by David Duncan
"Thank you. You see very well..."
"I do most things very well," he remarked cheerfully. He sounded so young, like a boy. Could he really be a Fourth? "Now, where is this, apprentice?"
"The estate of the Honorable Garathondi, adept."
The swordsman grunted softly. "What craft?"
"He is a builder."
"And what does a builder of the Sixth build? Well, never mind. How many swordsmen on this estate?"
"None, adept."
He grunted again, surprised. "What's the nearest village, or town?"
"Pol, adept. A hamlet. About half a day's walk to the north."
"There would be swordsmen there, then. .."
It was not a question, so she need not say that the resident swordsman of Pol had died on the same day as her husband, or that his assassination could not have been reported, either. Prevent bloodshed!
"What city? How far?"
"Ov, adept. About another half day beyond Pol."
"Mm? Do you happen to know the name of the reeve in Ov?"
He was dead, also, and all his men. To answer just "No!" would be a lie. Before she could speak, the swordsman asked another question.
"Is there trouble here, Apprentice Quili? Brigands? Bandits? Work for honest swordsmen? Are we in any immediate danger?"
"No immediate danger, adept."
He chuckled. "Pity! Not even a dragon?"
She returned the laugh with relief. "Not one."
"And you haven't seen any sorcerers recently, I suppose?"
So he did know about the sorcerers! "Not recently, adept..."
He sighed. "Well, if it's safe, then we must have been brought here to meet someone. Like Ko."
"Ko?"
"Have you never heard the epic How Aggaranzi of the Seventh Smote the Brigands at Ko?" He sounded shocked. "It's a great tale! Lots of honor, lots of blood. It's very long, but I'll sing it for you when we have time. Well, if there's no danger, then I'd better go back and report. Come on!"
He took her hand and began to lead her down the road. His hand was very large, his grip powerful; but his palm felt oddly soft, unlike the hands of the farm workers―or even her own hands, these days.
Strangely, she did not feel nervous at being hauled into the unknown by this tall and youthful stranger. She stumbled in the ruts. He muttered, "Careful!" but he slowed down. There were three stream crossings on the trail, and she could barely see the stepping-stones, but he could, and he guided her.
"You were brought by the Most High, adept?"
"We were! The sailor says he's never heard of a ferry being taken before. We've come a long way, too! Very far!" He sounded satisfied, not awed at all. Of course the River was the Goddess, and any ship might arrive at an unexpected destination if it bore a Jonah, someone She wanted elsewhere. Free swords were notorious Jonahs, always being moved by Her Hand. Such manifestations of Her power happened too frequently to be truly miracles, but they were not something that Quili could ever regard as lightly as this brash young swordsman seemed to.
The trees thinned out, the valley widened to admit grayness, and now she could see better. He was even taller than she had thought, lanky and astoundingly young for a Fourth. He seemed no older than herself, but perhaps that was just his carefree manner―he chattered. Random had been a Third. Few in any craft advanced beyond that rank.
"How can you tell how far you were brought?" Quili asked.
"Shonsu could tell. He knows everything! And we didn't come all in one jump. He woke at the first one―I think he must sleep with both eyes open." Whoever Shonsu was, Adept Nnanji seemed to regard him with more respect than he did the Goddess. "I woke at the third―the cold woke me." The swordsman shivered. "We came from the tropics, you see."
"What are tropics, adept?"
"I'm not sure," he confessed. "Hot lands. Shonsu can explain. But the Dream God is very high and thin there. He got wider as we jumped north. And lower. You can see seven separate bands here, right? When we started, he was fainter and most of the arcs too close together to separate. And we moved east, too, Shonsu says. The rain only came with the last jump."
Shonsu must be a priest, she decided. He certainly did not sound like any swordsman she had ever heard of.
"How could he possibly know about going east?"
"The stars―and the eye of the Dream God! It happened about midnight, and dawn kept coming closer and closer. You'll have to ask Shonsu. He says it's still the middle of the night in Hann."
Harm! "You've been to Hann, adept?"
He glanced down at her, surprised at her reaction. She could see well enough now to tell that his face was filthy, smeared with dirt and grease. "Well, not Hann itself. We were trying to cross to Hann, from the holy island."
