by David Duncan
"Me? Leave Sapphire? You're crazy even to ask!" Tomiyano was taking the suggestion as an insult.
"It is important," Wallie said seriously. "I've been making a game of it, but it is important! If the swordsmen walk into the sorcerers' trap, then they'll all die, hundreds of them."
The sailor's face grew red. "No! I've cooperated with the Goddess. We've risked our ship and our lives, and I'll help still, but I'm not leaving Sapphire. And that's final."
"Fool!" Honakura squirmed down from the fire bucket. "You, a sailor, would defy Her? The Goddess is the River and the River is the Goddess! They are Her swordsmen!" The captain paled as the tiny old man marched across to him, shrill with anger. "You will never find fair wind again! Never reach the port you want! Never know a night without pirates! Is that what you want, Captain Tomiyano? How long will you survive on the River if you anger the Goddess?"
"Oh, hell!" Tomiyano scowled at the deck. "I guess I'll come, then."
"Thanks, Captain," Wallie said quietly.
"Just a moment, my lord!" Brota was suspicious. "You said that you had work for all of us. Haven't you kept a few things back?" She hunched her head down in her pillowed shoulders and frowned at him.
"Well, yes," Wallie admitted. "When I'm off playing in my new ship, there will be a small job-at least for you, mistress."
"Such as?"
"I'll handle the sorcerers. You have to stop the tryst."
Even Brota could be startled sometimes. Some of the children giggled.
Then Tomiyano began to laugh-and that was rare as summer snow. "Shonsu," he said, "you're not the only one who's going to need some fencing practice."
††† † †††
Nnanji of the Fifth bounded up the gangplank and landed with both feet firmly on the deck, arms wide to receive plaudits and bouquets, timed to an inaudible fanfare from an invisible band-Ta-RAH! His new red kilt was absurdly short and a horrible raspberry shade that clashed with his hair, but his facemarks were symmetrical for the first time since Wallie had known him, and he was somehow contriving to laugh and grin at the same time.
There, Wallie thought, was one swordsman who would never again have problems handling sailors, unlike the late Polini. And had the younger Nnanji of the temple guard been required to leave a lodge full of swordsmen to go and mix with riverfolk, he would have sulked for hours.
Thana appeared at his side, sliding an arm around him to share in his triumph as the crew rushed forward with congratulations. She noticed Wallie, smiled, and then stuck out her tongue. He mouthed "Cheat!" at her silently, and she smirked, unrepentant. Katanji came on board, also grinning.
Then Jja-she noted where Vixini was even as she ran over to Wallie. Vixi had been contentedly sitting beside Fala, but now he dropped the bone on which he had been sharpening his latest tooth and levered himself upright, bottom first. There was his favorite mother...
Wallie grabbed her in a fierce hug. She was laughing under his kiss as Vixini cannoned into her.
"What kept you all?" Wallie demanded. "I was ready to declare war!"
She scooped up Vixini. "Minstrels!" She was excited and happy. "Just after you left, a minstrel started singing an epic-about you! You and Nnanji and the fight against the Honorable Tarru and his men. You horrible dirty River monster!" The last remark was directed at Vixini.
Great gods! The battle with Tarru, the escape from the holy island-how long ago that seemed! But of course Yoningu had promised Nnanji that he would tell the tale to the first minstrel who came by the barracks. So that minstrel was now here in Casr, or one who had heard the story from him.
He laughed. "Was it a good epic?"
She smiled mischievously. "Very good! So Master Nnanji says."
"He's biased! Well, he'll be happy." Ecstatic, more like! And an epic would be excellent public relations.
Then Nnanji himself came pushing forward through the throng, disentangling himself from the more youthful admirers. "I met four Sevenths today, my lord brother," he said solemnly. "That makes seven all together in my whole life!"
"Who was the fourth, then?" Wallie asked.
"Lord Chinarama. He'll be no problem for you, though-he's old!"
For Nnanji, senescence began at thirty. "How old?"
Nnanji pondered. "At least seventy... but a nice old relic. Says he's always dreamed of a tryst, so when he heard about this one, he retrieved his sword from the woodshed and came along in the hope of giving counsel." Then he added, "I don't suppose he'll hurt."
