The Destiny of the Sword (20 page)

“Oh!” Nnanji looked surprised, but fencing was always acceptable behavior.

Honakura descended from his bucket. “I shall see you there. I was told to suggest the up end of the grounds. Dinghies,” he added, “look even worse than mules, whereas I find sedan chair riding to be excellent exercise, not tiring at all.”

Wallie escorted the priest to the gangplank, while Sapphire’s crew prepared to cast off. Somewhere out on that wide plaza there would be watchers, waiting to see what this Shonsu did.

He wandered back to where Nnanji stood with a firm grip on Thana. He had been out of bed for hours and was obviously feeling deprived.

“That’s a hideous kilt,” Wallie said.

“It was all they had,” Nnanji protested, looking smug. “Fifths are supposed to be short or fat.”

Wallie explained that Jja had made him one—very smart, with a griffon embroidered on the hem. Pleased, Nnanji said he would go and change. Thana remarked that new kilts were tricky, perhaps she should come and help. They fell agiggling again.

“Thank you, Thana,” Wallie said, “for the warning about Boariyi—you saved the day.”

“What warning?” Nnanji demanded.

“Never mind,” Thana retorted quickly. “Let’s get mat ghastly

kilt off you first.” There was an offer that he would not refuse, and the two of them ran off.

The gangplank was being hauled in—time to start detailed planning. Wallie returned to Jja’s side near the deckhouse, meaning to explain about silk and sewing. There was no sign of swordsmen heading for the ship.

“Did you like the epic, darling?” she inquired, and there was something lurking in those dark, unreadable eyes.

“It was great poetry, even if it wasn’t very accurate. Why?”

“There will be others!” she said. “Nnanji told the minstrels about Ov.”

Wallie had promised Tivanixi he would do that, then had forgotten. No matter—Nnanji would have done it better. “How many minstrels are there, anyway?”

“Dozens, love,” she said, frowning.

So many? A thousand swordsmen, plus juniors—three or four hundred juniors. Minstrels, of course, would flock to a tryst. Heralds? Armorers? Camp followers? Wives? Children? Musicians? Night slaves? He wondered how many thousands had invaded Casr. Small wonder that the elders were unhappy.

“And Thana told them how you and Nnanji fought the pirates.”

He brought his mind back to Jja. She was concerned about something.

“What’s worrying you, love? The pirate story is all right.” Of course the pirates had been only dispossessed sailors, half of mem women. In the minstrels’ version they would be Morgan and Blackbeard and Long John Silver, but it would be a harmless piece of swashbuckling. Free swords hated pirates because they could do nothing about them, so the story would be appreciated.

She dropped her eyes shyly, not wanting to prompt a master who was usually so quick. “Who started the fighting?”

Nnanji had. Wallie had lifted him out of the window. Now he understood! The pattern had been set. Nnanji was the hero of the fight against Tarru, he would be the hero of the battle of Ov and of the pirate fight, also. With Thana telling the pirate story, Wallie would be lucky to get into a footnote.

“They were asked about Gi, too,” Jja said. “If it was you who

arrived with the shipload of tools after die fire and who organized the town again.”

Wallie smiled. “Well, at least Nnanji can’t steal that one.”

“The tools came from Amb, darling.”

Amb—a sorcerer city! The suspicion would be mere... He was not usually so dumb, but then Jja had had more time to mink about it.

“And Katanji was asked about the sorcerers’ tower,” she said.

Damn! Wallie just stared, too shocked to speak. Of course Katanji would have been asked—it was Wallie’s own fault for mentioning the subject. Katanji was sharp beyond his years, but he would not have been able to resist an audience like mat... dozens of minstrels?

Damn! Damn! What would the swordsmen think of a Seventh who hid in safety on a ship and sent a First into danger—and disguised him as a slave, too? They would react as Nnanji had reacted, saying that changing facemarks was an abomination. They could never approve of a plaindothes swordsman. The pirate story might do no harm, but the Katanji tale would be pure disaster for Shonsu’s image.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Minstrels! Wallie had forgotten the position mat minstrels held in the World. While he had been babbling smugly to himself about modern management techniques, his subordinates had been blowing their heads off at a press conference.

