The Death of Nnanji (33 page)

He was a good little boy after that, obeying orders. He made no protest as they gagged him and pulled his hood forward so the gag didn’t show. He climbed down into the dinghy and sat there, enjoying the view as it was rowed to a jetty. He climbed up on the dock and went where he was told, never straining at the tether that Capn held.

He waited obediently until the horses arrived, and then mounted the one provided without fuss. He let them tie his wrists to the pommel of his saddle and his ankles to his stirrups. The floppy, oversized robe with its oversized sleeves hid all the bonds. They set off with him surrounded by six sorcerer Thirds, led by Capn in red.

After last night’s sleep and a good breakfast he was feeling much better today, whichever day this was. The hood annoyed him as they rode through the city and up the long hill to the palace, because it limited what he could see. He was awed by the beautiful buildings and wide streets. The big plazas sported gigantic trees, marble fountains, and laughing children. The adults all seemed healthy and busy, and beggars were rare.

He kept looking for swordsmen but couldn’t see any. Probably they were all across the River in the army he’d seen yesterday. Had that been yesterday? Didn’t matter. It felt like a week since he’d been snatched in Ivo. He found no chance of escape before the little procession reached the top of the great rock and approached the castle gate. There were plenty of people going in and coming out, and at last he saw swordsmen. About six Thirds were supposedly guarding the door, but they weren’t paying much attention to who went in or out, being more interested in chattering to one another or pretty girls.

As his horse neared the archway, Addis stuck the nail into its back and scratched it as deep and far as his bonds allowed. The horse screamed in pain and reared, jerking its reins out of Capn’s hands. Addis ripped it again, so it tried to bite him. It bucked and broke free, kicking and protesting. People scattered.

He hoped the guards were watching now. He couldn’t look to see, for it was as much as he could do to stop having his neck broken in all the bouncing. It was more than he could do to stay in the saddle. He slid. He couldn’t fall to the ground, but he did fall sideways, one leg bent beneath him, one straight out, and his hands still tied to the pommel, where the horse was pouring blood.

Men rallied around and calmed the horse. They went to lift Addis upright and discovered the problem.

“What’s all this?” said a guard, coming to see. He saw the facemark, and that was all that was necessary.

He pushed Addis’s hood back. No ponytail, but a lot more hair than any other craft allowed. He untied the gag.

“Help me! I’m a swordsman and I’ve been kidnapped!”

Nothing wrong with his lungs. Should have been a herald.

More guards came running. One of them blew a whistle. Capn tried to bull his way through with the horses, and that was an even worse idea, because out came the swords.

“Down!” roared the swordsman who had his sword point at Capn’s ribs. “Dismount!”

The sorcerers were forced to dismount. Addis was untied, but stayed where he was, astride his trembling, hard-done-by horse.

A swordsmen Fifth arrived, an older man almost as big as Shonsu, with a grizzled ponytail. A master swordsman wouldn’t take any crap from a sorcerer of any rank. He said, “What’s all this?”

Looking down at him from his perch, Addis said, “I am Novice Addis and I was kidnapped by these civilians. They took my sword and brought me here against my will.”

“What’s the bruise on your face?”

“They hit me when I try to escape.”

“Wait!” Capn shouted. “This boy is wanted by King Arganari himself. He ordered Grand Wizard Lord Krandrak to bring this boy to him.”

The sorcerers were now so outnumbered that each one was standing on tiptoe with a drawn sword under his chin and another at his back. Beautiful!

“Did he now? Well you’re not wearing enough facemarks to be the grand wizard, so which shit heap are you?”

Growling the words, Capn made the salute to an equal.

The swordsman acknowledged, using hand signals because there wasn’t room to swing his sword around properly. His name was Alacrimo. “Now, then. First of all, this complainant isn’t a
boy
, he’s a swordsman. Only swordsmen arrest people and that specially goes for other swordsmen. So if the novice is summoned to the king, then the palace guard will take him there.”

“This is no honorable swordsman. He swore on his honor that he wouldn’t try to escape.”

“I did not!”
Addis yelled. “I swore I wouldn’t make any trouble. I’ve not
been
making trouble, I’m trying to get
out
of trouble!”

