Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (10 page)

Kieran paused,
and Chanter raised a leg, put his foot on the rock, rested his
elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. He gazed at Kieran, who
went on, "I bet you haven't discussed this with Talsy. I know she'd
agree with me. We're going to need all the weapons we can get out
there, and the sword is a good weapon. I know it didn't do any good
against the mage, but I shouldn't have been showing off. I should
have just burnt him to a crisp."

Chanter cocked
his head as Kieran's oratory stumbled to a halt. "If I was going to
destroy the sword, I wouldn't need you to bring it here. I could do
that any time."

Kieran slumped
in relief. "Then what's this all about?"

"It's about
your defeat at the hands of the mage. You're right, you shouldn't
have been showing off, but nor should you have burnt him to a
crisp. There are other solutions to such problems."

"You're going
to teach me something?" Kieran hazarded.

"No." The
Mujar rose and approached him. "I'm going to increase the sword's
power." He held out his hand.

Kieran stared
at it, then drew the weapon and handed it to its maker. Chanter
raised the blade and studied its honed edge. He ran the stump of
his right wrist along it, pausing halfway along the blade.

"See here,
where it broke the Staff of Law."

Kieran peered
at the place where the Mujar's crippled arm rested, where a tiny
nick marred the blade's edge. "I'll hone it."

Chanter
smiled. "Then you'll wear out many grinding stones, and make no
impression on it." He lowered the blade and gazed at the Prince. "I
suppose you would call what you did by rushing out to confront the
mage brave."

Kieran looked
away. "No, I'd call it stupid, actually."

"Ah, then
you've already learnt something. That's good."

"But at least
some good came of it. It made you save the Aggapae man and all
those horses."

"It made me."
Chanter savoured the words, his mouth twisting as if they tasted
bad. "Like a horse that must be made to pull a cart by the use of a
whip?"

"No, I didn't
mean in it like that -"

"Of course you
did. But you're wrong. The only person I feel bound to save is
Talsy, remember that."

"Then
why...?"

Chanter shook
his head. "Because I chose to."

Kieran
scowled. "If Talsy hadn't been in danger you wouldn't have gone
anywhere near that gate or saved those horses."

"No, I
wouldn't. What future do those animals have? They may live out
their lifetimes in this valley, and perhaps their offspring will
too, but ultimately they're doomed. Bringing more in here to breed
only means that there will be more to die, and perhaps the valley
will become overcrowded. Then some will have to be killed or chased
out to die in the chaos. Your people don't eat horses, so nothing
will keep their numbers down. Imagine how much pain it will cause
the Aggapae to have to slaughter their beloved horses or watch them
starve."

"You're
talking like the fate of the world is sealed. What if we fix the
staff? Then all will be well, right?"

"If I'm proved
wrong in this, I'll be happy. But the fact remains that, even if we
restore the staff, no one can restore the laws."

"But you've
agreed to take us to find it, haven't you?"

Chanter
nodded. "Talsy made it a Wish, so I must."

"But you don't
believe there's any hope."

"No."

"Then why are
you giving the sword more power?"

"Because we're
going to need it out there." Chanter raised the blade to study it
again. "When I created it, I gave it only powers of burning and
cutting, now I must give it warding as well. Then next time you
meet a Trueman wizard who thinks he's a god, he won't be able to
fry you."

Kieran
fingered the burn scars on his arms. Luckily his face had only been
reddened. The worst damage had been done when his clothes had
caught fire. His hair had been burnt on one side, so he had cut it
short all over. The effect was ragged and gave him a raffish air
that his mother had tried to remedy, but he had refused to submit
to the eager attentions of her ladies.

"Thank you for
healing me," he murmured.

Chanter
lowered the point of the sword, aiming it at his heart. Kieran
stepped back, and the Mujar smiled. "You still fear me. Good."

"You like
people to fear you?"

Chanter
shrugged. "Not especially, but it's better than hate."

"The only
person who doesn't fear you is Talsy, and she's got you wrapped
around her little finger, hasn't she?"

