Warriors Of Latan rb-37

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Warriors Of Latan rb-37 Page 10

by Джеффри Лорд


  The village was completely surrounded by a ten-foot wall of logs with thorny bushes tied to the top. At the foot of the wall was an equally deep ditch, crossed by four bridges to guarded gates. Pointed stakes jutted upward from the bottom of the ditch. Blade hoped all this fortification was just against shpugas, but it looked too strong and too new. In fact, one of the gateways was still under construction.

  The Uchendi were preparing for war-a war in which they expected to have to fight the Rutari to the last ditch. A war in which Richard Blade was also sure to be involved, if it took place while he was still in this Dimension.

  Blade wondered if he'd jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. He also hoped that Crystal's father and uncle would be up to the job of leading their people in a desperate battle. Blade knew he was good, but on the whole he wasn't quite sure he was up to the job of playing Winston Churchill to the Uchendi. Assuming, of course, they would let him try.

  Blade reined his ezinti to a stop as the nearest gate of the village opened and spewed out people. There were no more than fifty, but they were shouting and laughing loud enough for two hundred. His beast began to balk and fitter, and Blade had to concentrate on keeping it under control or at least keeping his seat. He was not going to spoil his first appearance at the capital of the Uchendi by falling on his arse.

  It was some slight consolation to Blade that Winter Owl was having just as much trouble not going head over heels. There was a middle-aged woman clinging to his leg with one hand and pounding his thigh with the other, to emphasize her points. Winter Owl looked down at her, with a long-suffering smile on his face.

  «Mother!» Crystal's voice cut through the din. «I know you're glad to see us home. Will you be so glad to see your brother trampled flat as scraped ezinti hide?»

  «Hold your tongue, Eye of Crystal,» said the woman, but there was laughter in her voice. «When this-mighty warrior was a small naked boy, yes, there were many times I hoped the ezintis would do dreadful things to him. Alas, they never heard my prayers.»

  «Since neither the shpugas nor the Uchendi seem to have done that work either, what could the ezintis have possibly done?» said Winter Owl. «Would you have had the ezintis perish trying to rid you of me, so that the hunters could not ride and the Uchendi would go hungry for meat? Really, Kyarta my sister, you have no sense when you think of how to rid yourself of me!»

  Obviously this was an old game between them, one everybody in the village was used to. Blade saw broad grins all around him as the exchange of insults and accusations grew wider. Then suddenly everyone fell silent, as if they'd been struck mute. Winter Owl's mount reared once more, then even it was calm.

  A man was walking toward the crowd. Blade knew without being told that this was Crystal's father, He Who Guards the Voice, and thought to himself that he hoped the man had a shorter name! Like his daughter, he was short and squarely built, but without her pleasing roundness. His scarred but unwrinkled brown skin was stretched tightly over what were obviously still rock-hard muscles. He wore only a loinguard of ezinti hide and a necklace of copper disks; his nearly bald scalp was tattooed in complex swirling patterns of green and yellow.

  He was smiling as he approached, but in spite of the smile he looked as if he'd be every bit as shrewd and formidable an enemy or friend as the Wise One.

  Blade dismounted and advanced to meet the man who was also called Guardian.

  «I am Blade, a warrior of England. I came into Latan in the lands of the Rutari, but they asked of me things that are unlawful for me. So I came away from them, and-«

  «Guardian! He is a wizard who slew a shpuga by unclean magic!» No need to ask if that was River Over Stones running on as usual.

  «By magic that may be unclean,» said Eye of Crystal, «but we don't know-«

  «He used it on the shpuga where she and I were present!» shouted River. «Who can be sure if her tongue is her own?»

  «If you were there, then the same can be said of your tongue!» snapped Crystal. «As well as all the other things that can be said of it,» she added spitefully.

  Blade mentally counted to ten. Here we go again with the Uchendi national sport of arguing. River's outburst had done its dirty work, too, even though Crystal now seemed to be holding her own. People were backing away from Blade, pointing and whispering. Nobody was smiling now, and some of the looks turned toward Blade were a long way from friendly.

