The Destiny of the Sword

by David Duncan

  Wallie had been quite prepared to return to the ship alone, but with a glance at his hairclip Tivanixi had tactfully insisted on providing an escort and he had put his longtime friend Fiendori of the Sixth hi charge of it. Thus Wallie marched through the narrow alleys and across the wide squares with Fiendori and half a dozen swordsmen at his back.

  He glowed with a new exuberance, his doubts withered away. Thanks to the ambitious Thana, he now understood the sorcerers' apparent telepathy. Minx! She had sought sutra lessons from him, and from Nnanji, and from her mother, so that no one could know what she had been taught. Obviously Nnanji had been assuming that it was Wallie who had instructed her in Fourth-rank sutras, as a surprise for him. He wondered how many sutras Brota knew-the water rats were little impressed by ritual.

  Lip reading was probably well known to the riverfolk, useful up in the shrouds in a strong wind, when neither voices nor gestures could be used. The sorcerers had adopted it and combined it with the telescope. That was typical of their methods, a fragment of technology plus a bushel of showmanship, combined to give an impression of magic powers. Obviously they could know of the telescope-it ought to have been invented on Earth long before it had been.

  Also, Wallie had completed the god's riddle. He had returned the sword to the lodge where it had been made. And he had accorded to its destiny, accepting that he must lead the tryst.

  The need was obvious. Boariyi was a brash kid. Tivanixi seemed intelligent enough, yet even he had already blundered conspicuously. He had been tricked into calling the tryst at the wrong time of year, with winter coming. He had charged ahead without finding out anything about the enemy. He had obviously given no thought at all to finance. Faith in the Goddess was fine, but the gods helped those who knew what they were doing. The tryst needed not only Wallie's superior knowledge of the enemies' powers, but also some good management techniques-aim identification, cost-benefit studies, critical path analysis, command structure definitions, budgetary forecasts...

  The tiny battle of Ov had shown Wallie that the sorcerers were poor fighters, merely armed civilians who lost their heads, while the swordsmen were trained tacticians. Yet Tivanixi's impetuous response to the sorcerers' defiance suggested that, on the higher level of strategy, the sorcerers might be better than the swordsmen. There were sutras on strategy, but who ever got to use them? War was rare in the World. Few swordsmen would ever command a force of more than a dozen or so, while the sorcerers had obviously been working to a careful plan for fifteen years. Now they had run out of cities on the left bank. They must either rest with the conquests they had, or cross the River. They could write; they had records; they had communications and organization; they could see the bigger picture. Wallie Smith still thought that way, although he was now illiterate. He had the additional advantage of knowing a little history from another world, a much more warlike planet than this. His feel for strategy and planning was better than that of the other swordsmen. They were iron-age barbarians; he was a cultivated, educated, and reasonably well-informed twentieth-century technologist... who just happened to be an iron-age barbarian on the outside. The tryst needed his way of thinking as much as it needed his knowledge of the sorcerers' technology. He must somehow put himself at its head.

  How?

  He needed to do something dramatic and he could not demand a miracle from the gods. But heroes were allowed to be lucky. Already he had an idea of what was going to be needed, and luck would certainly be a vital ingredient.

  The swordsmen of the tryst and their natural distrust of him were one problem. Boariyi himself was another. The god had hinted that there was one other swordsman who might be as good as Shonsu-who else but Boariyi? That had been an obvious warning, for if equals meet, and one is out of practice while the other is not, who will win?

  Right first time.

  That meant practice, and practice meant a partner. Nnanji was not good enough. But-Wallie now realized-marching right behind him was a Sixth who could sometimes beat Tivanixi himself. The castellan had left Wallie waiting a bladder-testing long time beside the rear door while he went off to fetch Fiendori. That might mean that friend Fiendori had been well briefed, might it not?

  By the time Wallie had got this far in his thoughts, he had come to the wide and windy plaza where the River shone through a haze of masts and rigging that curved away into the distance in both directions. Sapphire was visible a short way downstream. He gestured for Fiendori to move up beside him.

  He was a pleasant-seeming fellow, not tall, but thick and broad, and he had a big, friendly grin. He moved and walked with the same athletic grace as his mentor.

