by David Duncan
Then he lifted the seventh and tested its balance and flexibility before handing it back to Wallie with a penetrating stare.
"It is too long for me," he said.
"But not for our skinny friend."
Tivanixi shook his head, leaned back against the table, and folded his arms across his cobalt harness.
"You did not know the way to this room, my lord."
"No, I didn't."
"You did not know Doa."
"Who?"
The castellan shrugged. "A minstrel... Shonsu should know Doa."
Wallie made his decision-but perhaps he had made it earlier. "I am Shonsu-and I am not Shonsu," he said. "I shall tell you, but you will have to decide for yourself whether I am sent by the Goddess, or by the sorcerers."
Tivanixi nodded. He was a brave man to come alone to this place with someone who might be a sorcerer, and the strain was showing in his eyes.
Wallie began, and he told the whole story of Wallie Smith and Shonsu, and it took a long, long time. The castellan listened in silence, watching his face. Wallie, in turn, studied his reaction. Yes, this was an unusually intelligent swordsman-not a blustering bully, a cold-blooded killer as Shonsu must have been, not an unpractical idealist like Nnanji had been once, not even a pigheaded showboat like Polini. With this man there might be hope of rational response... but could he believe?
When he finished, Tivanixi said, "And the only evidence is that sword?"
"There is a priest," Wallie said. "A Seventh from Hann."
Even in a World where few people knew the name of the next city-and that might change anyway-everyone had heard of Hann. Hann was Rome, Mecca, Jerusalem.
"And my parentmarks. I don't know what Shonsu's were, but not these, I am sure."
The castellan reached up, removed his hairclip, and looked expectantly at Wallie, who puzzled down into Shonsu's swordsman memories, for obviously this was a ritual. Then he reeled between two mental worlds. He was letting his hair down! The expression translated word for word and the absurdity of that equivalence collided with the paradox of Tivanixi's appearance in terrestrial terms: a handsome man in a skirt and leather harness, with wavy gold-brown hair streaming down around his shoulders. Yet this was the epitome of macho in the World, the role model for every red-blooded boy, the ultimate male sex symbol. If Wallie had allowed his lips to twitch he would have exploded into giggles. Letting his hair down! It did not mean quite the same, though. Here it meant: "I shall speak frankly," but it also meant "I shall not challenge; I waive the dictates of honor."
Keeping his face rigid, Wallie undipped his sapphire and released his own black mane.
"As it happens I do know Shonsu's parentmarks," Tivanixi said. "You... he... left a few juniors here, Firsts and a couple of Seconds. One of them offered you foils today and you did not know him, either." He hesitated. "But there was a joke-both Shonsu's parentmarks were swords. It was said that both his parents were men."
Wallie guffawed. "Said behind his back?"
The castellan smiled. "A long way behind, I fancy."
It had been a test-this was not Shonsu.
"I accept that your sword is the seventh sword of Chioxin, my lord, but it does not show the wear of seven hundred years. No one knows where it has been. No royal family could have kept it secret this long... but a temple could. He gave it to the Goddess..."
"Say it!"
"You could have stolen it from the temple at Hann."
"I didn't. Talk to the priest."
Tivanixi began to pace, his boots echoing and sending up puffs of dust, scattering the mouse droppings.
Still pacing, he said, "I was about to denounce you. Your fencing made me hesitate, for if the sorcerers can create a swordsman like you, then we are all dead men. The sword confused me completely. Your tales of the sorcerers have made it worse, and yet if you have truly been scouting on the left bank, I am ashamed, for I called the tryst without knowing what I was calling it against. We need your counsel!"
"Leave the question open, then," Wallie said, "for the moment. You have another problem. Even assuming that I was sent by the gods, am I a man of honor? I have screwed things up mightily a couple of times. Especially at Aus. I went ashore-idiocy! Without my sword-more idiocy! I was captured and given the choice of dying on the spot or crawling back to my ship. I was on the docks. I could have jumped. Instead I crawled. Perhaps it was the wrong decision."
