Breaker found it uncomfortable to be the object of such scrutiny; for that matter, he found it unsettling simply to see so many unfamiliar faces. These people were still people, with the same sort of eyes and hair and skin he was accustomed to, but their clothing was slightly odd—the colors seemed darker than they should be, and the sleeves were neither the full wrist-length sleeves of winter nor the short, loose sleeves of summer, but tighter than they should be and reaching to just below the elbow.
And there were so many of them, without a single face he recognized!
The guide did not speak, but led Breaker down the slope; Breaker followed silently, for fear that so much as a single word might violate the demands of the local ler and bring misfortune down on him. He stayed close to the guide, for while the man was a foreigner, and neither kith nor kin, he at least was someone Breaker had spoken to before.
When they crossed the boundary Breaker felt the transition clearly—the air became softer and more welcoming. At the same time, though, it was not the air of home; this was not Mad Oak, and he did not belong here as he had there. This place was not his own, it was merely not hostile.
The guide seemed to straighten a bit when they were within the town's limits; despite his earlier claims to dislike people and be at home in the wild, he, too, clearly felt more comfortable here.
Together the two of them passed the vineyards, then the orchards, and the gardens, and one by one the three rows of houses, and Breaker began to wonder whether the guide intended to march directly into the lake—was some sort of ritual ablution required? But in the open space below the houses the guide turned aside and headed for the plank walk leading out to the pavilion.
Breaker followed, noticing that the earth beneath his feet had a slightly peculiar feel to it, packed hard, but with a faint sponginess. He looked down at the black soil, and when he looked up again there was a woman walking out from the pavilion to greet them.
She was stark naked.
He stumbled, and barely caught himself before falling. His mouth opened, but at the last instant he caught himself and did not speak. He glanced at the guide.
The guide seemed utterly undisturbed by this apparition, and somewhere in the back of Breaker's mind old stories and rumors bubbled up, and he remembered that he had heard, often accompanied by adolescent giggling, that in some places the ler required their priests to perform various rites in the nude.
And yes, Greenwater was said to be such a place—it went with the story about the priests living underwater, since clothing would scarcely be practical in an aquatic environment, and would have fallen away when they transformed into fish.
Maybe they really did turn into fish, after all—he hadn't actually asked about that.
More likely, though, the nudity was just something the ler required. There were far more lurid and unsettling tales of priestcraft in more distant lands, of blood sacrifices and horrific rituals, but those were all just rumors from afar; Greenwater was merely said to keep their priesthood as naked and submerged as the fish in the lake—sometimes literally as the fish in the lake.
It appeared that however exaggerated the guide might say the stories were, they were based on truth.
With this, he finally noticed a few details of the woman's appearance other than her lack of clothing—for example, that her waist-length black hair was dripping wet, and that there were green marks on the skin of her face and arms, marks that probably had some priestly significance, like the embroidery on the priests' garments back in Mad Oak. And while she was still young and slim enough to be attractive, she was not a mere girl; she had filled out, and begun to show the effects of time. Breaker judged her to be at least a decade older than his own nineteen years, perhaps as much as twice his age.
The guide led Breaker on, until the two men stood at the end of the wooden walkway; there he stopped and knelt. Breaker hastily followed his example.
The naked woman walked up to the very last plank to be over water instead of soil, and stopped as well, about twelve feet from where the guide waited.
"Oh, glorious bridge between human and spirit, grant us entry to your realm," the guide called out.
"Say first who you are," the woman replied, in a startlingly deep voice.
"I am the traveler known to you as the Longvale Guide, who the spirits recognize by a name that begins Kopol," the guide answered.
Then for a moment no one spoke.
Then the guide cast an angry sideways glance at Breaker, and the nude priestess said, "And you?"
"Ah," Breaker said. "Oh. I am... I am the Chosen Swordsman."
It was clear from her expression that that was not sufficient, and he hastily added, "The ler call me by a name beginning with Erren." He grimaced slightly, wondering whether it had been wise to give even that tiny fragment of his true name; in Mad Oak true names were not used in ordinary conversation. Breaker had heard that other towns were less strict, that in some places people actually called each other by their true names as casually as the people of Mad Oak used nicknames, but back home no one but the priests or the visiting wizards would ever have dared ask for even a syllable of it, and even they would never ask it in so public a setting.
But then, this woman was a priestess!
It was hard to think of anyone but Priest, Elder Priestess, and Younger Priestess as priests, though. He had never met any others before.
In any case, his answer seemed to satisfy her. "Then let me ask the spirits if you are welcome here," she said. She turned to face the pavilion and the lake.
That view had its points of interest, Breaker thought, but overall he preferred the front.
Then he reprimanded himself for thinking such a thing about a priestess, and one from somewhere other than Mad Oak, at that.
The priestess called out something in a language that was nothing Breaker had ever heard before, and as she finished a bird cried out somewhere, and a series of splashes sounded from the lake; reflected sunlight sparkled across the priestess's gleaming black hair.
Then she turned around again. "Well," she said, "that takes care of the formalities. Come on, then, you two, and tell me why the Swordsman has come to Greenwater." She beckoned.