  Wallie opened the conversation by asking how he had come to Casr, and when. He was told that Lord Tivanixi's band of frees, arriving at Quo, had heard that there was a lodge at Casr and had decided to go there in the hope of picking up a promising junior or two. They had ridden in about three days after Shonsu had left, to find four Firsts and two Seconds attempting to maintain order, with a conspicuous lack of success.

  "They were looting house to house by mat time, my lord," Fiendori said with disgust, but without explaining who "they" were. "We rolled a few heads across this avenue, here, my lord, and soon stopped that!"

  Clearly, in Fiendori's eyes Lord Tivanixi was the perfect swordsman, a hero in the great tradition, a man who could do no wrong. Tivanixi had cleaned up the town and then stayed on, waiting for Shonsu to return. The weeks had rolled by, and the rumors of disaster had sifted back, and-without any specific announcement or decision, more or less by default-Tivanixi had become castellan in Shonsu's place. His men had no complaint.

  Whatever duty the gods sent and the boss accepted was fine by them.

  "I don't know if the castellan told you, your honor," Wallie said, "but I need some practice. I have been ship-bound for many weeks."

  The big, loose grin flashed. "He told me to put myself at your disposal, if I could be of any help to your lordship. Subject to an emergency arising where he might need me, that is."

  Good for Tivanixi! He had been 'way out ahead. Wallie expressed his gratitude. "Then we shall need to find somewhere with space," he said, "and privacy! He spoke highly of your skills. Did he mention my sword to you?"

  "Yes, my lord." Fiendori glanced up at the hilt. "A great honor, but also a great burden, if I may say so."

  Wallie suspected that this Sixth was a both follower and probably not in the Nobel league for original thinking, but that remark sounded like a tactful reference to the need for keeping out of Boariyi's way, so Wallie did not labor the point. He was about to ask if his companion knew of any convenient courtyard that might be rented, preferably close to the docks, when conversation was ended by the sight of a disturbance in progress.

  Two slaves were in trouble on the Sapphire's gangplank. Between them was a sedan chair. The slave at the rear was taking most of the weight, because of the tilt of the plank, and was starting to buckle. The slave at the front was in greater difficulty, because he was facing Tomiyano, and there was no power in the World that was going to get that sedan chair on that deck. The slave, however, had his orders and a mere Third was seemingly not enough to change them. An irresistible enforcement had met an immovable objector.

  A swordsman of the Seventh, however, was different. Wallie ordered the rear slave to start backing, and the man at the front had no choice but to follow. The chair returned to the dock and the slaves set it down. Wallie waved cheerfully at Tomiyano's glare. Then he stepped forward and pulled aside the curtain.

  As he had expected, Honakura was sitting inside, grinning toothlessly.

  "I thought that earthquake voice must be yours, my lord." He chuckled. "You have been to the lodge." That was not a question; Honakura could pull information out of cobblestones. "How is Lord Boariyi?"

  "Better, I'm afraid," said Wallie. "How is the holy Lord Kadywinsi?"

  "Senile!" whispered the old man. "But I shall help him." Then he accepted a helping hand to disembark.
>
  The black garb of a Nameless One had gone. He stepped out, still tiny and bald and toothless, but with the seven wavy lines now uncovered on his forehead, wearing a gown of sky-blue satin shimmering with that same holy pattern. His face was a dangerous gray shade and he looked very weary, but all his old authority had returned, the presence that could face down swordsmen of any rank. Wallie backed up and flashed the seventh sword in the greeting to an equal, and the old man responded in his slurred voice. Then Willie presented the Honorable Fiendori of the Sixth, who was impressed.

  Wallie had stopped distrusting coincidences a long time ago. He edged Honakura and Fiendori slightly away from the troop of swordsmen, while passing pedestrians made a wide and wary circuit around them. "Holy one," he explained, "his honor and I were just debating where we might find a convenient and private place to do some fencing. Roomy, you understand, and not subject to unexpected intruders."

  Honakura looked up at him with amusement. "I was asked to inform you that the priests of Casr will be more than grateful for an opportunity to help Her champion in any way they can be of service."

