by David Duncan
"All right, brother," Wallie said. "I'm sorry, I should have kept you better informed. I just thought you had your own problems. Now, what is your financial genius suggesting?"
"He'll give us five thousand golds for the assault." Nnanji was still surly. Money was not a fit subject for swordsmen to worry about. "And the same for each successive assault, as long as we keep winning. All except Ov. He isn't sure about Ov."
"And what does he expect in return?"
Nnanji scowled and dropped his glare to the silver pelicans again. "The tower."
"What?"
"The sorcerers pulled down a lot of buildings to make their towers and leave open spaces around them, right? Katanji wants the land. He'll sell it and give us money to go on to the next city. He says land in a town is worth more than farmland. Is that right? It seems backward! You can't grow things on flagstones."
From rugs, to jewels, to livestock, to real estate? Katanji was making a logical progression to... to immense wealth! The Goddess had rewarded all those who had helped him, Wallie knew, and now he saw another example, very plainly. Was the lad himself already worth five thousand golds, or had he put together a syndicate? Did it matter?
What did matter was that the main support for Wallie's arguments had just collapsed. This was going to be trickier than he had expected.
The other Sevenths were all grinning. They had a right to, Wallie conceded to himself. He had overlooked the possibility of looting the sorcerers. Katanji had not, although he might not have considered the devastation an attack would bring, or what that might do to real estate values.
"Very well," he said grudgingly. "So we could finance the attacks that way. But there is another problem. Suppose we attack Sen or Wal-or any of the cities on the left bank. Suppose we take the tower. What happens then?"
Honakura had not thought of what happened then. It was unlikely that the swordsman would, even with sutras on strategy to help. They looked blankly at him, so he explained. The sorcerers would return to the hills.
Then they saw.
"Attack Vul?" Zoariyi muttered uneasily.
They talked that over and they did not like it. It would certainly have to wait until spring, perhaps even next summer. Vul-wherever or whatever it was-would be well fortified by then.
When they had all smelled that bad egg, Wallie laid another. "Forarfi has been doing a little research for me." He avoided looking at Nnanji, who was supposed to be Chief of Intelligence. "He has talked to all the Sixths and many Fifths. We have swordsmen here, my lords, from all over the World, He asked about other sorcerer cities, like Vul. There is one near Plo... and others, He compiled a list of eleven. I recited it to Rotanxi. He admitted that there are thirteen in all. Covens, he called them. He says that Vul is the greatest, but he may be bragging."
The Sevenths scowled at the mention of Rotanxi.
"Are you suggesting that we should have to attack all thirteen?" Zoariyi asked waspishly.
"I am suggesting that they may attack us! So far, apparently, only Vul has these thunderbolt weapons, or only Vul has used them. The others may well be waiting to see what happens here. We may be able to scotch Vul, my lords-although I am not confident-but we can hardly hope to kill all the sorcerers there. The survivors will flee to the other cities..."
The smarter ones nodded-Zoariyi, Tivanixi, Nnanji.
Outside, the day was blustery, even in the courtyard, and the miniature canvas city there flapped and rattled in the wind.
At last Nnanji put the matter into words. "Sometimes when you try to clean a stain you spread it?"
Wallie had been thinking of cancer cells, but that would do. As a child, Nnanji had cleaned rugs for his father.
"Exactly! In truth, my lords, there is no way that the tryst can triumph completely over the sorcerers. The best we can do is drive them away for a year or two. The worst we can do is to make things much worse than they are now."
"What are you suggesting, brother?" Nnanji demanded, his eyes glinting dangerously.
Here it came: "Try to make a treaty."
Their hiss of anger faded away into the flapping noises from beyond the windows and the crackling of the fire.
Then they began to exchange glances, and their eyes converged at last on Nnanji. The old suspicions of Shonsu had erupted again. He had a feathermark on his eyelid, he kept a sorcerer on his ship, there was always something strange about him. But Nnanji was the known sorcerer-killer of Ov, and it was impossible to suspect Nnanji of being anything but what he claimed to be, a simple swordsman.
