The Destiny of the Sword (48 page)

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Authors: Dave Duncan

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Novel, #Series

BOOK: The Destiny of the Sword
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Wallie saluted and presented Rotanxi, all of them having to shout above the continuing roar of the crowd.

“You are in good health, holy one?”

The old eyes sparkled up at him. “Not especially. But I see that you are—and you have your treaty!”

His face asked a question.

Wallie nodded meaningfully. He is enthusiastic!

Honakura raised an eyebrow. Why?

Wallie shrugged. / don’t know!

“We were just watching some fencing, my lord,” he said. “Lord Nnanji has just beaten Lord Tivanixi, the third best man in the tryst.”

Honakura nodded, understanding. “We priests have a saying. Lord Shonsu: The pupil may be greater than the teacher.”

And Wallie, in turn, understood that. It could only be the epigram from die same sutra as the story of the red,haired brother. The epitome would deal with mentors’ obligations, of course. Well, he did not think Nnanji was quite there yet—but he had no desire to find out, certainly not with blades.

Then Kadywinsi arrived, and the salutes began again. The crowd noise billowed louder. Wallie glanced over heads in time to see Boariyi’s grinning face vanish inside a mask. Nnanji was being borne shoulder,high toward him, waving his foil and laughing. Would Boariyi also throw a match for him?

 

The liege lord could not stay to watch. He must escort his guests indoors. He did not really want to watch, anyway.

When they reached the council chamber, they found it full of busy swordsmen. Jja was there, also, and Honakura greeted her with warmth and affection, shocking the other priests by demanding a kiss.

Linumino had been efficient, as usual. The bed had gone; chairs had appeared from somewhere for the guests; tables bore white cloths and refreshments. There was even a small brazier by the fireplace so that Rotanxi might swear over fire without setting his gown ablaze.

Important oaths were sworn before priests. Oaths of great significance required seven of them, one of each rank, to combine status and longevity. Wallie had to meet them all. He already knew a few of them, including the surly priestess of the Third who had brought him Honakura’s message on his first day in Casr. Eventually he settled the old man on a chair, fetched him a glass of wine, and had a moment for a private word.

“Nnanji approves?” Honakura whispered.

Wallie told how Nnanji had not merely approved of the treaty, but had also convinced the others.

The old man shook his head in wonder. “We did indeed teach him well, my lord!” But he was as puzzled as Wallie. A treaty with swordsman killers? It was totally out of character.

Then other Sevenths came streaming in—Tivanixi, Zoariyi, Jansilui—and the salutes began again. Eventually Boariyi and Nnanji appeared also, hot and sweaty, grinning like children— and Thana, more catlike man ever.

When Nnanji arrived at Wallie his eyes were dancing.

“You won again?”

“Straight points again!” He was so pleased with himself that he was almost giggling. “Sure you can’t spare a few minutes, Shonsur

“Quite sure! We’ll do it when you return!”

Disappointed, Nnanji nodded. “Get lots of practice, then!”

Wallie smiled tolerantly.

“Brother?” Nnanji said softly. “Tell me the exact words you are going to swear?”

“Why?”

 

“Because I am bound also.”

“True! Sorry!” Wallie told him the oath he had prepared. Nnanji smiled cryptically and nodded again.

“Remember—lots of practice!” he said and moved on.

It had to be a setup, did it not? Tivanixi and Boariyi had cooked it up between them?

Never!

They put too much value on their status as top fencers. They would not throw that away, even for Nnanji. Certainly neither would have faked a straight,points defeat. Three,two, just maybe, but three,nothing was humiliation. So no trickery; Nnanji had trashed them both. Nnanji and Shonsu were the two best.

Which left only one question.

Three,nothing, against Boariyi\

The meeting had come to order. The priests and priestesses were lined up and waiting, all except Honakura, who had stayed in his chair, insisting he had come only to watch. Wallie stepped to the center and drew his sword, glancing around at the company—priests and swordsmen, heralds and minstrels. Jja was there, also, at his insistence, trying to be invisible in one corner, staying close to Thana.

