The Destiny of the Sword (43 page)

Wallie sank back in his chair and waved toward a stool, but Nnanji continued to mooch idly around the room.

“How do you have the time?”

Nnanji gave him a hurt look. “I’ve done everything you asked, haven’t I?”

He began to count, raising fingers. Thumb: “I’ve memorized all the skills. Luiumino was asking for dowsers just now. I gave him three names. Zoariyi wants wheelwrights; we have none.”

Index finger: “The River is patrolled, night and day, and especially Sapphire, of course. No ship approaches the city without showing swordsmen aboard.”

Middle finger: “Katanji has his irregulars checking die ships when they dock, especially if Fiendori’s collectors are suspicious. So far we’ve located four pigeon fanciers and are watching them. Yes, they do buy vellum, as you suspected.”

Ring finger “Tomiyano and the other sailors are collecting gossip all the time, and we have offers going out to traders in Sen and elsewhere to be our agents. There hasn’t been time to get replies.”

Little finger: “The streets around the lodge are guarded night and day. Visitors are escorted. All boxes and packages coming in are checked for that thunderpowder that bothers you so much. Any wagon mat stops is challenged.”

Thumb: “I have two boats surveying the opposite bank for sorcerer activity. Nothing at Gob or Ag, the two closest hamlets, and we’re working up and down from there.”

Index finger: “I found—Tomiyano found—four men who know the Sen and Wal areas well, and the villages near diem. I have all mat information when you want it.

“I have to stay by the lodge, brother! They need to be able to find me. Now, is there something I’ve missed?”

Probably Wallie had really wanted only to drag him away from fencing, so he smiled apologetically. “No! I’m just jealous, I think. You’re very good at delegating, better than I am. Well, I was wondering about poisoning pigeons...”

He explained—bribe some sailors to visit the sorcerer towns and scatter poisoned grain around the towers. Nnanji pointed out mat civilians were reluctant to approach the towers by night, but he promised to discuss it with Tomiyano.

“By the way, brother,” he added. “I need some expense money! I’m broke.”

Wallie rose and went to the chest in the corner. “You ought to keep your own separate,” he said. Yet it was impossible, in the absence of ledgers and bookkeeping. He himself bought gifts for Doa from the tryst’s funds.

“I suppose so,” Nnanji said. “But Katanji needed some. When he gave me your message just now, he cleaned me out.”

“Katanji?” Then Wallie said no more. He handed Nnanji a bag of coins and slammed the lid of the chest.

Nnanji laughed. “Yes, Katanji! I’m going soft in my old age, aren’t I? He seems to be doing very well, whatever he’s up to.” He paused and turned slightly pink. “He says that some of the boys he’s using as irregulars are good material, brother. I said he could promise to induct them afterward—not more than five, I said. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

Wallie sighed. “Yes, as long as they’re not utter cripples.”

Nnanji started. “You don’t mink—he couldn’t be taking money from their parents, could he?”

This was getting tricky. Nnanji himself was very sensitive on this subject.

“We’ll test his recruits, don’t worry!”

Nnanji scowled and turned away. “He might get five or ten golds apiece, mightn’t he? Little blackguard!” Then he chuckled again. “Whatever he’s doing, it’s paying well. And when Thana leaves Sapphire, her share will be thousands, did you know that? Funny, isn’t it, brother? I never cared for money. All I ever wanted from life was cool beer and warm girls, and I’m going to

 
‘

have a rich wife and a rich brother. And if I needed money, Katanji would give me everything he’s got!”

Some of it, Wallie thought. “And your goods are my goods?”

“Of course!” Nnanji said, obviously meaning it.

Then the lunch bugle sounded in the courtyard.

“I’m dining with Tivanixi,” Wallie said. “Care to join us?”

Nnanji looked regretful. “Sorry! This is Masons’ Day, my birthday.”

Wallie had not known that. He bit back the obvious question —nineteen? Maybe twenty. But to ask mat question was a gross discourtesy among the People, the reason being that most would not know the answer. Like Nnanji, they would know the day, but only because they must keep it holy, with fasting and an all,night vigil in the temple.