They were bound to obey their liege lord, but the tryst could not last forever. Wallie could force these men to violate their own sense of honor, for they must obey his commands-until the tryst was disbanded. Then they would all be at liberty to challenge him, one after another to exhaustion. Yes, they would obey, but Nnanji was a liege lord, too, and if he were to try to take the tryst away from Wallie-young as he was-the other Sevenths in their present mood would probably not argue.
Nnanji was scarlet with rage. Wallie should have warned him in advance; that had been a stupid oversight.
Finally Nnanji said, "A treaty with assassins?" as if the words burned his mouth.
"We know that they will keep their oaths," Wallie said quietly.
"Three cities for them and four for us? Or the other way?"
"Seven for us, seven for them. I want to end the quarrel between our two crafts."
Stunned silence,
"And what does your tame sorcerer say to this?" The older men were all going to leave it to Nnanji.
"I haven't asked Rotanxi," Wallie said, "I was hoping to get your agreement first. He may well dislike the idea as much as you do. I just think that it is worth trying-the best thing for both sides. If we do attack Sen, say, we shall kill hundreds of innocent civilians. I don't think that's very honorable behavior."
"I think a treaty is worse!"
Almost imperceptibly, the others were nodding.
Wallie sighed. "It is a novel idea. You need time to think about it. But remember that the sorcerers know about our cavalry and our catapults and our archers; we could not have kept them secret had we tried. They are not fools. They know the odds. They must be worried. Now is the time to to offer terms."
"What terms?" Nnanji spat the words.
"They get rid of their thunderbolt weapons. We extend to them the same protection we give to all other crafts. The towers remain, but we put garrisons back in the cities."
Nnanji's jaw dropped. He glared incredulously at Wallie, then around at the others. Then he slumped forward, staring at the silver pelicans for along time, shaking his head, tugging at his ponytail as he did when he was thinking hard. No one else spoke. No one would meet Wallie's gaze.
Suddenly a log in the hearth collapsed in a shower of sparks, and Nnanji looked up with a curious gleam in his eye. "What do you propose to do next, Shonsu?"
"I thought I might go-we might go and talk to Rotanxi."
"I may come, then?"
What was amusing him? Still, that was a very good idea. Nnanji would be representative for the swordsmen. If Wallie could somehow convince him, then the other Sevenths must follow.
"Certainly! Let's do that, then. Lord Nnanji and I will go and sound out the sorcerer Seventh, my lords, and report back to you. If he turns us down flat, then my proposal is hopeless."
They took that as a welcome dismissal. They all sprang to their feet, saluted fist on heart, and marched to the door. The last one out was Boariyi. He slammed it behind him deafeningly.
Nnanji chuckled. "I think you upset them, brother!"
"I thought I'd upset you, too."
Nnanji wrinkled his nose in amusement. "That was when I thought you were serious! You fooled me there for a minute! Now, brother, your secrets are my secrets. What's your real plan?"
†† ††
The tryst had established its own loading dock on the waterfront. There were always swordsmen there, but the arrival of the
two liege lords with their combined bodyguards made it seem like an armed encampment. An icy wind was whipping in from the River, blowing spray. Lady Olonanghi's factory had begun delivery of swordsmen cloaks-strange garments that left sword hilt and sword arm free-but Wallie had insisted that the lowranks be outfitted first, for juniors spent more time out in the cold. Thus many white and yellow capes roiled in the wind around him, and a few browns, also, but the highranks and most of the middle-ranks shivered. Wallie was no exception. It was all he could do to keep his teeth from chattering.
Nnanji was managing to combine blue lips and a very black expression. He had finally been convinced that Wallie was serious in wanting a treaty. His disgust was bottomless. Just as the swordsmen arrived, so did Thana, bringing in one of Sapphire's dingies. She stared in astonishment at Nnanji's obvious anger and ephemeral kiss. She regarded the baggage with curiosity-bundles and two stools-then offered to take the visitors out. Wallie agreed, to save calling in a patrol boat.
Thana's questions began as soon as the dinghy was underway. She received no answers. Nnanji was in a speechless sulk, while she and Wallie had been on poor terms since the Olonimpi incident. Apparently Katanji had won the cigar.
