"Those, too," Breaker agreed, as he closed the trap behind him. "But first I need to know something else—why did you ..." He broke off in midsentence as he noticed the lump under the old man's shirt. "Are you all right?"
The former Swordsman glanced down at the hidden bandages. "Oh, I'm fine," he said. "Your pretty little priestess fixed me right up; there's hardly even blood on the gauze."
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, I hope not. It's a little late to undo any of it."
"No, I just meant that I hadn't wanted to hurt you that badly. A little cut on the arm would have been plenty, wouldn't it? But you kept your guard up, you pressed me hard; I never had an opening for your arm."
"I know," the old man said. He grimaced. "Believe me, I know."
Breaker hesitated; now that he was here and had a perfect opportunity, it was surprisingly hard to get the words out. At last, though, he said, "Why did you fight so well?"
"So well? I lost, didn't I? There I was, the world's greatest swordsman, and some overconfident kid ..."
Breaker cut him off. "You were supposed to give me an opening. You were supposed to let me win."
"I did let you win."
"The rabbit startled you."
"I suppose it did." He set aside the thing he had held, then turned his attention back to Breaker. "And remember, boy, that the Wizard Lord isn't limited to rabbits. He can see and hear and speak with other animals, as well. Rats or mice, for example—well, I'm not sure he can make a mouse speak, there may not be enough breath there to work with, but he can see through their eyes and hear with their ears."
"I suppose he can," Breaker said, unsure where this was leading.
"I know he can—I've spoken with him that way plenty of times over the years." "All right, then."
"And is there any reason to think that he can't do as well with insects, or spiders?" He pointed at a web between two rafters. "That little eight-legged dot up there might be listening to our every word, sending it all to the Wizard Lord in his hilltop tower. For all I know, the air itself might carry our words to him."
"So he could be listening to us right now?"
"Indeed he might. Quite a powerful magician, our Wizard Lord. Master of all Barokan, from the Eastern Cliffs to the Western Isles, and most likely able to see and hear anything he chooses that takes place anywhere in his realm."
"But he can't be everywhere at once."
"No, he's still more or less human, he's not a ler."
"So he probably isn't listening to us."
"But he could be. After all, he did take an interest in our duel. If the Seer were here, she could tell us—she always knows when the Wizard Lord is listening or watching, it's part of her magic. But / can't tell, and the Seer isn't here." He grimaced. "I didn't want her here, for fear she would talk me out of... well, out of something."
Puzzled, Breaker asked, "Would she? Talk you out of dueling me, I mean?"
"I don't know, any more than I know whether the Wizard Lord is listening."
"And what if he is listening? Does it matter?"
"Perhaps not; I just wanted you to realize that you may have somewhat less privacy than you are accustomed to, now that you have come to the Wizard Lord's attention."
Breaker considered this, and then nodded. "I see," he said. "This is something you hadn't really mentioned."
"That's right. I didn't."
"Are there other drawbacks to being Chosen that you neglected to mention?" "Almost certainly."
"And might they have something to do with your unexpected resistance in our duel?"
The old man sighed. "They might, or they might not. Perhaps I was simply overcome by pride when it came to the event, and I couldn't bring myself to do too much less than my best—and even without the talisman and its ler, I still had more than forty years of practice. Maybe I wanted to see if I could beat you without my magic."
"But didn't you want to give up the role?"
"Perhaps not as much as we thought."
"Even after all you had done to arrange it?"
"Even then." He glanced up at the spiderweb, then said, "Or perhaps I was having second thoughts about what I was doing. Perhaps I began to doubt the wisdom of my actions."
Breaker frowned. "You don't think I'm good enough to replace you?"
"Oh, no—you were good enough, no question about it. The magic was blocked, but I still had all my years of practice and experience to draw on, and while I was not necessarily doing my very best, while I was hesitating, I was still trying to defend myself, and you beat me without a deliberate invitation on my part. To do that after so little training, not even a full season—you're definitely good enough to suit the role, and can only get better. No, that's not it."
"Then what is?"
The old man sighed. "The fact is, I was having second thoughts—not about you, but about whether it was fair to burden you with the role when you know so little of the world. I did not intend to give you your chance until I had made peace with myself that it was the right thing to do."
"And did you find that peace, then?"
"No. You and the Wizard Lord's rabbit took matters out of my hands, and I was presented with the accomplished fact, and no way to reverse it. I have no choice but to accept my defeat and go home to my niece and her husband, and hope they'll take in a useless old man."
"And I must take up your burden. Is it really so onerous, though?"
The former Swordsman hesitated, once again throwing a glance at the spider.
"For more than thirty years, I didn't think so," he said. "Of late, I am less certain."
"Is it just the years, then? I..." Breaker caught himself. "Thirty?" he asked.
"Yes."
"But you have been the Swordsman for forty?" "Forty-four."
"Then something changed, a few years back?" "I have seen three Wizard Lords during my term. The first two I trusted."
Breaker took his meaning immediately, and this time both men glanced at the spider. For a moment neither spoke; then Breaker said, "If he is listening, and is what you think him to be, then you now stand already condemned by your own words, wouldn't you think?"
