The Sword Saint

by C. F. Iggulden

  ‘Damn. I’m sorry, my lady. I think I’m …’

  His legs folded at the knee and he fell in a heap. The ambassador for Shiang made a sound like a sigh and clapped his hands together twice.

  ‘What an interesting fellow, Lord Tellius. I wish …’ He looked around him, at Hondo and Bosin, at the crowds peering in from the road outside. ‘I wish I could stay longer.’

  Tellius might have answered, but Hondo turned on them both.

  ‘Ambassador, I’ll need another day to get him back on his feet and whole enough to ride. One of your men can take my seat and drive the cart. I’ll purchase another mount and catch you up on the road.’

  Tellius looked at the sword saint in suspicion. He flickered a glance at Bosin as well, who stood like a tree in his thick travelling coat, ready to mount a horse that had been retrained from pulling a plough.

  ‘I won’t let you take Vic Deeds, Master Hondo,’ Tellius said. ‘You can’t expect me to stand by while he is removed from Darien to be killed – whatever he might deserve.’

  Hondo looked squarely at the man he had called king just the day before. Tellius had won a Shiang title for himself in the negotiation, so he’d been told. He spoke formally, choosing his words.

  ‘I came to Darien originally to take you back, Lord Tellius. Events … overtook that intention. Yet I told you then that you could not stop me – and I say it to you now. If I choose to take Vic Deeds with me as I go, he will come with me.’

  Lady Sallet made no obvious signal Hondo could see. Yet the scene changed as he finished speaking. Two of her Sallet Greens came around the side of the main house, accelerating as they went. Hondo had helped train the men within and they moved well in the armour, hidden from view so that the suits appeared like green insects. They were the primary offensive power of House Sallet, larger, faster and far stronger than any man. They skidded to a stop by the lady of the house and her consort.

  The ambassador shrank back from the massive armoured figures, his mouth opening and closing. The suits looked like statues come to life and yet had moved with such speed, their destructive capability was obvious. Long green swords protruded from behind each of the pair, ready to be drawn. On the street, the crowd stood in frozen awe, their mouths open.

  The Sallet Greens took up a watching position, turning back and forth to assess what threat had called them out. Lady Sallet patted the leg of the one closest as she might have a hound. She smiled at Hondo.

  ‘I believe you are unique, Master Hondo. You fought one of my Greens before – yet you stand alive. Please don’t threaten us in my home. Honestly, Hondo. I thought we were friends.’

  Hondo winced. The last was perfectly judged to interrupt his rising anger. He had spent dozens of evenings with Lady Sallet and her consort. Some women are like a balm for men, he had come to understand. They nudge them to reflect on errors they would have missed alone, yet without bitterness. His mother had been such a woman. Hondo sighed to himself. Lady Sallet had drawn the sting from the moment. He knew she was capable of the most delicate manipulation, but that did not mean he could resist the injured gaze she turned on him.

  ‘If you’ll give me the chance to explain …’ he began.

  ‘Give instead your parole, Master Hondo. Your personal oath that you will not harm me or mine while you remain on my property.’

  Hondo bowed to her. He had threatened Tellius. She had every right to force him to public obedience. More, she knew him well enough to understand his word was iron. Hondo dropped to one knee on the stones and bowed his head.

  ‘I give you my parole, Lady Sallet. And my apology.’

  ‘Very well. Come inside,’ Lady Sallet said immediately.

  She held up an arm as if to usher him into the house, though Hondo stood a dozen paces away with two massive green warriors between them. Nonetheless, he turned and followed her. He shot an apologetic glance at Ambassador Xi-Hue as he went. The ambassador could only stare from one to the other, still unnerved by all he had seen, not least the great bounding monsters that had come at him like something from the legends of Shiang. He wanted to know more of those!

  ‘After you, ambassador,’ Tellius said in resignation. He indicated Xi-Hue should follow them in. ‘Perhaps it would be better to wait until tomorrow morning and get an early start on the road.’

  As they entered the main house, Tellius turned his head and gestured towards the slumped form of Vic Deeds, still blocking the arc of the gate. Captain Galen himself strode over. He draped the younger man over his shoulder while the gates were shut, muting the sounds of the city.

