by David Duncan
Beside her was the tiny form of Honakura, ancient priest and one of Wallie's company-indeed, Honakura was the first person he had spoken to when he awoke in the World in Shonsu's body. Today the old man had gone to visit the temple in search of news. He was still wearing his anonymous black robe, hiding his craftmarks under a headband, and so being a Nameless One. Wallie had half expected Honakura to end this charade now, but apparently not. He had never explained its purpose; possibly he did not wish to admit that it had none.
Jja was comforting Vixini, who was fretting over another tooth. Katanji came strolling back from the warehouse. Honakura climbed wearily up the gangplank. Nnanji headed toward it to welcome Thana. Seven was the sacred number. When Wallie had left the temple at Harm to begin his mission for the gods, seven had been the number in his party. The seventh, Nnanji's moronic slave, had gone. If Nnanji had any say in the matter, Thana was destined to replace her. That would bring them back to seven again...
Sapphire had taken Wallie to all the cities of the RegiVul loop; its crew had provided his army for the battle of Ov. With Sapphire he had unmasked the sorcerers and discovered their secrets. Now someone-and he still did not know who-had called a tryst in Casr. To Casr he must go. Looking at Nnanji beaming idiotically as he held Thana's hands, he wondered if his party was about to be restored to the sacred number. Possibly Sapphire's part in his mission was ended, and he was about to leave this easy, informal River life and complete his quest ashore.
Yet Apprentice Thana was showing few signs of cooperating, although Nnanji now proposed to her regularly-three times a day, after meals, Wallie suspected. She clearly had no illusions about that redheaded idealist who regarded honor as life's purpose, killing as his business, fencing and wenching as the only worthwhile recreations. Looking at the two of them, lost in their private conversation, Wallie would not have been surprised to learn that his lusty young protégé was describing his rooming's exploits in the brothel. He was quite capable of doing so and then wondering how he had offended. Yet certainly Nnanji had some major part to play in the gods' mission, for Wallie had been directed to swear the fourth oath with him, the oath of brotherhood.
Oath of brotherhood or not, Nnanji would be reluctant to leave Sapphire without Thana. Suppose she would not go? What would the gods do then?
He must discuss that possibility with Honakura.
* * *
Two hours later, reeking like a tannery, Sapphire cast off. As she did so, another ship pulled into an empty berth ahead and two nimble young swordsman Seconds jumped ashore without even waiting for the plank. They were at once accosted by a Fourth and three Thirds, whom Wallie had already identified as followers of the head-hunting Sixth. By nightfall that Sixth would have collected all the loose swordsmen in town.
Wallie had gone up on the fo'c'sle to stay out of the sailors' way. He was leaning on the rail with Nnanji beside him. Thana was next to Nnanji.
"On to Casr!" Nnanji said in a satisfied tone.
"We may be back!" Wallie warned him, watching the two Seconds being marched off to meet the absent Sixth and swear their oaths.
"What! Why, brother?"
Wallie explained his theory that the Goddess might be wanting him to recruit a private army. Nnanji pouted mightily-he would be greatly outranked by a Sixth.
"I hope that is not the case," Wallie assured him. "But why else would she have brought all these swordsmen to Tau? It is a long way to Casr. I am sure that the Goddess is capable of better aim than that."
"Ah!" Nnanji looked relieved. "It is not only Tau! Swordsmen have been arriving at Dri and Wo, also. And Ki San, apparently. Even Quo."
The ways of gods were inscrutable. Perhaps, though, the docks at Casr could not handle the traffic, and the Goddess was using these outlying ports as way stations...
"Quo?" Wallie echoed.
Nnanji chuckled and glanced sideways at him. "It is on the next loop of the River! There is a wagon trail over the hills from Casr to Quo, brother! One day by road and twenty weeks by water, so I'm told."
"Where did you hear this?"
"During intermission!" Nnanji leered. Then he remembered that Thana was present, and his face suddenly matched his hair; perhaps his social skills were improving, slightly.