The sun was bright enough, but could force no warmth through a white overcast. High above, creating this haze, three long plumes of cloud streamed toward die city from RegiVul. The Fire God was exceedingly enraged. Perhaps he disapproved of Boariyi's victory, or else he did not want a treaty, either. The River was choppy in the gusty wind, bouncing the boat roughly. The air bore a faint stink of sulfur.
Wallie was very conscious of Nnanji's anger and was miserably trying not to think about the Ikondorina prophecy: it is your kingdom that I covet. If the sorcerers would accept a treaty and Wallie tried to force it on the swordsmen, then Nnanji might very well be driven to that idea. The other Sevenths had no legal vote, but in practice their views must be considered. They might even encourage him to mutiny.
Then what? Nnanji's swordsmanship was certainly approaching seventh rank now, and the gods might not allow a fair match. The gods? The gods would not need to intervene! With foils Wallie was still the better man, but if he and Nnanji pulled swords, the result would be a forgone massacre. He had been reluctant to injure even Boariyi, whom he had disliked. He could never exert himself against Nnanji. Where honor was concerned, Nnanji would have no such milksop scruples.
A long tack brought them alongside Sapphire and Wallie scrambled up the rope ladder to the deck. It seemed larger than usual because it was almost deserted. Anchored by the bow, the ship faced toward far-off RegiVul. The old sorcerer in his blue gown was huddled in Brota's trading chair in the lee of the fo'c'sle. The golden city lay aft. Faint shouts from that direction showed that the children were romping in the deckhouse, out of the wind. Jja was just emerging, swathed in sweater and pants of thick black wool. Tomiyano and Holiyi, on hands and knees amidships, were holystoning the deck, and still defiantly wearing only skimpy breechclouts, to demonstrate macho indifference to cold.
Wallie flashed Jja a brief smile and then turned to catch the stools and bundles as Nnanji tossed them up from the dingy. Jja was a problem. It was two days since he had last been out to Sapphire, so his physical reaction to her would be overwhelming-Shonsu's glands would roar-but this visit was too important to waste time on mere bodily processes. He must try to find some free time in the near future to deal with such personal trivia.
The last bundle delivered, he turned and found her standing beside him. For an instant her deep, dark eyes searched his face, then she inclined her head and waited in silence.
"We only came to talk with Lord Rotanxi, love," he said. "You go back inside, out of the wind."
But Tomiyano was there, also, arms akimbo, blocking Wallie's path. So we were back to formalities, were we? He began the salute to a superior-and the captain cut him off.
"Never mind that bilge, Shonsu! I want to talk business."
"Be quick about it!"
"I'm told the tryst is short of cash."
"What is that to do with you, sailor?"
"I thought a thousand golds might interest you?"
Startled, Wallie paused to think, moving aside as Nnanji and Thana came on board. Tomiyano flashed them a smile and went back to scowling at Wallie. Nnanji was the popular swordsman on Sapphire now. He was one of the family. He slept on board every night, no matter how late the banquets and balls ended; Nnanji seemed able to dispense with sleep for weeks at a time when he wanted to. But what was the sailor after? Wallie did not doubt that the money was available. He was sure that Brota had far more than that hidden away aboard somewhere, the family's savings. Then he noticed that Brota herself had emerged from the fo'c'sle door and was standing beside it, red robe rippling, watching the exchange with a worried stare. Expecting trouble?
"A thousand golds for what, Captain?"
Tomiyano indicated Jja with a jerk of his head. "Her."
Jja gasped.
"Been entertaining the crew, have you?" Wallie roared.
She shook her head wildly. "No, master! I know nothing of this!"
Tomiyano had his hand very close to his dagger. "You should know better than that, Shonsu!"
"Then what the hell do you mean?"
"I mean that she's a desirable property and she isn't getting the use she deserves. She's pining. I've heard her weeping in her cabin. If you don't want her, then I'll take her. A thousand? It's a fair offer."
