The Destiny of the Sword

by David Duncan

  The other five Sevenths were implacable. They had been given time to think about a treaty, and they thought even less of it afterward than they had before. Be nice to sorcerers? Shameful! A twenty-day truce with winter coming? Insanity! Liege Nnanji as hostage? Outrageous! All their war preparations to be thrown away? Treason! They were not saying so, but their opinion was obvious. Rotanxi could not help but notice. He would surely withdraw from the agreement if he felt that Shonsu could not count on the willing support of even his senior officers.

  Then Wallie played what he thought was his trump card, his argument-for-sorcerers that had apparently converted Nnanji-if this struggle goes ahead, then swordsmen and even civilians will get hold of the sorcerers' weapons. It did not work. It was too farfetched and hypothetical for the Sevenths. Their icy disapproval did not thaw hi the slightest.

  Nnanji caught Wallie's eye, grinned faintly, and shook his head. Nnanji was being uncharacteristically telepathic this day and he was saying that this was not the argument to use.

  But what was? Why had he come around so dramatically? Even Wallie did not know, and the other Sevenths certainly did not. Nnanji had them all baffled-they kept staring at him, trying to understand his inexplicable change of heart.

  Finally Wallie asked for comments or questions. A pall of silence fell, like earth on a coffin lid. As it dragged on, Rotanxi turned and gave him a quizzical and cynical glance-this is your support?

  Wallie's temper began to stir. Stupid iron-age barbarians! Ignorant savages! Why had he been given this impossible task? For the first time since his early days in the temple at Harm, he felt a great longing for his old life on Earth come washing over him and a bottomless contempt for this primitive culture and its mule-headed swordsmen. Almost he could want to wash his hands of the whole affair, of the tryst, of the gods' mission. He could take Jja down to the River and find a ship and sail away to be a water rat for the rest of his days...

  Which would be few and nasty, if he defied the Goddess.

  "Shonsu," Nnanji said, "perhaps we should allow the valiant lords a chance to discuss this without the sorcerer present?" He could not portray innocence nearly as well as his duplicitous brother could. He was plotting something. Wallie hesitated and then concluded that he had no choice. He would have to trust Nnanji.

  "Very well! My lord?" Wallie rose and escorted Rotanxi to the door. As he had expected, Nnanji stayed where he was. The door closed behind them, Rotanxi turned to say something...

  But Wallie had already gone.

  There were only a few bodyguards remaining in the long antechamber-and Jja. He had set her on a stool and told her to wait, certain that she would be safe there, after what had happened the last time she had visited the lodge. Safe from swordsmen-but now she was standing with eyes downcast in front of a very tall woman in blue. Wallie hurtled along the room with giant strides.

  "Doa!"

  "Ah, there you are, my dear!" the minstrel said in a voice that would have swarmed bees.

  "I am very busy today, my lady!"

  "That's quite all right, darling. I was just interviewing this slave."

  "Interviewing?"

  Doa's large mouth showed all her teeth in a smile. "This is Jja, is it not? The one you promised to give me?"

  For a moment her audacity left Wallie speechless. Jja was being as silent as a rock.

  He had never seen them together before-and the glint in Doa's eye said plainly that he had better choose which one he wanted.

  Then Jja looked up at him, and the appeal he saw there would have hauled the sun god down from his heaven.

  He stepped between them and put an arm around Jja, wondering what rubbish Doa had been saying. The swordsmen were listening and trying to appear otherwise. He must not lose his temper.

  Jja moved against him, seeking contact. He remembered his momentary dream of sailing away into the sunset, and remembered who had been included in that dream. Not Doa.

  "Yes, this is Jja. Jja, my love, this is Lady Doa. I am not planning to give you to her. Whatever she told you, she was lying."

  Doa's face flamed scarlet. The swordsmen were being very quiet.

  "Honorable Forarfi!" Wallie was keeping his voice calm only by immense effort. "Escort Lady Doa from the lodge. See that she is not admitted in future. My lady, I shall not be available this evening to escort you to the healers' banquet."

  He thought for a moment that Doa was going to spring at him. He rather hoped she would.

  "I shall go to the banquet anyway! They want me to sing. I have some new songs to try."

  "Watch your tongue, minstrel, or you will sing them to rats in the dungeon."

