The Swordsman's Oath

by Juliet E. McKenna

  “What’s she? An advertisement for your other wares?” I snapped at Dev.

  “Something like that.” He pulled off his tunic and climbed deftly into his hammock, unconcerned. “She’s quite good on her back as well, as long as you give her some sapsalt to wake her up a bit. Help yourself if you like, she’ll do anything you want if she thinks there’s a trip to the shades in it for her.”

  I couldn’t even begin to reply to that, so I thrust my belongings back in my bag, tying the lace at the neck in a secure knot before hanging the whole thing on the high hook of my hammock. Settling myself to sleep, I forced myself to concentrate on the fact that this unsavory vessel was still my fastest hope of leaving these pestilential islands.

  We weighed anchor just after dawn and Dev steered us expertly through the crowded strait into more open waters. Whatever I might think of him, he was certainly a proficient sailor. I worked the ropes as instructed and took over what cooking there was to be done when I realized Dev’s taste for hot spices extended to even the simplest of meals and Repi was rarely in a state to be trusted near a naked flame. I rolled up my mail and stowed it at the bottom of my kit, my gems securely tied in the middle of the metal. Dressed in simple cotton, I kept my head down and concentrated on looking as unremarkable as I could, Shek Kul’s token hidden beneath my tunic, as much to ensure Dev didn’t get his hands on it too early as anything else. I didn’t figure it would take too many reminders of temptation for him to decide to slit my throat one night. As it was, I always waited for him to sleep before I did and woke myself early with the tricks of a soldier’s training.

  As we worked our way up the long chain of the Archipelago, we made landfall in various anchorages, some the busy trading straits like the one where I had met Dev, others secluded coves where furtive men in shallow rowing boats drew alongside to bargain with Dev. I stayed out of it all, only going ashore to eat when necessary and on the not infrequent occasions when Dev brought one or more eager men aboard to get Repi below decks and take their pleasure with her.

  All in all, I was seeing a very different picture of life in the Archipelago to the one Laio had painted for me. Well, her advice hadn’t exactly proved entirely trustworthy, had it? Every so often, I wondered how she was, her and Gar, Mahli and the baby. Having spent ten years and more in Messire’s service, I have had to get used to visiting places and making friends, only to leave them after a season or so, often never to see them again. Still, I knew I would always remember Laio with fondness, and not only for the gifts of her body and her jewelry. I wondered idly if she had any idea of the real worth of the trinkets she had bestowed on me. Different though her beliefs might be, I reckoned I’d be burning incense at a shrine to Drianon for Laio, to keep her safe through child-bed; for Grival and Sezarre too, though I couldn’t quite decide whether Trimon or Talagrin would be the most appropriate deity to watch over them.

  I turned my thoughts to such considerations whenever life on the little ship threatened to be too distasteful, slamming a firm door on any impulse to try and shelter Repi from Dev’s abuses. Some days this was harder than others, especially when some islander who’d paid for a turn with her had shown a taste for violence.

  “Why don’t you give the poor bitch a chance to recover?” I snapped one day as Dev knelt beside her, lifting her unresponsive head to blow some smoke into her nostrils, a great bruise purpling one side of her face. The smell of the smoldering leaves was making me edgy as well; I was more than a little concerned that catching too much of it might let those voices loose inside my head again. I was finding I was having enough trouble with the increasingly vivid and powerful dreams I was having about young D’Alsennin. I’d be cursed if I’d unleash him into my waking mind again, having finally recognized his as the voice I had heard when fighting the Ice Islander priest. If I’d thought I had any chance of picking up another decent blade, I’d have been sorely tempted to drop D’Alsennin’s sword into the sea some night and face answering to the Sieur for so dishonoring his gift. Unfortunately, common sense reminded me that the Archipelago was no place to be traveling without a weapon.

  Dev scowled and dropped Repi’s head to the deck with a sickening thud. “Silly poult, she’s been mixing tahn and liquor again. No wonder Ful lost his temper with her; it must have been like ramming a rag doll.”

