Read The Destiny of the Sword Online

Authors: Dave Duncan

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

The Destiny of the Sword (6 page)

BOOK: The Destiny of the Sword
10.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

A sour sulfurous odor mingled with smells of woodsmoke and leather. They had met that before. Shonsu said it must come from RegiVul, where the Fire God danced on the peaks. A pale dust was settling on the planks.

Honakura sighed and sought a more comfortable position. The pains were getting worse. He remembered how his mother had baked bread when he was a child, and how she had run a knife around the inside of the pan to loosen the loaf so that it would come out cleanly. That was what the Goddess was doing to him—reminding him that death was not to be feared, mat it was a beginning of something new and exciting, not an end. When he had left Haim with Shonsu, he had offered humble prayers that he might be spared long enough in this cycle to see the outcome of the Shonsu mission. Now he was not so presumptuous. He thought he might be happier not knowing.

If anyone had suggested to him half a year since that he could ever be friends with a swordsman, he would have laughed until his old bones fell apart in a heap. Yet it had happened so. He liked that huge slab of beef. He could even admire him and he had never admired a swordsman before. Of course Shonsu was not a swordsman at heart, but he tried very hard to obey the dictates of the gods, and struggled to reconcile his own gentle instincts with the killer requirements of his job. They were incompatible, of course. Shonsu knew that and was troubled within himself. But he tried, and he was a decent and honorable man.

Strange, therefore, that his divine master had not trusted him enough to explain exactly what his task was to be. That lapse had obviously bothered Shonsu, and still did. He thought he knew now what it was. He had been quite implacable toward the sorcerers once he met them—implacable for Shonsu, that is. Yet he had gathered wisdom at Ov, wisdom he could not or would not

 

explain, and since then he had been more deeply troubled than ever.

Honakura was certain that he had a much better idea of what Shonsu’s mission was than Shonsu did. He no longer wanted to see the end of it. The gods knew what they were doing and they knew why, even if mortals did not. And they could be cruel.

Sometimes they could even appear to be ungrateful.

A sudden ripple of change swept over the ship. Two of the women came chattering down from the poop and headed for the companionway in the fo’c’sle. The men abandoned their fishing at the same moment and went into the deckhouse, muttering about a game of dice. Apprentice Thana, tired of sutras, rose and stretched deUciously. Honakura sighed... If the Goddess sent him back at once, then in twenty years or less he would be after someone like Thana. Unless he came back as a woman, of course, in which case he would be looking for a Shonsu.

Adept Nnanji twisted bis head round and shouted for his brother. Katanji pulled a face, left off bis storytelling, and came down to join the sutra session. Nnanji could continue indefinitely. Despite his youth, he was the most single,minded person Honakura had ever met and he certainly possessed the finest memory.

That made him an incomparable learner. It had been entertaining to watch Shonsu struggle to make himself more of a swordsman—meaning in effect more like Nnanji, who was a swordsman born—while Nnanji strove to be more like his hero, Shonsu. There was no doubt which of the two had more thoroughly succeeded. Adept,and,soon,to,be,Master Nnanji was unrecognizable as the brash, wide,eyed juvenile who had trailed behind Shonsu that first day in the temple, after the death of Hardduju. Yet neither man could ever really succeed. They were as unlike as the lion and the eagle that made up the griffon on the seventh sword.

One lion plus one eagle did not make two griffons.

Then stillness inexplicably returned and motion ceased. The ship lay in its cocoon of golden haze, the silence broken only by a quiet drone of sutras.

 

Thana had wandered to the aft end of the deck and was sitting on the steps to the poop. There seemed to be something missing about Apprentice Thana. Honakura needed a moment to work it out—she was not wearing the pearls that Nnanji had given her. He decided, then, that he had not seen them for some days.

She was studying Shonsu and frowning, deep in thought.

Mm?

Of course Shonsu was worth studying from her point of view: huge, muscular—masculinity personified—and a swordsman of the seventh rank, a man of ultimate power among the People.

