Sightblinder's Story

by Fred Saberhagen

  He was still in that same position, crouched awkwardly on all fours almost underneath his puzzled animal, when the two men on riding-beasts came crashing into the thicket after him.

  As soon as they saw Arnfinn both of them reined in their mounts so suddenly that one of the riding-beasts tripped and almost fell; and the alteration in the two men’s faces was immediate and remarkable. Arnfinn was reminded of the first two farmers he had encountered on the road.

  One of the bandits looked down at his own drawn blade as if he were surprised beyond measure to find it in his hand; then, favoring Arnfinn with a sheepish effort at a smile, he sheathed the weapon and turned, and rode away even more quickly than he had approached. His companion meanwhile had been trying to find words, words that sounded like a terrified effort at an apology. Then he too put his knife away—he had to thrust with it three times before he found the opening in the unobtrusive sheath—and turned and fled.

  Slowly Arnfinn regained his feet. He stood there beside his load beast, listening to the crashing sounds of the enemy’s retreat. It sounded to him as if they were afraid he might be coming after them. Soon the hoof-beats sounded more solidly on the road, and soon after that they dwindled into silence.

  Arnfinn stood there in the middle of the thicket a while longer, his eyes closed now, his right hand still gripping Sightblinder’s hilt. His shivering fear, even before the tremors of it died out in his arms and legs, had almost entirely transformed itself into something else. Before his eyes opened, he had begun to smile.

  * * *

  He had never seen Lake Alkmaar before, but when first he came in sight of the broad, shimmering water there was no doubt in his mind that he had found it. He stopped and dismounted, letting the beast rest after the long, slow climb up the landward side of the hills. Arnfinn remained standing on the tortuous road for some time, petting his mount absently and looking down.

  Well below him, and still at some little distance, lay the biggest settlement Arnfinn had ever seen, which had to be the town of Triplicane. Even now, in the middle of the day, the smoke from more than a dozen chimneys faintly marked the air. At the lakeside docks in this town, his advisers in the village had assured him, he would be able to find a boat that would take him out to the castle.

  He raised his gaze slightly. There, on an island out near the middle of the lake, was the castle, looking appropriately magical, just as it had been described to him. The home of the benign wizard Honan-Fu himself.

  The wizard, Arnfinn had been told, was a little old man with a wispy beard and a kindly manner. He tried now to imagine what it might be like to talk to such a powerful man, and what the good wizard might be likely to offer Arnfinn for such a Sword.

  But now, for the first time, Arnfinn felt a stirring of reluctance to give Sightblinder up, even at a price that would have made the people of Lunghai very happy.

  Frowning slightly, he remounted his load beast and started down the road to town.

  As he passed to and fro along the windings of the descending way, the landscape below him changed. The far end of the town came briefly into sight, bringing with it his first glimpse of the roofs and grounds of an extensive lakeside manor.

  Arnfinn had scarcely given that house a single conscious thought during his journey, but even before he had started he had known of its existence. And he knew the name of the person who was said to live there, who must be grown-up enough by now to have her own establishment apart from her father’s. Only now, when he was actually in sight of the place, did the idea suggest itself to him that maybe, on his way to sell the Sword, he might just dare…

  To do what? He wasn’t sure exactly. But what harm could it do to simply go out of his way a little bit, enough to ride past that manor house on the road that ran directly in front of it. If he were to do that, then maybe, just possibly, she would see him from a window. See him not in his scrawny, ugly, ordinary body, but transformed, if only for a moment, into what he would wish to be in the eyes of such a lady. Even if he became something that frightened her, for just a moment.…

  * * *

  Twice already in his young life, Arnfinn had seen Lady Ninazu. The first time had been five years ago, when he was only twelve and she apparently no older. At that time she, already well on the way to becoming a great lady, had happened to pass through Lunghai, escorted by a troop of the constabulary who served her father, Honan-Fu. Important-looking men, though the wizard himself was not among them, had surrounded the half-grown girl on every side. The appearance even of her escort in their uniforms of gold and green had been fine almost beyond belief in the eyes of poor country folk like Arnfinn and his neighbors. And as for the young lady herself…

  Until that moment the boy Arnfinn had never dreamed such beauty could exist. He remained staring after her helplessly, until people began to make jokes and poke him to rouse him from his trance.

  * * *

  She was, his fellow villagers told him in response to his questions, the only daughter of Honan-Fu himself, and she lived with her father in his island castle.

  The insistent routines of village life soon occupied Arnfinn’s attention again, but he did not forget the young lady and what he considered her transcendent beauty.

  He did not start to dream about her, though, until he had seen her again.

  That had happened only a little more than a year before Arnfinn undertook his trip with the Sword. The place was a larger village than Lunghai, where folk from all the district round were gathered to see a traveling carnival in one of its irregular local passages. Again Arnfinn caught only a brief glimpse of the daughter of Honan-Fu. She had grown and changed, of course, though not as he had changed, for she had only become more beautiful. Her beauty was now less childlike and unworldly, more womanly. This time he asked no more questions about her; he could see very well that there was no point in asking.