  I bit down hard on the words that were hammering at the inside of my teeth and stared over the rail at the shoreline. We were anchored in a secure cove with no other ships and I noticed the trees were sparser here, more akin to the ones you’d see in southern Caladhria. With any luck I’d be off this ship in a few days if my rough calculations as to our course were anything like correct.

  “Smoke? I can’t rouse Repi and I don’t fancy spitting dead meat, so we might as well get glazed.” Dev blew on the embers of his censer and added a few more leaves, taking a deep breath before offering me the little metal bowl in its horn holder.

  I shook my head abruptly, moving out of the way of the drifting scent.

  “You want it, though, don’t you?” Dev laughed, his own eyes growing wide and dark as the intoxication spread through him.

  I didn’t bother replying. In any case it was true. Catching the scent so often lately had reawakened all the cravings that I thought I’d left so far behind me. I kept catching myself finding justifications for just a little smoke, taking a little thassin to chew or some leaf, there was plenty on offer after all. The notion of losing myself just for a little while was just so tempting, stealing an evening free of the memories of Kaeska’s appalling death, my apprehension over how Messire was going to judge my recent experiences, my struggle to decide whether I would admit to these dreams of D’Alsennin and his lost colony and sink myself deeper into some wizards’ plotting or lie through my teeth and deny it all, forfeiting my oath though none but me would know it. Some nights just about the only thing holding me back was the fear that relinquishing control like that would let loose whatever shade of D’Alsennin remained tied to his sword and was currently locked firmly away in the back of my mind, for the moment at least.

  Dev showed no after effects of the smoke the following day and got us moving in a high good humor. “We’re heading out away into open waters today,” he announced over breakfast. “It’ll be rougher and we’ll need to watch the winds.”

  “Keep Repi below decks then,” I said shortly, “or tie a line to her.”

  Dev laughed as if I had just made an excellent jest, so I turned my back on him and addressed myself to the business of sailing the little ship, which was not really built for the seas we faced as we left the shelter of the Archipelago, alone on the empty expanse of the water.

  “Take the tiller and turn her into the wind!” Dev shouted to me. I hurried to comply as he left the stern and the ship rocked alarmingly. I grabbed for the arm of the rudder but missed as I saw a complex tangle of red light swirl around his fingers, the ruby glow sparking arcane reflections in his dark eyes.

  “You’re a pissing wizard!” I gasped, reaching for the tiller and just managing to grab it this time to steady the ship.

  “Reporting to the Archmage and a seat on the Council any time I want it,” Dev confirmed as he spread his hands and sent a column of fire high into the sky above our heads. “Not that I do want it, not just yet. Sailing the islands like this, in my line of trade, it’s a fine life. If I can earn some credit in Hadrumal with what I discover, so much the better. I’ll be wintering there this year, though. You’re a fine prize for me to bring in.” He laughed at my shocked expression. “I’ve been hunting for you ever since Shek Kul set sail from Relshaz. What did you think? The Archmage was going to let you loose in the Archipelago and forget about you? Not with what I think you’ve got in your head, not when those Elietimm are spending so much time and trouble to get their hands on you and that sword.”

  He was openly gloating now. If we’d been within sight of land, I’d have been over the rail and swimming for shore to take my chances with whate
ver lurked beneath the waters. As it was I took a step toward the smirking man before the lurch of the ship brought me to my senses.

  “I’m a Tormalin sworn man, I answer to my patron and no one else, you bastard,” I told Dev in no uncertain terms. “If Planir wants me, he’ll answer to Messire D’Olbriot first!”

  “Already signed and sealed,” Dev laughed. “You’ve been handed over as surely as when you were sold in Relshaz!”

  I might really have hit him then had a sail not appeared on the horizon. Square-rigged and three-masted, it was a Tormalin ship, the type I had seen all my life in the oceanside harbor at Zyoutessela. Squinting into the sun, I struggled to identify the flag at the masthead, desperately hoping to see the D’Olbriot insignia. Let the mages try and get me off one of Messire’s ships against my will; I couldn’t believe Dev’s tale, that the patron would transfer me to another’s orders without my consent, especially not to the Archmage.

