The Coming Of Wisdom (25 page)

She grunted, trying to make him say more, but he stayed silent, hands clasped in his lap, looking straight ahead, scuffing his feet like a child. Waiting for her, of course. Impudence! Then her attention was drawn back to the main deck again.

“What’s going on down there?” She hoped her guess was wrong.

“Another fencing lesson.”

Oh, no! She reached for her whistle.

“His idea.”

“I don’t believe it! A male Fourth asking lessons from a female Second?”

The old man nodded, grinning. He was not looking at Brota. Probably it hurt to turn his neck up at that angle. “Adept Nnanji is an ambitious young man. He says your fencing is different. Is it?”

“Yes. But I never met a landlubber who would admit it was better.”

“I’m not sure he went quite that far. But he is always eager to learn.”

The fencers were in position, most of the ship’s company standing around to watch the sport again. The old man was silent once more, still letting her lead the conversation.

“I could put you all ashore,” she said. She had seen many local jetties, most of which would likely handle
Sapphire
’s modest draft. No settlements of any size, though—none that would have a healer able to tell a sword cut from a snakebite.

“You’re not going to.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“I’m sure you won’t, mistress. I didn’t say you might not try.”

“So you came to warn me?”

This time he twisted his head around far enough to flash his gums at her in a smile. Then he went back to watching the fencing. The sound of clashing foils drifted up in the wind, but the crowd was oddly silent.

“You’re a priest!”

“Yes.”

“What’s a priest doing running after swordsmen?”

“Collecting miracles.”

“Such as?”

“Such as your son not finishing off Shonsu when he had him on the floor. On the deck.”

“You think he’s still the Goddess’ champion after that fool trick he pulled in Aus?”

The little man adjusted himself on the bench. “Don’t try to outguess the gods, Mistress Brota. If She wanted a swordsman to do that, Shonsu was the only one she could have chosen. Right?”

“But why—”

“I don’t know. But I shall find out if I live long enough . . . or not, as the case may be. I learned patience a couple of lifetimes ago.”

She studied the pennant and adjusted course. The sails filled more fully, and the ship leaned over happily, like a sleepy dog relaxing. ‘Tell me another miracle, then.”

“Have you ever seen a slave so loved? Or a Fourth so young? Anyone who has helped Shonsu has been rewarded.”

“And my son was punished for being difficult?”

He nodded.

“Even if I agree to let you all stay, the rest of the family may not go along.”

He chuckled without looking up.

“One!” That was the swordsman’s voice. The crowd muttered.

“He’s
beating
her!” Brota exclaimed.

“He is a very fast learner. Don’t underestimate Adept Nnanji. He is not nearly as stupid as he would like to be. Youth! He will grow out of it.”

“Shonsu lost a lot of blood,” she said. “If that’s all, then he’ll be up and about in a few days—before we even reach Ki San, likely. Then what? He’ll need revenge on Tom’o for wounding him.”

The old man chuckled again. “Not Shonsu. He’ll shake his hand and offer him some lessons.”

“Then he’s like no swordsman in the whole World!”

“That’s very true.” He did not explain.

“Besides, I never heard of a landlubber giving a sailor fencing lessons. Some of them won’t even admit it’s legal.”

“Is it?”

“There’s some sutra or other,” she muttered. Water rats did not bother much with sutras. “And what if he dies? I’ve seen wounds become cursed, old man. My brother-in-law had a nick on his hand, and it killed him. My nephew—”

“A sword cut?”

Was that a threat? How had this nasty little busybody learned about that? But he was still apparently intent on the fencing, as though he had not spoken.

“Two!” Nnanji shouted.

“Shonsu is not going to die. He may be very sick . . . ” The old man paused as if considering a sudden idea. “Yes, he may be quite sick. But he won’t die. And you’ll have no trouble with the rest of us. Your daughter can handle Adept Nnanji for you. His brother is—”

“His brother is a little imp! He was getting a lesson on knots from Oligarro this morning. Why would a landlubber need to know knots?”

He laughed aloud, spraying spit. “That’s what Nnanji asked him. But you can guess. And the slave won’t leave her master’s side, so she’s no problem.”