  One of these days I am going to strangle River Over Stones with my bare hands and claim I was just getting rid of a public nuisance, thought Blade. He really didn't care for the idea of having somebody like that at his back, no matter what the Guardian might say.

  First things first, again. Get the Guardian on your side, then stuff something in River's big mouth.

  Blade waited until River and Crystal seemed to run out of breath. So did the Guardian. Then, before anyone else could join in, Blade stepped close to the Guardian and gave him a military salute.

  «By this sign of the warriors of England, I submit myself to your judgment of the lawfulness of my magic. Your name is honored among the Uchendi for your knowledge of the Spirit world and your great sense of judgment. Therefore I do not fear receiving other than justice at your hands.»

  The Guardian grinned, showing yellow but even teeth. «A very pretty speech, Blade of England. So pretty that I am almost tempted to refuse to give you judgment, lest my people think you flattered me into it.»

  «Father-«began Crystal.

  «Be silent!» shouted River. «You speak when the Guardian listens to another. The law-«

  «IS BETTER KNOWN TO ME THAN TO EITHER OF YOU!» bellowed the Guardian, in a voice that made everyone around him jump. Blade's ears rang, and two men working on the gateway were so startled they fell into the ditch.

  «Very good,» said the Guardian, «now that my ears are no longer being beaten by words heavier than a smith's hammer and not nearly as useful… River Over Stones, be silent now or face being made silent for a longer time.» The young warrior glared but held his tongue. «Daughter, you did not tell me that this man Blade had come for judgment.»

  «You were too busy arguing with River Over Stones. I forgive you for shaming my teaching, just this once. The next time you forget how I taught you to always tell all things that need to be known, I shall not be so gentle.»

  The Guardian turned back to Blade. «You have indeed come for judgment of your magic? All your magic ways?»

  «I do not know all the ways of magic among the Uchendi,» said Blade. «Certainly I will submit to your judgment in all ways known among the English. The rest may be judged by the Spirits, if judgment is needed.» He smiled. «I know I will receive a wiser judgment here than they sought to give me among the Rutari.»

  That went over well, judging from the new grins, and it was also perfectly true-at least if Blade was judged by Crystal's father. But if River Over Stones had been giving the judgment…

  «May the Spirits desert us if this is not so,» said Crystal, and her father nodded.

  «Now, Blade, I think it best we go to my house-«

  «Open judgment, open judgment, open judgment!» screamed River Over Stones. Several people took up the cry. Crystal looked ready to castrate her suitor, and the Guardian was frowning.

  «If there is a call for the judgment to be reached with others present, I must submit to it,» he said. «It seems to me this is not wise with unknown magic, but it is the law.»

  «My magic may not be lawful by the ways of the Uchendi,» said Blade. «But if my oath means anything, I give it here, that I will use no magic in the judgment and no man witnessing it need fear me. Is that enough?»

  «More than enough,» said the Guardian, in a voice daring River to disagree. The young man gritted his teeth, then also nodded.

  Blade let the Guardian and Crystal lead him away from the village, toward a patch of open ground just short of the fields. He couldn't really say that being probed telepathically-which is what the judgment consisted of-and ma
ybe being rendered helpless in the presence of at least fifty possible enemies was his favorite way to spend a morning.

  On the other hand, if he passed the judgment in the eyes of all the witnesses, he would be sure of his acceptance among the Uchendi. There was always a moment when you had to stop running, and this looked like a good moment to at least try.

  Chapter 15

  Blade didn't know what to expect after they reached the open ground. He settled for breathing slowly and deeply, to get his mind and body under as much control as he could.

  He also kept a watchful eye open for an escape route. He did want to stop his running here if he could, but wouldn't stop if the Uchendi were setting him up for murder. The circle of would-be witnesses around the testing area grew steadily thicker, but at least only a few of them were armed. Children kept wandering too far forward and being hauled back by their parents.