  Doa gasped, then she wheeled around and stalked toward the door.

  Wallie put his other arm around Jja also. "I am sorry, my love, so very sorry! Don't believe her, whatever she said."

  Jja just stared up at him, searching.

  "Wallie?" she whispered.

  "Who else?"

  The door to the council chamber flew open and Nnanji's voice sang out. "Brother!"

  But Wallie was busy and did not hear. It was Jja who finally broke the embrace. "They are waiting for you, my love," she whispered.

  "Let them!" Wallie said, and kissed her again, for several more minutes. When he eventually released her and headed back to the meeting, he was feeling lightheaded and so aroused that he wondered if he even cared what happened to the tryst.

  He had made a dangerous enemy in Doa.

  Who cared? He saw at once that the mood of the meeting had changed. The five Sevenths were all beaming. Rotanxi, standing in their midst, was attempting to hide his lack of understanding under an aristocratic sneer.

  And Nnanji was grinning from shoulder to shoulder. "I think the valiant lords have come around, brother!"

  "It is a noble cause, my liege!" Zoariyi proclaimed. As the oldest, he was the natural spokesman. "Lord Nnanji has indeed persuaded me."

  The others nodded, smiling and apparently excited.

  How?

  Why?

  Who cared? Wallie looked to Rotanxi and shrugged. "Then we can go ahead and swear our oaths, my lord?"

  The sorcerer nodded uneasily. "What arguments did you use, Lord Nnanji, exactly?"

  Nnanji smirked. "Exactly? Exactly the arguments that Lord Shonsu gave you, my lord, and that you accepted. Word for word, and nothing else, I swear." He was enjoying himself enormously. Being able to mystify Wallie was a new experience for him. "Shonsu, for an oath like this you ought to summon the priests!"

  "I suppose so."

  "Then why not take Lord Rotanxi to the dungeons while we wait?" He sniggered at Wallie's expression. "To show him how swordsmen treat prisoners? And meanwhile-" He swung around in high glee to the castellan. "-Lord Tivanixi and I have time for our fencing match!"

  * * *

  Dungeons were dungeons-dark, dank, and damp, smelling of urine and rats. Wallie had been insistent that the prisoners were to be well treated. By the standards of the World, he had been obeyed. He let Rotanxi speak to them in private, assuming that the old man would explain that they were now counterhostages and therefore not in immediate danger. It would have been interesting to hear what they thought of the proposed treaty and its chances.

  Yet dungeons were dungeons, and it was a relief to emerge once more into fresh air, even the fresh air of the lodge courtyard, tainted by the numerous outhouses and bathhouses now filling it. Their canvas still flapped and thumped, but over that noise Wallie heard a distant cheer.

  "We still have some time to kill, my lord," he suggested. "How about viewing a little fencing? Not your favorite sport, I should imagine, but another interesting tale to take back."

  The sorcerer was still blinking in the bright daylight. "Indeed!" he said. "But first tell me what happened with Lord Nnanji? How did he persuade the others?"

  "If he says he used the same arguments, my lord, then I must believe him. I admit I don't understand."

  Rotanxi frowned, worri
ed. "If it were anyone else-even, with respect, yourself, Lord Shonsu-I should suspect treachery. But him..." He shook his head. During his captivity on Sapphire, he had come to know Nnanji. Even a sorcerer could not expect duplicity from Nnanji. Nnanji would commit murder with a smile, but he would not lie about it.

  Wallie led the way, through the tunnel and the archway to the steps before the lodge, evicting a half-dozen middleranks to make room. The polo matches were over, and now the assembled swordsmen were watching fencing. Almost every man seemed to have an arm around a woman as he celebrated this holiday. Few noticed the sinister sorcerer standing with their liege.

  In the center of this huge circle of onlookers, Nnanji and Tivanixi were dancing to and fro among the dung heaps, flashing foils.

  "Ooo!" said the crowd, and Nnanji capered to show that he had a hit.

  "The score?" Wallie demanded of a nearby Third.

  "Two nothing, my liege. Best of five."

