The Destiny of the Sword (3 page)

Wallie was not going to let him escape without an explanation, but first he must get in character for a Seventh. “No, master,” he said. “You will share some ale with me. I owe you mat much for playing tricks on you. Sailor—three tankards of the mild!”

Tomiyano’s jaw dropped at die tone, and he lost his smirk.

Wallie gestured to the aft end of the deck. “Come, Master Polini,” he said. “And bring bis Highness along, also.”

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The minstrels of the World sang ballads and epics of brave heroes and virtuous maidens, of monsters and sorcerers, of generous gods and just kings. Nnanji loved the heroic ones and could quote them endlessly, but one hero was conspicuously absent: Sherlock Holmes. Wallie’s remark almost caused Polini to draw. Tomiyano made the sign of the Goddess, then relaxed when he saw that Lord Shonsu was merely up to his tricks again. The boy paled.

“No, no sorcery, Master Polini!” Wallie said hastily. “Just a good swordsman’s eye—observation.”

Polini glanced suspiciously over his protg and back to mis strange Seventh.

“Observation, my lord?”

Wallie smiled. “Few mentors would dress a First so well. Fewer Fifths would even take a First as prote’ge’, and you yourself are obviously garbed as a man of high station. But I can go further: I note that his facemark has healed, yet he is so young that his swearing must have been recent. His hair is long enough to make a good ponytail, so his induction to the craft was decided at least a year ago, and only swordsmen’s sons can normally count on becoming swordsmen. Yet his parent,marks show that he is the son of a priest. Elementary, Master Polini.”

Royal houses were usually founded by swordsmen, but kingship was a dangerous trade. No swordsman could refuse a challenge, whereas a priest was sacrosanct. Kings’ sons were mostly sworn to the priesthood.

Polini considered this and bowed his head in agreement. He caught his protegees eye and said, “Learn!” The boy nodded and regarded the Seventh with awe.

Confidence having now returned, Wallie directed them smoothly to the far side of the deck, which was marginally farther from the hubbub of the dock. The aft hatch cover was still open, and die planks had been stacked in a neat pile, a low wall

that would suffice as a bench. But before he sat down... “Present him, master.”

“Lord Shonsu, I am honored to present to you my proteg, Arganari of the First.”

Where, Wallie wondered, had he heard that name before?

The boy reached for his sword, remembered that he was on a ship, and turned the gesture into the start of the civilian salute. His voice was childish and curiously unmusical, making the statement a question, “... any of your noble purposes?”

Wallie solemnly assured him that he was honored to accept his gracious service. He bade his guests be seated, placing himself on a fire bucket beside the steps up to the poop. That way he was facing them and could also keep an eye on the plank. Above him, a tine of youngsters peered down curiously.

The boy was even younger than he had seemed earlier. Wallie thought of the other two swordsman Firsts he knew. Matarro was one of the crew of Sapphire, a water,rat swordsman, and hence a sailor in all but name. Yet he took his craft very seriously, truly believing that to be a swordsman was a great honor. Then mere was nipper Katanji, whose skeptical cynicism would have suited a man four times his age. This lad had neither of those qualities. He must surely be excited, for the Goddess had moved him halfway around the World, from far south to far north, and he was very near to the first tryst in centuries. Yet he was displaying only a solemn wariness, un,sirited to his years.

The visitors sat stiffly on the planks, awaiting the Seventh’s pleasure.

“You have a problem, Master Polini,” Wallie said. “Perhaps I can help you with it?”

“It is a trivial matter, Lord Shonsu, but near to my honor.” I’m not going to talk about it.

“Then I shall guess!” Nosiness was a prerogative of Sevenths. “You have come from the temple?”

Polini half rose, again almost reaching for his sword. He sank back uneasily, staring.