"Quite possibly, yes."
"And you lied to me, didn't you, when we first met, in the pavilion after the barley harvest?" "Did I?"
"You said the Wizard Lord was an honorable man."
"And he may well be; I may be mistaken. I have no proof, no real evidence at all, that he is anything less than the honest and just ruler he claims to be. I believe what I said was that he has served well thus far, and to the best of my knowledge he has—but there is something about him that I find uncomfortable. He has more of a temper than the other two, he seems less predictable, less rational; he worries me. Where the other Wizard Lords lived in elegant homes convenient to friends and family and tradesmen, and where people could easily petition them, this one insists on living in his ramshackle tower out in the Galbek Hills, more than a mile from the nearest village. Instead of a proper staff he's served only by half a dozen maids-—no men or boys. He has no wife nor even, so far as I know, a favorite among his maids, and his background is a mystery to me, where the others often spoke of their roots. It may be that he's just a harmless eccentric, and I cannot point to any evil he has done, but neither do I feel certain that he has done none, or that he will not do something terrible in the future."
The full significance of this was gradually sinking in.
"You think the Chosen may be called upon to kill him."
"Possibly, yes. And I'm an old man; I did not feel I was still fit for the job. I am old enough to retire in any case, but this uncertainty made it more urgent, so last summer I began seeking my successor, and at harvest time I found him." He smiled humorlessly. "I found you"
Breaker frowned in response. "You found me, and trained me, but in all the months you've been here you did not see fit to mention why. In fact, you did everything you could to reassure me that I would not be called upon to kill anyone
. I trusted you, and you have deceived me from the first. I don't... I don't even know where to begin . .."
The old man held up a hand. "You don't need to," he said. "Do you think it hasn't eaten away at me all these months? I like you well enough, lad—oh, I don't say we'd ever be the best of friends, but you've a good heart and good sense, certainly more than most of your friends here, like that Joker, or that skirt-chasing Digger, or the drooling ninny you call Spitter. Half a dozen times I thought of walking away, telling you the ler had told me you weren't suitable—but if one of us does have to face an angry Wizard Lord in a battle to the death, I would rather it be you, not only because I value my own life, but because I am old and tired, not just in body but in spirit, and I think you would stand a better chance of defeating him. Oh, when I was young I would have gone bravely enough, and fought him however I could, but now I fear I would hesitate when resolution was needed, guard when I should attack, question when I should obey. Remember, I am the oldest of the Chosen."
"No longer," Breaker corrected him.
"Ah, too true. Well, I was the eldest. The Leader is half my age; even the Scholar is twenty years my junior. I would not fit well in such a company, should we be called upon to perform our assigned task; age and caution do not befit the Swordsman."
"So you coaxed me to succeed you, without warning me of your doubts about our present master."
"Yes. I'm not proud of it—but you were eager, and I had no solid basis for my concerns, and who knows, perhaps I'm wrong and you won't be called, perhaps the Wizard Lord is a fine man who happens to have odd tastes. Or perhaps he'll trip on a stone and break his neck tomorrow, and the Council's next appointee will transform Barokan into a paradise. So I kept silent and we carried on."
"And then at the last moment your conscience troubled you, and you thought better of it?"
"Oh, not my conscience, boy—not entirely, at any rate. I was still ready to let you take the job without knowing what you might be getting into. It wasn't my conscience. It was that rabbit."
"What?"
"The Wizard Lord's rabbit. I supposed he would know what was happening, but to appear so openly, and speak as he did? It troubled me all the more, and I began to doubt the wisdom of handing on the title of Swordsman."
"You thought the Chosen might be summoned soon, and it would be a mistake to have so inexperienced a Swordsman?"
The old man snorted. "No," he said. "Or not entirely. Rather, it occurred to me that if the Wizard Lord knows of my suspicions, then once I am no longer the Swordsman he might well decide to dispose of me as a threat. Oh, I can't hope to kill him without the magic, but I can still speak, and because I served so long, people might listen."
"But..."
"Remember, if the Swordsman dies, the Wizard Lord loses one-eighth of his magical power. If an ordinary old man dies, it costs him nothing. He could say it was an execution, that I had slain someone unjustly, and who could argue with him?"
"Oh." Breaker looked up at the spider. "So you wanted to hold on to the magic to protect yourself."
"Yes. And you, of course, since you would no longer be involved."
"But the rabbit called out, and I won."
"Yes. And all day, I have been wondering why the rabbit called out. I think it's clear that the Wizard Lord wanted me to pass the role of the Swordsman on to you—but why?"
"Because I wasn't suspicious of him," Breaker said bitterly. "Because I'm young and naive."
"That would be my guess, yes."
"But now you've ruined that by telling me."
"And now we may discover whether he is as vengeful as I fear, or whether my worries are all imaginary. If he is turning to evil, I don't expect to live very long."
"But I... No, I won't allow that." Breaker turned to face the spider. "If you're listening, Wizard Lord, know this: If this old man dies under circumstances suspicious in even the slightest degree, then I will know my duty as one of the Chosen, and I will remove you!" He brandished the talisman at the web.
