The Silver Bracers (Lady Blade, Lord Fighter Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  I couldn’t swear that my hand wasn’t trembling as I reached down toward the box, and was only faintly aware of the fact that another hand was reaching at the same time from my right. I'd thought at first that the box wasn't large enough to accommodate two hands reaching into it, but I had slid my fingers inside the smaller bracer and was lifting it out when I realized that the same was being done with the other. For the briefest instant I was aware of that, and then I was aware of nothing but the silver magnificence I held.

  Whoever had made that bracer had to be as much of an artisan as an armorer. It was engraved with the most complex design I had ever seen, a pattern that sent my gaze deep into its intricacies and lost it there, forcing it to retreat in confusion rather than letting it find its way out. The bracer itself was thick, a good quarter inch of weight my fingers hadn't been expecting, worth a small fortune in coin if it was silver through and through, worth a good deal less to a Fighter if it was. Silver is too soft a metal to stand up well in the place it would be needed, especially as a bracer, doubly especially with anyone who had been trained to use a bracer in place of a shield. I could imagine the bracer breaking along with the arm it clung to at the first heavy blow it was asked to stop, but then the image flickered and disappeared. Something about the bracer said it would not fail, no matter how hard a blow came to it, and its beauty would not let me disbelieve.

  It was the fingers of my right hand that held up the bracer while I inspected it closely, but it was the fingers of my left that began working their way through the bracer's curving sides, pulling my wrist and arm after them. For a moment I was upset that I was slipping it on, feeling barely worthy enough to be allowed to look at it, but then I remembered that Veslin had said I could try it. The metal was cool and as smooth as fine silk, not a burr or a rough spot that my skin could detect, and once the bracer was on it felt a lot lighter than it had when I'd simply been holding it. It wasn't terribly big, stretching no more than six inches or so up my arm, but its curving sides held it tightly in place, almost as though it were deliberately wrapping itself all around and holding on. When I turned my arm over there was almost no skin showing between the curve of its edges, which for some reason was faintly surprising.

  "They seem to fit you two rather well, don't they?'' Veslin said, and it came to me that those were the first words he'd said in quite some time. I glanced up to see that Kylin had also put on the bracer he'd taken from the box, and that he looked as though he'd just awakened from sleep. ''They aren't silver, of course, only made to look like it, and the cost is the least of it. Who would want to go into battle wearing silver bracers?"

  ''No one I know," Kylin said with a small laugh, looking down again at the bracer on his arm. I couldn't help doing the same, and then I laughed too. The bracer was beautiful, all right, but now that I looked at it more closely I could see that silver was the last thing it was.

  ''These bracers came to my friend as part of a legend," Veslin said, sipping with enjoyment at his wine. ''While he was in full health he never believed any part of the legend, but once he began ailing it seemed to prey on his mind. He'd been given the box by an old friend of his many years earlier, just before that old friend had died. That's when he first heard the story, and by the time I reached him he was burningly desperate to pass both story and box along to me. Please drink up, I think you'll find this wine worth the tasting.''

  I saw I wasn't alone in having put down the glass of wine, and smiled to myself over how absurdly eager I'd been to try on a bracer that was pretending to be silver. The wine was silver, a silver classer from the eastern mountains, and once I'd retrieved my cup and tasted it saw that Veslin was right. The wine was worth a good deal more than a single sip, and possibly even more than a bracer that fit too well to be real silver.

  "It seems that the story involved is one you may have heard before," Veslin said, smiling at the very positive reactions to his special wine. ''Most people have heard the legend of the time the gods battled, one or two of them trying to establish supremacy over the rest. Even men were caught up in that war, either as innocent victims of the forces unleashed by the terrible meetings, or as tools of the god or gods they followed. Those were the times whole forests went up in flames, flowing rivers suddenly went dry, and entire sections of the eastern mountains were thrown shattered to the ground.''

  ''I doubt if there's anyone alive who wasn't raised hearing those stories,'' Kylin said with a grin, the reaction of most educated people of our time who spoke of the legend. "I've heard it said that most of those things really did happen, but not for the reason the old storytellers insist."

  ''The storytellers also insist that belief in the war has been taken away from men, so that the war can be started up again some day,'' Veslin said, matching Kylin's grin. ''Whatever the truth, the legend goes on to say that Evon was involved in that war in some way, and came down to our world to live among men for a time. While he was here he made a very special panoply, weapons and armor meant to be used against the spreading of evil, forging the lot and crafting it only partly in the way of men. Every bit of it was made of silver but certainly not of ordinary silver, and when the last piece of it was done he called a selected number of his followers to him. These followers he named his priests, and into the care of each he gave a different part of the panoply, instructing them to carry the parts out into the world, to find those who were worthy of bearing those parts into battle against the evil which threatened men and gods alike."

  ''Which, I've heard, is the reason priests of Evon don't preach like priests of other gods,'' I put in, adding my own amusement to the general atmosphere. ''They'll council other followers of Evon, but they don't preach because they have that other, more important task given them. I suppose it's never occurred to those who say that, that priests of Evon don't have to preach. Only weapons-wielders follow Evon, and becoming a Fighter or a Blade is a conversion of sorts in itself."

