The Destiny of the Sword (37 page)

ttt ttt

Confusion grew into chaos, but it moved back from Wallie. He refused to answer the Sevenths’ appeals for help, replying only that they must think for themselves, and soon they stopped asking. Out in the courtyard the hammering gave way to shouting as Linumino sought archers and falconers for Jansilui, water rats and knife throwers for Boariyi, horsemen for Tivanixi, and carpenters for Zoariyi. When the bullfrog chief herald came to call,

he was escorted in from the gate by a Fourth. He fumed and raged at this indignity and was promptly escorted back out again —Nnanji had begun organizing security. Fiendori arrived with forty golds purloined from the dock taxes and was directed to Linumino. Forarfi, Wallie’s former left,handed fencing partner, came to announce that he had been appointed chief bodyguard. Wallie thought he did not need a Sixth for that job, but he let the assignment stand for the time being.

And so on...

At last came the moment when mere was no one in the antechamber but Wallie and bis bodyguards. He was limp and hoarse and he had a headache, but the tryst was beginning to stagger along without leaning on him. He demanded food and watched in wry amusement as (he order went down three ranks before anyone actually left the room. No callers lower than seventh rank, he decreed, and walked through into the square council chamber at the end and closed the door.

Here, also, the cleaning had been perfunctory, but there was improvement. The ashes had gone from the fireplace, the filthy bedding had been replaced by a decent straw mattress and two almost,clean blankets. He removed his sword, sank into the brocade chair, and put his feet up on a stool. His head was still boiling with a hundred ideas that he desperately wanted to write down. But mat was impossible—he had tried writing with Rotanxi’s quill and it just would not work. He thought in English, and he spoke in the language of the People, and he could not write in either. That portion of his memory had not been passed along.

He missed Nnanji. Nnanji had been an infallible notepad for him until now, but he would be humiliated and affronted if Wallie tried to keep him for that purpose when there was so much else to do—and so much that Nnanji could probably do better than anyone else, too. Nnanji knew how Wallie thought, his memory was a precision instrument, he got along well now with sailors and other civilians, and he was much better at communicating with other swordsmen than Wallie could ever be. Although he was the youngest Seventh on the council, he would probably prove the most effective. His only problem would be the jealousy he must

arouse in the older men—and almost every swordsman above second rank was older than Nnanji.

There was a tap on the door. Well, it had been a nice quiet two minutes... “Enter!”

Doa entered and closed the door.

Wallie lurched to his feet.

Her wrap was a shimmering satin in cornflower blue. It was very short, the top barely covering her nipples, pulled tight into the curve of her breasts, the hem revealing almost all of her miraculously long and shapely legs. She had scorned the customary sandals of the People in favor of heeled shoes, making her as tall as he. The effect should have been vulgar or obscene or ludicrous, and it was none of those. She triumphed over such trivia by sheer arrogance. There was a thin silver chain around her neck, looping down to the top of her wrap. He thought that she could have worn nothing more than that, yet have succeeded in making it seem entirely proper.

The crazed wildness had gone. No longer did be see her as a madwoman. She was a legendary genius, and her stature and presence again made him thrill with visceral excitement. He was very much aware that she had been Shonsu’s mistress and mat there was a bed in the corner of the room. Even Jja could hardly rouse him faster than mis giant minstrel did. She saw his reaction, or guessed it, or just assumed it, and the plain, almost horsey, face glowed with satisfaction.

She was the answer to one of his problems.

He found his sword and made the salute to a superior. She did not give the ritual reply.

“Flattery?” she murmured.

“Admiration, lady. Yesterday I was present at the birth of something that will live as long as the River flows. You made my name immortal.”

She strolled toward the window, showing experienced mastery of the heels. Oh, those legs! Her lute floated on the shining brown cataract of her hair.

“The minstrels refer to it as The Epic afRotanxi.” She seemed not to regard herself as one of the minstrels. She was of another species and she knew it.

“It does not matter. My name will live in it, and yours will be celebrated forever.”

Amusement flickered on her rough,hewn features. “The warblers are leaving town in droves. I shudder to think what they will do to it, but it must be well spread already.”

“What reward may I give you?” he demanded. He was flushing like an adolescent and his voice was thick. Fool!

She turned from the window and regarded him provocatively. “Whatever is fitting.” Her voice had gone husky to match his, or mock it.

He had one sapphire left from the expense money that the god had given him. Even while cursing himself for a lust,maddened idiot, he took it from his pouch and went over to her. She recoiled a step from his advance, then drew in her breath sharply as he placed the blue fire against the chain she wore, holding it with finger and thumb in the hollow between her breasts.

“It is not enough, but it is all I have.”

She took the gem hurriedly and backed away a step.

“It will suffice. It is a kingly recompense, my lord.” She sighed the words. There was an undertone there that he did not understand, that was intended for Shonsu, and the glance she gave him under lowered lashes would have been in any other woman an invitation to continue his approach. In her, he suspected, it was not; but his hands trembled.

“And you will accompany me to the merchants’ ball this evening?”

She nodded as if mat were preordained. Who else could the liege lord escort in public but Lady Doa? The greatest swordsman and the greatest minstrel—they were made for each other.

“And let me kiss you?”

She recoiled, claws unsheathed. “Don’t touch me!”

He shrugged. And sighed, also. “I do not understand you, Lady Doa. You are a most—“

“You understand very well, Shonsu.” Her tone was contemptuous, her stance again seductive.

“I have told you I remember nothing.”

“Save those stories for your henchmen!” She headed for the

door, and he dug nails into his palms as he watched the satin moving on her hips. “Tonight, then.”