Wallie smiled cheerfully. “You are right to suspect sorcery. The sorcerers can change facemarks, so any man or woman may be a sorcerer. I, however, am not.” He wondered if they

had noticed the damnable feather mothermark that the god had placed on his left eyelid. That was going to be a serious problem. “I was merely speculating what a man of honor would do in what I suspect to be your situation.” Polini had an honest face. He had been chosen as the most suitable member of the palace guard to be mentor to a prince—a strong tribute to his character. The lad’s worshipful attitude seemed genuine. “For some reason you had cause to embark on a ship. You would have many swordsmen in your entourage if you were guarding a prince. The Goddess wanted them for Her tryst, so here you are.”

Polini and Arganari both nodded, speechless at such acuity in a swordsman, making Wallie feel smug.

“So you find yourself hi a dilemma of honor—your duty to the Holiest and your duty to the prince. Your decision was to send the rest of the swordsmen on to the tryst and seek to take the boy home. In that situation I would go to the temple and beseech Her to let me return him safely, making solemn pledge that I myself would come back here immediately afterward, I should throw in a promise to enlist more swordsmen, I think.”

Polini looked down at the boy, and then they both smiled.

“A kill!” the Fifth said.

“Your perception is suited to your rank, my lord?” said Arganari.

Again that curious questioning? And a very flowery speech for one of his age.

Then Tomiyano himself appeared with a tray, placing foaming tankards on the planks beside each of the visitors, bowing low to offer the tray to Wallie—who should have been suspicious at once.

“May She strengthen your arms and sharpen your eyes!” he said, raising his tankard in salute.

“And yours!” the others chorused, and all three drank.

Wallie gagged and gasped and spluttered. His beer had been generously salted. He turned to glare at Tomiyano’s retreating back and saw the grins on the other sailors standing beyond— mat would teach him to pull rank on the captain in front of strangers! Wallie hurled the tankard over the side, wiped his mouth, and shamefacedly explained his performance to the

others, who were again giving him very puzzled looks.

“You know that the water,rat swordsmen teach fencing to sailors?” he asked.

Polini scowled. “So I have heard, my lord. It is an abomination!”

“No,” Wallie assured him, “there is a sutra that excludes sailors from the normal run of civilians. I just wanted to explain why I put up with my insolent friend over there. On his own deck, that man is at least a high Fifth or even a Sixth at swordsmanship.”

The Fifth’s eyes widened. “You jest, my lord!”

**No, I certainly do not! On land he would be lower, of course, for he has no opportunity to practice footwork. But a civilian with mat skill can be forgiven much.”

That illogical reasoning impressed the swordsmen.

“I mention that as a warning, Master Polini. Now, tell me why you chose this ship.”

At the return of his own problem, Polini stiffened. “It seemed well cared for, my lord.”

Wallie nodded approvingly. “Would you consider a piece of advice?”

Of course he would, from a Seventh.

“Your trappings are of much value, master. There are no witnesses, in mid,River, and not all sailors are above a little piracy. Why not exchange your clothes and gear for something less tempting?”

Polini flushed. “I thank you for the advice, my lord!”

He was not going to take it, though. Wallie sighed. This was die sort of pigheaded attitude mat he had been trying to domesticate in. Nnanji. Polini could not stomach the thought of arriving back in Plo without his fancy kilt and harness and boots. It would lessen bis infernal honor. Wallie had forgotten just how narrow swordsman thinking could be—which showed him how far he had brought Nnanji along.

“And you may well arrive at the tryst yet, master,” he persisted. “Most of me swordsmen there will be frees. There will certainly be no First decked out like Novice Arganari.”

He got a glare. The boy was frowning.

“I see now that this ship would be a poor choice for us, my

lord,” Polini said, changing the subject. “Obviously She will require your valiant service in Her tryst. You sail to Casr.”

Now it was Wallie’s turn to become edgy. “Not so! I have been journeying these waters for two weeks since I heard of the tryst.” The wind god had been cooperative since Sapphire left Ov, but the Goddess had not put out Her Hand to move the ship.

