The Coming Of Wisdom (2 page)

The local expert . . . but all she had were vague memories of the stories Kandoru had told her, rambling on for hour upon hour, an old man with nothing but his memories of youth and strength, of wenching and killing; an old man clasping his child bride in clammy embrace in a barren bed through endless winter nights. She should have listened more carefully.

Quili stopped suddenly, heart thumping. Had she heard something ahead of her? A twig snapping?

She listened, hearing only the stream and pattering dripping noises. It must have been her imagination. She went on, more slowly, more cautiously. She had been crazy to come without a light, for she knew that her night vision was poor. The priesthood was sacrosanct. No one, not the worst brigand, would harm a priestess. So they said.

She ought to be rejoicing at the thought of Kandoru being avenged. At fifteen she had been married; at sixteen a widow. At seventeen she found it hard to mourn, however much she reproached herself. She could perhaps have gone back to the temple, when Swordsman Kandoru had no further need for her services, but she had stayed. The tenants had made her welcome and they needed her. So did the slaves, much more so. Her ladyship had let her remain in the cottage and she provided basic fare—sacks of meal and sometimes even meat. She sent small gifts once in a while: sandals not too badly worn, leftover delicacies from the kitchen.

If the swordsmen did know about the sorcerers—if they were planning an attack on Ov—then there must be a whole army of them.

Floundering in the darkness, she almost walked into a vague shape standing square in her path, waiting for her.

She yelped and jumped backward, losing a shoe. “Priestess!” she squealed. Then she managed a slightly lower: “I am a priestess!”

“Good!” said a youth’s soft tenor. “And I am a swordsman. In what way may I be of service, holy lady?”

††

It was an absurd situation. Standing on one leg in the dark, with her heart still bounding wildly from the surprise, Quili could yet appreciate the absurdity—neither she nor the stranger could see the other’s rank. Who saluted and who responded? But of course swordsmen would never send a mere First to scout, nor a Second either. He must outrank her.

So she made the greeting to a superior, managing not to fall over, even in the final bow: “I am Quili, priestess of the second rank, and it is my deepest and most humble wish that the Goddess Herself will see fit to grant you long life and happiness and to induce you to accept my modest and willing service in any way in which I may advance any of your noble purposes.”

The swordsman retreated one pace, and she heard, rather than saw, his sword whip from the scabbard on his back. She almost lost her balance again, before remembering that swordsmen had their own rituals, flailing their blades around in salute.

“I am Nnanji, swordsman of the fourth rank, and am honored to accept your gracious service.”

The sword shot back into its scabbard again with a hiss and a click. Random had not handled his so slickly.

“Do you always stand on one foot, apprentice?”

She had not thought he would have been able to see. “I’ve lost a shoe, adept.”

He chuckled and moved, and she felt a firm grip on her ankle. “Here it is. Stupid-looking thing!” Then her foot was pushed back where it belonged, and the swordsman straightened up.

“Thank you. You see very well . . . ”

“I do most things very well,” he remarked cheerfully. He sounded so young, like a boy. Could he really be a Fourth? “Now, where is this, apprentice?”

“The estate of the Honorable Garathondi, adept.”

The swordsman grunted softly. “What craft?”

“He is a builder.”

“And what does a builder of the Sixth build? Well, never mind. How many swordsmen on this estate?”

“None, adept.”

He grunted again, surprised. “What’s the nearest village, or town?”

“Pol, adept. A hamlet. About half a day’s walk to the north.”

“There would be swordsmen there, then . . . ”

It was not a question, so she need not say that the resident swordsman of Pol had died on the same day as her husband, or that his assassination could not have been reported, either.
Prevent bloodshed
!

“What city? How far?”

“Ov, adept. About another half day beyond Pol.”

“Mm? Do you happen to know the name of the reeve in Ov?”

He was dead, also, and all his men. To answer just “No!” would be a lie. Before she could speak, the swordsman asked another question.

“Is there trouble here, Apprentice Quili? Brigands? Bandits? Work for honest swordsmen? Are we in any immediate danger?”

“No
immediate
danger, adept.”

He chuckled. “Pity! Not even a dragon?”

She returned the laugh with relief. “Not one.”

“And you haven’t seen any sorcerers recently, I suppose?”