Brota and Tomiyano were incomparable pursuers of gold, but in Thana that family trait was subtly changed. She saw farther. Thana knew that gold was only a means, and the end was power. For most people gold was the surest means to that end, but power was largely a male attribute in the World, and there was a faster road to it for nubile young maidens.

Honakura rose and wandered across and joined her on the steps. She scowled.

Even at his age, it was pleasant to sit next to a Thana.

“When beautiful young ladies frown, they must have troubles,” he said. ‘Troubles are my business.”

“Beggars have no business.”

He stared up at her until she averted her eyes.

“Pardon, holy one,” she muttered.

They had all guessed that he was a priest, of course. His way of speaking would have told them that.

“Not a holy one at the moment,” he said gently. “But I am on Her business. Now, what ails?”

“Just puzzled,” she said. “Something Nnanji told me.”

Honakura waited. He had a million times more patience than Apprentice Thana.

“He quoted something Lord Shonsu had said,” she explained at last, “the first time he was in Tau. He talked of being reeve there. Well! A minnow town like that? This is after his mission is over, you understand? It just seemed odd. That’s all.”

“It doesn’t seem odd to me, apprentice.”

She glanced at him in surprise. “Why not? A Seventh? In a scruffy little hole like Tau?”

Honakura shook his head. “Shonsu never asked to be a Seventh. He did not even want to be a swordsman. The gods made him one for their own purposes. You are talking power, my lady, and power does not attract Shonsu.”

“Power?” she repeated thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Well, ambition. He has none! He is already a Seventh, so what is left? But Adept Nfianji... now there is ambition for you.”

Thana frowned again. “He is a killer! Remember when the pirates came? Yes, it is good to kill pirates. But Shonsu wept afterward—I saw the tears on his cheeks. Nnanji laughed. He was soaked in blood, and loved it.”

Honakura had known much worse killers than that amiable young man. “Killing is his job, apprentice. He welcomed a chance to do his job. He is honorable and kills only in the line of duty. A swordsman rarely gets a chance to use his skills. Adept Nnanji is very good at his job—better in some ways than Lord Shonsu is.”

“You think Nnanji will be a Seventh one day?” she asked idly, but he sensed the steel in the question.

For a moment he hesitated, pondering the inexplicable lack of wind, the breathless pause in Shonsu’s mission. Then he decided to gamble on this sudden hunch of his.

“I am certain.”

“Certain, old man? Certain is a strong word.” She sounded like her mother.

“This must be in confidence, Thana,” he said.

She nodded, astonished.

“There is a prophecy,” he told her. “When Shonsu spoke with the god, he was given a message for me. Shonsu did not understand it—it was a message that only a priest would hear. But it comes from a god. So, yes, I am certain.”

She had very beautiful eyes, large and dark, set in very long lashes.

“This prophecy is about Nnanji?”

He nodded.

 

 

“I swear on my sword, holy one—on my honor as a swordsman. If you tell me, I will not reveal it.”

“Then I shall trust you,” he said. “The prophecy is the epigram from one of our sutras. We—the priests, I mean—have always regarded it as a great paradox, but perhaps to a swordsman it will not seem so. The epigram is this: The pupil may be greater than the teacher.”

Thana drew in her breath sharply. “That refers to Nnanji?”

“Yes, it does. He was destined to be Shonsu’s protege. He was only a Second, you know. Shonsu made him a Fourth in two weeks. And he is the equal of a Fifth now, Shonsu says.”

“A Sixth!” she snapped, and fell silent, thinking.

He waited patiently and after a while she looked up. “It only says ‘may’ be greater. Not ‘will’ be.”

Honakura shook his head. “Gods do not cheat like that, Thana. The god was saying that Nnanji will be greater. It is obvious! He is absurdly young for even his present rank, and Shonsu says he fences better every day, without exception. He forgets nothing. Yes, Nnanji will be a Seventh—and very soon, I think.”

She frowned. “He thinks he is a Sixth now, but Shonsu will not tell him the sutras—the last few he needs to try for Sixth.”