There was also a trail from Ov to Aus, Wallie knew, although land travel was very rare in the World. There were no maps in the World, because there was no writing, and because the geography was subject to change without notice, at the whim of the Goddess. But Wallie had a mental picture of the usual form of the landscape, and he now sought to adjust it. What had Nnanji thought of, to put that grin on his face?
"Another loop?" Wallie said. "Then Casr is strategic!"
Nnanji looked vaguely disappointed that his mentor had worked that out so quickly. He would have had to consult the sutras.
"Right!" he said. "It has three neighbors, instead of two, like all the other cities."
"And therefore it may just be the sorcerers' next target?"
Nnanji nodded. The sorcerers had been seizing another city every two years or so. Now they had control of all the left bank, the inside of the loop. River travel was difficult or impossible through the Black Lands, so the RegiVul loop was closed. Their next move must to be to cross the River.
"Casr is very old," Nnanji added. "It's mentioned in some of the most ancient sagas. Been burned and sacked and rebuilt dozens of times, I expect."
"And it has a swordsman lodge," Wallie said.
Nnanji grinned and put his arm around Thana for a firm hug.
Wallie returned to watching the docks as they dwindled astern, masked now by a picket fence of masts and rigging. As the details became less visible, Tau seemed to become ever more like a scene from Tudor England.
Nnanji sniggered. "Still want to be reeve, brother?"
"Me?" Wallie said with astonishment, turning to stare at him.
Nnanji flashed his huge grin. "Forgotten? Last time we were here you said..." His eyes went slightly out of focus, and his voice deepened to mimic Shonsu's bass. " 'Eventually, I suppose, I'll settle down in some quiet little town like this and be a reeve. And raise seven sons, like old Kioniarru. And seven daughters, also, if Jja wants them!' And I said, 'Reeve? Why not king?' And you said, 'Too much bloodshed to get it, and too much work when you do. But I like Tau, I think.' "
His eyes came back into focus and his grin returned. Neither commented on the feat of memory-they both knew it was child's play for Nnanji-but Thana was disgusted. "You weren't serious, my lord? Reeve? In a place like that?" She turned to stare at the thatched roofs of vanishing Tau.
"It's a nice little town," Wallie protested feebly.
"You can have it, brother," Nnanji said generously.
†† ††
The next day the wind god deserted them. A strange golden haze settled over the River, smelling faintly of burning stubble, while the water lay dead as white oil. Directly overhead the sky was a pallid, sickly blue, and all around there was only blank nothing. Tomiyano did not even hoist sail, and Sapphire drooped at anchor. Other becalmed vessels showed faintly at times in the distance, like flags planted to mark the edge of the World, but for most of the day Sapphire seemed to be abandoned by both men and gods.
This ominous change made the crew uneasy. Lord Shonsu was needed at Casr, they believed, to take command of Her tryst. Why was She not speeding him there? Had they offended Her in some way? Not putting their worry into words, the sailors performed the usual chores in nervous silence. They cleaned and polished and varnished; they made clothes for the coming winter; they instructed youngsters in the age-old ways of the River and the sutras of the sailors; they waited for wind.
Honakura was as distressed as any. He liked to think that he had been sent along on Shonsu's mission as pilot, a guide to interpret the will of the gods as it might be revealed from time to time, and he did not know what to make of this sudden change of pace. It was strange that She had not taken Shonsu directly to Her tryst f
rom Ov after the battle with the sorcerers, but likely the swordsman was just being given time to think. There seemed to be many things worrying the big man, things he had trouble discussing, or preferred not to discuss, and he brooded relentlessly, quite unlike his normal self. And the wind god had buffeted them along in spanking fashion-until today.
This was not the first time Sapphire's progress had been stayed, and each time there had been a reason for it. Either the gods had been waiting for something else to happen, or the mortals had overlooked something they were supposed to do. Honakura had no way of knowing which was the case now, but he suspected that the next move was up to the mortals-why else would the ship have been encased hi mist? It was as if they had all been shut in a closet, as he himself had many times in the past locked up an errant protégé to meditate upon his shortcomings. By afternoon he was becoming seriously concerned.
