The Golden Sword (17 page)

“Know you only that I will do what I say! I can be very convincing.” And Chayin showed that smile he wears only upon the kill.

“Are you also a living god?” I broke in, for I saw many around whose ears were fairly pricked in our direction.

Ostentatiously Jaheil rolled back his wide sleeves to exhibit his marks of godhead. “Certainly We are all gods, eh, Chayin?” And he uncorked his bladder.

“Can the gods tell who will win the Golden Sword?” I asked him, taking a drink of some tart kifra and handing it back.

“Surely you know that already?” he evaded.

“Ah, within, within,” I quipped, “it is all within, but so much rests upon us learning to fetch it out where we can see it. Omniscience must be exhausting.” The banter served its purpose. The jiasks down the mat took up their own talk, and the small group behind me wandered into the night.

“To get what is within without”—Jaheirs eyes twinkled and sparked in his dark face—“one must set the lure and wait. A high mind receives that which by nature belongs upon that level,” he pronounced.

“Enough! I hear such drivel too often! The higher the mind, the farther the horizons for which it pines!” Chayin snapped.

“Will you, Jaheil,” I said smoothly, “accompany us to Mount Opir?”

“My lady, I doubt if I have a full yra of jiasks to whom I could trust my own back! If I find that I do, I may later join you. Hard is the lot of a cahndor!”

“Hard is the lot of a man who has upon his couch Aniacaer? Come now, Jaheil!”

“All love grows dim with time, Chayin. The fuel burns, the fire low between us. And you, the same with Liuma?”

“The same,” said Chayin in a clipped tone. “Whom did you bring with you, then? Doubtless the cahndor of Dordassa will not sleep alone at Frullo jer?”

“What I brought, I would not be seen with in public. I am not so lucky as you, to have such as Estri among my tiasks. I brought two crells, of whom, if you wish, you may partake, and I had thought to take a maskless tiask who does not outweigh me. As a matter of fact, what drew me to you was this maskless lady, for I did not recognize you in the dim light.”

“I have heard it is a common saying in Dordassa that all we of Nemar look alike,” Chayin teased him.

“If that were true, how could I sit before one as ugly as the cahndor and as beautiful as the tiask of Nemar at the same moment? It is a blessing of stronger gods than we, that produces such beauty.” Jaheil, sucking prodigiously at the kifra bladder, leaned toward me.

I shifted against Chayin, and he rose, sensing my unease, and held his hand out to me. I took it, and the uritheria of Nemar jiggled between my breasts.

“A productive search to you, Jaheil. You have reminded me of my duty, and I must hasten to it.” Chayin bade him farewell, and we threaded our way through the crowd to a cluster of large appreis that bore the device of Nemar, and between them into a central one that awaited us.

Chayin unlaced the flap and held it open for me. Mats were unrolled, and two oil lamps lit, and both our saddlepacks had been brought there.

I unlatched my cloak and let it fall with a sigh of relief, and my boots and belts and breech and band I stripped off also, before I saw the figure that lounged in the shadows. Chayin had his back to me, bent over his saddlepack, searching something from its depths. I knelt casually and picked up my boot, sliding my hand around the grip of a razor-moon. Then I let the boot fall back.

“Chayin,” I said softly, “we have a visitor.” And the cahndor was at my side, blade glinting in the lamplight.

A laugh came from out of the figure in the shadows, and at that sound the razor-moon dropped from my nerveless fingers to stick upright in the thick pile rug. Chayin bared his teeth and sheathed his blade.

“I sent word to you,” Hael said, stepping out of the shadows.

“I received it,” Chayin acknowledged, “and if I had heeded it, I would sit still in Nemar, awaiting you.’’

Hael spread his hands. There was a stiffness to his movements, and his face seemed somehow rearranged. I bent and retrieved the razor-moon, forcing my limbs to do my will. It was Hael’s debility, and his sending of it, that had numbed me. I sent it back to him, and saw his face blanch as I returned to him his gift.

“By what means,” Chayin demanded, pretenses abandoned, “have you contrived to be in two places at once? What Day-Keeper’s tricks can you find to excuse your presence here?” He glowered at Hael, who stood slightly weaving upon his feet. I wondered if what he had gained in the helsar was worth this price to him, and whether it would cost me so much, when my turn came.

