The Destiny of the Sword (51 page)

Nnanji shrugged. “Let mem choose—head or thumbs. But leave no able,bodied swordsman unsworn!”

Boariyi saluted, fist on heart. Nnanji was turning away when Thana stepped close and whispered something hi his ear. He

grinned at her and swung around to Wallie, eyes alight. “How much has Casr contributed to the tryst, brother?”

It took some hard thought before Wallie could say that he thought about five thousand golds, if the dock fees were included.

Nnanji nodded and looked back to Boariyi. “Dri and Ki San are both much larger and richer, but five thousand from each will do for now. We shall assess them more exactly later.”

He smirked triumphantly at Wallie; (he swordsmen would eat.

Boariyi was smarter than he looked. “If they refuse to comply, my liegeT

Nnanji bit his lip, then said, “You will carry out your orders within the ways of honor, vassal.”

Horror,struck, Wallie blurted: “Nnanji!”

In all times and places, probably in all worlds, tyrants had found that same escape. Boariyi had been told to be zealous, without limit, but whatever atrocities he might commit in obeying his orders could be disavowed by Nnanji. It was a classic evasion of responsibility, and the very stuff of despotism. Almost Wallie could smell the burning homes already.

Nnanji flinched and looked defensive. “Brother?”

And Wallie shrank back from the confrontation. He had made his decision and must live with it. To dispute the new leader’s orders so soon and in public would be crass disloyalty. Some day he would have to bring up the matter in private and hope to make Nnanji see reason.

“Even a rich city may not be able to raise so much at the flash of a sword, Nnanji,” he said weakly.

Nnanji pouted, but he was obviously relieved that the objection was no more serious than that. “Of course you may give them time to remit the exaction, vassal. Lord Jansilui? Upriver, Wo and Tau are smaller. Swear the swordsmen mere, also, but ... two thousand golds from each will suffice for the present. You will not have time to go on to Shan, I fear.”

Jansilui saluted, and the thought of action had made him grin, also.

Then Nnanji looked to Tivanixi—and he was already grinning.

“Quo, my liege?”

Nnanji nodded.

Inside Wallie, something died. The stirrup he had introduced would have its first taste of warfare in the World—but not against sorcerers. The cavalry would rid against a friendly city and loot in the name of law. He felt sick.

“How big is Quo?” Nnanji asked. “Never mind—use your own judgment about money.”

Wallie choked back another protest. Carte blanche! Tivanixi was a fine man, but no swordsman could be totally trusted to be sympathetic to civilians. Eager to display his enthusiasm and efficiency in this new order, he might well rape the hapless city, pillage it for its own good. Goddess! Forgive me!

Tivanixi saluted and Wallie knew that he was next. He eased Jja away from him, straightening up in more swordsmanlike fashion to hear his fate.

“The catapults have served their purpose, brother, I think,” Nnanji said. “They were enough to scare the sorcerers into your treaty...”

His tone was more gentle than it had been with his vassals, and the words were grouped in requests, but those requests were supposed to be obeyed. Probably that was how Wallie had spoken to him before then, positions were reversed, so Wallie should not quibble. Catapult building, archery, knife throwing—all were to be spat out like grape seeds. From now on sutras and swordsmanship were what the tryst would need, Nnanji said. Instruction should not be left to incompetent middleranks... there were some variants among the sutras and the tryst should have a uniform cannon... any man who had not tried for promotion since arriving at Casr must explain... any man who had jumped two ranks before Nnanji returned from Vul could become his personal protegg... make a start on converting temporary arrangements, like the women’s quarters, into permanent... maintain strict discipline at all times...

When he had finished, Wallie thumped fist on heart in silence as the vassals had done. Nnanji had the grace to blush slightly. Then, with the juvenile naivete that was so much of his charm, he grinned hugely and said, “How’m I doing so far, Shonsu?”