Then Wallie swung back for another look at the cluster of minstrels. Doa! She smirked at him over the others’ heads. How had she managed to return? He had given orders—but he had only given them to Forarfi, who had now been, sent to charter a ship. Of course Linumino would have specified that Lady Doa be included with the minstrels. Angrily he turned his back on her, facing toward the priests.

He raised the seventh sword to the oath position, at arm’s length, pointing over the witnesses’ heads. /, Shonsu, swordsman of the seventh rank, liege lord...

History was made men. The senior swordsman of the World swore to work for peace with sorcerers. No miracle intervened. No thunder rolled. No earthquake threw down the lodge on his head. It was almost an anticlimax.

He stepped back, and Rotanxi came forward to extend one hand above the brazier and swear his oath, also.

And still the World did not move.

 

Wallie shook Rotanxi’s hand. The witnesses cheered and applauded.

That was it? Epochs end so quietly? Wallie had a whirling sensation of unreality. He had expected more, somehow.

He noted that die Sevenths were looking puzzled again, and worried.

“My lords...” He gestured toward the table of refreshments.

“Shonsu?”

Wallie stiffened. “Yes, Nnanji?”

“I also wish to swear an oath.” Nnanji smiled apologetically.

“I trust that you will share it with me first?”

Nnanji nodded, men could DO longer restrain a huge and childlike grin. “I have solved the god’s riddle for you, brother! I know how you must return the sword. And I know its destiny!”

The audience waited. Jja, Honakura, Tivanixi seemed star,fled, the rest only puzzled. Wallie was thinking furiously.

Old Kadywinsi spoke first. “The seventh sword? The sword of the Goddess? She sent it to lead the tryst against die sorcerers, didn’t She?”

“Not really, holiness,” Nnanji said. ‘The sorcerers have nothing to do with it. The sorcerers are not important at all.”

What in the World was going on under that red hair? What had Nnanji seen that Wallie could have missed? “So how do I return the sword, brother NnanjiT*

“You go to Quo, where it was made.”

Wallie stared at him, apprehensive, totally baffled. “Quo?”

“Perhaps you would like to have a private word, brother?”

Wallie said he thought that would be a very good idea.

tttttt

There were swordsmen in the anteroom and swordsmen standing around the door. “Upstairs!” Nnanji said. Wallie trotted up after him; but there were two dormitories on the next floor, and vacationing swordsmen there, also.

‘Top floor—race you!” Nnanji sprinted off up the stairs like an excited child. Wallie followed more slowly, worrying bis

 

problem as a puppy worries a slipper. Whatever Nnanji was thinking, he was very sure of himself. Always he had deferred to Shonsu, but that had been because Shonsu was the greatest swordsman in the World, thus a hero. Now who was greatest?

And why Quo?

Why Quo?

He reached the top and was surprised to see that the museum door was open, the great bar leaning against the wall. A slim, red,haired swordsman was wandering along beside the tables, studying the wall of swords. He turned at the end and came back on die other side, looking now at the liner on the tables themselves. Wallie stood just inside the room, waiting with folded arms.

“Nothing moved!” Nnanji said, beaming. “Just as we left it, on Merchants’ Day, when you gave me my sword. We forgot to have the bar put back, brother! I forgot!” He snickered. “But no one’s taken a thing. That’s very good!”

Wallie waited.

“Right!” Nnanji folded his arms also. “Now, let’s make sure I understand. We all swear to the new sutra. You put two hundred men or so into the seven cities as garrisons. You make everyone swear to spread the word about sorcerers being nice boys. Then you disband the tryst. Do I have it right?”

Wallie nodded.

Nnanji swung around and began to pace. “And the sorcerers will destroy their fire weapons—but we have to take that on trust, don’t we?”

He took down a sword and hefted it. “That is tricky, isn’t it? The sorcerers won’t be outnumbered any more. They can hold a massacre any time. Splash? Two hundred splashes.”