“It’s that other one. I don’t like ship’s whores. That Katanji was dropping hints to the boys. Does he?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” He looked up at her in surprise. “I don’t think Cowie’s important any more. You can get rid of Cowie if you want to, mistress.”

“How?”

His eye twinkled, and they suddenly laughed together.

“And young Thana has her heart firmly on Lord Shonsu’s tray,” the priest said. “Isn’t youth wonderful? Do you remember what that was like, mistress? The burning? The agony of being apart? How one person became the sun and all the rest of the World only stars?” He sighed.

How could she forget? Tomiy, young and slender, handsome as a string of diamonds. What could landlubbers ever know of the whirlwind courtships of the riverfolk, the few scattered hours together when the two ships met in port? The awesome commitment, a leap of faith, knowing that one might never see one’s family again? And what was left now of Tomiy but a son who’d been manic enough to sauce a swordsman of the Seventh and a wayward, shrewd little minx of a daughter . . . 

Another yell of triumph from Nnanji. Thana had not scored at all yet. She would not now; not if the red-haired youth had mastered water rat footwork already.

“Thana has always insisted she would marry a Seventh,” Brota admitted. “Tom’o says a nightsoil carrier of the Seventh . . . ” She had allowed the confrontation to be turned into a conversation, almost a conspiracy, as if the two of them were arranging everything between them. This shriveled antiquity was as sharp as any trader she could think of.

“Not this Seventh, though,” he said. “No matter how long she has to try.”

“Expect to be on board for some time, do you?”

He nodded and rose stiffly. “It will be quite a long voyage, I think.”

“Where to? There are swordsmen in Ki San.”

“But Shonsu is not able to recruit them, because of the wound your son gave him. So the contract will still be in force.” He beamed at her. Even standing, his eyes were no more than level with hers.

She glared angrily. “I could give back his jewel.”

He shook his head. “You shook hands. I have given you your warning, Mistress Brota. Don’t antagonize the Goddess any further. Serve Her well and you will be rewarded.”

“And what if he dies?”

“He won’t.”

“You can’t know that.” Yet his eerie confidence impressed her, and she could usually smell lies at a hundred paces.

“I do know that,” the old man said simply. “I am certain.”

“Certain is a strong word!”

“There is a prophecy, mistress. I know that Shonsu is not going to die this time, because I know who is going to kill him. And it is not your son.”

He walked away, unsteady on the sloping deck.

Nnanji shouted, “Four!” He had won the lesson.

††

“It’s too late to drop them overboard,” Tomiyano said angrily.
Sapphire
had just overtaken a wallowing ore barge and was about to pass on the leeward side of a cattle boat. It would not steal their wind, but the neighborhood would be low-class for a few minutes.

Yes, it was much too late—there were witnesses. The River was busy as a marketplace. Morning sunlight danced on the bustling waters. River gulls screamed and swooped overhead. Brota said nothing.

“We could buy a ship apiece with that damned sword. Not to mention his hairclip. And however many more gems he may have in his pouch.” In four days he had made a remarkable recovery. The swellings were going down, although his shoulders were striped in more shades than a seamstress’ silk box, and he moved his arms as if they were old as the sutras. He was leaning on the rail at her side, grumbling. She did not think he was serious, but if she showed interest he might be. Trying her out, tempting. His ordeal had not made him easier to handle. Whatever the cost, he had felled a swordsman of the Seventh, and very few sailors had ever been able to claim that.

“Company astern,” he added.

She turned to eye the galley overtaking, its gilded oars moving like wings, its prow embellished with shiny enameled arabesques. It was heading to cut her off before she passed the cattle boat. The stench caught
Sapphire
briefly. Ugh!

“He’s going to die,” Tomiyano said. He turned around and cautiously leaned elbows on the rail. His chest was almost as gaudy as his back, and his burned face was flaking. “His leg looks like a melon. Have you listened to him? Not a word makes any sense. Gibberish!”

“I told you to stay out of the deckhouse.”

“I did. I looked in the window. And you can smell his wound from the hold. Damned landlubbers all over the ship! That Nnanji is dangerous. Every time I look at him, I expect him to start denouncing someone. Self-righteous young whelp!”

Brota did not speak. Nnanji had promised no denunciation in Ki San. Nnanji was under control. Thana had needed very little coaching. He revolved around her like a trained moth.