An odd expression came over Tivanixi's face. He went to stand at one of the windows, as if he could see out through the golden glare of the grime. "Very few swordsmen have not eaten dirt at one time or another," be said, very quietly.
That was news to Wallie. Shonsu's history was a blank to him; the only swordsman he knew well was Nnanji. He could not imagine Nnanji performing the ritual of abasement-but Nnanji was not cut from ordinary cloth.
"When I was a Second," Tivanixi said. "I was challenged. I had talked my way into the wrong bed." He had tried to make that sound humorous, but every muscle in his back had gone taut and his voice was barely audible. "He was two ranks above me and his eyes were red. He made the sign. I rolled over. He demanded the abasement. He even made me go and bring my friends to watch-and I did it! All the time I was telling myself that afterward I would go and wash my sword."
Wallie was fascinated... and stayed silent.
"I went down to the River," the castellan whispered to the window. "I stood on the edge of the water for an hour and my feet would not move. Then I went home and grew my hair back...
"I have never told anyone that before, my lord."
"I shall not repeat it," Wallie promised. "But you waded into the River when you called the tryst." Which was why Tivanixi could tell the story now, he thought.
The castellan laughed and turned around. "Oh-that was different. I had not just told myself I was going to do it, I had told everyone. There was a crowd! It was a ceremony. We had the remains of forty-nine bullocks still dying in front of us." He shivered. "But a very strange feeling!
"What I mean is," he continued, "that most of us have made obeisance at some time to swordsmen. You did it to sorcerers, that is all. If I had that on my conscience, I would not expect to have it thrown back in my face, except by someone who wanted to start a fight, and there are always ways of starting fights. But I don't know that I would try to become leader of a tryst, my lord."
Quite! "Ov was different. I make no apologies for Ov. I made the right decision."
Tivanixi nodded approvingly. "I think you did. You had no army, only an ad hoc rabble of swordsmen, no plan, no chain of command-you could not have even given orders, for you did not know their names. You were right-but only highranks know the sutras on strategy. The cubs will howl."
"Tell me what happens now," Wallie said.
The castellan shrugged and leaned back against the table again. "The ancient stories are not quite clear, but it seems that we must wait for seven Sevenths. When the last appears, then I proclaim the tryst and call for challenge."
He stared glumly down at his boots. "I hope he is not too rough."
A heavier than normal gust of wind played a tattoo with the
loose window. Wallie said, "I see that calling trysts is no task for small men, my lord. What if two challenge?"
"I fight the first and the surviv-the winner calls for challenges and then fights the next. When no one responds, that is the leader."
"Then tell me what happens if I challenge and win. Supposing I can beat Boariyi? Will they swear to me?"
He had to wait a long time for a reply, while Tivanixi studied his expensive boots and fingered his hair. At last he said, "I don't think so. Not to Shonsu. I think they would flee, or riot. But it will never come to that. Boariyi will denounce you. Zoariyi was improvising today-now he will have time to prepare a case, with witnesses who saw you in Aus. He may have men down at the docks already; they have plenty of men."
Wallie nodded glumly. "And Shonsu lost an army, or sold it. Now he has come b
ack to sell another.. .The god gave me a hard task, Lord Tivanixi, even without my own follies."
The castellan nodded. "Tell me again of his riddle."
"Seven lines..." Wallie said. "First chain my brother, and I did that when Nnanji and I swore the fourth oath. The mighty spurned was my stupidity in Aus, so the god foresaw that. Turning the circle was my reconnaissance of the sorcerer cities, and I earned an army by saving Sapphire from pirates. Next to gain wisdom and I have done that-that was Katanji showing me the truth about the sorcerers. The last instruction is to return the sword, and that I do not understand yet."
Tivanixi smiled. "You have done that, too. According to local tradition, Chioxin was a Casr man."
Wallie swore quietly.
"That sword was made in this lodge."
Wallie nodded, thinking he could hear the shrill laughter of the tittle god. You amuse me! The gods had tricked him before and now they had tricked him again. He hoped it made them very happy.
"And you did not know that!" Tivanixi was studying Wallie thoughtfully. He seemed to approve of his surprise.