"If he's listening, it's probably not really through the spider."
"Oh, I know," Breaker said, "but where else should I direct my warning?"
'True enough. And thank you, lad, for giving that warning—I appreciate it more than I can say. Even if it looks and sounds like nothing more than the posturing of an overconfident child, the fact that it comes from the Chosen Swordsman gives it weight. But even so, if the Wizard Lord has gone mad, it may do no good."
"Well, then let us both hope that your worries are groundless. You don't want to die, and I. .." Breaker swallowed, and grimaced. "... and I don't want to kill."
[9]
Neither swordsman said a word of any of this to anyone else in Mad Oak, of course. The Young Swordsman claimed to be tired from the duel and the magical rite that had bound him to the ler of muscle and steel and kept to himself, and after Breaker clambered back down the steps the Old Swordsman made sure he was too busy tending his wound and preparing to depart to talk to anyone else.
The wizards had all flown away by midafternoon; Breaker's younger sisters watched the four departures and came running in speckled with snow, gasping and giggling as they asked each other repeatedly, "Did you see that?" Fidget tried to pantomime the whole scene for her parents, spreading her arms, flapping, twirling, and leaping, while Spider wildly applauded her performance.
The familiar Green water Guide arrived at the pavilion that evening, as the lanterns were being lit, and word was sent to the swordsmen. Breaker was told first, and in fact, it was he who carried the news up to the loft.
"The road to Greenwater is supposed to be open, if you aren't in a hurry," he said from the open trap. "The guide made it here from Ashgrove in about half a day; he's staying with Elder Priestess tonight, and will meet you at the pavilion in the morning. But he says the roads beyond Greenwater may still be blocked; he has no reports from the ler there."
"I think I have outlasted my welcome in Mad Oak," the old man replied from his bed. "Greenwater can surely tolerate me for a few days." He shuddered. "Though I'm not looking forward to that walk through the snow, with this hole in my shoulder, and I don't know how the High Priestess will receive me, this time of year and in my condition. The lake must be frozen, and I have no idea what that does to their customs and rituals—and when I visited there before I was one of the Chosen, not a mere outcast."
"You aren't an outcast."
"Well, I... no, I suppose not." He shifted on the bed, whether to get more comfortable or disguise embarrassment Breaker could not be sure.
"And the guide wouldn't be willing to take you if he thought they would not tolerate your presence."
"True enough. But my wound and the snow are real enough, even if my other worries aren't."
"Yes, they are. You should have asked one of the wizards to carry you."
"Oh, they hate that. It would probably take more than one of them, for one thing. They'll do it, if they must, but they hate it."
"Surely the Council of Immortals owes you that much for forty-four years of service!"
"You'd be surprised how few of them see it that way."
Breaker nodded, and hesitated. He had delivered his news, but there were still so many things he wanted explained to him, so much to ask about how the Council of Immortals and the eight Chosen operated, so much more he would like to know about what the other Chosen were like, so many details of why the Old Swordsman was suspicious of the Wizard Lord, so much about what he could expect in the days and years ahead, that he scarcely knew where to begin.
"You know, lad, you're one of eight—don't take too much weight on your own shoulders," the old man said, obviously guessing the trend of Breaker's thoughts. "It's not just up to you to decide anything, or to kill the Wizard Lord single-handedly should it become necessary—there are seven others with just as much say and just as much responsibility in the matter. Perhaps more, given that one of them is the Leader of the Chosen, with the magic to make others heed hi
s words."
"How does that work, then?" Breaker asked, taking another step upward. "You said something about that before. How strong is his hold on the Chosen? And does everyone else simply obey his commands, whether they want to or not? It seems to me that such a power could be as easily abused as the Wizard Lord's own!"
The old man snorted. "If that were how it worked, it could. No, his magic is only that others will listen to him, no matter how dire the circumstances or how distracted they may be, and take seriously what he tells them—he can always command the attention of everyone in earshot, should he choose to do so. He can't outright control them unless he knows their true names, any more than anyone else can, but they can't ignore him. The Chosen can ignore him, but he's very persuasive, even to us—to you, I mean. The ler guide him to choose wisely when presented with a clear choice of paths, and that's important to consider before refusing his instructions. He will listen to what others say, weigh the options, and then quickly reach a decision; the magic ensures that he will never hesitate in finding his course. It may not always be the best course—even the ler aren't infallible— but he will always be confident in his actions. He has an aura of certainty about him—you'll see, when you meet him."
"And how will I ever meet him? You said I was to travel, but surely the Chosen are scattered all across Barokan; what are the chances I'll stumble across the others?"
"Who said it would be left to chance? The wizards and the ler will see to it, when the time seems right—you may never meet them all, but at some point you'll meet Boss. Everyone always does, somehow. And you can seek the others out; most of the Chosen aren't hard to find. They have their homes and their preferred routes when they travel, like anyone else. And if you find the Seer, she always knows where the others are."
"I may go looking for them in the spring."
"You could do that."
"I might see what they think of the present Wizard Lord." "You might well do that, yes."
Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 Page 9