"What did you think of Boariyi?" Wallie asked.
"He is a man of honor," Nnanji said cautiously. "He is very troubled about the lack of discipline, thinks it is a disgrace to the craft. And he says I am younger than he was when he reached Fifth!"
Boariyi had found the keys to Nnanji's heart.
"And I have an epic for you!" Nnanji beamed and turned to address everyone. "Who wants to hear an epic?"
"Not now!" Wallie said. "We have a war to fight."
Casr had become a dangerous place for him. By now Zoariyi and his nephew must have learned the importance of the seventh sword and would be anxious to prevent it leaving town. If they could locate a water rat, or even a sailor, who had witnessed Wallie's disgrace in Aus, then a denunciation would follow at once-the posse would arrive at the gangplank. He must vanish into the mists of the River, and the sooner the better.
He was shouted down. The World was a leisurely place. Sapphire was having a vacation. His war could wait. He almost lost his temper, but Honakura said firmly that he wanted to hear an epic, and that was that. Wagons and horses and chattering people were winding their way home, the wind was still listlessly flapping awnings and sails, but such details would not keep Nnanji from his epic. So Wallie reluctantly sat down and leaned back against the bulwark, out of the wind, his aim around Jja.
Nnanji jumped up on the aft hatch cover. "Right!" he said. "Gather round! Ready? How Nnanji of the Fourth and Shonsu of the Seventh Fought Ten Renegade Swordsmen!" He glanced at Wallie.
"What! You get star billing?" Wallie protested-it translated as "place of honor."
Nnanji smirked. "That was what you told Yoningu, brother!"
So it was-Wallie had joked that Nnanji's name should be first. He had not then cared for the dubious honor of being hero of a barbarian romance... but at that time he had not been running for office.
With a title like that, he thought sourly, it would never make the best-seller list. As soon as Nnanji started, though, he saw that it well might-it was a very good epic. No, it was excellent, far superior to the ephemeral jingles in which the minstrels normally reported current events, the doggerel that he had once dismissed as swordsman sports news. At times he had wondered if one day he would find a Homer to record whatever feat he might achieve for the Goddess. If the author of this work was present in Casr, then perhaps he had. True, it used all the stock phrases and conventions-long dramatic speeches between sword strokes, vile villains and heroic heroes-but the meter was certain and the imagery vivid. Moreover, the bard had taken wide liberties with the story line to make it more dramatic. As the tale unfolded, Wallie began to feel very uneasy.
Nnanji of the Second had sought promotion in the temple guard-true-and challenged two Fourths, killing one-true-and had then denounced the guard as venal-false and improbable: How did he gain a promotion after that? Then the new "blood-headed" Nnanji of the Fourth, facemarks still dramatically bleeding, had set off with his brother...
Wallie choked down an interruption as he saw Katanji grinning expectantly at him. How had he gotten into this? He had been present, but only a very minor character. Now Wallie was astounded to realize that the minstrel had been extemporizing, creating the epic as he went along. Having the basic story in some form or other, he had adapted it to the earlier events of the afternoon, downplaying the unsavory Shonsu, emphasizing the "blood-headed" hero of Ov and the brother who had been so dramatically presented as the bravest man in the courtyard-giving his audience wh
at it wanted to hear. In all this ridiculous farrago, Shonsu had not even been mentioned yet.
The scene changed to the jetty, where the impossibly vile Tarru of the Sixth swore terrible vows and pledged evil minions by the blood oath. Nnanji and Katanji came on stage. Tarru mocked them-and David promptly challenged Goliath in iambic pentameters.
Leaving the battle in suspense, the bard then switched to the holy cave behind the sacred waterfall, where the Goddess expounded on the honor of her swordsmen, the sins of Tarru, the virtue and future greatness of Nnanji, and finally summoned a demigod, commanding him to save Her hero.
Wallie looked in exasperation at Honakura and saw that he was turning purple with suppressed laughter.
The demigod found Shonsu-where? at the relief office?-gave him the seventh sword-described in lines stolen from the saga of Chioxin-and then transported him by a miracle to the battle.