"So now I must accord to the destiny of the sword," Wallie said glumly. "To lead the tryst, obviously. Whoever bears it. At least three of the seven led trysts." Suddenly, chillingly, he saw why-a tryst was led by the best swordsman in the World. Any lesser man who wore one of the Chioxin masterpieces soon died. The epics did not mention that. Heroes were heroes.
"How much time is there?" he asked. "You cannot promote another Sixth?"
"Not very likely now," the castellan said, pacing again. He was speaking absently, his mind still wrestling with the bigger problem. "Of course the next boat may always bring someone ... You would think that you could get more than two Sevenths out of three dozen Sixths, wouldn't you? But many are past their primes. A few are not there yet. Others never expected the opportunity and have not learned the sutras-why bother, when they were doing well as Sixths? Many are working on it, but it takes time. Some tried and failed and must wait until next year." He chuckled. "Honorable Fiendori and I have been together since we were Thirds. On a good day he can beat me like a drum... but sutras? Zoariyi asked him for nine twenty. He started in ten thirteen, detoured through eight seventy-two, and finished up in nine eighteen!"
He gave Wallie a long, long stare. Then he sighed. He had made his decision. Wallie had become too familiar with the seventh sword to appreciate the impact it had on a swordsman-its quality, its beauty, and its legend. In a world where only the sorcerers could read, the Goddess could hardly have given him a letter of introduction. To whom it may concern: The bearer of this missive, our trusty and well-beloved Shonsu... She had given him the next best thing, the greatest sword ever made, and Tivanixi had heard the message.
"I shall accept you, Lord Shonsu, as being sent by the Goddess, with Her sword. Obviously She wants us to have the benefit of your wisdom as well as your sword. But I warn you-if you are a traitor, I shall kill you myself, at any cost."
"I shall not betray your trust, my lord," Wallie said, astonished and delighted, shaking his hand warmly. Here was an invaluable ally-and potentially a good friend, he thought. Then he remembered his doubts in the night... whose side was he on? He strangled the memory quickly. He, also, had made a decision. "One thing I have not heard, though," he said. "For what exact purpose did you call this tryst? If you are planning to wreak vengeance on the civilians of the left bank for harboring sorcerers, then I want no part of it."
The castellan picked up the fragment of the fifth sword and wandered over to replace it on its pegs. "I wanted to call it to avenge Shonsu." He chuckled. "That would have been a problem when you came back, wouldn't it? But there were rumors that you had been seen, and also the priests started spinning their webs of words, as usual, wanting to know how I could call sorcerers as witnesses, and so on. And none of us knew at that time how many cities had been taken! So we finally decided to keep it simple. We called the tryst of Cast 'To restore the honor of the swordsmen's craft.' Helpfully vague, yes?"
"Very good indeed!" Wallie said. That committed no one to anything and every swordsman must support it, but he wondered how the citizens of Casr felt about swordsmen's honor at the moment.
"And by nightfall the swordsmen were arriving," Tivanixi said proudly. He must have hoped to be leader, but he had earned his immortality as the man who called the tryst, the one whose prayer had been answered. "And now She has sent Her own sword!"
"But who will bear it?" Wallie asked. Now it was his turn to start pacing.
"He is the better swordsman, my lord. In eight or ten bouts, I have never touched him. Of course his reach is..." The castellan smiled. "Well, it's unfair! He is incredibly fast-and completely ambidextrous. Zoariyi has taught him every trick in the craft. You might do better if you had more practice. You are rusty as the ruby, Shonsu. I could tell."
"What sort of a leader would he make?" Wallie asked sadly. "His uncle is the brains?"
"Of course. But you know the blood oath-absolute power. He can tell his uncle to disembowel himself if he wants to, once he has sworn that oath. He might, too! If I cannot be leader, then I had rather you than he, my lord. You may yet be traitor, but Boariyi is sure disaster."
Wallie reached the far wall and started back. "How is he at leadership?"
Tivanixi snorted. "At his age?"