He sat himself on his favorite fire bucket and surveyed the deck. Up on the fo'c'sle, the adolescents were clustered around Novice Katanji. From their antics, he guessed that the boy was telling dirty stories. The women had mostly gathered on the poop, knitting, mending, and chatting softly. A couple of men were fishing... without much success, he noted glumly.
For once there was no fencing lesson in progress. Adept Nnanji was sitting on the forward hatch cover with Novice Matarro and Apprentice Thana, grouped around three crossed swords. That was a stupid swordsman custom for reciting sutras. Priests taught sutras while pacing to and fro-much healthier and more sensible, letting exercise stimulate the brain.
Lord Shonsu sat alone on the other hatch. The crew understood that he needed to think and they left him alone when he wanted privacy, as now. He did have his slave beside him, so he probably would not think of himself as being alone. They were not talking, however, and that was unusual. Shonsu was probably the only swordsman in the World who talked with his night slave-except of course to say "Lie down."
Shonsu was whittling. He had taken up whittling after Ov, spending hours with scraps of wood and tools pilfered from the ship's chest. He refused to say what he was doing and he obviously did not enjoy doing it. His hands were too big for delicate work-they fit a sword hilt better than a knife handle. He scowled and chewed his tongue and nicked his fingers and spoiled what he was doing and started again. And he would not say why.
A sour sulfurous odor mingled with smells of woodsmoke and leather. They had met that before. Shonsu said it must come from RegiVul, where the Fire God danced on the peaks. A pale dust was settling on the planks.
Honakura sighed and sought a more comfortable position. The pains were getting worse. He remembered how his mother had baked bread when he was a child, and how she had run a knife around the inside of the pan to loosen the loaf so that it would come out cleanly. That was what the Goddess was doing to him-reminding him that death was not to be feared, that it was a beginning of something new and exciting, not an end. When he had left Hann with Shonsu, he had offered humble prayers that he might be spared long enough in this cycle to see the outcome of the Shonsu mission. Now he was not so presumptuous. He thought he might be happier not knowing.
If anyone had suggested to him half a year since that he could ever be friends with a swordsman, he would have laughed until his old bones fell apart in a heap. Yet it had happened so. He liked that huge slab of beef. He could even admire him and he had never admired a swordsman before. Of course Shonsu was not a swordsman at heart, but he tried very hard to obey the dictates of the gods, and struggled to reconcile his own gentle instincts with the killer requirements of his job. They were incompatible, of course. Shonsu knew that and was troubled within himself. But he tried, and he was a decent and honorable man.
Strange, therefore, that his divine master had not trusted him enough to explain exactly what his task was to be. That lapse had obviously bothered Shonsu, and still did. He thought he knew now what it was. He had been quite implacable toward the sorcerers once he met them-implacable for Shonsu, that is. Yet he had gathered wisdom at Ov, wisdom he could not or would not explain, and since then he had been more deeply troubled than ever.
Honakura was certain that he had a much better idea of what Shonsu's mission was than Shonsu did. He no longer wanted to see the end of it. The gods knew what they were doing and they knew why, even if mortals did not. And they could be cruel.
Sometimes they could even appear to be ungrateful.
A sudden ripple of change swept over the ship. Two of the women came chattering down from the poop and headed for the companionway in the fo'c'sle. The men abandoned their fishing at the same moment and went into the deckhouse, muttering about a game of dice. Apprentice Thana, tired of sutras, rose and stretched deliciously. Honakura sighed... If the Goddess sent him back at once, then in twenty years or less he would be after someone like Thana. Unless he came back as a woman, of course, in which case he would be looking for a Shonsu.
Adept Nnanji twisted his head round and shouted for his brother. Katanji pulled a face, left off his storytelling, and came down to join the sutra session. Nnanji could continue indefinitely. Despite his youth, he was the most single-minded person Honakura had ever met and he certainly possessed the finest memory.