Wallie found his voice. “But we went over all that this morning. We must have a treaty; and it’s for the good of die sorcerers, too. It’s a risk, yes, but we must trust them, just as they must trust us.”

Still studying the sword, Nnanji said quietly, “The sorcerers are not the problem.”

Wallie gaped. Then it was obvious. Sooner or later some idiot swordsman would pick a fight with a sorcerer—in a bar, over a

 

girt, or just to show how tough he was. The wizard would demand justice from the reeve, and... and what?

“Oh, hell!” Wallie said. “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

He leaned against a table and put his hands over his face. He had been judging the swordsmen by their sutras and the Sevenths of his council, who were exceptional. He had overlooked Hard,duju and Tami, the rapists of Yok, the drunks at Wo, the fossil at Tau, even the initial chaos in Casr—all the bad swordsmen he had met and should have remembered. Swordsmen swore their superhuman oaths, and perhaps most of them tried their best, but in reality they were a very mixed bag—often corrupted by power, unsupervised, laws unto themselves—better than an,archy, but far from perfect. It would take near,perfection to make his plan work. Nnanji had always understood the swordsmen bet,ter than he, and if Nnanji said it would not work, then it would not. Wallie had promised Rotanxi the World. He could not even deliver the seven cities.

Failure as a bottomless pit! Wishful thinking—he had been so reluctant to fight a war that he had invented an impossible peace. And now he had sworn an oath and thrown away the tryst.

Disaster!

“But why now?” he wailed, looking up. “Why not say so in the council?”

Nnanji replaced the sword and shrugged. “Swordsmen don’t say such things about their own craft. We all know it, but we don’t talk about it.” He continued his wanderings.

“But Rotanxi swore—“

“Ah, yes! But he didn’t bind his friends, did he? They know about the fourth oath, so I go into the first convenient dungeon. He’ll start with my toenails, I expect, as I suggested that approach to him.”

“What! You’re joking!”

‘True!” Nnanji admitted. “But we should remove the temptation!”

Wallie shivered. “You’re right! I should have thought of that. So you’re planning to swear that the tryst will not be disbanded, not until the garrisons are in place?”

Nnanji was back in front of him.

“Why then?” he said.

 

 

 

 

“Huh?”

Nnanji grinned. “It’s funny; you’ve got an odd way of saying tilings, sometimes, Shonsu. I understand you now, but... Rotanxi said, ‘Admit it—the tryst must be disbanded.’ Remember? And you said, ‘I admit nothing.’ What he thought you promised was mat you—the liege lord—would make the cities safe for sorcerers. That the tryst would keep order, as it does in Casr. He was willing to accept that, and when I repeated your words to the Sevenths, mat was what they understood, too.” He smirked. “Perhaps I changed the emphasis a little, but I used the same words. Then you didn’t put it hi your oath; we must keep the tryst in being!”

Relief washed over Wallie like a spring thaw.

“Of course!” he said. “That would work! We keep the garrisons sworn by the third oath!”

Nnanji nodded and grinned again. “And we hold a group of good swordsmen here in Casr. If there is any nonsense in any of the cities, we go and... educate them!”

“And it wouldn’t cost much more, just a few extra men!” Now Wallie could smile. “You had me scared, Nnanji! But I think that will work.” He had wondered what he would do after the tryst was disbanded. Now he had job security.

Then his mood went black again.

“But that only solves the problem of the seven cities. I promised the World.”

“Ah!” Nnanji set off on his rambling once more. “The god’s riddle—return die sword. That’s why you have to go to Quo, brother, where Chioxin lived.”

“Why? What’s special about Quo?”

‘Think strategy!” Nnanji said from the middle of the room. “Nine ninety,three, ten seventy. The loop is closed, almost. You can’t go upstream from Ov or down from Aus, right? Not easily. Quo is our front door, our door to the World. Not only a permanent tryst, Shonsu, but a universal tryst!” His voice rose with excitement. “Do you see now? We send the Sevenths out from Quo, to every city on the River. They will swear the garrisons to the tryst! By force, if necessary.”

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