Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (45 page)

Wesson had enchanted Rezkin’s trunk to only open for him,
and this was where he stored his Sheyalins while he had been preoccupied. He
buckled the sword belt around his waist and stored his disguise gear in the
trunk before making his way down the stairs to the common room. It was just
nearing midday, and any who did not know him might have assumed he was a
spoiled lord who chose to sleep all day. They might even believe he was
recovering from a night of drinking or some other sordid activity.

Frisha smiled over her teacup as she saw him enter. “Did you
get some good exercise this morning?” she asked. Tam and Drascon were enjoying
a pint of ale beside her.

Rezkin smiled pleasantly and replied, “Indeed, I did. I am
afraid I neglected Pride, though. I shall have to take him for a ride later.”

The young woman said, “I still cannot believe you are not
competing in the tournament after coming all this way. At least it will give
you time to watch the others compete. It is so exciting, isn’t it? I can’t
imagine what it would be like to have so many eyes on you. I think I would die
of fright.”

Rezkin nodded and said, “That is the nature of the
sport
,
though. I do not profess to enjoy such attention. In fact, it is against the
Rules
to revel in one’s success. This sport was designed to demonstrate and display
mastery of
Skills
that were developed to
kill
. Never is there any
glory in killing, Frisha. Sometimes it must be done, but even when one finds
satisfaction in the justice achieved, there is no glory. It is only sad that it
had to come to such a fate.”

“I am glad you feel that way, Rez,” Tam said. “Although I
have accepted the things you have had to do, it heartens me to hear you speak
of it so.”

Rezkin lowered his voice and said, “I have said before that
I do not find joy in killing. I have never believed in glorifying the method in
tournaments. That being said, I recognize Jimson’s point of view that
tournaments are a great learning resource for those who have not had the
benefit of expensive tutoring. The fact is, most of these duelists have never
had to kill anyone, so their reality is skewed. To them, it truly is just a
sport.”

“At least it is a sport with practical application,” Tam
remarked. “We spent hours playing fithyball in the street as kids, and I cannot
imagine a use for that. If they are ever needed in a fight, at least these
duelists have some skill. And, think of all the others who wish to be duelists
but never make it. At least they know how to handle a sword, too. I’d never
even touched a sword until you came along, Rez.”

The usually quiet Drascon added, “Duelists might go either
way in training for the army. They are easier to train to the sword because
they already have some training, or at least a basic understanding, but it is
difficult to get them to break from the rules. They do not adjust well to the
brutal free-for-all that is true battle. Even the army training can be
deceiving in that regard, or so I have been told.”

“Huh, I can see that,” Tam replied.

“I understand what you are saying, Tam. Perhaps you are
correct,” Rezkin remarked. “It is good that the tournaments encourage people to
develop any amount of swordsmanship. It makes the kingdom stronger when more
people are trained to defend it.”

At that moment, Palis, followed by Brandt, Waylen and
Malcius, came rushing through the door in excitement. “Have you heard?” the
younger Jebai exclaimed.

The four simply looked at the young noble in surprise.
“Heard what?” Frisha finally asked.

“Oh, you have not heard, then. The news is spreading
quickly, though. We were over at the arena this morning watching the pre-trials.
Do you know who was there?” Palis asked excitedly.

The listeners shook their heads, and Palis continued, “It
was the Rez, himself! Or… at least it was someone who
could be
the Rez.
He called himself
Dark Tidings
, and if ever there was a Rez, I swear he
had to be this man!”

“What are you talking about?” Frisha exclaimed. “You
actually
saw
the Rez?”

Brandt pulled a chair over to the table and turned it
backward before sitting and crossing his arms over the back. “It had to be him.
He was dressed all in black, and he wore a black mask. Even his eyes were
completely black. His hair was all different colors, but it was obviously part
of the disguise. Get this, though! Even his
sword
was black. It was not
like blackened steel or tarnish. The metal was actually like clear black
crystal, and
inside
was green lightning!” Tam was working very hard to
keep from looking at Rezkin, so he focused on watching Brandt’s nostrils flare
as he spoke enthusiastically.