So he did know about the sorcerers! “Not recently, adept . . . ”

He sighed. “Well, if it’s safe, then we must have been brought here to meet someone. Like Ko.”

“Ko?”

“Have you never heard the epic
How Aggaranzi of the Seventh Smote the Brigands at Ko
?” He sounded shocked. “It’s a great tale! Lots of honor, lots of blood. It’s very long, but I’ll sing it for you when we have time. Well, if there’s no danger, then I’d better go back and report. Come on!”

He took her hand and began to lead her down the road. His hand was very large, his grip powerful; but his palm felt oddly soft, unlike the hands of the farm workers—or even her own hands, these days.

Strangely, she did not feel nervous at being hauled into the unknown by this tall and youthful stranger. She stumbled in the ruts. He muttered, “Careful!” but he slowed down. There were three stream crossings on the trail, and she could barely see the stepping-stones, but he could, and he guided her.

“You were brought by the Most High, adept?”

“We were! The sailor says he’s never heard of a ferry being taken before. We’ve come a long way, too! Very far!” He sounded satisfied, not awed at all. Of course the River was the Goddess, and any ship might arrive at an unexpected destination if it bore a Jonah, someone She wanted elsewhere. Free swords were notorious Jonahs, always being moved by Her Hand. Such manifestations of Her power happened too frequently to be truly miracles, but they were not something that Quili could ever regard as lightly as this brash young swordsman seemed to.

The trees thinned out, the valley widened to admit grayness, and now she could see better. He was even taller than she had thought, lanky and astoundingly young for a Fourth. He seemed no older than herself, but perhaps that was just his carefree manner—he chattered. Random had been a Third. Few in any craft advanced beyond that rank.

“How can you tell how far you were brought?” Quili asked.

“Shonsu could tell. He knows everything! And we didn’t come all in one jump. He woke at the first one—I think he must sleep with both eyes open.” Whoever Shonsu was, Adept Nnanji seemed to regard him with more respect than he did the Goddess. “I woke at the third—the cold woke me.” The swordsman shivered. “We came from the tropics, you see.”

“What are tropics, adept?”

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “Hot lands. Shonsu can explain. But the Dream God is very high and thin there. He got wider as we jumped north. And lower. You can see seven separate bands here, right? When we started, he was fainter and most of the arcs too close together to separate. And we moved east, too, Shonsu says. The rain only came with the last jump.”

Shonsu must be a priest, she decided. He certainly did not sound like any swordsman she had ever heard of.

“How could he possibly know about going east?”

“The stars—and the eye of the Dream God! It happened about midnight, and dawn kept coming closer and closer. You’ll have to ask Shonsu. He says it’s still the middle of the night in Hann.”

Hann! “You’ve been to
Hann
, adept?”

He glanced down at her, surprised at her reaction. She could see well enough now to tell that his face was filthy, smeared with dirt and grease. “Well, not Hann itself. We were trying to cross to Hann, from the holy island.”

“The temple!” she exclaimed. “You were visiting the great temple, then?”

Adept Nnanji snorted. “Visiting it? I was born in it.”

“No!”

“Yes!” He grinned hugely, big white teeth gleaming. “My mother was near her term. She went to pray for an easy labor, and—
whoosh
! There I was. They only just had time to get her into a back room. The priests thought it might almost rank as a miracle.”

He was teasing her. Then the grin grew even wider. “My father had put six coppers in the bowl, and if he’d made it seven, he says, then I’d have been born right there, in front of the Goddess Herself.”

That was pure blasphemy, but his grin was irresistible. Quili laughed in spite of herself. “You should not joke about miracles, adept.”

“Perhaps.” He paused and then spoke more humbly. “I’ve seen a lot of miracles in the last two weeks, Apprentice Quili. Ever since Shonsu arrived.”

“He’s your mentor?”

“Well, not just at the moment. He released me from my oaths before the battle . . . but he says I may swear to him again.”

Battle?

“Watch this puddle!” Nnanji let go her hand and put his arm around her, guiding her by a muddy patch. But he kept his arm there when they were past, and the light was quite good now. She began to feel alarmed. She was glad of the protection of her cloak. She had rarely spoken to a Fourth before and certainly never been hugged by one. He was smiling down at her, being very friendly. Very.