  The three-master closed with us rapidly with the winds at her stern. I ignored Dev’s protests as I abandoned the rudder to him and collected my gear. I was ready to catch a line thrown from the taller ship as soon as she drew alongside and tied my kit-bag securely to it, waving a hand to the sailor who hauled it aboard for me. A rope ladder snaked down to me and I looked for the right moment to catch it.

  “Don’t you owe me for your passage?” Dev shouted, half angry, half taunting. I looped my arm through the ladder and got my feet on to it before turning to glare at him.

  “You really think so?”

  “I can do a lot for the Archmage with a token like that,” he insisted, face serious for once. “Besides, you swore it to me.”

  And I wasn’t about to forswear myself, just for the sake of poking this little filth in the eye. I spat on to his deck before ripping the medallion from my neck and tossing it over, watching with contempt as Dev scrambled for the shining disc. Fury goading me to unexpected violence, I decided it would be best to leave before I killed him and climbed rapidly aboard the three-master. A genial mariner helped me over the rail, the master of the ship by his dress and manner.

  “You and Dev not the best of friends then?” he inquired, evidently amused.

  “The man’s privy slime!” I wasn’t about to change my mind on that in a hurry.

  “You know the legend about the masquerader whose mask stuck to his face when he abused Ostrin’s hospitality without knowing it?” The sailor nodded toward Dev’s retreating boat. “That’s Dev’s problem; he’s spent so long playing the part to keep himself from being skinned alive for magecraft.”

  I watched the little vessel move swiftly away in defiance of wind and wave. No need for concealment excused Repi’s plight, as far as I was concerned. Still, there was nothing I or anyone could do to help her and at least I was free of Dev now. I turned to the captain.

  “Where are we headed? Relshaz or Col? I’m not quite clear which side of the Cape of Caladhria we are.”

  The sailor laughed. “Sorry, friend, we’re bound for Hadrumal, full sail and best speed.”

  “Hadrumal can wait; I’m a sworn man to Messire D’Olbriot, my duty is to him.” I thought about the fortune I had concealed in my gear. “I can make it worth your while to set me ashore on the mainland, I’ll pay a full charter fee.”

  “I’m not crossing the Archmage for all the gems in Aldabreshi.” The mariner shook his head firmly. “You’re going to Hadrumal, friend, like it or not.”

  Chapter Nine

  Taken from the Archive of the

  Guild of Master Mariners, Peorle,

  a letter written by Master Obrim Eschale to his son,

  in the 10th year of Emperor Inshol the Curt

  Dastennin send his blessings on you, Pennel, and all who sail with you.

  I am gravely concerned to hear that you are intending to attempt a voyage to Hadrumal on the spring tides. I would tell you to steer a course well clear of that accursed isle, were I not confident that you will never make landfall there. You fool, don’t you realize that the mages who have made that place their own will only allow those boats they wish to find them? You will never even see the hidden island, let alone navigate the magical defenses wrought around the harbor. All you are doing is risking being lost at sea, along with your crew and hull in a futile quest for a moon’s reflection.

  I have spoken with various mariners who have taken the Archmage’s coin to ferry hapless youths to their so-called apprenticeships in the service of those ancient wizards and none of their stories agree. Some have sailed for days beyond the sight of land, only to find themselves surrounded by fog, which hangs proof against the strongest winds. Then the mist magically clears to reveal the island they are seeking. Others tell of enchanted currents seizing their vessels, carrying them this way and that, proof against all pull of wind and sail, to bring them suddenly to an unexpected landfall. No two ships spend the same time on the journey, no two captains’ records agree but for the one incontrovertible fact that, once a ship has taken the Archmage’s coin and set sail for Hadrumal, the sun cannot be seen after the first three days at sea. There is daylight, do not mistake me, but the sun is lost behind a haze of shifting magic, so that no readings or calculations of position may be made.

  These wizards do not want to be found, my son. Respect their wishes or risk their wrath. You have heard the tales as well as I of the savage vengeance taken by mages on those that defy them; do you want your eyes blasted from your head? Do you want unquenchable fire burning your ship to the waterline? Why do you think these people were driven into the sea in the first place, if not to save us all from their inhuman powers and unbridled lust for domination? Do not be dazzled by the glitter of the Archmage’s gold, my boy, do not let it blind you to the dangers that ring Hadrumal, more perilous than any reef or shoal.