"The temple!" she exclaimed. "You were visiting the great temple, then?"
Adept Nnanji snorted. "Visiting it? I was born in it."
"No!"
"Yes!" He grinned hugely, big white teeth gleaming. "My mother was near her term. She went to pray for an easy labor, and―whoosh! There I was. They only just had time to get her into a back room. The priests thought it might almost rank as a miracle."
He was teasing her. Then the grin grew even wider. "My father had put six coppers in the bowl, and if he'd made it seven, he says, then I'd have been born right there, in front of the Goddess Herself."
That was pure blasphemy, but his grin was irresistible. Quili laughed in spite of herself. "You should not joke about miracles, adept."
"Perhaps." He paused and then spoke more humbly. "I've seen a lot of miracles in the last two weeks, Apprentice Quili. Ever since Shonsu arrived."
"He's your mentor?"
"Well, not just at the moment. He released me from my oaths before the battle ... but he says I may swear to him again."
Battle?
"Watch this puddle!" Nnanji let go her hand and put his arm around her, guiding her by a muddy patch. But he kept his arm there when they were past, and the light was quite good now. She began to feel alarmed. She was glad of the protection of her cloak. She had rarely spoken to a Fourth before and certainly never been hugged by one. He was smiling down at her, being very friendly. Very.
There were few free men close to her age on the estate, only two unmarried. They all treated her with awed respect, because of her craft, and they had nothing to talk about anyway, except the crops and the herds. She had forgotten what real conversation was like. But she had never had a real conversation with a man, only with other girls, her friends in the temple, years ago. He was speaking to her as an equal. That was flattery, and she was worried by how good it felt.
Why would the Goddess send such a filthy swordsman? It was not only his face. Now they had reached the bottom of the gully. Ahead of them lay the River, stretching away to the eastern horizon, brilliant below the cloud. Color was returning to the World, The sun god would appear in a few moments. Rain was still falling, but gently, and she could see water streaking the dirt on the. swordsman's bony shoulders and chest. Even his kilt...
Quili gasped. "That's blood! You've been hurt?"
"Not mine!" He grinned again, proudly. "Yesterday we had a battle―a great feat of arms! Shonsu did six and I drained two!"
She shivered, and his arm tightened around her, so she could not break loose. She pulled her cloak tight. This intimacy was appalling behavior for a priestess, but that steely grip gave her no choice. Kandoru had never held her in public this way. He had expected her to walk one pace behind him.
"You... you killed two men?"
"Three, yesterday. Two in the battle, but earlier I had to challenge for my promotion, and one of them chose swords instead of foils. He was trying to scare me, so I killed him. I didn't like him much, anyway."
She began to laugh, and then stared up with growing horror and belief at his satisfied smirk. Two of the swordmarks on his forehead were swollen, obviously new. His hair was black and greasy, but there were patches of red showing through the filth
. His eyes were pale, the lashes almost invisible, and the runnels of clean skin washed by the rain were very light-colored. Apparently this murderous, callous youth was normally a redhead. The black in his hair had been applied deliberately, and then it had smeared all over him.
"Please, adept!" She struggled to break loose. They were almost at the jetty. The banks of the River were sheer cliffs of pebbly sand, and the only level land was the patch of shingle in the notch cut by the stream. When the River was high, there was barely room to turn a wagon, but today it was low, the flats were wide, and the landward end of the pier stood completely out of the water.
A small single-masted boat was tied up at the far end. There was no great army of swordsmen waiting, then, but there might still be a couple of dozen of them. Suddenly very frightened, Quili squirmed harder.
But the swordsman held tighter, still smirking down at her as he propelled her toward the jetty. The edge of the sun god's disk rose over the wide waters of the River. "I like you!" he announced. "You're pretty. The Goddess didn't make much of you, but She did very good work on what there is."
Quili wondered if she could slip out of the cloak and run. But he would run much faster than she would.
"I was only a Second in the temple guard," Nnanji remarked, "until the Goddess sent Shonsu. But starting today, I'm a free sword."
"What do you mean?" She knew quite well what he meant.
"Why do you suppose the Goddess sent you to meet me? See, I've always had to pay for women until now―except the slave girls in the barracks, of course. I bought a slave of my own yesterday, but she's no fun. Your Honorable Garathondi will offer us hospitality for a few days..."