Wallie was surprised. He did not think that leadership depended very much on age-Nnanji certainly had it, and had proved so more than once. But a moment's thought showed him mat this was a language problem, and perhaps a cultural one. To the swordsmen, leadership implied a certain public dignity, eminence, nobility... the word did not quite translate exactly.
"I believe that I am supposed to be leader. But I can't beat Boariyi, you say, and the tryst would not accept me anyway."
"You know how to fight these thunderbolts?"
Wallie shrugged. "They have at least three types of thunderbolt. Apart from that they are mostly fakes. Speed is the key, but it will not work against the towers. I have some ideas, though. If Boariyi were leader, would he take my advice?"
"I doubt it," Tivanixi said. "Just being a Seventh has gone to his head, and being liege lord will boil his brains." Obviously he bitterly resented this upstart Boariyi. "And you will have to give him the sword! He either did not notice it, or he has not heard of Chioxin, but one of his men will have told him by now. In fact," he said, with a worried frown, "it is surprising that he has not come looking for you already. He will certainly not let it escape from the lodge."
He went to the window and started wiping a pane, speaking over his shoulder. "Choose another, my lord! Take any one off the wall. I will say the words to give it to you, and you can put it in your scabbard."
Wallie discovered that he was a man of more honor than that. To walk out with a rusty old relic on his back and the seventh sword under his arm would be a public admission that he no longer felt worthy to wear it, and at the moment he needed all the prestige and self-esteem he could find.
"Yes, he is still down there," said Tivanixi.
"Is there a back door?" Wallie asked. "If I can reach my ship, I am safe. On Sapphire's deck I can beat any man."
The castellan swung around. He frowned and then shrugged. "Yes, there is. Let's go, then."
They clipped their hair up and went out, pushing the wailing door closed, shutting the ghosts back in their cold gray solitude.
"Leave the bar," the castellan said as Wallie reached for it. "I'll send some juniors to get the hernias." They started down the stairs. "I can return Master Nnanji and the others with an escort. Have you a password he will know?"
Wallie thought and then chuckled. " 'Killer earthworm.' It was how he fenced when I first met him."
"He is more of a cobra now, Lord Shonsu! A pity he cannot manage the sutras; he would have a good chance to make Sixth."
They clattered down a second flight. There were two doors on this floor, one on either side of the stairwell. "Through here." The
door led into another long room-smelly, grimy, and littered with bedding rolls and the small packs of belongings that free swords might carry on their gypsy life. All the rooms in the lodge must be this shape, long and narrow, with windows on one side out to a balcony.
"If no other Seventh appears, how much time do I have?" Wallie asked as they paced through.
"Very little, I fear! You announced that you would not join the tryst, so they can't count you. But if no other appears, then I don't think we can wait much longer." They went out through the far door and down more stairs. "The town can't take much more of this."
So Tivanixi did care about what was happening in the city?
"You can't impose discipline?"
He got an angry and resentful glare. "I have tried! It risks gang warfare, my men versus your men. It is the unattached Sixths, and a couple of Fifths; slack disciplinarians have less trouble recruiting, of course. The Sevenths are all keeping their protégé's under control, I think, but the others are troublemakers. It is hard on the citizens. And taxes are another problem-I had no idea how much this was going to cost, and the elders scream when I ask for more money."
He opened another door, leading into another long room, rank and unbelievably cluttered. Half the windowpanes were missing, panels had warped away from the walls. There was mold on the heaps of old furniture and high-piled bedding, harnesses, clothes, and boxes that almost filled it. The floor had sagged in places and the air stank of rot and decay.
"Tell the elders," Wallie said as they edged their way through the piled furniture, along a narrow, crooked path, "that feeding a tryst costs less than building a sorcerer's tower."
Tivanixi stopped and stared back at him. "I hadn't thought of that!"
"It is their logical next move."
"Sorcerers cannot cross the River!"
"Oh yes, they can! I assure you, Lord Tivanixi, that there is at least one sorcerer down there in that courtyard at this moment. Most likely he is a slave, or a hawker, or someone else inconspicuous. News of my arrival will be on its way to Vul already."
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