  Then the fencers closed again, whirling foils too fast to follow, leaping forward and back, impersonally masked, ponytails jumping. The crowd roared at a narrow escape, but neither man claimed a point and the battle continued. Wallie had never watched a match between Sevenths before. High-speed ballet with steel-it was magnificent, the grace of both athletes in motion. He noted how tall Nnanji was, compared to Tivanixi, and how fast. Here and there he recognized some of his own favorite moves, but most were too quick for even him to analyze. Superb experts, inspiring each other...

  "Ahh!" That was it, the match point. Nnanji's mask spun high in the air, his whoop of triumph lost in the roar as the crowd surged forward. Tivanixi's face appeared, flushed and grinning, and he raised his foil in salute, while Nnanji was swept up on shoulders to be marched around the plaza.

  Wallie stared in astonishment. So now Nnanji was a believable Seventh, not a convenient fiction, and a very good Seventh if he could beat Tivanixi. That just did not seem possible! Nnanji was a lightning-fast learner, but to reach such a level so quickly? Four weeks ago, he had barely made Sixth. Surely the castellan had thrown that match, faking it as a tribute to Nnanji's display of courage in agreeing to go as hostage to Vul? If he had, would Nnanji have been able to detect the fraud?

  The display of popularity was even more surprising. The smart-aleck kid had gained acceptance by sheer perseverance, with sweat and innumerable bruises. A short while ago he had won over the Sevenths and now, apparently, the rest of the swordsmen, also.

  Wallie turned to speak to the sorcerer and saw satisfaction on his face. A popular hostage was a valuable hostage.

  Before they could speak, however, two sedan chairs appeared at the side of the steps. Honakura and Kadywinsi disembarked in a fluster of attendant priests and priestesses.

  Wallie's first reaction to Honakura was delight. A ruddiness had replaced the ominous pallor. Then the old man came creeping up the steps, leaning on a younger priest. At close quarters his skin had a strange transparency to it, and the brightness in his eyes was febrile. Sometimes a candle will flare up momentarily, just before it gutters out?

  Wallie saluted and presented Rotanxi, all of them having to shout above the continuing roar of the crowd.

  "You are in good health, holy one?"

  The old eyes sparkled up at him. "Not especially. But I see that you are-and you have your treaty!"

  His face asked a question.

  Wallie nodded meaningfully. He is enthusiastic!

  Honakura raised an eyebrow. Why?

  Wallie shrugged. I don't know!

  "We were just watching some fencing, my lord," he said. "Lord Nnanji has just beaten Lord Tivanixi, the third best man in the tryst."

  Honakura nodded, understanding. "We priests have a saying. Lord Shonsu: The pupil may be greater than the teacher."

  And Wallie, in turn, understood that. It could only be the epigram from the same sutra as the story of the red-haired brother. The epitome would deal with mentors' obligations, of course. Well, he did not think Nnanji was quite there yet-but he had no desire to find out, certainly not with blades.

  Then Kadywinsi arrived, and the salutes began again. The crowd noise billowed louder. Wallie glanced over heads in time to see Boariyi's grinning face vanish inside a mask. Nnanji was being borne shoulder-high toward him, waving his foil and laughing. Would Boariyi also throw a match for him?

  The liege lord could not stay to watch. He must escort his guests indoors. He did not really want to watch, anyway.

  When they reached the council chamber, they found it full of busy swordsmen. Jja was there, also, and Honakura greeted her with warmth and affection, shocking the other priests by demanding a kiss.

  Linumino had been efficient, as usual. The bed had gone; chairs had appeared from somewhere for the guests; tables bore white cloths and refreshments. There was even a small brazier by the fireplace so that Rotanxi might swear over fire without setting his gown ablaze.

  Important oaths were sworn before priests. Oaths of great significance required seven of them, one of each rank, to combine status and longevity. Wallie had to meet them all. He already knew a few of them, including the surly priestess of the Third who had brought him Honakura's message on his first day in Casr. Eventually he settled the old man on a chair, fetched him a glass of wine, and had a moment for a private word.

  "Nnanji approves?" Honakura whispered.

  Wallie told how Nnanji had not merely approved of the treaty, but had also convinced the others.

  The old man shook his head in wonder. "We did indeed teach him well, my lord!" But he was as puzzled as Wallie. A treaty with swordsman killers? It was totally out of character.

  Then other Sevenths came streaming in-Tivanixi, Zoariyi, Jansilui-and the salutes began again. Eventually Boariyi and Nnanji appeared also, hot and sweaty, grinning like children-and Thana, more catlike than ever.

