The Sword Saint

by C. F. Iggulden

  ‘Write up the terms, Xi-Hue. I will sign it all in the morning.’

  ‘Are you sure, Tellius?’ Arthur said softly.

  The old man nodded.

  ‘My life is here. If this gets the road built, perhaps I’ll visit Shiang again before I die. I would like to show the places of my youth to Win.’

  Tellius felt a sting as his eyes prickled with tears, astonishing him. He had grown softer in Darien, without a doubt. Or with the passing years. Just the thought of standing one last time at his father’s tomb, with the scent of cypress trees and jasmine on the air, was enough to hurt him.

  Ambassador Xi-Hue rose to his feet and knelt to both men, holding the position for much longer than he had in the royal hall.

  ‘May I withdraw?’ he said. Arthur and Tellius both nodded, then smiled at one another. ‘I think I had better try for sleep before tomorrow morning,’ Xi-Hue went on. He paused for a moment, then decided to continue. ‘Thank you, Your Majesties. It has been a great honour. I will not forget what we have discussed here.’

  Hondo had been surprised at the size of the pile of trunks and leather bags he had collected. He had been forced to purchase his own cart to take them all. Ambassador Xi-Hue had made no objection, indeed he seemed delighted to be travelling in the company of a sword saint.

  Hondo shook his head and sighed at his own melancholy. He had arrived in Darien two years before with little more than the clothes he wore, his sword, and what he now knew was a decent sum in gold. It had never been his intention to remain in the city, but to get quickly in and out with a prisoner. The idea that he would ever have learned to bargain with stallholders and traders in Darien, or developed a love of carved wood, or purchased extraordinary magical items with his salary, would have seemed impossible to the man who had first crossed the shadow of Darien’s walls. Hondo also thought of the variety of pistols and assorted parts wrapped in fine oilcloth to keep them dry. There would be makers in Shiang who could reproduce them, of course. It would not be too long before the Hart and Regis workshops had competition.

  Bosin had contributed almost nothing to the pile of goods and chattels. As far as Hondo knew, the big man had never spent his salary or even asked about it. Tellius and the Sallet estate provided clothes and food. Beyond a comb, toothbrush and the sword on his hip, Bosin had few other needs. When word had come that they would be going home, Hondo had drawn Bosin’s salary in silver and been surprised at the sheer weight of coin. Not that he regretted his own purchases. Half the things in the bags would make Hondo a very wealthy man indeed, once he was back in Shiang. The rest would adorn the house he would build with those riches. He found he was excited to be returning, though there was a thread of loss running underneath that he did not wish to examine. He would miss Darien. If the road ever did open, he knew he would return.

  ‘Are you ready to go?’ Hondo asked Bosin again, for the third time that morning. Bosin nodded even so, showing unnatural patience.

  ‘You have everything you want to take with you?’ Hondo pressed him. ‘You know we won’t be coming back any time soon? Perhaps never. So if there is something you need to do, do it now. Understand?’

  ‘I understand,’ Bosin said, though he did not move from where he sat, his back perfectly straight, his pelvis tilted forward just a fraction so that he rested on the bones, ready to spring up. A swordsman of Bosin’s calibre did not slouch.

  Hondo felt the starch stiffness in his coat as he watched servants take out the last bags. He followed them into the sun and Bosin rose like smoke to walk alongside. Hondo looked back at the room that had been his home for the best part of two years. It was bare, as if he had already been forgotten. He shook his head, surprised at the sense of sadness. Tellius had signed an abdication agreement. He was no longer king of Shiang. The man Hondo had been sent to capture and return as a prisoner two years before had no call on him any longer, no formal authority over the sword saint. Yet it had not been too great a burden. Hondo found himself smiling at memories as he passed into the bright afternoon.

  He halted then, with Bosin suddenly still at his side. The courtyard of the Sallet estate was full of people. They had left a passage clear to the main gate, but the rest were packed in and smiling. As Hondo looked up, they cheered.

  Hondo could only gape for a time. He recognised the staff and servants of the estate, along with some of the pupils from the Mazer school. Captain Galen was there, as well as the guards Hondo had spent time training and getting fit. They too hollered and applauded, smiling when they caught his eye.