  What is the point of such a voyage? These wizards have no interest in the lives of ordinary folk. There is no trade to be done, no cargo to ferry, beyond those few foolhardy enough to risk their lives in a search for unholy powers. I would call it wiser to sail blindly into the Archipelago and hope not to be ripped apart by the brazen fangs of barbarian warships. Have you learned so little, in all the years I have struggled to teach you wisdom? What is your mother going to say?

  The hidden island city of Hadrumal,

  29th of For-Summer

  Hadrumal was bigger than I expected. Not that I could have said exactly what I was expecting; some bleak and rocky islet, aloof above inaccessible cliffs, storm-tossed and lost in clouds of brooding spray? Possibly, perhaps, certainly not a long island of shelving beaches and wooded lowlands, a swell of green downs rising away to run down its length, unmistakably dotted with livestock of some kind. As the ship with me as its unwilling passenger turned down the narrowing estuary of a little river, I saw docks and quays, warehouses and boatyards, such as you might find anywhere along the coast from Col to Toremal, where a seaside Lord has turned his own modest anchorage into a handy base for passing ships. It was quiet in the noonday heat of a summer’s day, the few people about ready enough to help with line and gangway when the master of the ship drew the vessel deftly alongside the timber piles of the dockside.

  I was leaning on the rail, my thoughts grim, when I heard a familiar voice.

  “Ryshad, over here!”

  I’d been glad to see Shiv the last time he had hailed me like that. I looked for him, unsmiling, and returned his enthusiastic waves with a single desultory gesture.

  “Thank you for the passage, Master.” I bowed with bitter irony to the captain of the ship as I passed him on my way to collect my baggage. “Where are you bound for next?”

  “Col,” he shrugged, unconcerned.

  “Please pass this onto the Imperial Despatch.” I slipped a folded and twice-sealed parchment into his hand, “It’s a letter for my mother.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be glad to.”

  That was one weight off my mind at least. I’d wondered about writing to Messire or better yet to Camarl, who m
ight just be more sympathetic to my sorry tale, but I had decided against it. These wizards could make themselves useful and send any communication I had a mind to make once I had the measure of this new situation.

  “I can’t say how relieved I am to see you again!” Shiv clapped his hand against my shoulder. “Come on, I’m to take you straight to Planir.”

  “Why?” I was going to make it clear from the start that my days as anyone’s slave were over. There had been no point in taking out my frustrations on the captain of the ship; he had been simply doing as he was ordered and I had to respect that. Now I felt slow anger building within me; if Planir thought he had bought me, body or mind, he was going to find he’d got more than he bargained for.

  “He wants to meet you, congratulate you, hear all you have to say,” replied Shiv. “There’s much your experiences can tell us, information we can use against the Elietimm. Planir needs that straightaway.”

  I nodded. All right; I had no problem with letting Planir know just where I stood right at the outset. If he wanted to argue about it, he’d have a fight on his hands and that didn’t worry me in the slightest. The sooner everything was clear, the sooner I could leave this cursed place and get back to my own life. I wondered fleetingly where Livak might be. Turning to Shiv, I was about to ask him, but something in his expression deterred me.

  The doubts and diffidence that had been so marked in Shiv last time I had seen him were strikingly absent. He was looking far more confident and assured and, as a result, far more distant than I remembered him, his dark hair cut level at jaw length, a formal gown belted in with a tooled leather strap. Not at all sure I’d find him my ally now his feet were firmly on Hadrumal’s soil, I decided I could wait to find out where Livak was. Shrugging my bag on to my shoulder, I followed Shiv up the dock to a boggy pool of the river where a bridge marched across on stout foundations toward a road Misaen himself would have been proud of. Close-laid stones were laid on a solid foundation, ditches at either side to carry the run-off from the curved surface. I tried not to be too impressed as I saw the city of the wizards for the first time. After all, compared to somewhere like Toremal, or even Zyoutessela, it was no bigger than a middling market town.