The guide got to his feet and stepped up onto the walkway; Breaker followed. The priestess waited until they were almost close enough to touch, then turned and strolled toward the pavilion.
It felt very odd, to be walking so close to a naked woman in front of all the world like this. Everyone in town, looking down from their homes or fields, could see Breaker, the guide, and the priestess walking out across the lake.
Then they stepped into the pavilion, where the priestess led the way through various rooms to a verandah overlooking the lake, on the far side from the village.
This pavilion was very different from the one in Mad Oak; in fact, Breaker was not entirely sure "pavilion" was the proper name for it after all. He saw no dance floor, no storerooms; there was no reassuringly solid stone, nor fireplaces. Everything was built of wood and oilcloth, and the seams in the floor were so wide that he could catch glimpses of moving water through them, and hear the faint splashing of the lake against the pylons. Rooms and corridors opened into one another in confusing fashion, and it was not at all clear what most of them were for.
And the whole thing smelled of fish, rather than woodsmoke and beer.
There were other people present in the building, Breaker glimpsed at least half a dozen, but they vanished at the approach of the priestess and the travelers, quickly slipping into other rooms and closing the doors behind themselves— clearly they did not want to be around the threesome, but he could not tell whether they were avoiding the strangers or their own priestess.
The ler were moving around him as well, he could sense them; they did not seem as bashful as the humans.
Once the little party had reached the verandah the priestess settled into a large wooden chair, and gestured for the others to find themselves seats. There were half a doz
en similar chairs, and a wooden bench along one wall; Breaker settled gingerly into one of the chairs.
The priestess smiled at him, then turned to the guide. "I didn't expect you back so soon, Kopol."
The guide shrugged. "He wanted to come to Greenwater," he said, jerking a thumb at Breaker, "and I was in no hurry to reach Ashgrove or Bell Hill."
"So you're only here to guide him?"
"That's right. I'll be taking him as far as Valleymouth, unless his plans change."
She nodded, and turned her attention to Breaker. "And you're the new Swordsman? One of the Chosen Heroes?"
"Yes." He wanted to say more, and not sound like an idiot, but he couldn't think what to add.
"So why have you come to Greenwater? Why are you bound for Valleymouth?"
Breaker stared at her face helplessly for a few seconds, then swallowed.
"I'm not entirely sure," he said. "I wanted... you see, I... I take my responsibilities seriously. If I am to judge whether or not the Wizard Lord should be slain, then don't I need to see more of Barokan than my own hometown? Shouldn't I try to see him and judge his character for myself? What if he is truly an evil man, but has simply not had occasion to direct his evil at Mad Oak? The Old Swordsman said I must travel, to learn more of the world, and so I am traveling."
"But why Greenwater and Valleymouth? Are you planning to spend much time in the Midlands?"
"No—I'm going to Valleymouth because it's on the way to the Galbek Hills."
"You're going to visit the Wizard Lord?"
"Yes. I thought I should meet him."
She smiled again. "Well, that's simple enough, isn't it?"
"Yes," Breaker said, with a sigh of relief.
"So you're just out to see the world, and meet the Wizard Lord, to reassure you that he's protecting us all properly. And how can we help you in this task?"
"Well, I... I need a place to sleep, and something to eat..."
"Of course."
"And I'd be happy to hear anything you can tell me about the Wizard Lord."
"Of course. Though it won't be much beyond the usual songs and stories."
"Or about anything else, for that matter. Greenwater is different from Mad Oak, and I'm ... I'm curious about why, and what all the differences are."
"Are you?" She straightened in her chair.
"Yes, I... yes."
"Good. You should be."
Breaker's mouth opened, then closed again.
"You know, young Swordsman, you're doing quite well for a first-time traveler. I think the spirits did well when they led the Old Swordsman to you. You haven't stared at my chest or my crotch, though I know my appearance must be a shock to you—women don't go abroad nude in Mad Oak, do they? Not even the priestesses?"
"No. No, they don't. They wear robes."
"But you haven't stared, or made any rude comments. That's very good. That's better than many male travelers can manage."
"Oh." That remark somehow made it much harder not to lower his gaze and stare, and Breaker forced himself to focus all his attention on the tip of her nose.
"I suppose you've guessed that I'm Shilil, the High Priestess of the Lake, and my pact with the spirits, the ler, forbids me to wear any clothing in the warm months. I'm quite sure your guide didn't bother to mention any of that; Kopol likes to watch his charges make fools of themselves. It's a particular foible of his; most guides prefer to show off their knowledge, rather than hoard it."
The guide grunted at that, but did not deny the accusation. Breaker threw him a resentful glance.
"I'm sure you're tired and hungry from the journey; I'll have someone find you food and drink, and when you've rested and eaten, I'd be pleased to talk with you further— you can tell me about Mad Oak and how you became the Swordsman, and I'll tell you about Greenwater and what little I know of the Wizard Lord. Would that suit you?"
"Very much indeed."
"You said your name is Erren?"
"I... We ..." he stammered helplessly.
"They don't use true names in Mad Oak," the guide interjected. "Not at all. They just call him Swordsman."