  * * *

  Now, when he was about to ride into Triplicane for the first time with Sightblinder at his side, Arnfinn hesitated at the last moment whether to wear the Sword into town, regardless of the sensation that might produce, or bundle it up again behind his saddle. After some hesitation he decided to continue to wear it. If lonely roads were likely places to encounter robbers, big cities, at least in all the stories that he had heard, were notoriously worse. Arnfinn supposed that Triplicane was not really a big city. But to him it looked more than big and strange, and impressive enough to make him wary.

  There were so many streets in this town that he could not immediately see how many there were, enough to make the passage through it somewhat confusing. Though Arnfinn kept as much as he could to the less traveled streets, still everywhere he looked there were more people about than he was used to seeing in one place.

  To his surprise, many of those who passed him in the street did not appear to notice him at all, even though he was wearing the Sword. He was sure its power was still working, because many did stop and stare at him. But then, most of those who stopped soon went on again about their business, as if perhaps they thought they had been mistaken at first in what they had seen.

  The modest stock of food Arnfinn had brought with him from home was running out, and with his few coins in hand he went into a store. He hoped also to be able to learn something about transportation to the castle on its island.

  He dared not leave Sightblinder on his load beast tethered outside, and so he carried it into the store with him. He could only hope that a storekeeper in a city like this one might be ready to ply his trade in spite of marvels, as capable of indifference as some of the passersby appeared to be.

  But that was not what happened when he entered the dim shop that smelled of leather like a harness shop, and of food like a pantry. Instead, the young woman behind the counter turned pale with her first look at Arnfinn. “You’ve come back!” she breathed.

  “I only want some food,” he answered, having come in stubbornly determined to stick to business no matter what.

  She looked
quickly toward the curtain that closed off the back of the store. “My husband—” she began.

  At that point a burly, bald man appeared from behind the curtain, as if on cue, or as if perhaps he had been waiting there, listening suspiciously, from the moment Arnfinn entered. At the sight of Arnfinn, fear and hatred filled the shopkeeper’s face, even as a more mysterious excitement had filled that of his wife. But then the balding man was quick to mask his feelings. He stood with folded arms, waiting silently for what Arnfinn might say or do.

  Silently Arnfinn played the role of customer, picking out bread, sausage, and cheese. The woman served him, gathering his choices on the small counter.

  Suddenly she burst out with a question, as if she could contain it no longer: “Does Honan-Fu still survive?”

  Arnfinn was sure that he had heard her question clearly, and yet it made no sense to him at all. “Why should he not survive?” he countered, trying to sound confident.

  At that the goodwife relaxed somewhat, and even the man’s tension seemed to ease a trifle. “I was sure,” she said to Arnfinn, “that you must be with them. The new masters out there. Do you suppose you could put in a good word for us? We have no finery for sale here, and their soldiers wear their uniforms, but still they’ll want something, won’t they? And they’ll all be having to eat like anyone else.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Arnfinn. At that the man actually made himself smile, though he was sweating with the struggle he had to make against his fear. And even in his presence his wife looked at Arnfinn with open invitation in her eyes.

  Speaking together, man and wife refused his coins when he would have paid them for the food.

  Arnfinn did not insist. He feared that he might need the money. Slowly he moved out into the street again, where he stood munching bread and sausage as he watched the endless parade of passing strangers. He puzzled over what the people in the shop had said to him. Why should not Honan-Fu survive? He was going to have to find out.

  * * *

  The most direct route from his present location to Lady Ninazu’s manor, as Arnfinn calculated it, lay through a busy-looking part of the town. But he felt that he was beginning to grow accustomed to his situation with the Sword. And he wanted to talk to someone. Someone would have to tell him what had befallen the good wizard.

  Passing through what he thought was probably the busiest street, Arnfinn was suddenly accosted by a young girl who bore a baby in her arms. It was obvious from the girl’s first words to him that she saw Arnfinn as her former lover, the baby’s father, and demanded some acknowledgment of responsibility from him.

  Then she fell back a little, as if amazed at her own temerity in accosting him thus. He remained silent, trying to think of what he ought to say. Meanwhile the girl’s baby, looking at Arnfinn, displayed the greatest curiosity and delight.

  Then suddenly the infant, still looking at him, screamed in terror.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, he broke away from the girl, and moved on at a fast walk, leading his load beast, the sheathed Sword banging against his leg. People scattered at his approach.

  The girl followed him a little way, then gave up, screaming some despairing insult. When he was sure that she had abandoned the chase, Arnfinn paused for breath. To a small boy who stood staring at him he spoke, asking directions to the docks. And was promptly hailed by an old man who, with tears in his blind, staring eyes, groped his way with trembling arms to Arnfinn, and seized him in a hug.

  “Come home with me now, Will! You’re mother’s there. She’ll be so glad to see you’re safe after all—”

  Arnfinn, his control deserting him, broke free from the old man’s grasp and ran again. He rushed like a madman through the remainder of the town, looking neither to left nor right. When from behind him he heard yet another cry, as of despair, he did not stop to see whether it was directed at him or not.