  Look out, Boariyi!

  "There we are, then," Wallie told Fiendori. "Today is almost gone-meet us at the temple in the morning. I assume that we can move Sapphire there?" he asked the old man.

  "I gather that the water is shallow, my lord, but you can anchor offshore and come in by dinghy. Mistress Brota will be fretting about dock fees soon."

  Wallie laughed and agreed. He dismissed his escort and conducted the priest up the gangplank.

  The transformation had been noted, and the rail was lined with startled faces. Tomiyano was so overcome that he volunteered the salute to a superior and babbled that his ship would be honored to receive such a visitor. The rest of the sailors were staring with open mouths, as if an egg in the ship's larder had suddenly hatched a dragon. This was the old man who had cleaned pots in their galley? They had all guessed that he was a priest, but not a Seventh. A Seventh's prestige was so great in their culture that none of them found it strange when Wallie solemnly presented everyone old enough to salute. Each saluted reverently and received the response. That done, there was a bewildered pause. Honakura looked around at their faces, tottered across to sit on his favorite fire bucket, and started to laugh. Then they all laughed.

  The riverfront plaza was beginning to empty as evening approached, the sky blushing in the west and even the wind seeming inclined to stop work for the day. Wallie now could attend to that stein of ale he had promised himself earlier. He took some beer down to the two slaves waiting on the dock-to their stunned amazement-and then settled himself on a hatch cover, while Sapphire's crew gathered around. Then he recounted the events at the lodge.

  "What happens now, great leader?" Tomiyano demanded from the other hatch cover.

  "Possibly we get boarded," Wallie said. "If a very tall Seventh appears, don't try your tongue on him-he'll cut it out. Leave him to me, and the rest of you scamper." There was, after all, just a chance that Boariyi, once he learned the significance of the seventh sword, would come foaming down to the dock. Wallie could handle him easily on the ship. Zoariyi might not know that there were two kinds of swordsmanship in the World. Even if he did, his nephew might not heed his warnings.

  "And apart from that?" the captain persisted.

  Wallie was wondering where Nnanji and the others had got to-they should have arrived by now-but he started to explain between mouthfuls of beer and peanuts.

  "Two problems. The popular favorite to win the leadership is this human giraffe called Boariyi. I'm told he is better than me."

  "Bilge!" Brota muttered loyally.

  "Maybe not! He has an arm like your bowsprit. So I have to get in some practice. Soon! The other problem is that the swordsmen don't trust me. The other Shonsu lost an army. They think I might lose another. They know about my screw-up at Aus, too. So I can't just win the leadership by simple combat, as Boariyi or the castellan could. But I'd be the only leader with a hope of averting disaster. The sorcerers are evil and the swordsmen are stupid! You and I-if you're still with me-are going to prevent a massacre."

  Tomiyano looked skeptical. "How?"

  "Good question. We must do something dramatic, I think. Anyone got any ideas?"

  "Yes," the captain said. "You do. Tell us."

  Wallie smiled at their faith-or was it that these shrewd traders could read his face? "No more voyages to the left bank for Sapphire," he said. "But there will be danger-this is war. Are you still with me?"

  They were still with him, every one of them, from ancient old Lina, who was possibly as old as Honakura, down to the wide-eyed children. He thanked them sincerely, more moved than he wanted to show. Then he eyed the old man. "How much help can we have from the priests, holy one?"

  "Whatever you want," Honakura said complacently.

  If Honakura could deliver the temple, then Boariyi had hit the iceberg and was listing already. Wallie pondered in silence for a while, but then decided his harebrained plan was the only one he was going to come up with. He took a deep breath and began. "I think I have jobs for all of you, then. You, Cap'n, buy me a ship."

  Tomiyano was surprised. "Big or small? What rig?"

  Wallie shrugged. "Something that will carry eight or ten, I suppose. As fast as possible. Large enough to stand up in below-decks."

  Sailors anywhere enjoy evaluating boats. Tomiyano rose and peered along the front, then at the scattering of vessels anchored out in the River. "Like that? How about that?"

  "Whatever you can get," Wallie said. "How much must I pay?"

  'Two or three thousand."

