Sightblinder's Story

by Fred Saberhagen

What would be the reaction of the soldiers on the docks when they saw that the daughter of Honan-Fu had been rowed out to them? Surely she had at least some arguable right to visit the castle, and so a simple, bold approach would be the best. As for Ben himself, particularly in his strongman’s costume of animal skin, with arms and legs left bare, he was probably not the most convincing personal attendant for a lady of high rank. But he was committed now to playing the role—and the Emperor had seemed to think he was capable of succeeding in it.

  By now, at last, those horrible sounds from the mainland had faded to the point where they could only intermittently be heard at all. Chances were that the people in the castle would not have heard them, and very likely they would not know that anything untoward had happened to their garrison ashore.

  Such was the continuing confusion on the docks as the little boat approached that its arrival was scarcely noticed. One large rowboat appeared to be loading with soldiers, at the direction of a shouting sergeant, while another one unloaded. And all the time occasional swimmers came straggling in, some supporting themselves on oars or bits of driftwood, others relying upon no more than their limbs and lungs. Some of these attempted to cling to the boat that Ben was rowing as he drew near the dock, but at a sharp command from the lady he beat them off with an oar. When he saw that they were castle soldiers he had no reluctance to do so.

  As soon as they touched at the dock, Ben jumped out briskly and tied up. Then he turned to offer proper assistance to the lady. She accepted his arm, as impersonally as she might have gripped a ladder’s rung, and stepped ashore to face the blank stares of a pair of officers in red and gray. By now these men had become aware that this arrival represented something unusual, even for this night, and they had suspended their argument over some other matter to see what the lady’s presence might portend.

  Confronting these officers with her best regal stare, Lady Ninazu demanded: “I am the daughter of Honan-Fu, and the twin sister of your prisoner Kunderu. You will take me to my brother at once!”

  The officers exchanged wary glances with each other, then turned back to this demanding woman. Ben reflected that it was probably not strange that they should not recognize her—they were doubtless as much outlanders here as he was himself.

  At last one of the men replied, with cautious courtesy: “I know of no such person in this castle, lady.”

  “Oh, do you not? Then I will see to it that you soon learn. Take me at once to your lord, the Ancient Master. He will teach you to speak to me with more respect!”

  That set the pair of them back a little. After a brief whispered conference their next step, as Ben had already foreseen, was to summon a superior. Meanwhile Ben himself stood back as much as he could on the small dock, trying to be as unobtrusive as his size and costume would allow, a model slave or servant. If the superior when he arrived should happen to be one who happened to be able to identify the much-sought Ben of Purkinje at a glance…

  But the fates were kind, and it was a total stranger. This man, bowing lightly to the lady, took charge of the situation skillfully. Treating her with soothing words, he got her to follow him, telling her that in a minute or two all would be arranged just as she wished.

  Ben, feeling impossibly large and conspicuous to fit his chosen role of shadowy attendant, nevertheless fell in behind. He would seize the first chance that presented itself to let him slip away.

  Before that chance came, he and the lady were led into a kind of waiting room, grimly furnished, and the door closed behind them. Lady Ninazu, trying to open the door again to shout some demand at the men, discovered that it had been not only closed but locked. Immediately she was outraged; but her shouts and her pounding on the wooden panels went unheeded.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Arnfinn, having as he did the powers of the Sword of Stealth at his command, had experienced no difficulty in obtaining Lady Yambu’s release from her comfortable confinement. He had not even found it necessary to speak to the guards who flanked her door. The moment he appeared in the corridor before them they had bowed themselves out of his way.

  Stepping forward, he reached for the handle on the door, found that it was unlocked, and went on in. The lady, wearing her pilgrim’s gray, was standing in the middle of the room looking at him with an air of confident expectation. And there was something stranger than that in her expression. Arnfinn thought it was almost the same look she had worn at their first encounter, when she and her two friends had taken away his Sword.