  The courtyard drawing room of the Sallet estate was fairly small compared with some Xi-Hue had seen. He thought there were probably too many chairs and paintings on the walls, though he could sense a sort of consistent taste in the room’s clutter. A single log burned in the fireplace at one end and the room was at least warm. Lady Sallet’s servants appeared to communicate with their mistress without the need for spoken commands. She chose a spot near the fire and it seemed to Xi-Hue that they were all seated moments later, with tea steaming on a tray and being poured into cups. The Sallet Greens had remained outside. They loomed behind the windows, clearly aware of all that went on around them. Xi-Hue found them fascinating and wondered how he might gain permission to examine one in more detail.

  ‘Perhaps you should explain yourself, Hondo,’ Lady Sallet said.

  There was still a touch of frost in her tone, Xi-Hue noted. The woman had some iron in her and Hondo dipped his head, accepting tea from the servant who passed it to his hand.

  ‘My lady, I feel I should apologise …’

  ‘That is a wise instinct. How many times have you been my guest in this very room? And yet you speak to Tellius like some angry young fool? For what cause? Why this sudden interest in Deeds?’

  ‘You did hear him admit he was the one in the loggers’ camp, my lady. He is the man who shot Bosin and killed Master Hi.’

  ‘Was he not defending himself and those around him? I ask only because that is what he claimed, Master Hondo. Be honest now. I would like to hear the truth of it.’

  Hondo thought back to the moments in the logging camp. With Bosin and the twins, he had come out of the deep forest, after crossing tundra and mountain to reach that spot, all the way from Shiang. After two years living in Darien, it was hard even to remember the innocence, no, the ignorance of his younger self. Hondo breathed out, forcing himself to relax.

  ‘He may have believed he was under attack,’ he said. Lady Sallet kept her gaze on him, unblinking until he went on. ‘He may have been under attack, yes. However, my lady, you should know that I have every right to claim his head even so. My honour does not rest on whether the man had some idea of self-defence or not.’

  ‘Really? How strange that it does not. Perhaps you should re-examine your honour.’

  Ambassador Xi-Hue made a startled sound and Lady Sallet turned to him. In all his life, he had never heard a noblewoman speak so to a swordsman, never mind a sword saint. Xi-Hue was appalled to have witnessed an actual rebuke. From that moment, Hondo would surely recall Xi-Hue had been present for it. It could very easily poison their own relationship beyond repair. The ambassador felt Lady Sallet’s glare fall on him and looked determinedly into his tea.

  ‘I will examine my role in this, my lady,’ Hondo went on. ‘You may be certain. That is a private concern. I have said I could claim the right to take his life. He killed a companion of mine and wounded Bosin almost to death. This Deeds is responsible for Bosin’s … condition now, more than any other. There is no court in Shiang that would deny me …’

  ‘We are not in Shiang, Master Hondo,’ Lady Sallet said.

  He subsided once more.

  ‘No, of course we are not. I cannot seem to remind you that I did not demand his life. I offered him employment, as a servant of mine for the journey.’

  ‘You expect us to believe you would not kill him, after all you have said?’ Tellius broke in, s
peaking for the first time.

  ‘Have you known me to lie, Lord Tellius? In any form? I am the sword saint of Shiang. I carry the honour of my home in me. And I do not lie. If I say I will protect Vic Deeds, though I think he is a scoundrel, I will do so. Indeed, I will give my life to save his. If I make that vow, I do not expect to hear anyone else doubt my word.’

  Hondo heard his own voice rise and somehow he was not surprised to have Lady Sallet speak again. He was off-balance in conversations with women, he realised. Men were easier to understand, certainly to intimidate.

  ‘Of course we accept your word, Master Hondo, if you choose to give it. I have known three men of Shiang well – Tellius first, then you and Master Bosin. If you are all examples of your culture, Shiang must be an extraordinary place.’

  Lady Sallet waited while Hondo and Tellius shared a sheepish glance, as she’d known they would. Bosin sat with his head slightly bowed, as if in prayer. He showed no interest at all in the conversation.