And she was gone.

He did not know where she lived or what the proper procedure was for escorting a lady. Sedan chair? Carriage? He would have to discover all those tilings, and yet he was supposed to be fighting a war. She roused him like a stallion and simultaneously unmanned him. Where this woman was concerned, Shonsu’s glands took total control of Wallie Smith’s mind. What would Shonsu have done—thrown her on the bed and raped her?

He sank into his chair with a groan and wondered if rape was what she had expected and wanted. Did she even know that she was constantly inviting him? He was worse than Nnanji had been over Thana—woman refuses, man goes mad with lust. At least Nnanji had the excuse of youth; he was himself, merely a sex,crazed maniac.

But he would have a fitting companion for the evening’s festivities, and that was important in case—

The door opened and Nnanji walked in. He was grinning.

“You did it, brother!” he said.

“Did what?”

“You overloaded my memory! I was getting a headache”, so I said I needed a break.” The headache did not seem to be bothering him. “Two hundred an hour! But we have some curious talents out there: goldsmiths and brickmakers and glassblowers—“

“All very useful, I’m sure,” Wallie said, trying hard to match his oath brother’s irrepressible cheerfulness. “Any falconers?”

“Not so far, but half the men are away from the lodge. This is fun, isn’t it?”

He stalked to the window and peered out, while Wallie sat back in his feather,shedding chair and idly pondered a suitable definition for “fun” in that context.

After a few minutes’ silence Nnanji said, “Brother, you will tell me the last thirty sutras, when you get a chance, won’t you?”

“Of course. But not while you have a headache—and I have a worse one!”

“Good!” Nnanji said. Another pause. “Shonsu?” He had never used that name before. His voice had lost its sparkle. “I’m a fraud!”

“Don’t worry about it! You’ll pick up the sutras fast enough,

and no one can challenge you until the tryst is disbanded. By then you’ll be fencing like a Seventh.”

Nnanji did not turn from the window. “I hope so.”

Nnanji, doubting himself? “I’m sure you’ll find time to do some practicing! And practice with many opponents is just what you need now. You’ve really only ever had me, and one instructor isn’t enough. You know all my...” Wallie’s voice died away.

Ikondorifia said, I can teach you no more.

Silence. Of course Nnanji did not know the prophecy about the red,haired brother.

“Easy mark!” Nnanji’s voice was full of contempt for himself. In his eyes swordsmanship was paramount. He despised a man who could not fight to his rank. “As soon as the Sixths are free of their oaths, I’m going to be facing thirty,nine tries at promotion! You’ll drag the war out for a few weeks, won’t you—for me?”

The request was so ludicrous that Wallie laughed aloud and Nnanji turned momentarily to grin at him. Then he went back to staring out the window.

Something else must be bothering him?

“Shonsu?”

“Yes, Nnanji?”

Silence.

Then: “I don’t feel... I mean I’m not...”

“Out with it!”

Nnanji took a deep breath and jabbered: “I know that a tryst can only have one leader, brother, so I just wanted to promise you that I won’t... I mean I’ll try to—Devilspit! I mean you know so much more than I do...”

This was not like Nnanji.

“What are you trying to say?” Wallie demanded, puzzled and suddenly uneasy.

Nnanji swung around, red,faced. “I’ll be loyal! You’re the real leader! I mean, now we’re technically equals...”

Goddess! Wallie had not thought of that. Nnanji was a Seventh. He was no longer Wallie’s prole”g. He was liege lord also. Technically equals! What happened if the two of them disagreed?

“I’ve never doubted your loyalty, Nnanji.”

Nnanji nodded.

Another silence.

“Something else bothering you?” Wallie demanded.

“I was just wondering why the gods arranged this, brother? Why two liege lords? You don’t think...” He bit his lip and looked even more unhappy.

Now Wallie saw it, and it was a chilling thought. “That you may have to succeed me?”

Nnanji nodded again. “You’ll take care, won’t you?”

“Damned right!”

“Good!” The old grin came back. Reassured, Nnanji chuckled and headed for the door. He was stopped hi his tracks by the spotty mirror. It was a small mirror and he had to crane his neck to see his kilt in it. “How do I look in blue, Shonsu?”

“Absolutely ridiculous! But performance is more important than looks, and you seem to be doing a great job of Seventhing so far.”

Nnanji smirked and turned his head one way and his eyes the other.

“Notice the hairclip?” He was wearing a great chunk of blue glass, almost as large as the sapphire that Wallie wore, the one the god had made for him. “You don’t happen to have any spare gems left, do you?” he asked hopefully.

“No.”

“Pity. It would be safe on me until you needed it, I thought... But this will do. It looks quite real, doesn’t it?”

To a blind oyster, perhaps. “Yes, it does—and it suits your red hair.”

Hairclip?

“Why don’t you wear the silver one?” Wallie asked cautiously.

Nnanji flashed him a cryptic, curiously defensive glance. “A blue kilt is bad enough, brother! A griffon?”

True—he was not usually so discreet.

“Besides, I promised Arganari I would wear it when I got to Vul. I’ll save it for that.”

He smiled less certainly than before and vanished, without closing the door.

Ikondorina said, I can teach you no more, now go and find your kingdom.

Wallie climbed slowly to his feet. A Third appeared in the doorway carrying a small table hi one hand, balancing a tray on the other, filling the room with a stench of charred meat.

Vul?

Technically equals?

... and his realm was more vast and much greater.

Greater than a tryst?

Impossible!

It had always been impossible—it was gibberish.

He had been betrayed! Deceived!