“I have communed with Tar-Kesa,” said the dharener at last. “I have conferred with my brothers in aniet. I but do the will of the time. The M’ksakkans arrive momentarily. I had thought to save you from what promises to be an unpleasant confrontation.” His voice was not so sure as his words.

“And the Golden Sword? Do you prize it so little?” Chayin snapped, accusing. “I have seen the results upon Estri of what you did in aniet. I have seen she who must stand for us all upon her knees, helpless by your machinations. Would you lose us our only chance to win?”

Hael’s face regained some animation. “Even that!” the dharener exclaimed. “Even that is a puny price to pay, for what might be gained.” And he looked at me defiantly, his uncertain hand quivering as he pointed at me. “Nemar lies upon the line, because of her. She is accursed by Tar-Kesa! You dally with your doom, Chayin! And all of us must be drawn in your wake. Blood is upon her path, and it is Nemarsi blood!” His words rode upon some chill and ghostly wind. “Any who aid her shall be by His will destroyed. I have seen it.” Hael glared at me, then at Chayin.

“I too have spoken with Tar-Kesa,” said Chayin, folding his arms across his chest. “What he has shown every dharener, he had shown his chosen son also. Have no fear, brother, for those messages so clear to you have not been withheld from me. About the M’ksakkans, He has instructed me. And about this woman also. His will be done!” And he held out his hand, palm upward, to Hael.

“The mind-tool”—and his voice was silk-sheathed steel—“give it to me.” And, as Hael hesitated: “Surely you do not doubt His will as it is manifest through His son?” And Hael handed the taswrapped helsar to Chayin, who hefted it in his palm.

“Now, go, and see you to the Nemarchan and your dharener’s duties. But I warn you, stay your hand from my affairs, and your mouth also.” And Chayin turned his back to his brother and knelt once more at his saddlepack, helsar in hand.

Hael stared, unbelieving, for a moment at Chayin. Then he wheeled and strode through the flaps and out into the night. But the promise his eyes had made mine in those last moments was unmistakable.

I went and laced the flaps, that they not rattle and snap in the rising wind. When I turned from this, I saw Chayin stripping off his gear. When that was done, he went and extinguished one of the oil lamps and sat himself upon the cushions in the semidark.

I went to him and laid my head in his lap. He stroked my hair, and we spent a time in silence.

“It is true, you know,” I confessed, “what he said about me. The race that fathered Tar-Kesa spawned me also, and this world’s future lies in contest between us.” And admitting it, my voice sounded hopeless even to my own ears.

“I do not believe in curses. I have lived every torture conceivable; every curse ever spoken has been laid upon me. I was by chaos sired, and out of fear’s belly did I come. The accursed knows his siblings, and you are not one. Long before I met you; Terror consumed me and made the leavings Her agent.” He tossed the helsar into my lap, like some worthless bauble. “How could I fear you?” His voice softened. “When I am with you, my own curse comes less often upon me; should I fear that which alleviates my pain?”

“That is no conscious skill of mine, but a hereditary gift that eases you. You are soothed by the calm within the crux that surrounds me. But it is my primal self that hests the time and has all my life done so. You have even said this to me. I try now to control it; make the hesting a conscious skill, before the power turns back upon me.
I
must do so. I hold in my mind that which I wish, hesting. But I have not the dexterity to sort and correct and hest all at once. So I am in effect blind until my will comes to be. I may not win, Chayin, nor can I see past my choosing, or determine what will come if I fail.”

“And can this mind-tool help you?”

“Perhaps. And if not, the ending will be quicker. It is premature, but Hael has left me no choice. I will need your help.”

“Anything.”

“I need safety for my body while I am away from it. Three days, at least. While I am gone, will you watch over what remains?”

“Can it wait until we are upon Mount Opir?”

“If you can keep the thing from Hael, and safe, it could wait that long. But it is a tool from the school of another race, the helsar, and you should not handle it, nor should I until I can give it my full attention.” I could feel it calling.

“I will secrete it where it will be safe until we ride for Mount Opir, and then return it to you.”

“Do so,” I said, and gave it to him, and he rose in the dim light and went to the middle stanchion and fussed awhile about its base. When he returned and lay beside me, he was empty-handed. And we began what by rights should have taken more than an enth, but was ended before being barely begun by a braying of Chayin’s name outside the laced flaps.

He groaned and cursed and wrapped his breech around him before ripping out the laces to admit Jaheil, cahndor of Dordassa.