"I suppose you
could say that." Chanter lowered the sword. "Why else would I be
taking her on this pointless quest?"

"You can't
deny her anything."

The Mujar
flipped the sword into the air and caught it again by the hilt.
"Why would I want to?"

"What if she
asked you for a child?"

Chanter stared
at Kieran, then rested the tip of the sword on the ground and leant
on it, something the Prince had never been able to do, it always
sank in when he tried. "She already has."

"And what did
you say?"

"What do you
think I said? No, of course."

Kieran sagged
with relief. "What if she made it a Wish?"

Chanter
frowned, staring at the leafy ground. "That would be a problem, but
she wouldn't. I made it clear that it's not a good idea."

"That won't
stop her." Kieran shook his head. "She wants it badly."

"I'll deal
with her."

"How well do
you think you know her? If she's set her heart on this, she won't
let anything stand in her way."

Chanter raised
his brows. "I've known her longer than you. I think I know her
better, too. She wants it, yes, but she'll accept my advice."

"Are you sure
of that? You may have known her longer, but you'll never understand
her as well as I do, for I'm her own kind. I say she'll find a way,
with or without your consent."

The Mujar
frowned. "You're saying that she'll trick me? Or maybe... what?
Force me?" He chuckled. "Impossible."

Kieran
shrugged. "I don't know what she'll try, but be warned, she
will."

"I think I can
manage to thwart one Lowman girl."

The finality
of his tone told Kieran that the conversation was over, and he
sighed as the Mujar turned his attention to the sword once more.
Chanter lifted the weapon and held it point down, then released it,
leaving it floating in the air. He stepped back and raised his
arms, frowned and lowered the right one. Kieran retreated to the
edge of the trees as the Mujar invoked Crayash and Dolana in a
flash of hot and cold. He moved the fingers of his left hand in
graceful, flowing motions, and letters of blue fire appeared in the
air at his fingertips.

With a flick
of his wrist, he sent the word of power into the sword, which
flashed as the fire vanished into the blade. He pondered, then
wrote another fiery word and flicked it into the sword. The blade
flashed a second time, and Chanter stepped forward and gripped the
hilt. He swung the weapon high and released it. The Starsword rose
into the air, turning end over end. Chanter raised his left arm and
sent a bolt of fire at the sword, which seemed to explode in a
flash of flame and a shower of brilliant sparks. He stepped back as
the blade thudded into the ground where he had been standing,
buried to the hilt, steam rolling up with a hiss. He gestured, and
the hilt frosted, snuffing out the steam. Finally he bent and drew
the sword from the ground, inspecting the ebon blade.

Kieran
approached, and the Mujar held the weapon out, laying it across his
palm and the end of his truncated right arm. The Prince took the
sword, which seemed no different, even the tiny nick was still in
the blade.

"What will it
do now?" he asked.

Chanter rubbed
his stump. "It will ward off magic like the Lowman wizard's fire,
and it will heal when used with water."

"What kind of
magic will it ward off?"

The Mujar
shrugged. "Just about any kind."

"What's the
command?"

"There is none
for the warding, that's always there. Your reactions wouldn't be
quick enough to invoke it in time, anyway. To heal, you put water
on the wound, lay the sword against it and tell it to heal."

Kieran nodded.
"That's it?"

"What more do
you want?"

"Nothing. It
just seems so simple."

"It is."
Chanter swung away, and Kieran trotted after him.

"When do we
go?"

"Soon, I
imagine. Ask Talsy."

"Of course,"
Kieran muttered. "She's the boss."

Chanter shot
him an amused look. "I understand that you Trueman males feel
threatened by authoritative women. Does it bother you so much? Tax
your male ego?"

"No, it taxes
my sanity. I've never met such a hard-headed woman. She's not even
a woman, she's just a girl. Hell, I'm ten years older than her and
that much wiser, but she makes the decisions."

"That's
because she's the First Chosen. If not for her, none of this would
be happening."