  It was overwhelming, in its unexpectedness and simple affection. Hondo looked up at Bosin and the man’s utter lack of interest helped him to maintain his own dignity. It would hardly do to have the sword saint of Shiang wiping his eyes as he left another city.

  The trunks and bags were still being loaded onto a flatbed cart, with a bench seat and two small mares to pull it. Hondo looked past that to the smaller group of Lady Sallet, Tellius and Ambassador Xi-Hue, the latter looking completely astonished at whatever he was witnessing.

  Hondo acknowledged the crowd as he crossed the yard, then bowed deeply to the lady of the estate and the man who had been his king for two years.

  ‘Lady Sallet, Master Tellius, ambassador … thank you. I will miss this place.’

  ‘Perhaps you will be the ambassador to Darien, when the road is finished,’ Tellius said, clapping him on the back. ‘Who knows Darien better than you?’

  ‘It is a long way, but I hope so,’ Hondo said. He was departing a gracious host and it cost him nothing to say the words. He was surprised how much they made his spirits rise, just at the thought of coming back.

  Hondo kissed the hand Lady Sallet held out to him and watched as Bosin bowed in perfect balance. Hondo wondered if the big man had family in Shiang, or those who might have missed him in his absence. There would surely have to be explanations, when they returned. Hondo shook his head, marvelling at all they had seen and done. He was leaving Darien and regrets faded in the face of that promise. The open road, the forests and mountains once more – and at the end of it, his home. He suddenly wanted to be off and it was an effort to shake hands and acknowledge those who had come far to see him.

  Hondo waved his hands to them and, to his surprise, the cheering died away. He looked at Tellius in confusion and the old man murmured ‘speech’ to him.

  Hondo bowed to them.

  ‘I have been made most welcome in Darien,’ he said. ‘More than I could ever have believed. Thank you. You have … surprised me.’

  It was an awkward moment and Hondo was red with embarrassment, but they cheered him again even so. Tellius touched him lightly on the shoulder, both men aware that Hondo permitted the act as a mark of respect. Tellius had to lean closer and speak into his ear to be heard.

  ‘Ambassador Xi-Hue has agreed to take sixty birds back to Shiang. The carts are out in the street, ready to go. I’m afraid it will be a slow journey, Master Hondo, once you leave the road. I’m sending a couple of bright lads with you to tend the birds, as well as the dozen who came with Ambassador Xi-Hue. I have personal letters as well, though I have gone through all that with the ambassador. Is there anything else?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Hondo said over the noise of the crowd.

  He looked down at the hand Tellius held out to him.

  ‘Then thank you, Master Hondo. For how you fought to save us, to save me. For all you have done. If I thought you would stay just because I asked, I would …’

  Hondo looked down at his feet.

  ‘I have orders to return,’ he said.

  Tellius nodded. He understood.

  ‘Look after Bosin, please. Use three of the birds to let me know you arrived safely, if Lord Hong will allow you to. I wish you peace and good fortune.’

  The gates onto the street were drawn open and saddled horses brought out. Hondo saw a man standing on the street side of the gate, coming hesitantly closer as the opportunity presented itself.
The Sallet guards were instantly alert, stepping forward to block a view of Lady Sallet or Tellius. With so many guns in the city, they had learned to react quickly to any threat. Hondo frowned, knowing he had seen the man before. His mind cleared as he remembered him from the party in Vine Street. A guest, or more likely a personal guard to one of the guests.

  Tellius turned to see the object of their attention. He looked surprised at the changes in Vic Deeds. Someone had clearly given him a proper beating in the day and a half that had passed since Vine Street. The young man’s eyes were black and swollen and there was a crust of blood under his nose. His clothes were torn and Tellius could see no sign of the expensive guns Deeds had worn on his hips. The man’s fortunes had obviously taken a turn for the worse, as sometimes happened to cocky young devils in Darien. Yet Tellius wanted no interruptions while he was saying goodbye. He signalled to Galen to make the problem vanish. The Sallet captain was an old hand and he approached Deeds with the weight of experience.