  Lady Sallet reached out then and touched Hondo on the knee.

  ‘I know you are not a man for games. If your honour was less a part of you, I might fear some trick of words – that you would call him your servant only until you reached Shiang and then kill him at the gate, or that you would abandon him to starve there, thousands of miles from home. Yet I do know your honour, Hondo, I do. So why do you want him? What is he to you?’

  Hondo hesitated.

  ‘It is not what he is to me, my lady. It is what he is to Bosin.’

  As one they turned to the enormous man who sat in perfect balance as always, his hands lightly clasped. Bosin’s cup of tea remained untasted and he did not look up at their sudden scrutiny, as any other might have done.

  ‘Master Bosin?’ Tellius asked. There was no response, so he looked in frustration to Hondo once again.

  ‘Bosin recognised him in the house on Vine Street,’ Hondo said. ‘I saw it at the time, but I was … distracted by my duties, then by my bout with the champion of Féal. After that, I was unconscious – a scratch from a sword coated in sedative.’ He added the last in response to the look of astonishment from the ambassador. Xi-Hue recollected himself and sipped his tea as Hondo continued.

  ‘It hadn’t come back to me before I heard the name Vic Deeds at the gate. But I remembered him then. I know that name. I learned it on the night we came through that logging camp.’

  Hondo glanced aside at Bosin, before his gaze drifted across the ambassador. Hondo wondered if he would be breaking some privacy to speak of the stones of Darien. He reminded himself he was leaving, that he had never been more than a visitor to the city. The thought was surprisingly painful.

  ‘Bosin was healed by the Canis Stone. He became less as a result.’ Hondo nodded as Tellius winced. ‘Yes, my lord. “Less” is a hard word, but Bosin doesn’t care if I use it. He lost interest in the world through that healing. Certainly he lost any sense of vengeance or justice. If I’d had to guess, I would have said he wouldn’t know Vic Deeds, or more likely that he wouldn’t care. The two events – being shot, being alive today – are separate in Master Bosin. He is fit and immensely strong. His reflexes are, I think, a little better than they were – and he is still a master of the Mazer patterns and knowledge. He is one of the greatest swordsmen alive today … and the man he was is dead. I am filled with grief to leave Darien, for reasons I do not completely understand. I will miss this city and when I return home, I fear Shiang will feel different to me. Bosin knows nothing of that. He is leaving because the ambassador brought orders to summon him home. He has no regrets and I thought he would shake the dust of Darien from his boots and never look back.’

  Hondo reached out and tapped Bosin on the arm, to be certain he had his attention.

  ‘Master Bosin, did you recognise Vic Deeds at the party on Vine Street?’

  The big man’s head rose smoothly and once again Tellius felt a subtle tension in the air. He knew the Greens were not the only defences in that room. Bosin sat very still as he considered.

  ‘Yes. I knew him,’ he said.

  ‘And how did you feel when you knew him? Do you remember?’

  Bosin frowned, his brow lowering as he thought back.

  ‘Bad. Like illness,’ he said. ‘I cannot explain it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Hondo said in satisfaction. He looked around at Tellius and Lady Sallet. ‘How hard did the Canis family try to undo what they had done to their son? They must have been relieved to have him alive after terrible injuries – and they all knew the power of the stone. Did they even search for the boy he had been?’

  Hondo drank his tea, by then barely warm.

  ‘You want Vic Deeds to be … what, a key?’ Tellius said after a moment. ‘I think that is a fantasy, Master Hondo. I think that is your guilt speaking, for failing to protect your men.’

  Hondo stiffened as he drank, though he knew Tellius preferred to speak bluntly rather than be misunderstood.

  ‘Nonetheless, that is why I would take Deeds with me to Shiang. Even if I am a fool, I would like to know I tried everything.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Tellius said. ‘Though I will not send him with you –’ he paused as Hondo began to bristle – ‘as a slave. When he has been tended and fed, you may offer him paid work guarding the caravan. It is the sort of employment he knows and he will be useful. However, Master Hondo,’ Tellius held up a hand, ‘I will require your oath to keep him safe, as you said before. Even if you have to escort him all the way home again. And, of course, if he refuses, I will not force him to accompany you.’

