The Destiny of the Sword (32 page)

Tivanixi would not understand that, but he noted the reaction and continued his meal in smiling silence. In a moment the sorcerer riposted.

“That is still assuming that you can finance this assault?”

Wallie passed that one to Tivanixi with an inquiring glance.

Angrily he said, “We have twice asked the elders for money. Each time they imposed a special tax that raised four hundred golds—but we spend fifty golds a day! We boarded as many as we could in the lodee, but that meant that we had to buy bedding —and slaves, of course. The rest are billeted on citizens and we must pay an allowance—“

“Is that money passed on?” demanded Nnanji.

The castellan flushed angrily, but this impudent Fifth was his liege. “I believe it is, now. Much of it was not, before Lord Boariyi imposed discipline. And there has been compensation for damage and injuries. There are not only swordsmen, my Siege, there are wives and night slaves and children and minstrels and heralds. Profiteers are driving up prices outrageously. If you are planning a delay in departure, we shall have to think of winter clothing. Catapults and horses v/ill certainly be expensive; stabling, saddles—and you promised to compensate the sailors for transportation...” His voice tailed off in a note of despair.

It sounded terrible. Wallie had been thinking that he could sell Griffon and recover his expense money. Obviously he, also, had underestimated what a tryst cost. Two or three thousand golds would not be near enough if he was looking at a delay of several weeks—and he would need Griffon, anyway. Rotanxi reached for the wine bottle and poured himself another goblet in private celebration. Brota and Tomiyano exchanged glances. Money was a subject they enjoyed more than swordsman talk.

“What sort of tax?” Wallie asked.

“A hearth tax,” the castellan replied, showing surprise. “Normally it is collected annually.”

In a world without writing the taxation system would be primitive in the extreme. Even a poll tax might be impossible to collect. A hearth tax? Wallie tried to remember the skyline of Casr; he recalled many chimneys—which meant cold winters.

“How much per hearth?”

“Two silvers.”

Hearth tax and dock tax? Probably the elders were a mixture of traders and landowners. Wallie was still thinking about that when Thana intervened. “Four hundred golds would be only a part of what was collected. Who got the rest?”

Tivanixi frowned at her presumption, but Rotanxi caw a chance to score. “The tax collectors, of course.”

“Like the corrupt port officers?” she said. “Relatives of the elders? And the elders get a kickback?”

The sorcerer nodded, smiling grimly. “And so do the swordsmen who accompany the collectors to enforce payment. There were people selling furniture to pay the last impost, my lord. What will you take from them now, their clothes?” His spies had reported well.

The swordsmen were silent, but Thana was obviously nurturing an interest in politics. “Who appoints elders?”

“Elders do,” Rotanxi said, beaming at her like a grandfather. “They appoint the garrison, also, of course, and the swordsmen keep the elders in power. Parasites!”

Thana looked at Nnanji, who was frowning, hopelessly lost in this discussion of politics and finance. “Let’s be elders, darling,” she said.

Wallie wished Honakura were present to hear that remark.

The swordsmen seemed to have lost the last few points, and Nnanji could be counted on to make it worse.

“Brother?” he said. “You let Lord Boariyt off with the first oath. He must have vassals? Does that mean we have two trysts now?”

Wallie had not thought of that problem. He looked to Tivanixi, who scowled.

“Yes, I suppose it does, my liege Nnanji. He has a great many of the Sixths sworn to him—almost half, I should say.”

Rotanxi took another sip of wine.

Nnanji rose and went to refill his plate.

“What do the elders do with all that money?” Thana inquired, still pondering the intricacies of government.

Wallie looked at Tivanixi, who shrugged blankly. Swordsmen did not worry about such things—but apparently wizards did.

“Oh, they perform a few services,” Rotanxi said. “Clean the streets once in a while, gather nightsoil—which they sell at a profit to the farmers—maintain the docks and the wells. The garrison is always the largest expense, of course. Mostly, though, they give banquets for visiting swordsmen!”