Copious blood spurted. With a little help on the side from Shonsu, the magnificent Nnanji was victorious. Virtue triumphed. The two heroes swore the oath of brotherhood and sailed away to continue the battle against evil. End of epic, applause.
The seventh sword was understandable-Imperkanni's men back at the jetty at Hann had known of that-but no one except the crew of Sapphire had been aware of the fourth oath until Wallie had mentioned it in the lodge. Very few of those present would ever have heard of the oath before.
Certainly Homer had been present in the courtyard!
So now the seventh sword was public knowledge! And Wallie felt like Agamemnon hearing the Iliad; it was good public relations, but for the wrong man. He hoped he was managing to hide his pique as he applauded with the others. The youngsters wanted to hear it all again, but Nnanji refused. Perhaps Wallie's face was not so waterproof as he hoped.
"Not exactly the way I recall the way it went," Wallie said, squeezing out a toothpaste smile, "but superb poetry! Who was the minstrel?"
Nnanji shrugged. "Don't know. Not bad, though, was it?" He looked a little disillusioned. "I suppose one shouldn't believe everything one hears in epics."
The crew rose, ready to take on the war now. "Where to, great leader?" Tomiyano asked.
"Vanish!" Wallie said. "The mysterious Shonsu disappears as mysteriously as he mysteriously appeared."
Nnanji stared at him in horror and dismay.
"Then we creep back and go to the temple."
"Ah! And what do we do there, brother?"
"Fence," Wallie said.
"Oh!" Nnanji looked surprised, but fencing was always acceptable behavior.
Honakura descended from his bucket. "I shall see you there. I was told to suggest the up end of the grounds. Dinghies," he added, "look even worse than mules, whereas I find sedan chair riding to be excellent exercise, not tiring at all."
Wallie escorted the priest to the gangplank, while Sapphire's crew prepared to cast off. Somewhere out on that wide plaza there would be watchers, waiting to see what this Shonsu did.
He wandered back to where Nnanji stood with a firm grip on Thana. He had been out of bed for hours and was obviously feeling deprived.
"That's a hideous kilt," Wallie said.
"It was all they had," Nnanji protested, looking smug. "Fifths are supposed to be short or fat."
Wallie explained that Jja had made him one-very smart, with a griffon embroidered on the hem. Pleased, Nnanji said he would go and change. Thana remarked that new kilts were tricky, perhaps she should come and help. They fell agiggling again.
"Thank you, Thana," Wallie said, "for the warning about Boariyi-you saved the day."
"What warning?" Nnanji demanded.
"Never mind," Thana retorted quickly. "Let's get that ghastly kilt off you first." There was an offer that he would not refuse, and the two of them ran off.
The gangplank was being hauled in-time to start detailed planning. Wallie returned to Jja's side near the deckhouse, meaning to explain about silk and sewing. There was no sign of swordsmen heading for the ship.
"Did you like the epic, darling?" she inquired, and there was something lurking in those dark, unreadable eyes.
"It was great poetry, even if it wasn't very accurate. Why?"
"There will be others!" she said. "Nnanji told the minstrels about Ov."
Wallie had promised Tivanixi he would do that, then had forgotten. No matter-Nnanji would have done it better. "How many minstrels are there, anyway?"
"Dozens, love," she said, frowning.
So many? A thousand swordsmen, plus juniors-three or four hundred juniors. Minstrels, of course, would flock to a tryst. Heralds? Armorers? Camp followers? Wives? Children? Musicians? Night slaves? He wondered how many thousands had invaded Casr. Small wonder that the elders were unhappy.
"And Thana told them how you and Nnanji fought the pirates."
He brought his mind back to Jja. She was concerned about something.
"What's worrying you, love? The pirate story is all right." Of course the pirates had been only dispossessed sailors, half of them women. In the minstrels' version they would be Morgan and Blackbeard and Long John Silver, but it would be a harmless piece of swashbuckling. Free swords hated pirates because they could do nothing about them, so the story would be appreciated.
She dropped her eyes shyly, not wanting to prompt a master who was usually so quick. "Who started the fighting?"
Nnanji had. Wallie had lifted him out of the window. Now he understood! The pattern had been set. Nnanji was the hero of the fight against Tarru, he would be the hero of the battle of Ov and of the pirate fight, also. With Thana telling the pirate story, Wallie would be lucky to get into a footnote.