  ‘How would you feel about keeping that last part to yourself? You don’t need to lead with it, not if I give an oath to keep him safe.’

  Tellius raised his eyebrows, sorry once more that the sword saint was leaving Darien.

  ‘Is there nothing I can offer to persuade you to stay, Master Hondo? That would solve your problem just as well.’

  ‘I am expected to return, my lord,’ Hondo said.

  Tellius sighed.

  ‘Then you accept my terms?’

  Hondo glanced at the ambassador and waited until Xi-Hue gave the tiniest of nods.

  ‘Very well, Lord Tellius. I accept.’

  10

  Gamble

  For Prince Louis, the most surprising thing about Darien was how alive it came at night. He had spent part of his youth in a village to the far north where entire days could pass without a single cart or carriage coming through. He knew now that his mother had been kept in isolation until she was clearly pregnant, then returned to her home village to raise the child for the first seven years – as far from the distractions of the cities as it was possible to be. It was a compassionate system, in its way, she had told him. She had wept when the king’s men came marching into their village on his seventh birthday, just as she’d always promised they would. They’d worn red, Louis remembered, a grand, bright colour in that drab place. He’d never doubted her word, though some of the other boys had said she’d lain with a minstrel and just pretended it had been the king. Children could be cruel, but she’d told the truth.

  Louis could still remember her breath on his skin as she’d kissed him goodbye. As he walked, he raised his hand to the same place on his cheek. He’d told her not to worry, he remembered, with a pang of embarrassment. He’d thought then that he was his father’s only son. The revelation that there were a dozen other women like his mother around the country had helped to harden him, to increase his resolve. His father raised children like wheat, to be the administrators and officers of his new nation.

  Just about every year after Louis’ arrival at court, some new brat from the country would be brought to the king’s side. King Jean Brieland would inspect them with the same thoroughness he brought to his warhorses, then either pronounce himself satisfied or not. Those who were accepted were trained and educated. Louis had no idea what happened to the others. He had seen one bright little lad who seemed full of laughter and excitement. The king had
taken one look at the boy’s twisted foot and shaken his head, turning back to the supper he had interrupted.

  Louis told himself they were sent home, back to the loving embrace of their mothers to live out village lives. There had even been times when he’d envied them, though he had seen their fear. He hoped they had known some kindness. He had been set on a harder, darker path.

  His carriage trailed him around the ring road, a dozen paces behind and itself surrounded by a phalanx of Féal guards. The night was cold, though Louis wore a thick cloak, held clear of the pavement by a fold gathered in his right arm. Yet the sky was clear and he had not lost the sense of pleasure that descended upon him as he’d passed through the gates of Darien once again. He was walking in the city, not as an outsider, peering from behind glass, but as one of them.

  His father had sent him back almost immediately, this time as munificent partner and ally to Darien – with a trade deal already agreed. Louis had brought the wealth of Féal, fortunes in gold and men. Two hundred had made up that second group, from his father’s dark-coated clerks to men like Lord Harkness, who could start a gambling establishment with just a pair of dice and a cup.

  Half of them would report directly to his father; Louis understood that very well. The rest were like spiders descending onto a sweet little plum, fat and full of juice. Did spiders drink juice? He thought not, though he had some vague sense of them draining insects … Louis waved the idea away. Entire armies had apparently failed to breach the walls of Darien. Yet the kingdom of Féal entered as friends, made welcome in noble houses and fine establishments across the city. In just a few weeks, they had begun some forty businesses, with the house on Vine Street as the hub. Another patch of new enterprise had sprung up on the river docks. Slow barges of Féal now made their way down the great river that fed the city.

  The joy of it was that Louis and his clerks had not gone seeking the life’s blood that ran in Darien. No, from the moment he had returned, merchants had come to him, pitching deals and trades and new ventures. Three restaurants had opened, serving dishes he had known as a child. They were packed out. It was a giddy time and Prince Louis wondered if his father might give him Darien when they had taken it over. It was a place more suited to pleasure than some of the dour northern cities of Féal. He thought Darien suited his appetites rather well.