  The Guardian's wife Kyarta also wanted to get a good look at Blade, but Eye of Crystal stopped her. The two women started another half-serious argument, too far from Blade for him to hear more than one word in three. Winter Owl did not intervene-he was too busy placing the handful of armed men at precise intervals around the circle of witnesses. River Over Stones also kept his mouth shut for once. Probably he expected Blade's testing to prove that he'd been right all along about the Englishman's having evil magic.

  While all this was going on, the Guardian was standing in the center of the bare ground, his feet slightly apart, his arms crossed on his chest, and his eyes on the ground. It was impossible to tell whether he was hypnotizing himself, communing with the Spirits, or simply trying to fight off boredom.

  Finally the Guardian raised his head.

  «Blade, come here.» He might have been addressing a puppy who'd made a mess on the floor. Blade swallowed his resentment at the tone, assuming it was part of the ritual, and obeyed the command.

  «Blade, stop right there.» Blade did so, about six feet from the Guardian.

  «Is it the custom among the English to use the Seed of Wisdom?»

  «By this, do you mean what the-your enemies-call the kerush?»

  «That is their unlawful name for the sacred seed, yes. You are forgiven for using that name in this place-once.»

  «I will have no need to call it by other than its lawful name now that I know that name.»

  «You certainly have some wisdom. So, do you use the Seed of Wisdom in English magic?»

  «No. But I did use it when I was among your enemies. It made it easier for them to learn about my magic. It also made it easier for me to learn how unlawful their wishes were for me. I do not know if your magic is like your enemies' magic, or if you and I will also need the Seed of Wisdom. And that is not seeking to gain knowledge I must not have. It is just the wisdom of knowing that I do not know everything.»

  Blade hoped this effort at tact would pay off. He only knew as much about Uchendi telepathy as the Rutari had told him, which wasn't much. It certainly didn't include what form of the kerush the Uchendi used, and he didn't like the idea of taking unknown quantities of drugs even among a people who'd treated him decently.

  In fact, he didn't even know if he would be telepathic without either Cheeky or the kerush. But he wasn't going to hint at that possibility, not with someone as shrewd as the Guardian.

  There was a long silence. It seemed to Blade that this trip to Dimension X was full of long silences, while he or somebody else decided what to do next. He'd read science fiction stories in which telepathy solved all human problems. All his experience with telepathy so far suggested that it caused more problems than it solved. The only thing he'd really gained from telepathy was Cheeky-and then he'd lost the feather-monkey to a case of the hots!

  Blade's eyes roamed around the circle of witnesses. River Over Stones was looking nakedly triumphant. Winter Owl's face was unreadable, but his eyes moved back and forth, from the Guardian to Blade. Eye of Crystal was frowning, but this might be her mother's fault. Kyarta looked ready to shout advice to her husband.

  Then the Guardian smiled. Blade didn't need to hear River Over Stones's snarled obscenity to know that was a good sign. «You do indeed show much wisdom. Also a kind of courage not common in a warrior: the courage to admit a weakness.»

  «If you wish to kill me, Guardian, you can do so whether you know my weaknesses or not. If you do not wish to kill me, then knowing my weaknesses will do me no harm. Indeed, it may keep you from killing me by chance. I do not think you would be happy to do that.»

  «I would not. But let us leave the contest of praise until after I have tested you. For now, I will say that we boil the Seed of Wisdom with water and the juices of fruit. Then we drink it. Does this seem to make it dangerous for you?»

  «It does not.»

  «Good. Then it is my advice that you drink it. If you have survived the kerush-magor of our enemies, our Sweet Wisdom can do you no harm. Also, it will make your testing easier. «

  «Do you wish to make my testing so much easier, that I might succeed where I ought to have failed? Is that wise for you and the Uchendi?»

  «As you say, Blade of the English, if I want to kill you I can do so easily. And I assure you that if you fail the testing I will very probably wish to kill you. By making the testing easy I mean only that it will take less strength from either of us. I should guard my strength for other tasks, you also if you do succeed.»

  That made sense, and Blade said so, then added, «Bring me the Sweet Wisdom, and I shall drink it.»

  The Guardian clapped his hands, and Eye of Crystal herself ran out, carrying a gourd closed with a gilded-leather stopper on a loop of thin copper wire.