  ''That's very true," Veslin said with a smile, completely relaxed in his chair. ''If someone is to learn weapons skill and become any good at it the basic decision has to come from him, not from someone talking him into it. Priests of Evon don't have anything to preach about, so we spend our time offering advice, marrying people, fighting with our unit - and discussing legends.

  “Which brings us back to the legend we've been discussing. Once the original war was over, with Evon's side having won, the pieces of the panoply were supposed to have been returned into the care of his priests, to be held until the next time they were needed. An interesting aspect of the legend says that if someone attracts one part of the panoply to him in time of need, other parts of it will be drawn to that one if other worthy wielders aren't to be easily had. I don't really understand how that's supposed to happen, any more than I understand how the pieces are supposed to be able to - divide themselves, you might say - to double their number in case there are two to be outfitted. The whole thing is fascinating, to say the least."

  ''And that's the story you were told by your friend," Kylin said, his expression matching the priest's interest. ''If it were true and you were the new custodian of a part of the panoply you'd have to be out there in the world now, looking for people who were worthy of wearing Evon's gifts instead of sitting back comfortably in this house. You could hardly expect them to show up in this village, and if I were in your place I don't think I'd care for having to leave here. You must be glad the gods haven't decided to go to war again."

  "Oh, yes, more than glad," Veslin agreed soberly, but for some reason there was a glint of amusement in his very light eyes. "And you're right, of course, about not being able to expect the worthy to simply walk up to my door and knock. Being young and a Fighter during the time the gods go to war must be a time of living life to its fullest, but I'm afraid I'm past the age for a true appreciation of something like that. Battle loses its matchless appeal, when it's your sons and grandsons who must face it rather than yourself. You're happy for them and in no way envious, but
it isn't quite the same.''

  ''I can understand that,'' I said, wondering at the odd look that flickered briefly in his eyes, almost a combination of fear and sadness. "Being in a battle yourself is much better than standing back and watching other people doing the fighting. You might say it gets in your blood."

  "You might also say it sometimes gets the blood out of you," the big fool to my right put in, sounding annoyed, jumping in as though I'd been talking to him as well as to Veslin. ''There comes a time in everyone's life when they have to leave the games of childhood for the responsibilities of an adult. It's natural to feel regret over the loss, but no real adult tries to hang onto the playthings of a child."

  Veslin raised his cup to his lips again, but not before I caught the beginnings of a smile of amusement. Apparently he understood what Kylin was talking about and found something funny in it. I, however, hadn't the faintest idea of what his babbling was supposed to mean, so I had no trouble ignoring it.

  ''Do you think your friend gave you the bracers for a reason?'' I asked Veslin, still looking only at him. ''I mean other than the fact that he was dying and felt that he had to pass them on?"

  ''It's possible he chose me because he knew of my collection,'' Veslin answered, waving a hand at the walls around us and what they held. ''I've been collecting broken shields since I was very young, visiting other lands to see what sights they had to offer. I couldn't keep them with me, of course, but Indris's mother lived in a city in those days, so sending them to her to keep for me was more expensive than difficult. During one leave I took my friend home with me, and the collection was the second thing I showed him."

  "What was the first?" I asked, wondering what he might have had that was more exciting than those fascinating shields.

  ''The first was my sons," he said with a gentle smile, his light gaze holding mine. "A man is always proudest of his sons and daughters, as well as of the woman who gave them to him. My woman would be with me yet, if Evon hadn't found a need for her at Home. Indris came to us long past the time her brothers were grown and gone on their way in the world, a blessing for us but not for her. She was still a very small child when her mother was called Home, which made it necessary for her to be raised by her father. Poor thing, she was a Blade almost as soon as she could walk, courtesy of a man who didn't have enough else to occupy him. I find it a matter of great pride that she managed her life with as much happiness as she has, and now enjoys my company. Her mother must have watched over us for her to have turned out as well as she did."

  ''But what’s wrong with her having been a Blade?" I asked, confused over what he'd said - and how he'd said it. ''It's an accomplishment not every woman can claim, but you make it sound as if there's a – taint - of some sort to it."

  ''No, child, not a taint," he answered, having no trouble finding the words he wanted. ''A woman's achieving Blade status is a proud thing, but Indris did it because I was there to train her, because she adored her father and wanted to be like him - and because she found no other choice for her temperament. There are women who are happy being nothing more than wives to men, and they're the lucky ones, the ones who are able to find contentment. With all the strides we've made in the world, we've as yet to find a place for those who need additional contentment, the pleasure of a job well done or a contribution made. In this great age of advancement and enlightenment when man can make fragile glass strong enough to be used to eat and drink from but still appear beautiful, a woman of deeper needs than most is still forced to make a choice between those needs. She isn't allowed to be everything a woman can be, she must be one thing or the other. A Fistmate or a wife, a Blade or a mother. Why can't she be both?''

  "Being a Blade is to be free, being a wife is to be chained down like a domesticated animal or a pet,'' I answered at once, even though I was sure he hadn't asked the question expecting it to be answered. "Not every woman wants to be a wife and a mother, and demanding it of those who want no part of it simply isn’t fair. It's worse than demanding that those satisfied women leave their homes and children and go out to train with weapons would be. If no one tried to force things on those who were unwilling, this world would be a much better place."