  When Nnanji arrived at Wallie his eyes were dancing.

  "You won again?"

  "Straight points again!" He was so pleased with himself that he was almost giggling. "Sure you can't spare a few minutes, Shonsu?"

  "Quite sure! We'll do it when you return!"

  Disappointed, Nnanji nodded. "Get lots of practice, then!"

  Wallie smiled tolerantly.

  "Brother?" Nnanji said softly. "Tell me the exact words you are going to swear?"

  "Why?"

  "Because I am bound also."

  "True! Sorry!" Wallie told him the oath he had prepared. Nnanji smiled cryptically and nodded again.

  "Remember-lots of practice!" he said and moved on.

  It had to be a setup, did it not? Tivanixi and Boariyi had cooked it up between them?

  Never!

  They put too much value on their status as top fencers. They would not throw that away, even for Nnanji. Certainly neither would have faked a straight-points defeat. Three-two, just maybe, but three-nothing was humiliation. So no trickery; Nnanji had trashed them both. Nnanji and Shonsu were the two best.

  Which left only one question.

  Three-nothing, against Boariyi!

  The meeting had come to order. The priests and priestesses were lined up and waiting, all except Honakura, who had stayed in his chair, insisting he had come only to watch. Wallie stepped to the center and drew his sword, glancing around at the company-priests and swordsmen, heralds and minstrels. Jja was there, also, at his insistence, trying to be invisible in one corner, staying close to Thana.

  Then Wallie swung back for another look at the cluster of minstrels. Doa! She smirked at him over the others' heads. How had she managed to return? He had given orders-but he had only given them to Forarfi, who had now been sent to charter a ship. Of course Linumino would have specified that Lady Doa be included with the minstrels. Angrily he turned his back on her, facing toward the priests.

  He raised the seventh sword to the oath position, at arm's length, pointing over the witnesses' heads. I, Shonsu, swordsman of the seventh rank, liege lord...

  History was made then. Th
e senior swordsman of the World swore to work for peace with sorcerers. No miracle intervened. No thunder rolled. No earthquake threw down the lodge on his head. It was almost an anticlimax.

  He stepped back, and Rotanxi came forward to extend one hand above the brazier and swear his oath, also.

  And still the World did not move.

  Wallie shook Rotanxi's hand. The witnesses cheered and applauded.

  That was it? Epochs end so quietly? Wallie had a whirling sensation of unreality. He had expected more, somehow.

  He noted that the Sevenths were looking puzzled again, and worried.

  "My lords..." He gestured toward the table of refreshments.

  "Shonsu?"

  Wallie stiffened. "Yes, Nnanji?"

  "I also wish to swear an oath." Nnanji smiled apologetically.

  "I trust that you will share it with me first?"

  Nnanji nodded, then could no longer restrain a huge and childlike grin. "I have solved the god's riddle for you, brother! I know how you must return the sword. And I know its destiny!"

  The audience waited. Jja, Honakura, Tivanixi seemed startled, the rest only puzzled. Wallie was thinking furiously.

  Old Kadywinsi spoke first. "The seventh sword? The sword of the Goddess? She sent it to lead the tryst against die sorcerers, didn't She?"

  "Not really, holiness," Nnanji said. "The sorcerers have nothing to do with it. The sorcerers are not important at all."

  What in the World was going on under that red hair? What had Nnanji seen that Wallie could have missed? "So how do I return the sword, brother Nnanji?"

  "You go to Quo, where it was made."

  Wallie stared at him, apprehensive, totally baffled. "Quo?"

  "Perhaps you would like to have a private word, brother?"

  Wallie said he thought that would be a very good idea.

  ††† †††

  There were swordsmen in the anteroom and swordsmen standing around the door. "Upstairs!" Nnanji said. Wallie trotted up after him; but there were two dormitories on the next floor, and vacationing swordsmen there, also.

  "Top floor-race you!" Nnanji sprinted off up the stairs like an excited child. Wallie followed more slowly, worrying his problem as a puppy worries a slipper. Whatever Nnanji was thinking, he was very sure of himself. Always he had deferred to Shonsu, but that had been because Shonsu was the greatest swordsman in the World, thus a hero. Now who was greatest?