The Swordsman's Oath

by Juliet E. McKenna

  “How about a game of Raven while we wait?” I carefully replaced the pieces in their niches on either side of the table.

  Shiv looked at the board as if only just registering it was there. “No, thanks, I don’t play as a rule.”

  That made sense, since the whole game is based on the premise of birds driving out the one born different to the majority.

  I opened a drawer in a small cabinet. “A few hands of runes?”

  “Yes, all right.” Shiv stretched his long arms over his head and his expression lightened a little.

  I took out a velvet bag and closed the drawer. “You know, if we find ourselves up to our hips in horseshit over all this and paid off in Lescari Marks, we ought to think about tax-contracting.”

  “It certainly looks to pay well enough,” Shiv agreed, his grin broadening as he turned the table-top over to reveal the velvet-lined face for rune play.

  I spread the nine finely made sea-ivory rods on the table-top and Shiv gave them rather more than the customary examination, dark brows meeting above curious eyes.

  “Is this inlay gold or bronze?” He picked up one of the bones and turned it slowly, looking at the three faces, the angular sigils that were the ancient symbols for the Deer, the Oak and the Forest. I’m more used to the ornamental sets used in Tormalin, little pictures painted on each rune.

  “Gold,” I confirmed. “So, what are we playing?”

  “Three runes, three throws?” suggested Shiv, tossing the heaven rune to give us the sun and the lesser moon on either side of the uppermost faces.

  “Male runes strong, then,” I nodded. “Are we counting points or pence?”

  Shiv smiled and this was a wide, guileless smile that made me wonder how much he played. “Pence, I’d say, just to keep it interesting.”

  I swept the bones back into the bag and held it out so Shiv could draw three. The first few plays were certainly interesting; Shiv consistently passed up modest combinations of runes from his first throws in favor of trying for higher scoring patterns. He showed no nervousness and was soon winning more than he was losing. I could almost have suspected him of weighting the game when he threw the Wolf and the Storm first toss when all I could come up with was the Reed and the Harp, and that on my third throw. Just as I was thinking the odds were starting to favor me, I drew the heaven rune and it landed with both moons up, ending the hand.

  “Have you got something to keep score on over there?” Shiv grinned at me. I shook my head in mock disgust as I rummaged in the cabinet drawer.

  There were several sticks of charcoal in elegant silver holders and some off-cuts of reed paper which I drew out. I glanced at the backs but they were blank; Mellitha evidently didn’t risk unfriendly eyes seeing even the most innocuous memoranda from her office.

  “You don’t seem to have a problem deciding what to do when you’re playing,” I winced as I totted up my losses. Would things improve now female runes were dominant? Knowing my luck, I’d be drawing the Mountain and the Drum in every hand instead.

  Shiv paused in casting idle trios of bones, hand against hand. “It’s easy enough to be bold and reckless when the worst that’ll happen is losing your boots to pay your debts.”

  “You were quick-witted enough when we were trying to find a way out of that Elietimm dungeon,” I shook my head with a friendly smile, choosing my words carefully. “Don’t take me wrong, but you’ve been like a cat wanting fish but afraid to wet his paws on this trip.”

  Shiv’s expression hardened a little. “I’m sorry if I’m a little hesitant; it’s not so easy finding a way to do what Planir wants that I can be sure will keep us all out of Elietimm hands.”

  He shoved the runes into the bag with unnecessary force and promptly threw the Eagle, the Sea and the Zephyr first toss.

  “Is Planir baying at your heels, then?” I barely bothered calculating the meager score I got from the Calm, the Pine and the Broom, deciding I wouldn’t be playing Livak for anything important until my luck improved dramatically.

  Shiv shook his head. “No, not at all. He lets you know where your task ranks on the scale of things and generally you know how long you have to get results, but he’ll always listen to reason and give you leeway when you need it. I trust him; he’s got all the reins firmly in his hands.”