Master Alacrimo seemed to have trouble controlling his smiling muscles. “Makes sense to me.”

“You are making a big mistake, swordsman!”

To address a master by the name of his craft was as good as spitting on him. Alacrimo swelled even larger. “No,
sorcerer
, you have made a mistake. You are under arrest on suspicion of kidnaping. Put your hands on your heads, all of you!”

He turned to look up at Addis. “Tell me briefly how you came to be there, novice.”

“I was in Ivo, about three days ago, maybe four, I’ve lost count. I went with my mentor to buy new boots. The next thing I remember, I was a prisoner in a boat with Master Capn and other men, and I had the grandad of all headaches. I’m afraid they must have killed my mentor, because he wouldn’t have let them take me. They took me to Soo and brought me here on a horse and across the River.”

“And what did you see on the other bank from here?” Alacrimo asked narrowly.

“A big army camp. They’re waiting to repel the Tryst. They’ve killed everyone in Soo and left the bodies for the scavengers.”

“Didn’t know about Soo, but the camp is right.”

“And I saw swordsmen taking orders from sorcerers!”

The listening swordsmen growled like angry dogs. One muttered, “That damned Pollex!”

“None of that!” the big man said. He held out a hand to help Addis dismount. “Freckles, take these suspects to the charge room, strip those gowns off them and lock them up. You come with me, Novice Addis.”

Life was improving by the minute. As Addis walked away with Alacrimo, he heard Capn’s protests turn into the sort of noise a man makes when punched in the kidneys. It was very pleasant not to be tied up, and even to feel the old familiar feeling of walking over horse dung in bare feet. The entrance to the palace was huge and bustling with people. They ought to have clouds under those ceilings.

“Now you tell me just why his Majesty would want a novice swordsman abducted?”

Addis had already decided to trust Master Alacrimo, if only because they had much in common, specifically a strong dislike of sorcerers.

“The king had a son who died many years ago. He was killed by my father.”

The swordsman stopped dead, causing several other people to veer hastily. “Your father?”

“Nnanji of the Seventh, liege lord of the Tryst of Casr.” That rolled off the tongue very nicely.

“But that was… I’ve heard that epic sung a thousand times.”

“It was a Return,” Addis agreed. “Dad borrowed the seventh sword from Uncle Shonsu. Well, he’s not really my uncle, but he’s Dad’s oath brother, so that makes him my oath uncle.”

Alacrimo swallowed hard and glanced around as if checking that no one was listening, but everybody was giving him a wide berth. “Describe the seventh sword, then.”

“It’s just gorgeous. The hilt is a silver griffon holding a sapphire this big. And all down one side of the blade there are bare-assed heroes fighting monsters, and on the other side girls with nothing on either are playing with the same monsters. The balance is superb.”

Alacrimo let out a long breath. “Like the Fourth! Right. You’re still making sense. Great Goddess! The son of Lord Nnanji!”

“Eldest son. I have a sister, Nnadaro, and a brother, Tomisolaan.”

“The eldest son of Lord Nnanji. And where is the Tryst?”

“I can’t tell you that, master.”

“No, of course you can’t. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Addis looked up at the big man’s very wide eyes. “The sorcerers said the king wants to kill me because my dad killed his son. Does he do that sort of thing often?”

“Ah.” Alacrimo’s weathered face closed like a castle door. “Well, lad, his Majesty is old and not in good health. But he will not be doing anything like that when I’m around. I’m acting head of the palace guard at the moment and it would offend my honor very much to see an innocent boy punished for something his father did, especially when that something was a mercy, not a crime.”

Much better!

“But,” the big man continued. “I’m not sure where the reeve is. Lord Pollex might not feel the same way, and he said he would be coming back today. We’d better get this over with quickly.”

That sounded like a good idea.

Chapter 2

Nobody asked Addis for his parole and certainly nobody suggested that he was a prisoner, but.