Wallie concealed his despondency, manufactured a smile, and said, “Straight points so far, brother.”

Already? his conscience inquired. Already we are into flattery? Why not tell him that the gods are pleased with him?

The problems would have to wait, Wallie thought; there was a ship standing by. But they would not wait long. The King of Ki San would reportedly pay a hundred golds for a well,rounded concubine. That did not sound like benevolent monarchy. What were these newly immaculate garrisons supposed to do when ordered to administer unjust laws? Or gather gluttonous taxes? Who would do mis assessing of tribute? Who collect it? Guard it? Account for it? Distribute it?

Nnanji’s simple view of a perfect World did not include any of those questions. Even WaUie’s did not contain the answers.

“Right! We have a ship to catch, wife,” Nnanji said. He took two steps, stumbled, and regained his balance. Then he looked down at the rumpled rug that had tripped him—silver pelicans and bronze river,horses. He glanced around at the wall hangings, the drapes, the shiny furniture.

No tyrant in any world could have bettered the look he then turned on Wallie. Wallie recoiled before it,

“You will not be needing this trash anymore, will you, Shonsu? As soon as you have disposed of it, issue a proclamation: From now on, any acceptance of bribes by a swordsman will be a capital offense—without exception!”

That was not a request.

Nnanji swung around and marched out with his arm around Thana. Wallie watched the seventh sword depart. His eyes misted, and he quickly gestured for the others to precede him.

Finally return that sword. Finally? Either he had completed his mission for the Goddess, or he had just resigned as Her champion without completing it. Either way, he was finished. The adventure was over.

The sound of boots receded. Only Jja remained, standing with a hand on his arm, studying him, concerned, sensing the dismay he had hidden from everyone else, or hoped he had.

He took her in his arms and hugged her in silent misery.

He could not explain, even to her. There was still no word in the language for “despot.” But there soon would be! Nnanji had taken less man twenty minutes to become one.

The wind flapped awnings and gowns, blustering among the wagons and pedestrians on the riverside plaza, chasing a few remaining leaves. Traders strode homeward, with their slaves dragging wearily behind. Most of the ships had fallen silent as sailors prepared to enjoy an evening in the law,abiding sanctuary of Casr.

Wallie drooped despondently on a bollard, watching the lengthening shadows creep over the bronze stones. The day that had begun with Griffon’s return was drawing to a close, and the World would never be the same again.

Nnanji had gone, marching up the plank as the band played The Swordsmen in the Morning, standing on deck with Thana and nine sorcerers as the ship had sailed away. He had no doubts that he would return safely, with treaty sworn. For him the sorcerers were how but a minor nuisance to be tidied up before he got down to his serious work of reforming the swordsmen of the World.

The bodyguards and bandsmen and minstrels had gone. Seeing no danger now, Wallie had sent Forarfi and his troops off to enjoy what was left of the holiday. He ought to go back to Jja— but he had been thinking mat for quite a while and he was still on the bollard.

Where had he gone wrong? It was almost half a year since he had promised the Goddess that he would be a swordsman. He had

tried. If his mission had been to defeat the sorcerers, then he had failed, for now they would spread freely across the World. Their disruptive technology would follow.

If his mission had been to save the swordsmen, then he had still failed. The sorcerers could be no threat to Nnanji’s universal tryst, but he was sure mat Nnanji’s universal tryst would soon be killing off swordsmen at a far greater rate than the sorcerers ever had. The fiercely independent free swords would not readily submit to a central authority, nor garrisons yield their autonomy.

Or had his mission been Nnanji himself? The demigod had said that the task would be revealed, and Nnanji had been the first person Wallie had met afterward. Nnanji had received his share of miracles. Yet, if Nnanji had been his mission, then Wallie had still failed, for he had loosed a power,mad psychopath on a helpless World. Dri and Ki San, Wo and Tau, Quo—those unsuspecting cities would be the first to fall, and mere would be hundreds of others before he could be stopped. Every day his power would grow. Who or what could ever stop him?