  Gripping Sightblinder’s hilt tighter than ever, Arnfinn moved backward a step to stand against the door as he closed it behind him. He thought to himself: If those other two are here now, and they try to do that again, I’ll kill them. I’ll hack them to bits. Even his untrained hands could feel that, apart from magic, this weapon had just the edge and weight needed to do that kind of work. And no one was going to take it away from him again.

  But no men came rushing at him from concealment among the draperies, or leaped up from behind the furniture in ambush. Instead there was only the old lady, who stood alone in the middle of the floor and faced him calmly. Still looking at Arnfinn rather oddly, as he thought, she repeated her earlier question: “Is it Zoltan, or Ben?”

  By now, Arnfinn thought he could guess who Zoltan and Ben must be. He said: “I am neither one of them. They are not here to help you now.”

  For a moment the lady’s calm wavered, and she almost stuttered: “If it is—if you are—”

  “I am a friend of Lady Ninazu, and also of her imprisoned brother. Who are you?”

  The lady seemed to find the question reassuring. Her face assumed a sort of friendly blankness, and for a short time she was busy with her thoughts. Then she said: “I am Lady Yambu. I do not know the lady you speak of, or her brother either. What is his name?”

  “His name is Kunderu, and they are twins, the daughter and son of Honan-Fu the wizard. Tell me where Kunderu is being held, and nothing bad will happen to you.” Gripping the great Sword with both hands, Arnfinn swung the blade a little, suggestively. But the old woman’s eyes did not follow it; as like as not, he supposed, the image she saw of him would not be bearing a weapon.

  If she was aware of the Sword in Arnfinn’s hands she was managing to ignore it. All she said was: “I have not heard of either of them.”

  “I tell you Kunderu and Ninazu are the old wizard’s children.” Arnfinn could not escape the sudden feeling that this woman was making a fool of him again, or at least there was great likelihood of her doing so.

  “That may well be,” she replied calmly, “but I am only a sojourner in this country, a pilgrim, and their names mean nothing to me. Now tell me, who are you?”

  With the sullen conviction that he was somehow losing all the advantage that the Sword ought to have given him, Arnfinn grumbled: “What image do you see when you look at me?”

  The lady looked him up and down. “My eyes tell me that you are the magician who is called the Ancient One, who is now lord of this castle and of much else besides. And I hear your voice as his. But by your words and your behavior I am quite sure that you are someone else, and that you have with you the Sword of Stealth, although I cannot see it. Besides that, when you were out on the balcony a few moments ago I saw your image change before my eyes—that often happens when one is holding that Sword. Sightblinder is powerful, but like the rest of the Twelve it has its limitations.”

  “I suppose so,” said Arnfinn, trying his best to sound like an expert in these matters. He hesitated, then took a plunge. “Lady Yambu, I mean you no harm. Have those guards been set outside your door to keep you in, or to keep others away?”

  “To keep me in. The one whose image you now wear has so far treated me with courtesy, but…” With a small gesture, as if to appeal to fate, the lady left the sentence unfinished.

  “Then I can set you free. But in return you must help me find Kunderu, and free him too. That is all I want.”

  “I accept your offer
,” the lady replied with very little hesitation. “With Sightblinder to help us we ought to be able to do that much if we use a little cleverness. I don’t suppose you would be willing to let me carry it for a while—? No, I thought not. But still I believe an alliance between us will benefit us both. You see, I am interested in the welfare of another man who is a prisoner here.”

  “All right.” Arnfinn slowly sheathed the heavy Sword. “You and I have an alliance, then. I would be willing to bet that you know more about castles than I do. What do we do first?”

  “I think, Your Ancient Lordship, that we must begin by exploring and finding things out. If everyone here in the castle sees in you the same image that I do, which I suppose is quite likely, then that part should be easy enough. If not, we improvise. Out into the corridor, then I suggest turning right. I believe that will lead us into more interesting territory. You go first, I’ll walk half a step behind, as would be appropriate if you were really the one you look like. You turn to me if we meet someone and you wish advice on any point. Or I’ll whisper in your ear if and when I think it necessary.”