As a man may have an off day, so Casr was having an off century, and nothing showed that more clearly than the temple. A smaller version of the great archetype at Hann, it faced its seven arches toward the River whose Goddess it honored, although here the arches had been glassed in, as a concession to a colder climate. Two of the seven spires had fallen and much of the gold leaf had peeled from the others. Many of the glass panes were missing, also, and even some of the stone filigree that had held them. As the sun god rose over RegiVuI, his glory was mirrored in this fagade with black gaps spotting the reflection like mildew. Adjoining the temple and its complex of buildings, on the upstream side, lay a wilderness of unkempt trees, shrubbery, and ruins, with a deserted, ramshackle pier. This had to be the jetty mat Honakura had recommended, and when Wallie was rowed ashore, shivering slightly in the cool dawn air, he was met by a delegation of priests. After much ritual hand waving and bowing, he was led through wet and tangled undergrowth to an abandoned refectory, a huge room, half underground, with a high, barrel,vault ceiling and stone,slabbed floor. It was dank and musty, but it would have been perfect for his purpose had the lighting been stronger. As it was, it would do very well. The windows were few and located high in the walls, partly obscured by moss and ferns. The sound of foils would barely be heard outside. And of course the refectory had an adjoining kitchen, filthy and littered,

but ideal for the distillery he needed and convenient for him to supervise. The priests waited anxiously for his verdict, and he said yes, it would serve.

Brota and Pora would go shopping for silk and waxes and oils, Lae for some heavy blue material. Tomiyano and Otigarro would hunt for ships. Thana and Jja and Katanji had been warned to stay on board Sapphire. With all those details under control, Wallie could start on his fencing right away. He dismissed the priests, asking that Honorable Fiendori be brought to him as soon as he arrived.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, the great stone room looked like an excellent gym.

“Right, Master Nnanji,” he said. “As I have no one else here to butcher... you’re first!”

Nnanji grinned cheerfully. “My secrets are your secrets, brother?” he asked.

“Of course,” Wallie said. “Don’t think I don’t trust the sailors, Nnanji, it’s just that any false word could kill us. I’m sure that the sorcerers have spies in Casr.” He wandered over to a scabrous wooden bench, but decided it needed cleaning before it could be used. “What I have in mind is this. Shonsu lost, and lost badly. At Aus, I lost. That’s two losses, right? At Ov, we won. We need another win! And I want a thunderbolt!” Had he not been knocked senseless at Ov, he would have garnered up the dead sorcerers’ weapons. Nnanji had not thought to do so, but could not be blamed for mat lapse.

Nnanji’s eyes widened. “You’re going to capture a sorcerer?”

“I hope so,” Wallie said. “Alive, if possible. But mostly I want his thunderbolt—I’ll use it to kill an ox or something for the tryst and show them what they’re up against. Maybe then they’ll listen to me!”

His young friend did not look as excited and pleased as Wallie had hoped. He looked worried. “When, though? It’ll take us a week, at least, to go to Sen and back; longer to Wal. How long until the swordsmen are sworn?”

As long as Tivanixi could hold them off, Wallie said.

Nnanji chewed his lip. “Once the tryst is sworn, brother, it’ll be too late. There will be nothing you can do men!”

Perhaps that was true, but Wallie did not see mat mere was

anything he could do before the tryst was sworn, either—not if the swordsmen would not accept Shonsu as leader. He was flying blind.

At that moment Fiendori was ushered in, accompanied by another Sixth, Forarfi. He, as Wallie soon learned, had been a free sword, one of the first to be delivered to Casr by the Goddess. He had summed up Tivanixi as a good man and sworn to him within the first couple of days.

Any Sixth relished a chance to practice against a Seventh, so the masks went on and the work began. Fiendori was erratic, but at his best a fair Seventh with a foil. Forarfi was consistent, a high Sixth—and left,handed. Wallie enjoyed the challenge, the exercise, and the joy of doing something that he was good at, offering advice sometimes, trying new things, dredging up unusual routines from Shonsu’s skills, finding a half,forgotten sharpness creeping back as he faced these experts. Fiendori and Forarfi were enthusiasts—like Nnanji they would cheerfully fence all day. Nnanji certainly could not see why two keen fencers should stand around idle, so usually there were two matches going on in the high, echoing refectory, two clouds of dust rising, eight feet pounding.