I made no move from among the cushions, thinking that Jaheil would speak his piece and depart, and we could return to what concerned us, but at Jaheil’s first words I knew such would not be the case.

“The M’ksakkan ship has arrived,” he announced, walking past Chayin and across the apprei, to throw himself down beside me upon the cushions.

“I importune!” He leered at me. “Forgive me, tiask.”

“I do not find your choice of moments at all amusing,” I said to him, “but I will excuse you this once, if you will promise not to repeat your error.” And I rose to my knees and began searching about for my clothing.

“Have you done your part with Itophe and Coseve?” Chayin inquired as he pulled his sword belt and the breech I was missing from under a mat. He threw me the breech, which Jaheil intercepted and handed to me with a flourish.

“It is just done, but I would wager you have not had time for Menetph.”

Chayin smiled and latched his cloak at his throat.

“You are truly godlike in your omniscience, Jaheil. I have not seen Aknet. I go now to do so. Delay them for me, with some clever stratagem, until I join you.”

Chayin stood awaiting me. I grabbed up the Shaper’s cloak.

“They would not start without the two of you,” Jaheil remarked.

“They will start without one of us for certain,” said Chayin, holding the flap that I might pass out before him.

He hurried me through the waning dark along the aisles of appreis, until we stood before an imposing circle of them, each bearing the device of Menetph. Through these to the one encircled we passed, and before the flaps Chayin called Aknet out to meet him.

After an interval the flaps were unlaced, and a large man stood backlit
_,
before us, cloaked and fully armed. Aknet aniet Beshost was black as a northern harth, in middle years, powerful, and girthy; with a layer of fat laid deceptively over his strength.

“What has the son of Inekte to say to me?” he demanded in a growl.

“I would discuss with you some things in private,” said Chayin. “Such things as are not spoken of between appreis.”

“Such things as need a witness?” The older cahndor demanded.

“Such things as might.” And Chayin’s voice was icy.

With a curt motion the Menetpher waved us within. He followed. The apprei was night tones—darks of red and purple and blue, all ashadow.

A man raised his head from among the cushions.

“I, too, have a witness,” Aknet said. The man stood and busied himself dressing.

I felt the tension between them, and though I knew of their rivalry, I did not understand.

“I had not thought you this courageous, to come to me after what has occurred. But I would have sought you out after I had had the satisfaction of once again laying claim to the Golden Sword.”

“I, too, had thought to wait,” Chayin replied. Neither made any move to seat himself, and both men communed with their sword hilts. “But the M’ksakkan ship is here. Gainsay their aid, and we shall both walk out of this.”

“You know I am already committed. If I were not, I would even so take up this offering of the lands of Nemar. I have long wished to retreat before the summer’s heat.”

Then I understood.

“And I before the winter’s chill. Upon my life I wager you.” And Chayin’s voice was eager and joyous.

“The chald of Menetph against the chald of Nemar, all descendants and claimants waived, the one survivor possessing all. Witnesses have heard it.” Aknet laughed, drawing his blade.

With Aknet’s first lunge, I saw Celendra in him.

He attacked fiercely, trying to drive Chayin back before him, but Chayin would not be driven back. He gave no ground, and his riposte of Aknet’s stroke sent sparks flying. I found myself hunched down near the other witness, Chayin’s back to me. He feinted, and Aknet followed through and left his right side open, but Chayin could not connect. They were perhaps too equal a match, and their blades snicked through the air, blurred with speed. Around the middle stanchion, Aknet pushed Chayin, but he could not pierce the younger man’s defense. Aknet battered the harder; I could hear his stentorian breathing. Chayin is no lightweight man, but next to Aknet he seemed of lesser stature, and my mouth was dry and foul as I watched them. Aknet’s blade took hairs from Chayin’s head, and In his follow-through Chayin finally slashed him. Doubly surprised at his sword’s failure to connect and Chayin’s quick attack, the cahndor stumbled. I caught a close glimpse of Aknet’s face, contorted in blood lust, for he staggered close to me, and he wore no sneer any longer, for he knew then, and that knowledge further stayed him as Chayin’s blade arced and rose, and killed him before he could even parry the blow. While Aknet was still upon his knees did Chayin strike the head cleanly from his body, and it rolled, to stop against my knee. I saw those eyes, and I was sick upon the cushions, and even upon the head of Aknet Beshost, former cahndor of Menetph.