That made him an incomparable learner. It had been entertaining to watch Shonsu struggle to make himself more of a swordsman-meaning in effect more like Nnanji, who was a swordsman born-while Nnanji strove to be more like his hero, Shonsu. There was no doubt which of the two had more thoroughly succeeded. Adept-and-soon-to-be-Master Nnanji was unrecognizable as the brash, wide-eyed juvenile who had trailed behind Shonsu that first day in the temple, after the death of Hardduju. Yet neither man could ever really succeed. They were as unlike as the lion and the eagle that made up the griffon on the seventh sword.
One lion plus one eagle did not make two griffons.
Then stillness inexplicably returned and motion ceased. The ship lay in its cocoon of golden haze, the silence broken only by a quiet drone of sutras.
Thana had wandered to the aft end of the deck and was sitting on the steps to the poop. There seemed to be something missing about Apprentice Thana. Honakura needed a moment to work it out-she was not wearing the pearls that Nnanji had given her. He decided, then, that he had not seen them for some days.
She was studying Shonsu and frowning, deep in thought.
Mm?
Of course Shonsu was worth studying from her point of view: huge, muscular-masculinity personified-and a swordsman of the seventh rank, a man of ultimate power among the People.
Brota and Tomiyano were incomparable pursuers of gold, but in Thana that family trait was subtly changed. She saw farther. Thana knew that gold was only a means, and the end was power. For most people gold was the surest means to that end, but power was largely a male attribute in the World, and there was a faster road to it for nubile young maidens.
Honakura rose and wandered across and joined her on the steps. She scowled.
Even at his age, it was pleasant to sit next to a Thana.
"When beautiful young ladies frown, they must have troubles," he said. "Troubles are my business."
"Beggars have no business."
He stared up at her until she averted her eyes.
"Pardon, holy one," she muttered.
They had all guessed that he was a priest, of course. His way of speaking would have told them that.
"Not a holy one at the moment," he said gently. "But I am on Her business. Now, what ails?"
"Just puzzled," she said. "Something Nnanji told me."
Honakura waited. He had a million times more patience than Apprentice Thana.
"He quoted something Lord Shonsu had said," she explained at last, "the first time he was in Tau. He talked of being reeve there. Well! A minnow town like that? This is after his mission is over, you understand? It just seemed odd. That's all."
"It doesn't seem odd to me, apprentice."
She glanced at him in surprise. "Why not? A Seventh? In a scruffy little hole
like Tau?"
Honakura shook his head. "Shonsu never asked to be a Seventh. He did not even want to be a swordsman. The gods made him one for their own purposes. You are talking power, my lady, and power does not attract Shonsu."
"Power?" she repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose I am."
"Well, ambition. He has none! He is already a Seventh, so what is left? But Adept Nnanji... now there is ambition for you."
Thana frowned again. "He is a killer! Remember when the pirates came? Yes, it is good to kill pirates. But Shonsu wept afterward-I saw the tears on his cheeks. Nnanji laughed. He was soaked in blood, and loved it."
Honakura had known much worse killers than that amiable young man. "Killing is his job, apprentice. He welcomed a chance to do his job. He is honorable and kills only in the line of duty. A swordsman rarely gets a chance to use his skills. Adept Nnanji is very good at his job-better in some ways than Lord Shonsu is."
"You think Nnanji will be a Seventh one day?" she asked idly, but he sensed the steel in the question.
For a moment he hesitated, pondering the inexplicable lack of wind, the breathless pause in Shonsu's mission. Then he decided to gamble on this sudden hunch of his.
"I am certain."
"Certain, old man? Certain is a strong word." She sounded like her mother.
"This must be in confidence, Thana," he said.
She nodded, astonished.
"There is a prophecy," he told her. "When Shonsu spoke with the god, he was given a message for me. Shonsu did not understand it-it was a message that only a priest would hear. But it comes from a god. So, yes, I am certain."
She had very beautiful eyes, large and dark, set in very long lashes.
"This prophecy is about Nnanji?"
He nodded.
"I swear on my sword, holy one-on my honor as a swordsman. If you tell me, I will not reveal it."
"Then I shall trust you," he said. "The prophecy is the epigram from one of our sutras. We-the priests, I mean-have always regarded it as a great paradox, but perhaps to a swordsman it will not seem so. The epigram is this: The pupil may be greater than the teacher."