There were few free men close to her age on the estate, only two unmarried. They all treated her with awed respect, because of her craft, and they had nothing to talk about anyway, except the crops and the herds. She had forgotten what real conversation was like. But she had never had a real conversation with a man, only with other girls, her friends in the temple, years ago. He was speaking to her as an equal. That was flattery, and she was worried by how good it felt.

Why would the Goddess send such a filthy swordsman? It was not only his face. Now they had reached the bottom of the gully. Ahead of them lay the River, stretching away to the eastern horizon, brilliant below the cloud. Color was returning to the World, The sun god would appear in a few moments. Rain was still falling, but gently, and she could see water streaking the dirt on the swordsman’s bony shoulders and chest. Even his kilt . . . 

Quili gasped. “That’s blood! You’ve been hurt?”

“Not mine!” He grinned again, proudly. “Yesterday we had a battle—a great feat of arms! Shonsu did six and I drained two!”

She shivered, and his arm tightened around her, so she could not break loose. She pulled her cloak tight. This intimacy was appalling behavior for a priestess, but that steely grip gave her no choice. Kandoru had never held her in public this way. He had expected her to walk one pace behind him.

“You . . . you killed two men?”

“Three, yesterday. Two in the battle, but earlier I had to challenge for my promotion, and one of them chose swords instead of foils. He was trying to scare me, so I killed him. I didn’t like him much, anyway.”

She began to laugh, and then stared up with growing horror and belief at his satisfied smirk. Two of the swordmarks on his forehead were swollen, obviously new. His hair was black and greasy, but there were patches of red showing through the filth. His eyes were pale, the lashes almost invisible, and the runnels of clean skin washed by the rain were very light-colored. Apparently this murderous, callous youth was normally a redhead. The black in his hair had been applied deliberately, and then it had smeared all over him.

“Please, adept!” She struggled to break loose. They were almost at the jetty. The banks of the River were sheer cliffs of pebbly sand, and the only level land was the patch of shingle in the notch cut by the stream. When the River was high, there was barely room to turn a wagon, but today it was low, the flats were wide, and the landward end of the pier stood completely out of the water.

A small single-masted boat was tied up at the far end. There was no great army of swordsmen waiting, then, but there might still be a couple of dozen of them. Suddenly very frightened, Quili squirmed harder.

But the swordsman held tighter, still smirking down at her as he propelled her toward the jetty. The edge of the sun god’s disk rose over the wide waters of the River. “I like you!” he announced. “You’re pretty. The Goddess didn’t make much of you, but She did very good work on what there is.”

Quili wondered if she could slip out of the cloak and run. But he would run much faster than she would.

“I was only a Second in the temple guard,” Nnanji remarked, “until the Goddess sent Shonsu. But starting today, I’m a free sword.”

“What do you mean?” She knew quite well what he meant.

“Why do you suppose the Goddess sent you to meet me? See, I’ve always had to pay for women until now—except the slave girls in the barracks, of course. I bought a slave of my own yesterday, but she’s no fun. Your Honorable Garathondi will offer us hospitality for a few days . . . ”

Quili panicked. “Let me go!”

Nnanji released her at once, looking surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“How dare you manhandle a priestess that way?”

She had shouted, trying to bolster her courage. Nnanji looked hurt. “I thought you were enjoying it. Why didn’t you ask sooner? Do you mean . . . well, I’ll wait until I’ve got cleaned up. I am a mess, aren’t I?”

Quili straightened feathers. “I’ll think about it,” she said tactfully. Apparently he had meant no violence. He was like a large puppy, fresh from a mudhole somewhere, wanting to romp. She had told Nia that it was her duty. That advice no longer sounded as easy to take as it had been to give, but it would be her duty, also, if he wanted her. Given time to adjust to the idea . . . 

“I’d better wait until you’ve had a look at Shonsu,” he said sadly. “Women go glassy when they see him. Well, come on! He’s waiting.”

What
? Did he think she had come down to meet the visitors , just so she could get first choice of the swordsmen? Arrogance! Unbelievable arrogance! Speechless, she followed more slowly as Nnanji went striding along the pier. He whistled a four-note signal, although now the sun was shining through the rain, and he was quite visible to whoever was in the boat.