Kieran
grunted. "So she's a sweet girl when she wants to be, and she knows
how to wrap a Mujar around her finger. But she shouldn't be in
charge. She doesn't have the experience or the knowledge."

"I don't think
you're qualified to judge her. She's done things that no one else
ever would. She's earned the right to give the orders, where I'm
concerned. If you don't wish to join us, that's up to you. Stay
here and guard the chosen."

"No. I'm
coming with you."

"Good."
Chanter lengthened his strides, which Kieran took to mean that the
talk was over. They returned to the village, and, just after they
entered it, Kieran found himself alone.

Many leagues
away, the men of a city gathered on its walls to stare out at the
approaching black finger of death. The Hashon Jahar galloped
towards them in ragged lines, the rows uneven, many with only three
Riders, some with two. A steed fell and did not rise. There were
only about two hundred of them, and they looked stiff, like
animated statues. The Riders entered the black web of tar that
surrounded the city and more stumbled, two coming to a stop and
remaining immobile. The rest fanned out, forming an uneven line
with gaps in it, their lances askew.

The Truemen
atop the wooden walls muttered and frowned, hefted their weapons
and glanced at the barrels of refined oil and torches that waited
in readiness. The city behind them lay in a thrall of silence, its
citizens waiting for death. Life had taken a turn for the better in
this Trueman city, where unexpected happenings had led to wealth
amongst its people. Like the strange breeding of sheep and pigs,
producing an animal far superior to its parents, whose flesh was
delicious and constitution remarkable.

As yet, the
shigs were young, but had already proven their worth, eating just
about anything and thriving on it. One man had hit upon the idea of
breeding cats and dogs together, and his puttens were selling well.
A farmer had found that his tomatoes and potatoes had cross
pollinated, creating plants that bore tomatoes above the ground and
potatoes below. In a flurry of excited experimentation, men who
enjoyed such things had mated with goats, horses and cows, the
results eagerly awaited. Rumour had it that a child had wandered
from the tar and the ground had not eaten him, but as yet no adult
had dared to test this theory.

The men, some
soon to be fathers of a new race of crossbreeds, shifted as they
waited, grim faced. As the Hashon Jahar's formation became
complete, they lowered their lances and charged the wall. Men leapt
to tilt the barrels while others let fly with spears and arrows.
Most of the Black Riders never reached the wall, but fell during
the charge. Some thrashed feebly, others lay still. The wall's
timbers creaked and shimmered under the assault of the Black
Riders' Dolana, but it was still solid when the Riders crashed into
it. Some were smashed to black rubble, others froze, and a few
milled in confusion. The men atop the wall hurled burning oil down
on them, and those that still moved soon stopped. The men cheered,
at first hesitantly, then with growing enthusiasm, which was picked
up by the citizens and spread through the city. The Hashon Jahar
had been defeated for the first time.

Talsy glared
at the Prince. "Why does he have to come?"

Chanter
shrugged, smiling. "He has the sword."

"We don't need
him."

They stood
outside her hut, a few bags containing supplies at their feet. The
sun peeked through the mountains, started to flood the valley with
its light and dry the shining dew from the grass. Talsy lifted her
chin, frowning at Chanter. Kieran looked cross, while Chanter
appeared amused. The Prince shot the Mujar a hard look, defying him
to give in to her. Chanter ignored him, his eyes on Talsy.

"He could be
useful."

"For what?"
she demanded. "All he ever does is argue, get in the way and make a
mess of things, like with Tyrander."

Kieran opened
his mouth to protest, but Chanter was quicker. "You didn't look
like you hated him so much when I found you shielding him from the
mage."

Talsy's cheeks
flamed, and she rounded on the Mujar. "I would have done the same
for anyone!"

"He got you
out of danger when I was pinned down by the traitors at that
camp."

"You made the
walls of rock!"

"He carried
you along it," Chanter pointed out.

"Against my
will!"

"He carried me
into the sea when I was too hurt to walk."

She glared. "I
would have done it."

"Could
you?"

"I would have
done something." She switched her glare to Kieran. "If he comes, he
doesn't argue with me or get in my way."