  ‘Come on, son. Whatever it is can wait, I’m sure.’

  ‘No, it can’t. It was your master who called me by name in front of all of them. I’m a marked man now. So I think I’m owed something.’

  ‘Not today. Go on your way, Deeds,’ Tellius said. He wanted the man gone while the ambassador of Shiang stood waiting. ‘If your past has caught up with you, perhaps there’s some justice in that.’

  Hondo had been in the act of stepping up to the bench seat on the cart of his belongings. He paused with one foot in the air and set it back down. The sword saint of Shiang turned slowly to face the gate and everyone near to him felt his sudden focus like a crackle in the air.

  ‘Deeds,’ Hondo said. ‘Vic Deeds?’

  He touched the hilt of his sword.

  9

  Parole

  When the gates opened, Vic Deeds rubbed the back of his neck, forcing out his bottom lip. He’d been robbed, beaten and left unconscious for an entire day. He was lucky to be alive and he thought the fact that he was would probably surprise the men who had attacked him. Also, his jaw clicked when he spoke, which was driving him to distraction. He was starving, with no money left to buy food. He imagined his teeth were too loose to eat anything anyway. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the Sallet estate that morning if he hadn’t been desperate. Yet Tellius was the one who had called him by name in the house on Vine Street. However the old man had known him, it had been Tellius more than his assailants who’d stripped away his new clothes and the fine blond moustache. That hurt in more than one sense – half of the hair had been torn out during his kicking the night before, leaving a great swollen scab on his upper lip where the skin had gone. Deeds felt lower than he could remember – and if there was one man responsible, it was the speaker to the council.

  Deeds ignored the Sallet guard captain strolling out to move him on from that spot. He’d been moved on by better men before. Deeds knew he hadn’t stepped over the boundary to the Sallet estate, marked as a white line on the ground. Yet he didn’t retreat either, even when Tellius told him to take himself off, as if he was a beggar at a rich man’s gate. Deeds had nothing left. No savings and nowhere to sleep that night. He’d never felt quite as alone as he did then. His options were to rob travellers heading to Darien, which would almost certainly get him killed, or to beg for some scrap from the man who had dropped him in his current crop of troubles. Nor had Lord Woodville said a word either, as he’d sniffed and disappeared in his rented coach.

  It had been a rough patch and the last thing Deeds wanted was to be there, with his hand out. However, pride rarely survived starvation. Deeds clenched his jaw, wincing as it clicked. He was determined not to let them send him on his way.

  Deeds was vaguely, muzzily aware of the crowd in the courtyard, revealed as the gate swung open. If he’d been surprised at the sheer number of people, it had faded in his satisfaction at spotting Tellius and Lady Sallet themselves, standing almost in reach of the road. Yet as the crowd fell silent, Deeds found his attention drawn to one figure amongst them, suddenly very still.

  He swallowed when he recognised the swordsman, the one they called the sword saint. Deeds had never felt more unarmed than at that moment, when Hondo rested his hand on a sword hilt of black and orange. On any other day, Deeds might have run, but he was bruised and sore and practically helpless as he stood there, peering from one good eye with the other swollen almost shut. His mother had always said he would hang, he recalled. It looked like she was wrong about that.

  Deeds heard Hondo say his name and saw that the man recognised it. He sighed and waved a hand, fatalism and bad temper warring almost equally in him.

  ‘Yes, “Vic Deeds”,’ he said to Hondo. ‘All right? What of it? Your man came at me in the woods and I shot him, yes. Your great bear stepped in the way and I shot him as well. We call it self-defence in Darien, meneer, whatever they call it down your way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to apply for a job here.’ The thought struck him as he spoke and Deeds went on. ‘I managed to take down two Mazer masters with my guns, Master Tellius. Which I have heard since is no easy thing to do. So although I am at a low point today … although you have me at a disadvantage here and now, I am not a man to overlook.’

  ‘What guns?’ Tellius said. He glanced aside at Hondo, but the swordsman was still utterly motionless. Tellius was more aware than most how quickly Hondo could close the distance. Even experienced men tended to misjudge how much ground a sudden rush could cover. At just six paces away, Deeds felt safer than he actually was, while his life hung in a balance he could not see.