  The Sweet Wisdom fizzed like a carbonated beverage; the Uchendi must have mixed it with gasified water from a natural spring. The fruit juice was purple and sweet without being overpowering, like a cross between an apple and a peach. Blade knew that the slight bitterness of the kerush would be lost under the sweetness, so he didn't waste time trying to guess the dosage. He simply drank the gourd empty, then set it down.

  «You should sit down, Blade,» said the Guardian, pointing at the ground.

  Blade started to shake his head, then found his knees quivering slightly. He quickly obeyed the Guardian so none of the watchers would suspect him of being afraid.

  Then suddenly the world twisted around him, so much like it did during a Transition that he half expected to see the booth surrounding him. Instead the circle of Uchendi spectators seemed to widen enormously, until they were only a dark fringe of barely human figures around a vast empty expanse of bare earth.

  At the same time Blade felt as if his head were sitting on a sheet of glass, entirely separate from his body but still alive. He could see his body down there below the glass, but he couldn't make it do anything or feel any sensation from it. He was a disembodied brain attached to just enough sense organs to remind him that there was something outside his brain.

  So he wasn't surprised to hear the Guardian's voice as if it was spoken both in his mind and in his ears.

  («Welcome to the Sphere of Wisdom, Blade.»)

  («It is for you to say if I am welcome or not, He Who Guards the Voice. «)

  («You are more welcome because you have come here swiftly. And yes, that is a good sign for your judgment, and yes again, I can see even the beginning of a thought and from that beginning read the whole.»)

  («I can see why you were sure you could kill me easily.»)

  («Very surely, Blade. Without much effort, I could stop your heart. With a little more effort, I could make you tear your flesh from your bones with your own hands. I have not punished anyone that way in my whole life, but He Who Guards the Voice before me did it three times and died of old age… And tell me, Blade, who is Lord-Lay-tun-and why should he wish to know me?»)

  («Lord Leighton was my teacher. He is a great teacher among the English, and would give much to learn the Wisdom and the Voice of the Uchendi.»)

  («From your mind I understand
that he is an old man. Did he begin to learn the Voice and the Wisdom when he was six years old, as I did?»)

  («He did not.»)

  («Do you English know so little of the Voice and the Wisdom that you do not teach it to your children?»)

  («There are many among the English who use these things for evil purposes. So it is unlawful for all but warriors such as myself to learn.»)

  («That seems to me like burning down the village to kill the rats in one hut. Of course the Voice and the Wisdom are ill used, if they are not properly taught. Few who are not taught before they are men and women will ever learn properly!»)

  The mental equivalent of a shrug and then: («This Laytun seems to be a very great teacher indeed, so I would like to meet him, but your mind also tells me that Lay-tun is far away. A man that old might not survive such a long journey. He cannot come here, and I cannot leave my people in their time of need?… Yes, I will tell you what that need is, when you have passed your testing.»)

  («Then perhaps it will be best for all the Uchendi if you go on with the testing.»)

  («Most surely, Blade. But I must say that you have done much to pass it already. You entered the Sphere of Wisdom quickly, showed no fear at meeting me there, and did not seek in vain to hide your thoughts. Nor do you have the aura that any man who works unclean magic would have when he has reached your age. Yet I must go deeper into your mind to finish the testing.»)

  («Then do so.»)

  («Breathe quickly and deeply until you become dizzy. Then empty your mind of all thoughts, and fear nothing.»)

  Blade laughed. When he'd hyperventilated enough, his mind would be empty of all thoughts, whether he wanted it to be or not. He figured, it would do him no harm-he was already at the Guardian's mercy, and if death did come now it would most likely be quick.

  He raised his arms and took the first deep breath, then the second, then the third, and after that a steady rhythm…

  Darkness and a great shape looming over him, a fanged head on a long neck and great wings spreading into the shadows. Blade was naked and holding a curiously modern rifle, aimed at the shape. Then the shape blazed orange flame, and he smelled the swamp-stench of methane. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and took aim, knowing where he was.

 

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