Tivanixi flushed and then saw that his liege expected an explanation. “There are always balls and other social events! As visitors in town, the highranks were invited. There is one planned for tomorrow night. Now that the tryst is not departing, you will be invited, of course.”

“And Nnanji?” Thana demanded.

“Er... yes, I expect so.”

Thana clapped her hands in delight. “I shall need a gown! Jja, would you—“

She stopped with a gulp. Jja dropped her eyes to her plate. Discomfort reigned, while all Thana’s relatives glared at her.

Wallie ought to attend any civic function, to reassure the elders and mend some fences. He could certainly not take Jja. To go without an escort might look very odd. Damn! As if he did not have enough problems! Nnanji would certainly be invited... Worse than the thought of not going was the thought of Nnanji running loose, playing junior,half,of,liege,lord.

And Nnanji had returned and heard the news from Thana. “Fine!” he said cheerfully. “I hope I’m not too exhausted to dance! How many Sixths are there, vassal?”

“Thirty,nine,” Tivanixi said.

Nnanji rolled his eyes blissfully, without stopping chewing. “And I’m their liege! I can order them out to fence! Let’s see, at six a day...” He lapsed into a long, frowning calculation.

So Nnanji thought a tryst was one big fencing practice, did he?

“They’ll butcher you!” Wallie said. “And I may have a few things for you to do.”

Nnanji grinned with his mouth full. “Anything, of course! But I can’t ride and I don’t know archery. I could collect taxes, maybe?”

“But you could find out who does ride! There must be a thousand useful skills in the tryst. Remember Kandoru? He was a fine horse doctor, Quili said. Thana is a great sailor. We shall need smiths and archers and horsemen and carpenters—“

“Carpenters?” Nnanji exploded. “That’s a craft! So’s smithing!”

Wallie glared at him. This was typical of the straight,line thinking that he would have to overcome, and he had hoped Nnanji knew better. “Will you take carpenters into battle with you to repair the catapults?”

Nnanji chewed thoughtfully for a while, then swallowed and said, “No, of course not. And saddlery’s a craft, but we have sutras on leather, horses... and cooking! Lots of things! Thank you, brother! So you parade the swordsmen past me and have each one say his name and what he can do, apart from swordsmaning... It’ll take a while, but I can do that for you.” He smiled happily and stuffed a whole beetroot into the smile.

Wallie was relieved. He had been afraid that Nnanji might take offense at being asked to be the tryst’s filing system.

“My liege Nnanji,” Tivanixi said quietly, “how many sutras are you short for Sixth rank?”

Damn!

Nnanji beamed disgustingly. “I’m at ten eighty,two. I need to be at eleven fourteen.” Both he and Tivanixi began counting on their fingers.

“Thirty,two,” Wallie said glumly. If Tivanixi must have a liege of lower rank—the absurdity created by that infernal fourth oath—then he would much rather that liege be a Sixth than a Fifth. “I don’t think he’s quite ready yet, my lord vassal.”

Tivanixi would not argue with his liege.

“He could beat Forarfi by the third day!” Thana protested sharply.

“That’s only because it was the third day,” Wallie snapped. “He’s very good at learning his opponents. Two unknown Sixths would be another matter.”

“What do you think?” Nnanji demanded of Tivanixi.

So Tivanixi had his chance. “I thought you were good enough mat first time we met, my liege. You humiliated those two Fifths, and I hadn’t chosen easy marks for you. Honorable Forarfi is an exceptional Sixth, a very high Sixth. Fiendori says—“

He stopped. They all looked at Wallie. “I disagree!” he said heavily. “He’s a good Fifth, but he’s not near Sixth yet.”

The matter was closed. Nnanji continued to chew noisily. Everyone else had finished main course. Apple pie was being passed around. The deckhouse was growing dim.

“After all,” Tivanixi said in a quiet, reflective voice, seemingly to no one in particular, “it isn’t as if he could go on and try for Seventh.”

“It isn’t?” Wallie said, irritated. Did they mink he was jealous of Nnanji?