Drascon stated in his typical monotone, “Enchanted swords are
banned from the tournament.”

Palis shook his head and said, “No, the mages checked. They
said it bore no enchantments. Even so, during his pre-trial, whenever the
swords clashed the green lightning inside lit up. I have never heard of the
like!”

“He was ridiculously fast, too!” Waylen interjected. “I
think he could even give Rezkin a run, and we all know how fast
he
is.”
Everyone looked at Rezkin, and the man just shrugged.

“You would not believe the pre-trial match. In only a few
minutes, he disarmed the Captain of the Royal Guard of Torrel,” Palis added.

Drascon released a low whistled and asked, “He won the
tournament a few years back, did he not?”

“He did,” Palis agreed.

“That is not the best part, though,” Malcius said as he
pulled up a chair. “Afterward, he paid for a commoner to enter the tournament
and announced that he would do the same for any commoner who could qualify for
the Fifth Tier.”

Palis scowled, “How is that the best part? Did you not see his
sword? Did you not see him best the former champion?”

Malcius shook his head and said, “Of course those things are
impressive, but anyone can buy a sword, and it was not an official match. By
offering to pay for the commoners to compete, he is making a political
statement.”

“He is saying he finds them to be opponents as worthy as the
nobles,” Drascon observed.

“Exactly,” Malcius replied. “He is saying he values skill
above wealth or title. Some have argued that the high fees required to enter
the tournament are designed to keep commoners out of the higher tiers. They
want to keep the competition ‘
pure,’
in their opinions. This
Dark
Tidings
is sabotaging the scheme.”

“Others are speaking of this already?” Rezkin asked
curiously. The warrior was actually surprised by this revelation. When he made
the offer, it was partially out of charity, partially out of a desire to see
talented swordsmen enter the competition, and partially a way to ingratiate
himself with the common people. It had not crossed his mind that the simple act
would have such far-reaching political implications. He was not displeased,
though. This could work in his favor.

“Oh, yes,” Malcius replied. “Some of the nobles are angered,
claiming he is presumptuous and impertinent. Only a few are actually speaking
out, though, because others have begun preaching of his beneficence. He only
made a brief appearance at the pre-trials and already he has quite the
following among both commoners and nobles.”

“So, do you think there will be many commoners to take the
offer?” Tam asked.

“I doubt it,” Malcius replied. “Most commoners do not have
the training or the time to put into becoming a Swordmaster. In addition, the
few that do acquire the skills would likely lack the funds or time to travel to
the tournament, especially if they did not expect to be able to afford it in
the first place. I doubt there are many Fifth Tier quality swordsmen in
Skutton, commoner or not…aside from those who came for the competition, that
is.”

“Then, the gesture actually accomplishes little,” Tam
observed.

Malcius shook his head and said, “It is not about the
outcome. It is the principle. The nobles and tournament officials have pushed
certain standards, and this Dark Tidings is willing to push back.”

“Perhaps you are looking too deeply,” Drascon remarked. “You
do not know the man’s identity. Maybe he is a commoner, himself.”

A round of protests resounded from the young nobles. “There
is no way,” Malcius said. “For one, he had too much money, and his clothes were
rich. Even the wealthiest craftsmen and merchants could not acquire so much and
spend it so frivolously. Besides, he registered at the
reserved
table
where only the highest nobles and foreign emissaries are permitted to
register.”

Drascon grunted and said, “But how would they know? He wore
the mask. They should not have allowed him to register at that table wearing
the mask, anyway. And, maybe it is not his money. Perhaps he is a thief or
truly is an assassin. You know nothing about the man except that he is
apparently rich and can wield a blade. Everything else is conjecture.”

“There is going to be an immense amount of conjecture by the
time the tournament starts. I have no doubt he will have a following of both
admirers and enemies,” Malcius responded.