  Wallie looked at Brota beside him and was almost turned to ice by the look in her eye. She was afraid that he was going to ask for Donations to a Good Cause. She probably had several times that much hidden away somewhere in Sapphire, the profits of thirty years' trading.

  He smiled innocently. "That's all right, then."

  She frowned even more and shot a glance at her son.

  Tomiyano grunted. "So you do have more of them!"

  Wallie reached in his money pouch and brought out a handful of blue fire. "I do. Would it have mattered, had you known?"

  The captain showed his teeth in a fierce grin. "Possibly! I was ready to do it for your hairclip alone; I couldn't think what we'd do with the sword. She wouldn't let me... but she would have done, if she'd known about those."

  He was joking, but he might not be lying-his mother was glaring at him.

  Wallie laughed and put the gems back. "Then I am grateful to you, mistress! Perhaps you and Katanji could sell some of these for me, when we know how much we'll need?"

  "One moment, my lord," said Honakura. "I assume that the god gave you those jewels?"

  Wallie nodded.

  "Then they are rather special. The temple might well be interested in purchasing them."

  "Thank you, holy one." Wallie spoke solemnly, but he was grinning inside. The old rascal was saying that he would raid the temple treasury for him. "Brota, we shall need silk. I suppose we can buy some silk in this city? Good-quality silk?"

  "Very good silk," Brota agreed cautiously.

  "Orange would be best, of course. What could we use to waterproof it, do you think? Some sort of wax? Beeswax?"

  "Shoemakers' wax, perhaps," she replied.

  "Lina?" Wallie said. "Is that copper pot still in the galley? The one with the coil on it, which I used when I showed you how the sorcerers ensorcel wine?"

  The low sun was in Lina's eyes; she shaded them with a hand that was almost transparent as she peered across the deck at him. "It was getting in my way, nasty thing. It's down in the bilge somewhere."

  Tomiyano was turning pink and trying not to explode. Honakura was showing his gums and trying not to laugh.

  "Right! Captain, have we any ensorceled wine left?"

  Tomiyano thought there might be a bottle or two around somewhere.

  "No matter," Wallie said. "We'll get five
or six bottles and then ensorcel them again and get double-ensorceled wine."

  "Love a squid!" said Tomiyano. "Is it that much stronger again if you do that?"

  "No, about the same. But I need it very pure. We'd better do that ashore somewhere-it's too much of a fire hazard. Mata, would you do that for me? I'll show you how."

  The sailors were now clearly divided into those who were annoyed at being teased and those who were enjoying the annoyance of the first group.

  "Lae?" Wallie said. "Could you make me a gown?"

  The ship's honorary grandmother frowned. "Jja's a better seamstress than me, my lord."

  "But she'll be sewing the silk bags," Wallie said as if that were obvious. Where was Jja? What was keeping them all? "What I want from you is a blue gown, with a hood and those big, droopy sleeves."

  "You're going to pretend to be a sorcerer?" Tomiyano shouted. "You're going ashore as a sorcerer?"

  Wallie feigned surprise. "You think I'm crazy?"

  "The thought had drifted across my mind, perhaps."

  "Nonsense!" Wallie said. "Holiyi, you're the best carpenter on board. You'll cut some holes in the ship for me, won't you?"

  Holiyi was as skinny as Boariyi, although not especially tall. He probably had not spoken for hours-Holiyi seemed to get through the day on a handful of words like the legendary Arab on a handful of dates-but now he not only nodded, he exclaimed, "Of course!" as if he had expected the request. The grins grew wider.

  Wallie rose and walked over to the rail to stare across the plaza. "Well, I think that's about everything, then. The holy lord suggests that you anchor by the temple and save dock fees."

  "Where are you going in this ship of yours?" Tomiyano demanded. "This ship with the holes in it, and the silk bags full of ensorceled wine, and you in your sorcerer's robe?"

  Wallie pointed east, toward Vul. The volcanoes were dormant again, hardly smoking at all.

  "And who's going to sail it for you?"

  This was the tricky part, and all the mystifying had been mostly to get the man intrigued enough that he might agree. "I hoped that you would, Captain."