“It would not be possible, my liege. All the Sevenths in town are his direct vassals and hence ineligible as examiners—all except Lord Boariyi, and I doubt if anyone would ask him! There is just no way Master Nnanji can become a Seventh until after the tryst is disbanded.”

“I hadn’t thought of that!” Wallie said, wondering why the news was welcome. Nnanji was looking wistful. “All right! Tomorrow at dawn—let’s get it over with.”

Nnanji threw an arm around Thana and hugged her, grinning like a maniac.

Tivanixi gasped. “Tomorrow? Thirty,two sutras?”

Wallie smiled with the best grace he could raise. “Nnanji is reputed to remember what his mother wore on the day he was born, my lord. I have just lost an hour’s sleep, that’s all.”

“Pity about seventh rank, though,” Nnanji remarked. “I was planning to ask Lord Chinarama!”

The swordsmen all laughed, then explained to the sailors.

“What do you do about that?” Wallie inquired, suddenly curious. “You must have some real duffers in a thousand men. The Goddess brought them by the shipload. She had to take whoever was on board.”

Tivanixi nodded. “The easy ones get known. We simply gave them orders that they were not to accept any further requests. A few have been sent home.”

“How about challenges?” Nnanji asked, passing small pie

along, keeping large pie. How did he stay so skinny?

“Promotion is not normally done by challenge.”

“But it can be,” Nnanji persisted. “I’ve done it.”

The castellan nodded. ‘True. With most ranks we have plenty of choice, of course. Challenge was hinted at by one brave Sixth, and the other Sevenths quietly passed the word that a challenge to Lord Chinarama would result in severe anemia afterward.”

“Tomorrow, then,” said Wallie as the pies stopped traveling and he saw that he was holding what must be his piece. Nnanji had three. “Will you pick out a couple of Sixths? Real horrors, strong as bulls, swift as stooping falcons, terrible as the she,bear defending her young?”

“I know just the two,” Tivanixi said, ‘True butchers! Vicious sadists! We call them Collarbone and Testicle.” The listening sailors guffawed.

“Hey!” Nnanji yelped. “You’re my vassal, too. You pick a couple of elderly cripples! Arthritic and preferably almost blind.”

“I can see this divided allegiance may become a problem.” Tivanixi sighed. “I shall choose one of each.” He was clearly very pleased.

“There’s no honor in being an easy mark!” Wallie snapped. “And we don’t want the tryst to mink that Nnanji is being favored. You pick good ones!” If the gods wanted Nnanji as a Sixth, then they could throw in a dash of miracle. Failure would do his ego no harm. He would not be eligible to try again for a year, so it would also stop his whining.

The castellan flushed and said of course he had been joking. He would choose highly respected Sixths. Thana and Nnanji pulled faces.

The meal was ended, night drawing in. Wallie’s mind was churning with all the plans he had for the next day. Everyone else was relaxed and good,humored, congratulating Lina on the meal. Even Rotanxi made a joke about the quality of the prisoners’ fare in Casr. The women began pressing Nnanji to sing more of Doa’s epic, some of which he had apparently passed on earlier. He said maybe later, but he was going to finish that pie if no one else...

“Nearer eight!” Rotanxi said.

Wallie jerked back into the conversation. Talk of the epic had brought mention of the seventh sword.

“I said that your sword is nearer eight hundred years old, Lord Shonsu, even if Chioxin made it in the last year of his life.”

Now Wallie was alert. “How so?”

“He died seven hundred and seventy,seven years ago!” The sorcerer grimaced in satisfaction at his superior knowledge.

Nnanji made skeptical noises, but Wallie was thinking hard. The sorcerers’ spy network was astonishingly efficient. That sword had only become news on the day he had arrived at the lodge. Rotanxi had received word of it, but surely the written records of such trivia would only be kept in Vul itself; there was no hint that the sorcerers had invented printing yet, so all books would be handwritten, and copying a tedious process. Rotanxi had sent an inquiry to the main library in Vul and received a reply before Wallie had captured him. Very fast work!