  “He sounds like Messire.” I threw then rerolled all three bones with a mutter of disgust. “So if Planir isn’t going to savage you for following a few false scents, why are you keeping Livak on such a tight leash? Let her do some of the work for you; you know she’s got the nose for something like this.”

  Shiv returned the runes to the bag, drew his three and sat fingering them with a pensive expression.

  “It was easier, last year, taking chances, when I didn’t know what we might run up against. Now I know what kind of snares we could run ourselves into. I may not have had all my birds on the board after that knock on the head I took, but I saw what those bastards did to you and Livak.” He looked at me. “See, you’ve gone pale just at the mention of it.”

  I wasn’t about to deny it; Shiv threw his runes with an explosive gesture of anger.

  “Geris’ death was bad enough; torturing him like that went beyond any questioning or punishment. Whoever did that did it because he enjoyed it. I don’t want to end up in his hands; I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Aiten’s death was the worst, though, because it was magic that took his mind, and it’s a magic I can’t sense, I can’t counter, I can’t even begin to understand it.” Frustration edged his voice. “I might as well try casting the runes like my grandmother looking for answers by the fireside. If I could remember half of what she used to do, I’d give it a go. I’m that desperate!”

  I laughed but bit it short when I saw Shiv was more than a little serious. He stared at me. “Don’t you cast the runes for fortunes in Tormalin? You must draw birth runes, if nothing else?”

  I struggled for an answer. “I think my father’s mother did that when we were babies.” I sorted through the bones until one sparked a faint flicker of memory. “This would be it, yes, this one. The Calm, the Drum and the Earth, though I’ve no idea what it’s supposed to mean for me.”

  Shiv gave a perfunctory nod but his thoughts had moved on. “I’m a mage and I’m a good one; I work for Planir because I think that’s where I can do most good, but if I wanted to turn my talents to studying my element, I could get elected to the Council inside a year on my own merits. Set me against these bastards from the far side of the winter storms and I’m as scared of their cursed sorcery as some lackwit peasant seeing fire conjured for the first time. I hate it, Rysh, I just hate it!”

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t scared,” I said with a shrug. “Just thinking about having one of those bastards inside my mind again makes me feel like wetting my breeches. The thing is, though, you can’t let that hobble you or you’re giving them another advantage.”

  “I do know that,” said Shiv with some sarcasm. “It’s just that’s the way I feel.”

  “So don’t feel.” I leaned forward, sweeping the disregarded runes aside. “Lock it in a box in the back of your mind and don’t get it out again until you’ve got the time for it. As for the rest of it, why are you trying to square this circle all on your own? Halice and Livak know this town, they know a lot of people here; I spend every other season looking out information for Messire. There’s a double handful of things we could be doing instead of sitting here with our thumbs up our arses waiting for the Archmage to give us the self-same orders.”

  “Livak seems to have decided that for herself.” Shiv’s tone was sour.

  “Are you surprised? Now, I reckon she’ll concentrate on the black-leather troop; I don’t think she takes kindly to people putting a price on her pelt. I’ve been wondering about this second group, the ones who are trying to blend in a bit more thoroughly. How about I take this sword around a few of the dealers, see if anyone can point me in their direction? I’d like to know where they are,
just for my own peace of mind. You never know, we might be able to use them against the other lot.”

  “That’s a possibility.” Shiv looked thoughtful.

  I stood up. “Right, then. I’ll see if I can get a scent.”

  “Don’t forget what you owe me for this game,” Shiv called after me.

  Viltred came bustling out of an open door as I headed for the outer yard. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  “To get a haircut,” I said mildly; I didn’t answer to him and besides, my curls definitely needed a trim if we were going to be spending much more time in this city. Just the thought of the vermin that would relish such a tightly packed population made my scalp itch. I could look for a barber while I made my way to the eastern wharves, I decided, where I should be able to find a merchant willing to ferry a letter to the Despatch in return for an appropriate coin or two. It felt good to be out on the streets, on my own; the sun was bright on the whitewashed buildings but a faint breeze was bringing in high clouds from the seas of the Gulf today. I’ve always hated inactivity; I’d drive my mother nearly demented on wet days when I was a child, according to my father. Walking down the streets I kept my eyes and ears open but not worrying overly much. Relshaz was an unfamiliar city to me, but I’ve seen enough new places in my years working for Messire. The garbage in the gutters is usually much the same.