“And that Katanji!” Tomiyano spat over the rail.

Obviously his liver had been tainted by the bruised blood. A rhubarb purgative was what he needed. She wondered if beer would disguise the taste, for he would never take it voluntarily. “You’re the only one to complain about him. He seems to get along with everyone else.”

“That’s what I mean! Have you seen how Diwa looks at him? And Mei? But we
are
going to throw them off in Ki San, aren’t we?”

Brota nudged the tiller judiciously. Perhaps it had been a mistake never to accept passengers before—Tomiyano was reacting as if he’d been raped, and some of the others were almost as bad. He had been born on
Sapphire
and had never slept anywhere else in his life. He worshiped the old hulk.

Roars of fury came floating across from the galley. It veered, and then feathered oars and lost way, in danger of stripping its sweeps against the cattle boat. Brota began planning her next tack. A couple of huge cargo ships, three times
Sapphire
’s size, were lumbering along ahead, while tiny luxury yachts flitted in and out like dragonflies—the owners coming to escort their cargoes, perhaps. She had never seen so much traffic so far from a dock. The great manor houses stood ranked along the shore; suburbs coming into sight. Ki San must be huge, and she felt excitement mounting, even in herself. The crew were expectantly lining the rail on the main deck.

“You
are
going to kick them out in Ki San?”

“Wait and see what the boy says.”

“Him? He told Thana he’d never seen a city before Aus. This Ki San is . . . ” Tomiyano considered the shore and the river traffic. “It’s going to be worth seeing. It’ll snuff ’em all up and not even sneeze. He’ll stay aboard!”

Of course Nnanji would decide to stay, but likely he had not worked that out yet. He was down on the main deck with the rest, his ponytail shining copper in the morning sun, the silver griffon and its sapphire shining more brightly beside it. Everyone was down there, except Shonsu and his slave. Real devotion, there. She never seemed to sleep.

Evidently Tomiyano had also been looking at the sword and suddenly he realized its significance. “But he can’t go ashore, can he? Swordsmen would be a bigger threat than sorcerers!” He laughed, then muttered something scornful about swordsmen, but under his breath so Brota could pretend not to have heard.

A challenger needed no reason. That sword would be Nnanji’s death warrant if any highrank caught him wearing it. Of course in theory be could carry it in a sheath and wear his own, but Adept Nnanji would surely regard that as beneath his honor. And it would not save him from civilians, or swordsmen low on scruples.

A lumber boat and two fishing smacks ahead . . . “My head’s aching,” she said. “Eyestrain. Pity you’re not fit enough to handle this for me.”

“Move over!”

“But your shoulders . . . ”

“Move over, I said!”

She left him to it and headed for the steps. She was tired of his griping, and the rest of the family was as bad, although they were more subtle about it. She was going to let the swordsmen stay—until she had sold her sandalwood. She would pitch them off just before
Sapphire
sailed. Safer that way. Unless, of course, the gods were feeling generous, as the old man had predicted. She was a trader and words were cheap. Let them show it.

Brota was down with the rest of the family, sitting on a hatch cover, when Ki San itself came into view, glorious in the sunlight. She had seen more of the World than any of them, but even she was impressed. A million green copper roofs spread out over many hills in a forest of spires, cupolas, and domes. On the highest summit a palace shone in white and gold. The bustling dock front stretched out of sight, outlining a bend of the River, a giant hedge of masts, and rigging dwindling away in an arc into the far distance. Lighters and barges flitted about like gnats. Windlasses and wagon wheels sent a continuous rumble of noise floating out over the water.

Watching the hubbub of the docks drift by, Brota began to wonder if they would ever find a berth. Then a little ferryboat pulled out ahead, and Tomiyano shot
Sapphire
into the gap as easily as he could have hit a spittoon. He grinned in lopsided triumph. The crew cheered and jumped to furl the sails and throw lines.

Brota heaved herself up and walked over to Adept Nnanji.

“Well, adept? You wish to remain on board?”

He gulped and nodded, still staring in horror at the city. “I do. You will send for a healer, mistress?”

“Very well.”

“Ah, mistress?” He turned his attention from the view and squirmed slightly. “I want to sell Cowie. A slave who has hysterics at the sight of blood is not a suitable companion for a swordsman.”