Quili panicked. "Let me go!"
Nnanji released her at once, looking surprised. "What's wrong?"
"How dare you manhandle a priestess that way?"
She had shouted, trying to bolster her courage. Nnanji looked hurt. "I thought you were enjoying it. Why didn't you ask sooner? Do you mean... well, I'll wait until I've got cleaned up. I am a mess, aren't I?"
Quili straightened feathers. "I'll think about it," she said tactfully. Apparently he had meant no violence. He was like a large puppy, fresh from a mudhole somewhere, wanting to romp. She had told Nia that it was her duty. That advice no longer sounded as easy to take as it had been to give, but it would be her duty, also, if he wanted her. Given time to adjust to the idea...
"I'd better wait until you've had a look at Shonsu," he said sadly. "Women go glassy when they see him. Well, come on! He's waiting."
What? Did he think she had come down to meet the visitors , just so she could get first choice of the swordsmen? Arrogance! Unbelievable arrogance! Speechless, she followed more slowly as Nnanji went striding along the pier. He whistled a four-note signal, although now the sun was shining through the rain, and he was quite visible to whoever was in the boat.
She listened for a reply and was astounded to hear a baby crying. Swordsmen bringing babies?
Nnanji stopped at the end of the jetty, peering down and speaking to whoever was waiting there, doubtless reporting that there was no danger. Immediate danger was what he had asked about, so she had not lied. But Quili had not had time to work out how her ladyship might be reacting to these visitors. Uneasily Quili now concluded that Lady Thondi might already be sending word to Ov that swordsmen had arrived. How long did it take a horse to reach Ov? How long for sorcerers to ride back? Perhaps the swordsmen would not interpret immediate in quite the same way she had.
Nnanji reached out his arms and caught a baby, as if plucking it out of the sky. He cuddled it to him, and the yells stopped.
As Quili reached him, he turned round and grinned. "This is my friend Vixini." The baby was about a year old, obviously teething. It was a slave baby―Quili's mind staggered.
Then this so-bewildering swordsman reached down a helping hand, and another man sprang up on to the jetty. Nnanji remarked offhandedly, "My lord, may I have the honor of presenting Apprentice Quili?" Then he went back to tickling the naked baby, as if he were unaware of what he had just produced.
A giant! He was taller even than Nnanji, vastly wider and deeper, thickly muscled. His hair was black, and his black eyes fixed on Quili with a cruel, ruthless intensity that turned her bones to straw. Rape and death and carnage...
Nnanji was young to be a Fourth. This huge menace was a few years older, but far too young to be a Seventh. Yet there were seven swords marked on his forehead, and although his kilt was dirty, rumpled, and obviously bloodstained, it had undoubtedly started out as the blue of that rank. He must have been sheltering somehow from the rain, for the faint smears of gore on his chest and arms were quite dry.
Momentarily Quili trembled on the verge of turning and fleeing before this terrifying barbarian giant, then she began to stumble through the greeting to a superior, remembering that Nnanji had said women went glassy when they met Shonsu. She did not feel glassy, she felt like an aspen; her hands shook in the gestures. Kandoru had told her that never in his long career had he ever met a swordsman of higher rank than Sixth. She herself had never spoken to a Seventh of any craft―except her ladyship, and everyone knew that her husband had bought that rank for her years ago. But no one would or could buy seven swordmarks.
She bowed, then straightened. The deadly gaze did not waver or shift from her face. The giant's arm rose. The sun god streaked and flashed on a sword blade. "I am Shonsu, swordsman of the seventh rank, and am honored to accept your gracious service." His voice seemed to rise from depths unimaginable. Then the muscles of his arm bunched again as he shot the sword back into its scabbard.
The formalities over, Lord Shonsu put his hands on his hips and smiled.
The transformation was miraculous, as if another man entirely were standing before her. He had a wide, friendly grin, absurdly boyish for his size. Hardness suddenly became male good looks; thoughts of barbarians vanished. This enormous young lord was the most incredibly masculine man she had ever seen.
