, but the great plaza was almost deserted, given over to the lonely wind, stark as a vacant tomb. The golden streets were empty as old,fashioned Sunday mornings,

“You’ve been to Sen?” Brota demanded. “There and back in four days? How did you manage that?”

“With our eyes closed!” Tomiyano snapped, joining the group. “!D the dark. What’s been happening?”

Brota scowled at Wallie. “You have a town ftill of mad, mad swordsmen and mad, mad citizens. The tryst chose its leader the day after you left.”

“So the sorcerers told us,” Wallie said and smiled as her eyes widened. “They tried to seize ships, then?”

Brota pulled a face. “They had no chance! We’d passed the word, as you said; and as soon as the leader was proclaimed, the sailors started to panic. The nervous ones left, and men nobody wanted to be the last—the whole waterfront cleared in about half an hour.”

“And the swordsmen?”

She smiled grimly. “By the time they saw what was happening, it was too late. They came out in boats, of course, and we just sailed up and down, but mere was nothing they could do.”

Nnanji and Thana had come on board and were helping Ka,tanji up.

“What about nighttime?” Wallie asked.

“We moved upriver.” Brota pointed a baggy arm at die vessels in the distance. Like Sapphire, they were flying quarantine flags. “Those two agreed to show the sign at the down end, and that helped.” Then she pointed at the two ships moored in lonely splendor at the quay. “A couple slipped by—didn’t see or didn’t believe. The swordsmen grabbed them.”

She wiped a tear that might have been caused by the wind. “W; couldn’t have held out much longer, though. They’ve been sending a fleet out after us every day. Little boats. Now they have those two ships, and I expected them to come after us in those today.”

It showed in the restless eyes, the quickness of speech, the tone and cadence—testing endured, adversity surmounted.

“You stood your post, swordsman!” Wallie assured her, giving her another hug. The riverfolk—sailors and traders—were a hardheaded clique. Only a supreme negotiator like Brota could have made mem see the danger of being requisitioned by the tryst and could have persuaded mem to forgo their trading. But the strain of being hunted by a thousand swordsmen was not something to overlook, either. “I know why the gods chose this ship

for me, mistress, and you were the main reason.”

She simpered mockingly, but she was flattered, perhaps for the first time in years. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. I didn’t expect you for days yet.” Or never?

“Whose is the dinghy?” asked Tomiyano, ever suspicious. The strange boat tethered to Sapphire had made them all fearful as Griffon approached.

Brota looked around in surprise and then pointed. Cousins, aunts, and uncles cleared out of the way so that Wallie could see Honakura, sitting on a tire bucket at the far side of the deck, smiling. Two priests of the Third stood beside him. Wallie went over and made his salute. He was disturbed by the old man’s appearance. Four days had done nothing to reduce his ominous pallor. He seemed even more shrunken than before. His smile was forced.

“You are welcome back, my lord,” he said softly.

“They brought us food,” Brota said. “We were running low.”

Wallie knelt down to put his eyes level with Honakura’s.

“I fear that I failed to deliver what I promised,” the old man sighed, “and what I owed the Goddess. The tryst has chosen its leader.”

“Boariyi! A sorcerer told us.”

“How could... ? Well, it is true. Lord Kadywinsi had agreed and I talked him out of it. The swordsmen came calling again and talked him into it. I talked him out of it again.” He managed one of his old chuckles. “Then the swordsmen went ahead anyway. But they only have six Sevenths.”

“It is a complication,” Wallie agreed. “What happens now?”

Honakura compressed his wrinkles in a scowl. “Kadywinsi is back on the wrong side of the loom again. The service of dedication is to be held this morning.”

Wallie frowned. “I thought the tryst was planning to depart two days ago?”

“Yes. The liege is an impetuous young man and he wouldn’t allow the absence of a blessing stop him. But you and Mistress Brota stopped him—I suppose it is a sort of face,saving to have a service now and pretend that that was what they planned all along.”