Polini looked astonished, as well he might. The Goddess not taking a Seventh?

“We are making good time, though,” Wallie said. “Another week or so may get us to Casr.”

“You know these waters, then, my lord,” the boy said, and his tone made it a statement, while the words were a question. Now Wallie understood: Arganari was tone deaf. He would make himself a laughingstock if he attempted to chant, and even a royal priest would have to do that. So he had been sworn as a swordsman instead—no other craft had sufficient status for a king’s son.

“I am getting to know them, novice. You see those mountains to the south? They are RegiVul, and the sorcerers* city of Vul lies somewhere within them.” The swordsmen stared out over me bright waters. Above the low smudge of the far bank, the distant peaks shone faint and blue in the heat haze. The volcanic cloud above them was fainter still. “The River flows all around RegiVul. The left bank, the inside of the loop, has been taken by the sorcerers—all seven of its cities. Set no foot there, or you will certainly die.”

“It is true, then?” Polini said. “There are legends of sorcerers in the mountains south of Plo, but I never believed in such men until we arrived here and heard the news of the tryst.”

Holiyi, a very skinny sailor, came sauntering over to give Wallie another beer and a lopsided grin. Wallie thanked him and washed the foul taste from his mourn.

“It is true. This ship has called at all fourteen cities within the loop, but I freely admit that I hid within the deckhouse when we were in sorcerer ports.”

Polini was shocked, but tried not to show it. “So they are as dangerous as the locals report?”

this deck. A sorcerer can kill at a distance. Only speed will prevail against them, a throwing knife would be a better weapon than a sword.” His hearers would have been horrified to hear that he had a knife hidden in his boot and that he practiced with it daily. He did not bother to point out the holes in the ship’s rail mat had been made by musket balls.

“But they are not invincible?” Arganari exclaimed, wiping beer froth from his lips. “The locals tell of one swordsman victory!”

“Do they now?” Wallie said. “Tell me that, then.”

The boy beamed and began to chatter in a curious singsong, although Polini was already showing doubt on his craggy face.

“At Ov, my lord, two weeks ago. It is said that swordsmen from a ship attacked a band of sorcerers on the dock and survived the thunderbolts. They charged them in a wagon, my lord, and made great slaughter of the unholy ones. They were led by a Seventh and a very young, red,haired Fourth, my lord. We were told that they could have seized the evildoers’ tower and taken back the city, except that... the Seventh.... chose... not to?” Horror spread over his youthful face.

Shouts and thumps drifted up from the dock; white birds soared by on the wind. A windlass on the next ship squeaked painfully.

Sevenths were rare. Sevenths who sailed these waters were as common as square eggs. Sevenths did not appreciate innuendoes of cowardice. Potini was rigid, obviously wondering what his prote’ge’ might have provoked.

“I am sure that he had excellent reason, my lord.” the boy whispered.

“Probably,” Wallie said bitterly. He had not expected the story to be up and down the River already. In this primitive World he expected no news to travel faster than the sorcerers’ pigeons, and most to travel hardly at all. But now the Goddess was moving ships around like snowflakes. The news of the battle at Ov would be all along the River, and mat meant all over the World—news of swordsmen battling sorcerers, a red,haired Fourth, and a black,hatred Seventh who had called back his troops from the brink of victory. That was another problem, then, to add to his others—one he had not anticipated.

He discovered that he had been sitting in silence and scowling. So he smiled and said, “There may be more to that story than the dock gossip tells.”

He got a chorus in reply.

“Of course, my lord!”

“Of course, my lord?”

At that moment Nnanji came up the plank, saw the meeting in progress, and strode over at once, homing in on visiting swordsmen like a bird dog. He was wearing his usual eager grin, and it seemed even wider than normal, perhaps because of what he had been doing ashore. He was tali, young, lanky, and very red,haired by the standards of the People. And he wore the orange kilt of a Fourth.