"Oh? Oh! I'd forgotten that." She frowned. "But have they always called him that? Did they know he would be the Swordsman?"
"No," Breaker said. "I was called 'Breaker' until I took up the sword."
" 'Breaker'? I don't think I like the sound of that."
"Oh, it's just from childhood. When I was little I didn't know my own strength, and didn't always look where I was going; I broke a lot of dishes and toys and the like."
"Ah—nothing deliberate, then?"
"Well, no more than any other boy." He smiled at her.
She smiled back.
"Let us hope you break nothing you shouldn't here in Greenwater, then." With that she rose; taking his cue from the guide, Breaker remained seated as she headed for the door.
She did not actually go through the door, however; instead she merely opened it and called, "See that our guests are fed, and given beds!" Without waiting for a reply she closed it again, then turned back to the two men.
"Someone will be with you in a moment. I will be back before sunset."
And then, to Breaker's astonishment, she ran across the verandah, sprang over the railing, and plunged into the lake. He leapt from his chair and hurried to the rail.
She was swimming smoothly away, obviously not in any distress.
"They all swim like fish here," the guide said, coming up beside him. "She more than any of them; she spends more time in the lake than on land."
"But she just jumped!"
"Yes. I suppose she's going to confer with the ler and ask what they think of you." He turned and eyed Breaker. "Can you swim?"
"No—at least, I don't think so. Most of the river below Mad Oak is shallow and muddy, and the water's ler don't speak to our priests, and the bargemen don't like townspeople intruding in their water, so I never saw any point in swimming. Even if I fell off the dock, it'd be easier and cleaner to wade than to swim." He had never tumbled off the dock himself, but Digger had once when trying to show off how much he could lift, and had simply walked ashore, cursing the ler at length for allowing his fall. They had rewarded his blasphemy with a cold that lasted for weeks.
'That's a pity. It would be useful here." "Can you swim?"
The guide smiled. "No. A girl here tried to teach me once, but we didn't get very far in the lessons before I left."
Breaker had no answer to that; he looked out at the lake again, and at the dwindling figure of the priestess, swimming easily through the greenish water.
And then the door opened and a woman entered with a tray of food—a properly clothed woman, though her dress did have the odd tight half-sleeves. The smell of fried fish pierced the more general fishy odor of their surroundings, and Breaker suddenly realized just how hungry he was.
Their hosts spoke very little, but the supply of food and drink was generous, and kept Breaker's mouth busy enough without words. He didn't always know what he was eating or drinking, but all of it seemed tasty enough.
By the time the priestess finally returned, and climbed dripping from the water onto the verandah, Breaker was well stuffed and well rested, and eager to talk.
[12]
Except for old songs about hunting down criminals and stories about saving lost livestock, the High Priestess knew no more about the Wizard Lord than Breaker did—perhaps less, as she had not known he could make a rabbit speak.
"I had heard that he could see through the eyes of birds and beasts, but to speak with their mouths—this is new to me," she said, when Breaker described the day of the duel.
"I hadn't heard of it, either, but the Old Swordsman knew it could happen." It was odd, Breaker thought, how quickly he had grown accustomed to the lake priestess's nudity; he only noticed it now when she moved in certain ways.
"Well, he is supposed to have greater magic than a dozen lesser wizards combined, far greater than any priest who ever lived
. He can probably do a thousand things we never heard of."
"I suppose so," Breaker agreed. He grimaced. "If he did go mad, I don't know how I could ever hope to kill him."
"You have your own magic, surely."
"Yes," Breaker said, very aware of the talisman in his pocket and the sword on his hip—and the need to get his daily hour of practice before he slept that night; he had been too busy packing and worrying to do it that morning. "But nothing like his!"
"And you wouldn't be alone; you would have your seven companions."
"I've never met them," Breaker said. "I don't know how much help they would be."
The priestess stared at him for a moment. "You haven't met them?" she asked at last.
"No. Not yet, at any rate. I suppose I should try to find them."
"I should say so, yes. Ask them what they know of the Wizard Lord, and what they think of them—surely, they will have given the matter some thought, and they have all held their roles for years, have they not?"
"I suppose so. I don't really know."
"You know very little, it seems."
Breaker started to protest, then stopped. He paused, considering. "That's true," he admitted at last. "The Old Swordsman taught me a great deal about the use of the sword, but not as much about the Wizard Lord or the Chosen. He told me a few things, but somehow now it seems as if he missed the most important ones."
"Then you should find the other Chosen, and talk to them, and ask them about the Wizard Lord, as well as visiting the Wizard Lord himself. Ask anyone who knows the Wizard Lord—there must be men and women who work with him in his tower."
"Just a few women, I'm told—and in all likelihood, they would not dare to speak ill of him, would they?"
"Perhaps not. You could speak to his friends and family, though, to the people who knew him before he became the Wizard Lord, perhaps even people who knew him before he was any sort of wizard at all. He's not so very ancient, after all, is he? Not yet ten years in the role? He might have brothers yet alive who would tell you all his secrets, from the name of his first girl to when he stopped wetting his bed."
Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 Page 12