Not even Shonsu’s physique could keep it up without a break, of course, and common sense dictated mat Wallie not work himself to exhaustion, lest a certain tall Seventh should appear with a smirk and a challenge. In any case there were constant interruptions. Honakura appeared, bringing the high priest, Kadywinsi of the Seventh, to meet the honored guest. Kadywinsi was almost as tiny and ancient as Honakura, but he had a few teeth left and a halo of silver curls floated like evening mist upon his scalp. He was pleasant and gracious and did not seem especially senile, except in contrast to the chisel mind of Honakura. Later Honakura brought other priests to discuss Wallie’s sapphires, then took them off to consult the temple bursar.

Lae returned with blue flannel, the closest material she could find to the weighty sniff the sorcerers used for their gowns. She also brought a very large brown robe for Wallie to try. It was a fair fit, except across the shoulders, and she took it away to use as a pattern.

More fencing...

Mata set up the copper still on a range in the kitchen area with Sinboro and Matarro as stokers. Soon a heady odor of alcohol and woodsmoke came drifting through the hall.

The next morning the fencers went at it again, all four of diem stiff and aching and determined not to admit it. Later that day Tomiyano and Oligarro arrived to announce that they had found a ship that met Lord Shonsu’s specifications. They described it in detail, most of which Wallie could not follow, but what he understood seemed to be satisfactory.

“How much, then?” he asked.

“Oh, he wants twenty,eight hundred,” Tomiyano said. “But he’ll come down in a day or two.”

“Time we have not got. Buy it!”

Tomiyano pouted.

More fencing...

Jja came from Sapphire to display samples of her work with the silk and Wallie was delighted. The seams were incredibly fine.

But waterproofing was a problem. Brota and Fala tried their best, but they produced sticky silk, oily silk, stiff silk, not what he needed. Experimentation was not hi their culture—they required a sutra, and Lord Shonsu could not produce one, for he only knew what he wanted, not how to do it. Then he remembered Katanji, sulking under ship arrest because his cast was so conspicuous. Katanji was an original thinker and too young to have been frozen into the conventional thought patterns of the People. At lunchtime that day Wallie returned to Sapphire and explained the difficulty. By nightfall Katanji had solved it for him with a mixture of oil, two waxes, and some of the double,ensor,celed wine.

That lunchtime, also, Wallie inspected his new ship. Compared to Sapphire she was only a pointed box with a mast. She was filthy, stank nauseatingly, and had not seen paint since Casr was a hamlet, but her fore,and,aft rigging would give her a fair speed and require only a small crew, or so the sailors said. Be,lowdecks she had a single, grubby hold, with one tiny cabin aft. Wallie explained to Holiyi the alterations he needed. Holiyi smiled and went to fetch his tools. Her sails were new and satisfactory, Tomiyano said.

“What shall we call her?” he asked.

“Vomit” said Nnanji, holding his nose.

Wallie said, “Griffon.”

Then they went back to fencing.

The days fled. Sapphire was moved frequently. It would have taken a suspicious mind and a sailor’s eye to pick her out each day in the ever,changing flotilla anchored offshore, to note that this ship was a resident. Brota and a few of the older crew members spent their days among traders and sailors on the waterfront, working on preparations of their own.

Wallie cpukLfeel improvement in his fencing, which Fiendori confirmed, but while Wallie was recovering lost ground, Nnanji was exploring new territory, climbing through fifth rank and undeniably now approaching Sixth.

Honakura bustled around, amusing himself by bullying the priests to provide whatever Wallie needed, making excuses when they wanted to hold formal dinner parties for him, bringing gossip and news. Physically he was failing, Wallie was sure, but he would hear no talk of taking life easy. His mind was as sparkling as ever, and he was obviously enjoying himself hugely, subverting the local priesthood to his own use.