  ‘Guns that were stolen the night before last, when I was ambushed on the way out of the house in Vine Street.’

  Deeds had no idea how long he had lain in the alleyway alongside that house, piled up with kitchen scraps and a dead dog. His head was splitting. He felt slightly detached, as if the world swam behind glass while he peered and tried to make sense of it. He was aware that he was making an appalling spectacle of himself, as if a cleaner, sharper version sat on his shoulder and buried its face in its hands.

  Hondo suddenly cracked his neck and rolled the shoulder of his sword arm. Deeds sensed some tension fade in the scene and breathed out. He’d felt like an insect about to be pinned to a board, reprieved in the last instant. Instead, Hondo’s attention seemed to be on … oh. Deeds sighed. The big man, the one he had called Hondo’s bear, was staring at him with the same perfect stillness Deeds remembered from the house on Vine Street. Hondo was watching Bosin and, for a moment, no one moved at all and a breeze blew leaves across the yard.

  ‘He’s almost out on his feet,’ Lady Sallet said. ‘Perhaps we should have some soup brought.’

  ‘He’s not a stray dog, Win,’ Tellius replied, seriously. ‘You can’t keep him.’

  In truth, though, that was exactly how Deeds looked. Yet Tellius was more concerned with what might happen if Bosin or Hondo decided to avenge their fallen companions, right there in the courtyard with the ambassador of Shiang looking on. Tellius wondered how much of an insult it would be if the ambassador was injured in a brawl. He thought they might avoid a war over it, but his road would never be built. Slowly, Tellius raised both hands. He could see indecision in Hondo, which was strange in itself.

  ‘Now then, Deeds. If you stand back from the gate, Masters Hondo and Bosin were just leaving, do you see? They are going home to Shiang. Master Hondo? I would prefer you to leave the business of Darien to Darien – and the business of Shiang to Shiang.’ He sensed rather than saw a tiny nod from Hondo, though it gave Tellius hope as he went on. ‘Ambassador? It has been an honour for you, I know. However, I will not keep you further. I look forward to receiving news of your safe return.’

  Ambassador Xi-Hue looked confused, as if he had encountered a mugging and only wished to see how it turned out. Yet Tellius was clearly dismissing him – a man who had been the symbolic ruler of Shiang just the night before. Xi-Hue bowed deeply, as servant-to-lord, then allowed hi
mself to be helped to mount.

  ‘I need a manservant,’ Hondo said suddenly. ‘And a guard. I am hiring. If you need work.’ He spoke directly to Deeds, and Tellius had to struggle not to groan as the battered gunfighter blinked, turning his head one way and then the other to help him focus.

  ‘Master Hondo,’ Tellius began. To his surprise, Hondo held up his hand to interrupt whatever he had been going to say. As nothing else, it showed the shift in their relationship. Hondo was no longer his to command.

  ‘As my employee, you would be under my protection, Deeds.’

  ‘Until when exactly?’ Deeds said with a snort. ‘Until we’re out of sight of Darien? No, I don’t think I’ll be taking you up on your offer, sir. I didn’t come here for you. I believe Master Tellius owes me at least a new set of guns. I’m here for those.’

  The bravado was visibly fragile, as if Deeds might break down and start bawling at any moment. As he spoke, he leaned more and more on one leg to spare the other. Hondo could see blood beginning to pool around one foot while he swayed. Yet Deeds still stood with his chin up, glaring at them all.

  ‘I’ll have a new set of guns brought, Mr Deeds,’ Lady Sallet said suddenly. ‘And clothes. You’re the same size as a few of my guards – we should be able to find something to suit you. I’ll have Doctor Burroughs look you over as well, if you don’t mind. Those wounds will bring a fever otherwise, if they haven’t already.’

  Deeds raised his eyebrows at her. He had never met the lady of Sallet house before, but in that moment he just wanted to melt into her concern and collapse. Even the thought of unclenching his will and pride made the courtyard swim.