"My apologies, apprentice!" He had the deepest voice she had ever heard, too, a voice that seemed to echo all through her with shivery promises of confidence and competence, of protection and consideration and good humor. That smile! "We are not in a fit state to come visiting unannounced like this, and at such an unsociable hour."
Glassy now, very glassy.
"You... you... are welcome, my lord." The smile grew warmer still, like the rising sun. "You show great hospitality in coming to meet us... and no small courage?" His eyes twinkled, "I hope that my gory friend did not startle you too much?"
Quili shook her head dumbly.
"There is no swordsman nearby? And what of priests? Have you a mentor?"
"He lives in Pol, my lord."
"Then you are our hostess for now, at least until this Honorable Garathondi appears."
"He lives in Ov, mostly, my lord. His mother, Lady Thondi, is in residence..."
"You'll do every bit as well," the giant said with a heart-melting chuckle. "Nnanji tells me that you know of no task that may be awaiting our swords here?"
"Er... none, my lord."
Lord Shonsu nodded in satisfaction. "I am glad to hear it. We had our fill of slaughter yesterday, as you can see. Perhaps the Most High has sent us here for some rest and relaxation, then?" He boomed out a laugh and turned back to the boat.
Quili doubted that Adept Nnanji had had his fill of bloodshed. She saw that he was watching her with quiet amusement, rather wistfully. She felt herself blush, and looked away.
Her eyes returned of their own accord to Lord Shonsu, and now she noticed the sword on his so-broad rippling back. The hilt beside his black ponytail was silver, gleaming in the rays of the sun god and the rain. There was a huge blue stone on the top of it, held by a strange but magnificently crafted beast―a griffon. She knew that the griffon was a royal symbol, so that was a king's sword. The great gem could only be a sapphire, and there was another, matching stone, in Lord Shonsu's hairclip.
&nb
sp; But...
But these men were supposed to be free swords. Free swords were men of poverty. Random had explained often―free swords served only the Goddess, wandering the World to stamp out injustice, to regulate other swordsmen and keep them honest, to guard the helpless. Having no masters, they would accept no reward except their daily needs. A genuine free sword took pride in his penury.
A king's sword? The gem alone was worth a fortune, and the craftsmanship was superb, priceless.
How could any honest swordsman acquire something like that? Bewildered, she looked at Nnanji's sword to compare it. Nnanji was still holding that incongruous baby, which was gurgling and enjoying his attention, but Nnanji's eyes were on Quili.
"It belonged to the Goddess," he said.
"What?"
He nodded solemnly. "It is very old and very famous, probably the finest sword ever made. The man who crafted it was Chioxin, the greatest of all swordmakers, and it was the last and best of his seven masterpieces. He gave it to the Goddess."
Quili turned away to hide the horrible suspicion that flared up in her, which must not show in her face. These men had come from Hann, from the mother of all temples. They had fought a battle. Had someone tried to prevent their leaving―the temple guard that Nnanji had formerly belonged to? Was that sword the reason? Had this Shonsu stolen that royal sword from the treasury of the Goddess' temple?
But if he had, then why had She let the boat leave the dock when he boarded? And why had She moved it here, where there were sorcerers? Swordsmen of the Seventh were very rare and very terrible. Nnanji had said that Shonsu had killed six men in the fight―perhaps the Goddess had few swordsmen capable of bringing such a colossus to justice. But sorcerers certainly could.
Had they been brought here to die?
She felt sick with indecision. Was she supposed to aid these men, or not? What of preventing bloodshed? Whose blood? A mere apprentice should not be faced with such conundrums.
"Apprentice Quili, this is Jja, my love."
The woman smiled shyly, and Quili received another shock. Jja was a slave; her face bore a single stripe from hairline to upper Up, and she wore a slave's black. His love? The woman was tall and only that hateful badge of slavery and the close-cropped maltreatment of her dark hair stopped her from being spectacularly beautiful. No, she was beautiful in spite of those. Her figure was magnificently proportioned to her height, yet she moved with a sensual grace: strong and competent and serene. Even a Seventh could not change a slave's rank, but it seemed ironic for a man of such power to love a mere chattel. He was introducing her as if she were a person, though, and watching for Quili's reaction. She smiled carefully and said, "You are welcome, also, Jja."