It was an absurd offer. No slave, no matter how attractive, would ever fetch more than twenty. It was also an offer that made murder feel like a very good idea. Wallie's hand trembled with me conflicting signals it was being sent.
"You stay away from my slave, sailor, or by the gods, I'll fillet you!"
"Twelve hundred?"
Nnanji grabbed Wallie's arm just in time. "Easy, brother!"
Wallie jerked free, sending Nnanji staggering backward. "No!" He glared at the horror-struck Jja. "You're coming ashore with me when I go! Get your things ready!"
She nodded fearfully. "Vixini, master?"
Having Jja underfoot would be bad enough. He certainly did not want a slave baby with a blacksmith fathermark running after him, calling him Daddy in front of the swordsmen. "He stays here!"
Jja paled even more. He had promised her once...
"And stay out of my business, sailor!"
Wallie nodded to Nnanji, grabbed up one of the bundles, and headed forward. Thana had gone to join Brota. The two of them retreated into the fo'c'sle.
Twelve hundred golds! Wallie struggled to drag his mind back to business. The insolence! But Rotanxi was more important at the moment. What game was the sailor playing? He must have known that Wallie would not accept. Had Rotanxi overheard? A supreme trader like Tomiyano would never open negotiations that way...
Nnanji clattered the two stools down in front of the sorcerer. Nnanji was back to scowling. The sorcerer raised his shaggy white eyebrows. Wallie made formal salute, and the old man pushed himself to his feet to respond. Nnanji glowered at Wallie, saluted peremptorily, and barely waited for Rotanxi's response before sitting down.
"The wind is chill, my lord," Wallie said. "Would you prefer to go below?"
"This is fine."
Wallie sat. The old man was better dressed, and that put him about ten points ahead already. On the deck near his feet lay a sheet of vellum, weighted down by a marlinespike. His quill and ink bottle lay beside them. He had asked for those-almost humbly-many days before. Wallie had granted them, trusting him not to send messages. Probably he was recording all the curious knowledge he had extracted from Lord Shonsu.
"We came to give you a progress report on the tryst, my lord."
"You came to gloat?" Any slight relaxation that had crept into their relationship over the past weeks had vanished now. The sorcerer could smell business, and business at the moment was war. His always-craggy face was stony.
The deck was empty except for the three of them and
Tomiyano, who had gone back to his scraping. The others had all gone below. A haze of volcanic dust was sweeping by in the wind.
Ignoring Rotanxi's question, Wallie began to summarize what had been reported at the meeting-the catapults, the archers, the guerrillas, the cavalry. He described Boariyi's success-six dead, eight captured. Nnanji ground his teeth in silence. Finally Wallie assured the sorcerer that he could finance his attack. The tryst was almost ready for battle.
"So you want me to go back and tell my friends to give up?" Rotanxi was needle-sharp. Swordsmen won promotion by prowess with their blades. Sorcerers must do so by intelligence test.
"I wanted to show you that we can win."
"Against our thunder weapons? It will be bloody."
"We have much more blood available than you do, my lord."
The sorcerer's wrinkles writhed, displaying skepticism. "We shall see."
"I should rather not," Wallie said. "We shall wreck the cities and kill innocent bystanders."
"Since when have swordsmen worried about civilians?"
Wallie vowed a silent oath that he was not going to lose his temper. "This tryst was called to restore the honor of the swordsmen's craft, my lord. Killing civilians is not honorable and never has been. To be quite honest, I am not sure that killing sorcerers is, either. Do you know the origin of the quarrel between our two crafts?"
"No. It goes back even before our records."
"Then let us two stop it."
That won a reaction. The sorcerer stared at him unbelievingly.
"I came to suggest a treaty," Wallie said. "Before the serious killing starts."
"Bah! Why should we? You cannot win, Shonsu! One tower or even two, perhaps, but then we shall go away! Had you not thought of that? Admit it-the tryst must be disbanded. You cannot hold your superiority in numbers. In five years we shall be back." He smiled a cruel, thin-lipped smile. "Of course you are welcome to attack Vul again. I hope you try! You may win in the short run, but we win in the end. Admit it, swordsman!"