Not Wallie, certainly. He was still deputy leader of the tryst, and for the next twenty days he was going to be run ragged, he and Linumino and Zoariyi. Nnanji had made sure of that. Wallie had taught him mat an army must be kept busy.

But after Nnanji returned? Wallie had now concluded mat be must then leave. He would not be able to bear to watch what his folly had created. He would quarrel with Nnanji, and there could only be one ending to such a quarrel. So he would accept the sinecure he had been offered—retire to Tau and be reeve of mat smelly little Tudor town. In his spare time he could help Jja make babies. His work was done—bungled, but finished. Failure!

He was about to rise when a crowd of small, naked children ran giggling by him. One little brown boy stopped and flashed a gap,toothed grin... pixie face... every bone showing like a bundle of sticks, hair dark and tightly curled, eyes glittering like gems.

Wallie made to drop to his knees, and the boy said, “Stay where you are. You’ve had a hard day.”

So Wallie stayed on the bollard and said nothing, but his skin crawled with fear. Punishment, the god had said before, would be death, or worse than death.

“Oh, no!” the demigod said. “I came to thank you, Mr. Smith! You have done everything required of you, and more.”

The sudden sense of astonishment and relief was like falling into a cold bath. “I have?”

“Certainly!” The boy laughed. “You trained him. You taught him compassion. You gave him the tryst. You made the treaty with the sorcerers and, finally, you gave him the sword, unasked. A task well done, indeed!”

Wallie snorted with bitter disbelief. “Compassion? He would kill a man as soon as eat a peanut.”

“That is a job requirement,” the god replied sadly. “Genghis Khan was just the same. But he is a polite, quiet,spoken young man and he has learned much from you. He still admires you beyond words. You have done well!”

“I don’t understand, Master!”

The boy laughed. “That’s why I came. You see, Walliesmim, not all worlds follow quite the same path, but always the invention of speech begins the Age of Legends. The invention of writing ends it.”

Revelation! “You mean that the swordsmen were a curse on the sorcerers, like the curse on Nnanji?”

“More or less! Because after the Age of Legends comes the Dark Age, like a birth canal, and then the Age of Wisdom—although some worlds never seem to get out of the Dark Age.”

A hawker pushed his cart slowly past. The boy held out a hand and two apples jumped from the cart into it. He gave one to Wallie. They bit simultaneously and the boy grinned.

“But he will be a tyrant! The gods will support tyranny?” Wallie almost dared to sound disbelieving.

The pixie face turned sad. “The gods will not be interfering much anymore—I just told you. And think of ‘empire,’ not tyranny! Of course there has never been an empire, so he cannot conceive of one. He will discover that by ruling the garrisons he is also ruling the cities. That will annoy him hugely! Thana invents the empire.”

Wallie shook his head. “I thought he was mad.”

“Oh, not at all!” the boy said. “It is not madness to think the gods are on your side when you have received so many blessings. You thought the same of yourself. No, he knows now that he is a

man of destiny. He has supreme power. He is ruthless, fearless, zealous, and incorruptible. He cares nothing for money. He seeks power only for his ideals.”

An empire? Easy for gods, who need not live in it. Wallie believed in democracy. Could he ever learn to support an empire?

“You have one thing left to do,” the demigod said with a teasing smile.

“Yes, Master.”

“The last line of my riddle—you must accept the destiny of tile sword!”

“Yes, Master.”

The boy shook his head reprovingly. “More enthusiasm! He will be Nnanji the Great, founder of the first dynasty. For almost a thousand years, the symbol of his house will be the sapphire sword.”

Wallie remembered that day when he had first seen the seventh sword—he had at once thought of crown jewels. He should have guessed! Now he regarded the god warily. “Nnanji never met Shonsu, but You let me think I was being given the same task that Shonsu had failed at. Was that fair?”