  Arnfinn was willing to accept this plan, and said as much. Opening the door, he led the way.

  The two guards had returned to their posts beside the door, but again they backed away making obeisances as soon as he appeared.

  Ignoring them, Arnfinn turned to the right and strode on. As soon as they had rounded the first corner, the lady whispered in his ear: “Above all, we must do our best to avoid the real master of this stronghold. And if we—but wait.”

  She laid her fingers on Arnfinn’s arm. Just beyond the next turn of the short hallway, someone was approaching.

  It was a young man, walking alone, who came into sight. Arnfinn, with some surprise, recognized him as the one he had struck down to regain the Sword. Now the youth was wearing a disreputable servant’s smock, and he recoiled instantly as soon as he saw Arnfinn.

  At once the lady, looking over Arnfinn’s shoulder, said to the other: “Zoltan, you need not be afraid. This is not who you think.”

  The youth in the smock let himself sag against the wall. “Ben?” he inquired softly.

  Arnfinn shook his head. “I am not Ben.”

  “Who are you, then?”

  But again Arnfinn would answer that question only with stubborn silence.

  The lady interceded. “Zoltan, we can discuss that matter later. Right now we are on our way to release a couple of prisoners—including the one in whom you and I are interested. And as soon as we’ve accomplished that, we can all start on our way back to the mainland. Our anonymous ally here should have no trouble in arranging passage for us all aboard a boat.”

  Zoltan brightened quickly at this news. “And just where are these prisoners to be found?”

  “I know where to start, at least,” the lady answered, somewhat to Arnfinn’s surprise. “At ground level, just off a certain courtyard. Come along, both of you, I’ll show you.”

  Under Lady Yambu’s unobtrusive guidance, and with Zoltan following two steps behind in his role of humble servant, they proceeded down some stairs and out into the open night. Small gatherings of people, almost entirely male and military, were in the various courtyards, and parted silently to give the three room to pass. Arnfinn rejoiced; apparently there were times, as Lady Yambu had suggested, when all onlookers saw the one who carried the Sword as the same person. There were salutes and deep bows directed at Arnfinn, and a few heads turned to look after him and his two companions, as if in wonder as to where the Ancient Master was going with the lady and the wretched-looking servant; but no one asked a question. He acknowledged the salutes with a vague gesture, and did his best to look as if he knew where he was going.

  As the three were crossing one of the wider open spaces, there came a faint sound from high above. Looking up in the direction of the tallest tower, Zoltan saw the griffin, small with height, and with the figure of a man astride its back. It went leaping out of the aerie into the night sky. The creature’s wings worked powerfully, and in a moment it and its rider were out of sight among the stars.

  Some of the onlookers in the courtyard dropped their gaze from the starry sky to Arnfinn, then looked back up into the night again, as if they could not believe their eyes. But if their suspicions were aroused, they were not expressed, at least not within hearing of their great lord who apparently stood before them.

  Lady Yambu was again holding Arnfinn by the arm, as any lady might hold that of her escort. This allowed her to exert a slight pressure by which she guided him in the direction she wished to go. In this way they crossed the central courtyard with its grim high altar, charred and empty now, and reached a small closed gate. Here, too, guards stepped aside. Arnfinn himself pushed the gate open.

  When some of the guards would have followed the three into the dark, grotto like space behind the gate, Lady Yambu whispered in the ear of her lordly escort. And at his gesture the intruding men fell back, one of them first handing him a torch.

  And now at the last moment before they passed into the darkness beyond the gate there was another delay. An officer came hurrying across the wide courtyard, approached Arnfinn, and whispered to him so quietly that not even Lady Yambu could hear. The message was that one who claimed to be Lady Ninazu had reached the island in a small boat and insisted on seeing the lord of the castle.