He was put in the care of a Third and twoSeconds. They took him to the guards’ bathhouse which had hot water on tap like all good palaces should, although even Dad’s didn’t have it for anyone except family. They gave him a fresh white kilt, a shiny pair of boots that fit him, and a swordsman’s harness. Couldn’t do anything about a ponytail, because only the Goddess made those and the quartermaster was right out of them. Pity his sword had been stolen, but no doubt Master Alacrimo would issue him one. Afterwards, they meant, so Addis was still a prisoner.

A message arrived saying that King Arganari was going to receive the novice in a full court, and that would take some time to organize.

They asked if he was hungry.

About an hour later they said he couldn’t possibly still be hungry, could he?

And half an hour after that he said, no, he wasn’t, thank you, not any more. By then he’d learned enough to know that Reeve Pollex and his cronies were the sort of swordsmen Dad called vermin.

Most of Dad’s palace would fit inside the throne room. Well, maybe not, but it was very huge and shivery-splendid, all colors, carvings, columns, and curlicues, with pictures in tiles on the floor and more pictures on the ceiling and gold statues everywhere. There were a lot of people around too, but they were barely noticeable in so much space.

Addis stood beside Master Alacrimo at the main door and stared along the great hall to where the king and queen perched on golden thrones at the far end. He glanced at the flunkies near him and then up at the big swordsman. All of them were looking grim.

Queasy moment… Too much lunch.

Addis said, “This is going to be all right, isn’t it, Master?”

“It may be unpleasant, lad. The old gentleman may shout at you or call you names, but nobody’s going to punish you for something you didn’t do.”

The king said something to somebody. That somebody said something to a herald. The herald called out, “Summon the son of Nnanji!”

Another herald halfway along the hall repeated the cry, “Summon the son of Nnanji!”

A third herald, right by the door, glanced at Alacrimo, got a nod, and bellowed, “The son of Nnanji!”

The two swordsmen set off across the plain. When they passed the herald in the middle he bawled out, “The son of Nnanji!” Addis felt offended by being presented as the son of Dad. He was a person in his own right and he had been maltreated. A little justice was what was required here.

The king was obviously very old, huddled and shrunken inside his blue robe, with a gold coronet perched askew on a bald head sticking forward like a turtle’s on a neck as wattled as a turkey’s. He was a priest, the seven wavy lines on his forehead made much wavier by his wrinkles. His mouth kept working as if he were chewing something, but the way his face had shrunk suggested that he had no teeth. The hands gripping the arms of his throne were skeletal and knobbly.

The queen on the other hand, was only a fraction of his age and had plenty of flesh, a lot of which was visible. Her jewels were splendid, her hair a funny fawn color. She was regarding her husband with a very disapproving expression.

Alacrimo halted about three paces from the thrones. “Your Majesty, I have the honor to present Novice Addis, swordsman of the first rank.”

He thumped his chest, turned smartly, and marched off to the left.

The king was peering in the general direction of Addis with his eyes half closed and his head wavering like a corn stalk in the wind. “Is he there?” he asked in what was probably meant to be a whisper.

The queen’s reply was not audible, but she was nodding as she said it.

Addis wondered if he ought to salute.

“Beloved subjects!” the old man proclaimed, in a high, shrill, voice like an axle in need of greasing. “Many years ago a great crime was committed, a great injustice was done—to me, to you—a great loss was inflicted on all of us.” A priest must know how to make himself heard. “Argie… my son, Prince Arganari, who would have succeeded me as Arganari XV had he lived, was struck down most foully. He was a swordsman, a First. The Goddess had summoned him to the tryst she had called in Casr, he and members of the palace guard, including his mentor, Master Polini. They never arrived at Casr. They were despicably slaughtered by a swordsman named Nnanji. A swordsman of the Fifth murdering a mere novice, a child! For all these years I have prayed to the Mother of us all that She would one day grant me justice—grant all of all of us justice—and now behold! The son of Nnanji has been delivered into my hands. Is this not Her doing?”

He leered toothlessly around his court, as if acknowledging cheers, ignoring the icy silence that greeted his words.

“What say you to that, son of Nnanji?”

Addis was no priest but he had a good pair of lungs and he intended to defend himself from this old maniac’s nonsense.

“With the greatest respect, your Majesty, the facts as I have heard them were not quite as you imply. To start with, my father was not then a Fifth, but only a Fourth.”