  Dusk was coming on when at last he found himself standing at the edge of open country, in front of the manor house where he was certain she must live.

  Arnfinn stared at the closed heavy grillwork of the tall front gate leading to the grounds. He was physically very tired after his day’s journey, and also worn by the strain of all that had happened since his arrival in the town. But now he found that he could not rest until he had managed to learn something more about her. Could she be safe, if there was doubt as to whether the powerful wizard, her father, was still alive?

  Not even with the powers of the Sword in hand did he dare to simply present himself at the gate of the manor and ask—or demand—to be admitted. There would be guards and attendants there, and the gods only knew who they would think he was. They would let him in, by reason of love or fear; of that much Arnfinn felt certain. But what then? What would he say to the people he encountered inside?

  What could he say to her if she appeared?

  Trying to make up his mind as to what to do next, he circled the manor at a little distance, staring at the high stone wall that ringed it in. He was at some distance from the road, in an empty field that sloped down to the shoreline of the lake, when he heard the music of a lute, coming from somewhere beyond the wall. A moment later he heard the voice of a woman singing, and he imagined that that sweet voice must be hers.

  There was another, smaller gate in the wall back here, and this one was standing open slightly. Looking through it, Arnfinn could see that it led to stables. There was a soldier slouching against the wall just outside the gate—Arnfinn knew little enough about soldiers, and could not have identified the red and gray uniform worn by this one even if it had occurred to him to try.

  But the soldier was looking in his direction now, and he was going to have to do something. He walked forward, wondering what he was going to say.

  The soldier snapped silently to attention, saluted, and drew the gate wide open. Arnfinn walked through, leading his load beast with him—the music of lute and voice seemed to draw him like a spell.

  Just inside the gate he handed his animal’s reins over to one who reached for them with quiet efficiency. Then he walked on, unopposed, into the grounds. There were scattered trees, neat hedges, and broad lawns, now turning brown with autumn. And in the middle of one of those grassy spaces an arbor that must have been a pleasant shady place in summer, overgrown as it was with vines. But the leaves on the vines were dead now, and the oncoming night was already turning chill.

  But she, the young lady Ninazu, was there anyway, sitting in the arbor, dressed as gloriously as he remembered, though in different garments. At her first glimpse of Arnfinn, even in the failing light, she jumped to her feet, letting her lute fall with an unmusical thud to the wooden floor of the summerhouse.

  “By all the gods,” she said to him, and her voice had in it such soft intensity that his own voice, despite all that he could do, almost broke out, stuttering a protest. “By all the gods,” she breathed, “it’s you, and you have not forgotten me. My crystal foretold that I would see you soon.”

  And for once the emotions written by Sightblinder upon a human countenance were too complex for Arnfinn to interpret.

  But the girl had jumped up from her seat and was running toward him. And in the next moment he was being passionately embraced and kissed.

  Chapter Seven

  “A piece of good luck for us at last,” said Ben, looking at the Sword, complete with belt and sheath, where Zoltan had dropped it on the ground at their feet. The three had brought Sightblinder back with them to their hillside observation post, which lay behind a screen of low evergreens through which it was possible to watch much of what went on in the town below. The youth from whom they had taken the Sword of Stealth had already completed his hasty descent into the town, had appeared briefly in those streets below, and then passed out of their sight. Already Ben, at least, had almost forgotten him.

  Zoltan now put out his hand and stroked the hilt of Sightblinder again. As he did so, he momentarily became Prince Mark in the eyes of his two companions
. Then Zoltan drew back his hand and squatted, gazing silently at the Sword of Stealth.

  Ben went on: “But even the best luck is no good until it’s used, and we must find the right way to use it.”

  “We must also keep in mind,” said Lady Yambu, “that Shieldbreaker is almost certainly on the island now, in the hands of the one who sent the griffin to carry away your Prince. And the person who carries it will doubtless be the most dangerous enemy with whom we shall have to deal. Whoever has the Sword of Force in hand will be immune to the powers of Sightblinder or any other weapon.”

  “And so far we have no idea who he is. Or she,” Zoltan put in. He got to his feet and stood staring toward the islands.

  “I have been here in Triplicane eleven days,” said Yambu, “listening to the rumors that pass among the townsfolk. And I can give you an answer to that question. The new ruler of that castle in the lake is called the Ancient One, or sometimes Ancient Lord. He…” She fell silent, observing Zoltan’s reaction.

  “If that’s his name I have seen him once before,” said Zoltan. “And I was lucky to survive.”

  Ben, looking at him, nodded slowly. “Two years ago, or thereabouts, that was. Well we remember it, in Tasavalta. But we still know little of this Ancient Lord. Our ignorance about the enemies we face here is certainly enormous.” The big man turned to the lady. “I wonder what Sightblinder would show the new ruler of the magician’s island if one of us appeared carrying it, and if its power were not blocked by Shieldbreaker?”