  Arnfinn’s heart leaped in his chest. He was ready to order that he be taken to Ninazu at once, or she be brought to him. But her presence would add another complication to the rescue of Kunderu, and besides he was still ashamed to face her. His duty lay here, trying to free her brother as rapidly as possible.

  “Have her wait,” he replied to the officer, who murmured his acknowledgment of the order and faded away.

  But still the delays were not over. There was a fresh outcry on the far side of the court.

  * * *

  Lady Ninazu, on finding herself locked into the dank waiting room, had wasted no time in futile shouts and protests. Instead, she gave up rattling at the door after only a couple of ineffective shakes, turned to Ben, pointed dramatically at the lock, and ordered: “Break it open!”

  Ben liked the locked door much less than she did, but he had a tactical suggestion. “‘Your pardon, my lady, but there’s likely to be someone in the corridor outside who would take notice if we did that. It might be wiser to take a look at the windows first.” Their place of detention was on the ground floor, and a quick glance through the windows showed a darkened areaway outside that offered some prospect of escape.

  The lady thought for a moment, then nodded her agreement. Ben found that the inward shutters opened easily. Then to his disappointment, but hardly to his surprise, he discovered an iron grillwork on the outside of the windows that effectively prevented any passage. The bars looked no more than ornamental, not really the kind of barriers you would find in a dungeon, but they were discouragingly thick and his first trial of barehanded strength against them achieved nothing.

  There were voices in the corridor outside the door; that way still did not look attractive. Ben concentrated his attention on one of the windows while the lady looked on with approval. She would have liked, Ben was sure, to urge him to greater efforts, but she evidently realized that nagging at him now was only likely to slow things down, and with a major effort was managing to restrain herself.

  As Ben cast about for something to serve him as a wrecking bar, his eyes fell on a wooden bench that made up a large part of the plain furnishings of the room. A brace that ran along the bench’s back was long and stout enough to serve as an effective lever, he thought. Ben picked up the bench and with a few swift movements knocked off its ends and legs against the stone wall. A moment after that he had violently separated the back and seat from the component that he wanted. The whole process had made only a moderate amount of noise.

  Now Ben had his sizable chunk of timber, long as a man’s body and thick as his arm. With this inserted between the bars, Ben wa
s able to pry at them and start them moving. But he was able to bend the ironwork only a small distance before his timber lever was balked by coming against the heavy masonry at the side of the window.

  But now the tenure of the metalwork in its sockets had been much weakened. Ben dropped the lever. Taking his time, he tried out several grips, getting his hands into the most effective positions that he could find. Then he exerted all the strength that he could summon up.

  He could feel the veins in his forehead standing out, and what might have been the tearing of muscle fibers in his quivering arms.

  Gasping, he let go and slumped against the stonework. The bars were not going to yield. Not yet, anyway. He had to rest for a few moments.

  While he was resting, panting and leaning against the wall, the lady came closer, bright-eyed, to watch him. But still, thankfully, she had no advice to offer or orders to declare.

  He looked at her, and nodded his appreciation for her noninterference. Then he bent to his task again.

  It just came down to this. That he was going to have to bend these bars. He could not afford to remain locked up here, helpless, until someone came along who recognized him.

  With a small explosion, one end of one bar came free of its mortared socket in the wall. The break sent small fragments of stone and brick spraying almost silently out into the night.

  Once more Ben rested, gasping. A gap had been created now, but it was probably not wide enough for even a slender lady to slide through. Probably, he thought, two more bars were going to have to go.

  Still, he could use only his bare hands. But now he could shift his grip and obtain a great advantage in leverage. In only a moment the next bar had assumed a U-shape, looking as if it might now fit the hoof of some giant riding-beast.

  Again he paused, just long enough for a few gasping breaths. His hands were callused from a lifetime of hard use, and when he looked at them he saw that the skin was still intact. Good. He was going to need all his blood and energy.