  My letter could wait until I had some news worth sending, I decided. Making my way to the goldsmith’s quarter, I began looking for a likely dealer to interest in the sword. It would have been easier if Mellitha had been available to ask for advice but I was confident I could manage. When a treacherous little voice whispered at the back of my mind, “You could always have waited,” I locked it back in that box I’d been telling Shiv about.

  A couple of brawny lads propping up the door-posts of an auction house suggested there was more than silver gilt behind the stout grilles on the unshuttered windows. I walked up the street, stopping every so often to admire the wares on display in each shop frontage and found that theirs was indeed the richest array for a galley length in any direction. More importantly, they seemed to deal in any and every type of merchandise. I didn’t meet the intimidating stare of the guards, not wanting to get them up on their hind legs and barking; I simply went in and waited for someone to come and persuade me to part with some coin.. After scarcely a breath, a dapper little man in watered blue silk sidled up to me.

  “Can I be of assistance? Are you buying or selling?”

  “I was just passing and you know, I was wondering what you could tell me about this sword?” I smiled at him and did my best imitation of Camarl D’Olbriot’s countless generations of good blood and better education.

  “A pleasure, sir.” The man had the pleasant knack of being effusive without being ingratiating. His eyes gleamed as I unbuckled the sword and handed it over.

  “Now this is very interesting.” He actually sounded as if he meant it. “This insignia, it’s the House D’Alsennin.”

  His Tormalin was flawlessly accented; it was a shame I’d never heard of the House in question.

  “How very odd,” I registered aristocratic embarrassment.

  The little man ran a finger over the crest embossed in the leather of the scabbard. “The House fell in the collapse of the Empire; it was extinct in the principal line some time before then, I believe, and what remained of the property reverted to a cadet succession of For Alder.”

  A frisson ran through me that I couldn’t explain. Was For Alder an ancestral connection of Messire’s? I knew the family had several links to Houses that styled themselves “For” to show they had once held the Imperial Throne, but I didn’t think that was one of them.

  I realized the evaluator was talking about the engraving on the sword.

  “Delathan, yes, that would certainly fit, he was a smith working in the last years of the Empire. Tell me, Esquire, is this a family heirloom?”

  “Of sorts, from a collateral line.” I repossessed the sword and made sufficient business of buckling it on and settling it on my hip again to avoid the little man’s eye. He couldn’t bring himself to stoop to further vulgar inquiry.

  “What would it make at auction, just out of interest?”

  He was polite enough to take me at my word, despite my distinctly unaristocratic appearance. “I would expect you would get offers upwards of two thousand Crowns. We could sell it for you, should you wish to part with it for any reason, but I’m honor bound to say we don’t deal in swords as a rule, so you might well get a better price elsewhere. We don’t really have clients looking for such things. If you take the second turn after the fountain on the Gulf side, you’ll find dealers who specialize in blades,” he added a little reluctantly.

  “Many thanks.” Waving an airy farewell, I sauntered off along the street, following his directions. Satisfaction warmed me as I discovered a cluster of merchants dealing in everything from ivory-handled daggers for ladies to efficient glaives to keep watchmen at a suitable distance from anyone trying to do them damage. I would look for a nice little blade to take back for Livak, I decided, doing a little business would give me better reason for being here. I’d been wanting to get her a present for some while now.

  I rejected a long salesroom whose two open doorways were thronged with a lively clientele of fashionable youths trying out impractical rapiers. The place looked too busy and would most likely be too honest to do more than tell me what I already knew about the blade. A more subdued establishment off the main thoroughfare looked more promising until I saw an ill-shaved handful idling the morning away in an alley opposite. As a customer left, with a friendly pat on the shoulder from the pockmarked craftsman, one detached himself from the group and sauntered purposefully after the heedless merchant. I made a note of the name above the counter-front to pass onto Mellitha; I was sure she could use the information to earn a few Marks of goodwill with the Watch. Laying a hand negligently but noticeably on my sword hilt, I continued on my way past.