“I want to see this Dark Tidings,” Frisha commented with
enthusiasm. “Tam has gone on about the Rez for so many years. If he had you all
so convinced, then it’ll be like watching the character come to life in the
arena. It would be like falling into that book and becoming part of a different
world. Can you imagine?”

The others laughed and Palis said, “If he continues to fight
like he did today, I shall have no problem imagining him in those stories.”

Frisha nudged Tam in the arm with her elbow and said, “Why
aren’t you more excited? This is like your dream come true.”

Tam could not help that his eyes glanced at Rezkin. It was a
bit embarrassing talking about the man in such a way when he was sitting right
in front of him. “I
am
excited. I can’t wait to see him fight. I have no
doubt it will be impressive.”

“I want to see that
sword
,” Brandt remarked. “I could
not see much from where we were, but no one could mistake it for any normal
sword. I wonder what it is named.”

Rezkin paused in his thoughts. He had not thought to name the
sword. He knew that many blades had names – his Sheyalins, for instance.
Master swords and enchanted swords often had names, especially if they were
somehow unique or special, had been involved in some great battle, or had slain
a particularly difficult foe. Rezkin had never given a name to anything until
he named his horse. How did one choose a name for a sword?

“What would
you
call it?” he asked to anyone who
might answer.

“Night Stalker,” said Palis.

“Dark Storm,” said Waylen.

“Reaper,” said Malcius.

Brandt shook his head and said, “Only the wielder can name a
sword. Only he knows its spirit.”

Rezkin raised a brow and said, “Spirit?”

Brandt shrugged and explained, “So I have read. In some
philosophies, special swords, and sometimes other weapons, are believed to hold
a spirit within them. When the spirit bonds with the wielder, it whispers its
true name.”

Malcius scowled and said, “That is ridiculous. You have been
reading fantasies.”

“I have heard of a few cultures that believe in these kinds
of spirits. I cannot say that I believe in them, though,” Rezkin remarked.

“Well, we know of the existence of elementals and sprites
and sylphs,” Brandt argued. “Why could there not be a spirit in a weapon? The materials
come from the earth, after all. Perhaps some type of spirit or elemental
accidentally gets trapped inside.”

Rezkin nodded and said, “I concede the point.”

“You actually believe that?” Malcius asked with disdain.

“I did not say I believe him. I merely stated that he has a
point. I cannot form a valid argument against such things,” Rezkin replied.

“You are saying that my sword has a spirit trapped inside?”
Malcius questioned incredulously.

Brandt rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Not
every
blade has one. Only special blades have spirits, like the Sheyalins, some of
the master swords, and probably the black blade. You saw the utter blackness
with that eerie green lightning inside. It is as though you are looking
directly into the Afterlife. How can you believe it does
not
have a
spirit, especially knowing it is not enchanted?”

“The Afterlife? Really? Again with the fantasy,” Malcius
scoffed.

“However,” Brandt said, raising a finger and ignoring
Malcius’s comment, “I have also read that the spirit of the blade does not
awaken until it has received a sacrifice. In other words, the sword has to have
been used to take a life. After the spirit awakens, it may be named.”

“I think any blade can be named,” said Palis. “Warriors name
their weapons all the time. It has nothing to do with spirits.”

“How did you two grow to be such skeptics? I take it you do
not believe in sylphs or nixies, either?” Brandt asked.

“Air and water spirits are one thing. People have
seen
those. We know they exist. Blade spirits are quite another,” Malcius argued.

“The people who own the blades would say otherwise. Are you
really willing to believe a miller who claims to have seen a nixie in the river
but not a Swordmaster who cuts down every foe?” Brandt responded.

Malcius scowled and replied, “The nixies have been studied
by the mages. Books have been written of them. Some mages claim even to be able
to call upon them for assistance, assuming the mages survive the encounters.”

“And, so it is with blade spirits,” retorted Brandt.

As the argument continued, Kai and Wesson stepped through
the front door. Rezkin nodded to the new arrivals and said, “I am going to
order lunch, if anyone cares to join me. Afterward, I have business to which I
must attend.