"They were asked about Gi, too," Jja said. "If it was you who arrived with the shipload of tools after the fire and who organized the town again."
Wallie smiled. "Well, at least Nnanji can't steal that one."
"The tools came from Amb, darling."
Amb-a sorcerer city! The suspicion would be there... He was not usually so dumb, but then Jja had had more time to think about it.
"And Katanji was asked about the sorcerers' tower," she said.
Damn! Wallie just stared, too shocked to speak. Of course Katanji would have been asked-it was Wallie's own fault for mentioning the subject. Katanji was sharp beyond his years, but he would not have been able to resist an audience like that... dozens of minstrels?
Damn! Damn! What would the swordsmen think of a Seventh who hid in safety on a ship and sent a First into danger-and disguised him as a slave, too? They would react as Nnanji had reacted, saying that changing facemarks was an abomination. They could never approve of a plainclothes swordsman. The pirate story might do no harm, but the Katanji tale would be pure disaster for Shonsu's image.
Damn! Damn! Damn! Minstrels! Wallie had forgotten the position mat minstrels held in the World. While he had been babbling smugly to himself about modern management techniques, his subordinates had been blowing their heads off at a press conference.
BOOK THREE:
HOW THE BEST SWORD WON
†
As a man may have an off day, so Casr was having an off century, and nothing showed that more clearly than the temple. A smaller version of the great archetype at Hann, it faced its seven arches toward the River whose Goddess it honored, although here the arches had been glassed in, as a concession to a colder climate. Two of the seven spires had fallen and much of the gold leaf had peeled from the others. Many of the glass panes were missing, also, and even some of the stone filigree that had held them. As the sun god rose over RegiVul, his glory was mirrored in this façade with black gaps spotting the reflection like mildew. Adjoining the temple and its complex of buildings, on the upstream side, lay a wilderness of unkempt trees, shrubbery, and ruins, with a deserted, ramshackle pier. This had to be the jetty that Honakura had recommended, and when Wallie was rowed ashore, shivering slightly in the cool dawn air, he was met by a delegation of priests. After much ritual hand waving and bowing, he was led through wet and tangled u
ndergrowth to an abandoned refectory, a huge room, half underground, with a high, barrel-vault ceiling and stone-slabbed floor. It was dank and musty, but it would have been perfect for his purpose had the lighting been stronger. As it was, it would do very well. The windows were few and located high in the walls, partly obscured by moss and ferns. The sound of foils would barely be heard outside. And of course the refectory had an adjoining kitchen, filthy and littered, but ideal for the distillery he needed and convenient for him to supervise. The priests waited anxiously for his verdict, and he said yes, it would serve.
Brota and Pora would go shopping for silk and waxes and oils, Lae for some heavy blue material. Tomiyano and Oligarro would hunt for ships. Thana and Jja and Katanji had been warned to stay on board Sapphire. With all those details under control, Wallie could start on his fencing right away. He dismissed the priests, asking that Honorable Fiendori be brought to him as soon as he arrived.
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, the great stone room looked like an excellent gym.
"Right, Master Nnanji," he said. "As I have no one else here to butcher... you're first!"
Nnanji grinned cheerfully. "My secrets are your secrets, brother?" he asked.
"Of course," Wallie said. "Don't think I don't trust the sailors, Nnanji, it's just that any false word could kill us. I'm sure that the sorcerers have spies in Casr." He wandered over to a scabrous wooden bench, but decided it needed cleaning before it could be used. "What I have in mind is this. Shonsu lost, and lost badly. At Aus, I lost. That's two losses, right? At Ov, we won. We need another win! And I want a thunderbolt!" Had he not been knocked senseless at Ov, he would have gathered up the dead sorcerers' weapons. Nnanji had not thought to do so, but could not be blamed for that lapse.
Nnanji's eyes widened. "You're going to capture a sorcerer?"
"I hope so," Wallie said. "Alive, if possible. But mostly I want his thunderbolt-I'll use it to kill an ox or something for the tryst and show them what they're up against. Maybe then they'll listen to me!"