  Back on the busy carriageway, I paused and wondered which way to go; my initial ebullience was fading. I felt a sudden familiar pang of loss, missing having Aiten waiting in a doorway for me, watching my back before taking his turn with the questions and chat while I looked out for anyone taking too much interest in him. This was a job for two and, with Halice tied by her leg and none of the wizards more reliable than a wax rune, perhaps I should have waited for Livak. “Then you’d have nothing to match her with, when she comes back with the name of the inn where the Elietimm are staying and tells you what they ate for breakfast.”

  I tried to laugh at myself but I could not shake off a growing feeling of unease. I turned abruptly down an alley and cut across a back entry to take another on to a side street. A mercer’s cart provided some handy cover and I waited for a long moment to see if anyone came out of the alley looking for me. No one did but I couldn’t shake off a prickling at the back of my neck.

  “Anyone would think you’d had an Eldritch man tread on your shadow,” I mocked myself with some irritation.

  This street had a choice of more workaday metalworkers. I crossed to one whose shutters stood open to reveal a display of old as well as new blades in a wide range of styles. Pausing to rumple my overlong hair across my eyes and pull the laces of my jerkin askew, I went in, rounding my shoulders and ducking my head.

  “Good mornin’,” I drawled in the tones of the dock urchins my mother had spent my childhood warning me about.

  “Noon chime’s been and gone, friend. Good afternoon.” The smith was a thick-set man, muscled arms scarred with the burns of his craft and his black eyes had all the warmth of wet coal.

  “I was wondering what you could tell me about this sword?” I gave him a slack-jawed smile and shuffled my feet in the dust of the floor.

  He reached for the blade and turned down the corners of his mouth, unimpressed. “Where’d you get it from?”

  “Borrowed it off my brother,” I snickered, rememb
ering a time I had helped myself to a rather lewd carving Mistal had been cherishing, concealed, as he had thought, inside his tool-bag in our father’s workshop.

  “These leaves graved on the metal, that’s Delathan’s style, but this isn’t Old Empire.” The smith shrugged, his tone dismissive. “ ’Tis a good copy though, I’ll give you two hundred Crowns for it, Tormalin minted.”

  “That’s a deal of money.” I grinned vacantly. “I’m not after selling it just yet, though.”

  The smith scowled and shoved the blade back toward me. “Why are you wasting my time then?”

  I hunched my shoulders and shuffled my feet some more. “Well, a man never knows when he might need some spare coin, not in a city like this.”

  I snickered some more with a suggestive grin and the smith smiled back broadly.

  “True enough. If you’re looking for a nice clean girl, try the Hole in the Wall, off the Lantern Way.”

  I nodded with unnecessary enthusiasm. “Thanks for the tip.”

  The smith made a creditable try at registering a sudden thought. “You know, I might have a customer who’d be interested in making you an offer. Where was it you said you were lodging?”

  “Plume of Feathers,” I told him readily. “Thanks again.”

  I shambled out of the workshop and made my way around a handy corner before straightening up. That had certainly started a hare or two but I realized with some frustration that this was going to be a hard game to course. If I’d had Aiten with me, I could have set him to watching the friendly metal-beater while I kept an eye on the Plume of Feathers. Livak might be able to take Ait’s place, if she hadn’t come up with any leads, but I wasn’t any too keen on the idea of her hanging around this neighborhood on her own. I couldn’t very well stay with her, not without risking suspicion, even if we could somehow get Halice to keep watch at the Plume of Feathers. It wasn’t that I didn’t think Livak could take care of herself, as I knew only too well that she could; the problem was I didn’t want to risk any Elietimm spotting her, dyed hair or not.