  "Now, that I can agree with wholeheartedly,'' he said, showing a faint grin. ''The only part of your contention I'm having trouble with is the part about unwillingness. If a woman has tried being a wife and mother and has found that it isn't for her, no one can argue with her decision. It is, after all, based on experience. What basis is being used, though, by a woman who hasn't tried it herself? Hearsay? The opinions of others? Guesswork? How far would bases like that take you in a battle?"

  "I don't have to swallow poison to know I want no part of it," I came back, suddenly aware of all the silence coming from my right as soon as the new direction of the conversation became apparent. "Indris was a Blade who made her own decision as to what would make her happy. All I ask - demand - is that I be given the same right."

  ''Rights are never given, only earned," Veslin said, ''but that isn't the point we're trying to get clear here. You say Indris made her own decision and you're right in that, but she didn’t find her happiness alone. Being married to most men probably would have made her miserable, but luckily Javin wasn't most men. He shared his own work with her while their children were very small, used her help to test many of the blades he forged, then stood beside her when it came time to train their offspring. She was never made to feel that the skill she had acquired was a foolish waste of time that could have been more profitably used to learn sewing or cooking or cleaning. The acceptance Javin gave her was complete, helping her to be whole. Where would a woman find chaining if she shared her life with a man like that?''

  "How many Javins do you expect there to be?" I asked in a mutter, looking down into my crystal goblet and the small amount of wine left in it. I still wanted nothing to do with marriage, and wanted even less to continue the discussion with Veslin. He was only trying to help, I knew, but I didn't want his help - or anyone else's. I would take care of my problems in my own way - as soon as I could think of one…

  "Maybe there are more Javins around than you know," another voice chimed in, a calm voice belonging to someone who had been letting Veslin do his arguing for him. "How can you tell, when you refuse to give anyone the smallest chance to prove it to you? I can understand being afraid of something or not trusting it, but I can't understand running from it without first trying to find out if it can be bested. No one can blame someone who tries their best and then fails, but what are you expected to think about a person who won't even try? What would you think of them?''

  The question hung in the air to my right, a direction in which I refused to look, and Veslin just sat in his chair waiting, making no effort to give an answer of his own. I could see I was supposed to admit I'd been unthinkingly cruel, cowardly in my actions, and considerably short of adult behavior; it's possible I was even expected to apologize. I was really tempted to get into the questions of cowardice and cruelty, but my primary aim was to destroy concern and caring. I'd almost forgotten that again, which made me nearly as annoyed with myself as I was with the fool who couldn't even take advantage of a woman without starting to feel something for her.

  ''What I think is that I tend to admire people who refuse to slash their wrists or jump off a roof simply to see what will happen,'' I said after a moment, then finished the last of my wine. "Why leave something you enjoy for something you hate, just because other people think you ought to enjoy that latter something? And who says I have to give anyone a chance to do whatever it is they want to do? Talk about a hell of a way to run a battle. This wine is really excellent, Veslin. Would you be willing to part with another small taste of it?''

  The smile I gave the priest was a calculated one, designed to show that I wasn't blaming him for having tried to help. He wasn't aware of what was really going on, after all, so how was he to know his help wasn't called for? The young-old man sighed as he got to his fee
t, as though disappointed about something, but what came from my right was a wordless growl.

  "Try to keep on being patient, Kylin," Veslin said as he reached for the wine pitcher, flicking the lid of the box closed with one finger to get it out of his way first. "When you spend a lot of time dreading something, it isn't easy to suddenly turn around and accept it. Give her at least the same amount of time, and everything will work out the way you want it to.''

  ''I still don't understand why your friend gave you the bracers," I said, determined to change the conversation, holding my goblet out for the nearing pitcher. ''All the shields in your collection are broken, so the new additions don't fit. And why aren't there two of each size, instead of only one?"

  ''I'm trying to be patient, Veslin, but at times is doesn’t work well,'' Kylin said, rising to his feet to put a hand to the pitcher before it could pour any of the silver wine into my cup. ''I think she and I need to talk this out, at least as far as we can. If you don't mind, we'll go to our room now."

  ''Forget about anyone else minding," I snapped, finally outraged enough to speak to the fool directly. Out of deference to my neck I also stood, and put my useless goblet down on the table, where it would be better protected from the urge to throw it. "I was never asked if I wanted to share a room with anyone, and wouldn't have agreed even if I had been asked. If there aren't enough rooms to go around, I'll use the stable out back. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer it."

  "If you're in one room and I'm in another, how are we supposed to talk?" he came back, trying again to sound reasonable and logical. The calm he looked down at me with didn't stretch across the short distance between us, and even seemed to affect me in exactly the opposite way.

  "Why in Evon's name would I want to talk to you?" I asked very deliberately, trying to feed my own emotions back across the space. "I know you probably haven't yet noticed, but I don't happen to like you. And if there's still any question about where I'll be sleeping tonight, I have my own suggestion to make on the subject, a good deal better than my stable suggestion.''