“I wonder what Shonsu’s birthday was? I’ll have to choose one! The day I came to the World, I suppose. That would be three days before we met.”

‘Teachers’ Day, then!” Nnanji said with a smile.

Mark it on the calendar, Wallie thought. “In my other life, Nnanji, it was usual to give one’s friends presents on their birthdays. Is there anything you want?”

“Funny custom!” Nnanji said. He thought about it and then laughed. “If you’d asked me that when we first met, brother, I’d have said I needed new boots. My old ones leaked. But now?” He gestured at his blue kilt. “What’s left? What in the World could you possibly give me that you haven’t given me already?”

ttt

The days passed.

On Sailors’ Day, Honorable UkUio’s digging team hit rocks and broke all the picks. Odds were adjusted and bets increased.

The prototype catapult self,destructed on its third shot.

Lord Nnanji, whose ribs were adorned with the colors of all ranks, completed his collection of Sixths and started over on the difficult ones.

On Charcoalbumers’ Day, Honorable Unamani’s team had a cave,in and broke both its wheelbarrows. Odds were adjusted and bets increased. On that day, also, the sailor spy network reported that thunderbolts had been heard in Wal by night.

On Minstrels’ Day, a fifth pigeon fancier was identified and placed under surveillance.

Exhausted men tore at rocks with their bare hands and staggered through the night with buckets of dirt. Bets were increased. Cheering and booing were banned during hours of darkness. Four workers collapsed from exhaustion and were taken to the house of healing. Penalties were assessed.

On Cobblers’ Day, Lord Nnanji brazenly ordered Lord Linu,mino to bring his foil out to the plaza. The portly adjutant poked his head into Lord Shonsu’s office to explain where he was going. Lord Shonsu went out in his stead and drove Lord Nnanji all around the plaza backward, giving him three red welts on the left side of his chest to show that it could be done. But Lord Nnanji put a bruise on Lord Shonsu.

The redesigned catapult went into mass production.

No evidence of sorcerer activity was found on the left bank opposite the city.

Several wealthy matrons married handsome young cavalry officers after whirlwind courtships, presenting mem with horses as dowries. Swordsman Katanji was invited to all the weddings.

The elders declared a financial crisis and imposed a hearth tax. The liege lord informed them that no swordsmen were available to accompany the collectors. The tax was canceled.

Shortly before lunch on Lawmakers’ Day, Honorable Una,mani’s team reported seepage. During lunch, so did Honorable Ukilio’s. Bets were increased. One hour later a cloudburst ended a three,week drought and put six cubits of water in both holes. The judges declared a draw.

The price of pitch in Casr dropped precipitously.

Lord Jansilui, leaving the lodge after reporting to liege Shonsu on the problems of finding suitable wood for both arrows and bows, was accosted by liege Nnanji and handed a foil. Lord Nnanji won.

Lord Shonsu, even with the aid of large quantities of ensor,celed wine and a promise of two talent,scouting teams, could not persuade Ukilio and Unamani to accept the gods’ verdict. Finally he made an exception to the rules and allowed them to fight it out with fists—as he should have done in the first place. They pounded each other to custard and became the best of friends.

The sailors reported that thunderbolts had been heard hi Aus.

Lord Shonsu accepted a gift of a magnificent silk rug, emblazoned with silver pelicans.

On Healers’ Day, Griffon returned.

The prisoners were safe in the dungeons, the crowds dispersed, the giant’s abacus suitably adjusted. The tryst had a day off to celebrate. The cheering and the booing were over, the minstrels toiled at their epics—How Boariyi of the Seventh Smote the Sorcerers in Wal and Aus, or some equally catchy title.

The office,bedroom was a council chamber again. The Sevenths were gathered on the circle of stools around the brilliant silk rug in the center. A noisy fire crackled in the fireplace. Wal,lie stood before it, enjoying the warmth against his legs and pondering his strategy. This meeting would be crucial. Square,jawed Jansilui was expounding at length to Linumino on the shortage of

fletchers; Tivanixi was describing to Boariyi the finer points of couching a lance; Nnanji was humped on his stool, scowling truculently at the floor. They were waiting for Zoariyi.