“I am sure,” Honakura said, and then wondered if he was sure, “that Lord Shonsu has his prote”ge”’s best interests at heart. Nnanji had been very lucky to find a mentor like him—few do. Many mentors grow jealous of successful proteges and hold them back. Indeed, that is the thrust of that sutra I mentioned—that proteges must be encouraged and aided at all costs, not impeded.” He chuckled, thinking of examples he had known. “Even priests can be guilty of that sin, and obviously there are special advantages to a swordsman in having a protege who can fight above his rank. Whereas, when mat protege’ gains promotion, he may set off on his own. But I do not think that Lord Shonsu would ever do that to Nnanji. If he is holding him back from trying for Sixth, then it is only because he does not think that Nnanji is ready.”

/ think that, but Shonsu is no fool.

She nodded. “And when the tryst is over, then Nnanji will not be satisfied to be merely reeve of some polliwog village?”

 

“Nnanji wants to be a free sword. He would be happy just to lead a band of ragtag swordsmen around the countryside looking for sport, killing and wenching.”

She nodded and sighed. Honakura carefully arranged a shy smile on his face.

He said, “I think he would be wasted doing that. The Goddess must have more important tasks for a man like Nnanji. He needs guidance!”

“You mean...”

He shook his head. “I don’t mink I need say more.”

Thana blushed. She jumped up and strode away, the yellow tail of her breechclout swinging. She went by Shonsu without a glance, then by the three,man sutra session, which wailed into silence as the chanters were distracted. Then she vanished through the fo’c’sle door.

Honakura chuckled. The chanters went back to their droning. Shonsu continued his whittling—apparently he had not even noticed Thana go by him, although Jja had.

Honakura waited hopefully, but there was no sign of a wind rising, no diminution of the stabbing pain in his ribs. He sighed and told himself to be patient. However, perhaps he had earned one tiny reward—it would be satisfying to know just what that big swordsman was doing, littering Sailor Tomiyano’s tidy deck with shavings.

The old man heaved stiffly off the steps, walked over to the hatch cover, and levered himself up beside Shonsu. He was accustomed to being small, but the big man made him feel like a tiny child. The swordsman turned his head in silence and regarded nun. For just a moment Honakura could imagine that he was back on the temple steps that summer morning when he had so briefly met the original Shonsu—that steady glare, those vindictive black eyes with their promise of carnage. Startled, he reminded himself that this was a man from a dream world, not truly Shonsu, and it was not his fault that his gaze was as deadly as his sword.

“And how is Apprentice Thana?” the swordsman demanded in his distant,thunder rumble.

Another shock! Honakura could have sworn that Shonsu had not even seen Thana depart, let alone noticed the two of them

 

talking together. “She is well,” he said, carefully not showing reaction. Yet he knew that everything about Shonsu was of the seventh rank—his reflexes, his eyesight. Could his hearing be so acute that he had overheard the conversation? Impossible, surely?

The swordsman continued his inspection of Honakura for a moment and then turned his attention back to the peg he was shaping. After a minute or so he remarked, “Apprentice Thana has been surprising me.”

“How so, my lord?” inquired Honakura, as expected.

“She has developed a sudden and passionate interest in sutras,” Shonsu growled. “I assume that she plans to seek promotion when Nnanji does.”

“Commendable! She is qualified, is she not?”

“In fencing, certainly,” the swordsman said. “And she has been surprising me with her speed at picking up sutras. Not quite a Nnanji, perhaps, but remarkable.”

Honakura waited, knowing there must be more.

There was. “Of course Nnanji is always available to coach her—he can gaze at her without interruption.” Shonsu paused again. “Yet she has been pestering me, also, and even her mother. She sets it up with either Katanji or Matarro, keeping Nnanji out.”

Honakura remembered now that the swordsmen had a limit of three to a sutra session, another foolish custom.

“Perhaps she is equally glad of a chance to gaze at your noble self, my lord.”

BOOK: The Destiny of the Sword
10.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Girls From Alcyone by Caffrey, Cary
A Word with the Bachelor by Teresa Southwick
Forty Rooms by Olga Grushin
Invisible Girl by Mary Hanlon Stone
Nobody Bats a Thousand by Schmale, Steve
Diary of a Witness by Catherine Ryan Hyde
Why You Were Taken by JT Lawrence