The room had been transformed; Boariyi had recoiled in astonishment on seeing it. The paneling shone with wax, its worst blemishes hidden by brilliant tapestries, matching the drapes. The shabby old stools had been replaced by fine oak, the bed and chair similarly upgraded. But the showpiece was undoubtedly the silk rug given by Ingioli, glowing with resplendent silver pelicans and bronze river,horses.

Tivanixi remarked suddenly, “I have a warning for you, Lord Boariyi. We have seven real Sevenths in the tryst now.”

Nnanji glanced up and grinned.

Boariyi raised his eyebrow, wrinkling the red scar above it. “I had better get back in practice, you feel?”

“Definitely! Lord Jansilui will confirm that—and so will thirty,nine Sixths. You can top them all now, my liege Nnanji?”

Turning faintly pink, Nnanji nodded and grinned again.

“I dread the summons,” Tivanixi said. “I have been expecting it for days.”

“You flatter me, my lord.”

The castellan shook his head. “No, I have been watching you closely. I shall be surprised if I can beat you now, my liege.”

Wallie smiled to himself—flattery, but close to the truth, as good flattery should be. Jansilui was a borderline Seventh, but so now, obviously, was Nnanji. Then Zoariyi came scurrying in, sprinkling apologies, and the meeting came to order, the seven Sevenths of the tryst of Casr.

Wallie passed around goblets for toasts. “Lord Boariyi,” he said, “we have heard of your exploits and inspected your prisoners. We congratulate you again on a magnificent beginning to the tryst. I think we should now bring you up to date on what has been going on in your absence. Brief progress reports, if you please. Nnanji?”

Making himself as comfortable as he could on his stool, he let mem do their bragging: Nnanji on his espionage, Zoariyi on his catapults, Tivanixi on bis cavalry, Jansilui on his archers and the only two operational falcons he had managed to find. Boariyi’s Sixths, in his absence, had developed bis troop into a force of

guerrillas, knife,throwing, garrote,wielding assassins, who might sneak ashore black,faced by night and seize a dock.

Wallie could feel a great satisfaction. He had brought the tryst forward a thousand years, from Greek phalanx to the Middle Ages. While the sorcerers would class as early Renaissance, a few centuries ahead still, he had significantly closed the gap. He could concentrate his forces, the sorcerers could not. At odds of fifty to one the outcome seemed certain.

Yet it was all in vain. That was the devastating news he must soon impart. How would they take it? How would Nnanji take it?

Wallie himself was secretly jubilant. The thought of going through with the assault bonified him. The pitch,pitching catapults would inevitably start fires, as would the sorcerers’ cannons. Whichever city was attacked would be left half ruined, the population decimated. Boariyi had captured eight sorcerers alive and killed six, losing only one man. He had brought back ten sorcerer gowns, with a treasury of gadgets that Wallie had not yet had time to study. Yet seven men had died! Add mat to the fourteen at Ov and the toll was mounting. Add also Tarru and his renegades, add the pirates... Wallie Smith was starting to rank with the great killers. But however these swordsmen might dislike the thought of a treaty, he could show that it was the only hope.

They had done. “Thank you,” he said. But he had not called on Linumino and OK adjutant was staring at him, glum and puzzled.

“I congratulate you all,” Wallie continued. “Perhaps we should have invited the sorcerers to attend this meeting and hear all mat!” They laughed obediently, little guessing how serious he was. “Now, my lords, how would you proceed?”

Again he sat back and he let them plan. They were not stupid. Now that he had jerked then* thinking into unconventional paths, they could design the campaign as well as he could, or better. Of course Tivanixi wanted to emphasize cavalry and the others their own specialties, but after a long discussion they more or less came to an agreement. The guerrillas would land at night, when pigeons could not fly, and take over the closest village to the city, whichever one was chosen. They would round up the entire population. The cavalry would disembark at the jetty, ride into the city, secure the docks, and bottle up the sorcerers in their stronghold before they knew the attack was coming. Then