"Then the fault was mine as his liege," Wallie said. _Go ahead and challenge!_ Briu was keeping his face expressionless, but he shook his head slightly. "As the third oath impinged upon the honor of his mentor, it should not have been sworn without permission, my lord."

Wallie had not thought of that, and the spectators rustled slightly, as if it was causing some surprise among them, also. Had his Shonsu memory failed him? To give himself time to think he raised an eyebrow and inquired, "Indeed? In which sutra is that stipulated?"

Briu hesitated. "In no sutra that I am aware of, my lord, and of course I yield to your superior knowledge of the sutras. It is an interpretation."

There was one way out, then. As senior swordsman in the valley, Wallie could simply tell him that his interpretation was wrong and Wallie's opinion would prevail. That would be a humiliating solution, although it might be all that was expected.

"I confess that I have not heard of the matter ever being discussed," Wallie said, meaning Shonsu had not. "The fact that the sutras do not provide explicit directions would confirm that it is an extremely rare occurrence. A good topic for a cold beer on a hot day, perhaps. This is your own interpretation?"

Now Briu did not meet his eye. "I have discussed it with swordsmen of higher rank, my lord, and their opinion agreed with my own."

Tarru, of course! He had set this up or at least known of it. Obviously Briu would have referred the question to the highest rank he could find, and only Tarru could have stipulated that all the Fifths would leave the room. Insolence! Obviously, then, the situation called for a small show of strength and -- almost as a conscious act like pressing a switch -- Wallie turned control over to Shonsu.

His voice rose threateningly. "So you challenge a Second to mortal combat over an interpretation, do you, Adept Briu? I think that is despicable, the act of _a coward_!"

Briu rocked back on his heels and went pale with shock, and the whole roomful of swordsmen seemed to draw breath at the same time.

Wallie raised a mocking eyebrow.

Woodenly, reluctantly -- in the manner of a man going to his doom -- Briu moved his hand in the sign of challenge.

_"Now!"_ Wallie roared, and drew.

*3*

Adept Briu's hand stopped halfway to his sword hilt.

The point of Lord Shonsu's sword was at his heart.

One of the dogs at the other side of the room was scratching a flea, and the steady beat of its leg on the floor was the only sound in the hall. There was no movement except the slow rippling of banners in a draft from the windows.

Wallie was leaning forward slightly with his left hand on the table, to leave room behind him for his elbow. There were stools and another table behind Briu, and he probably was not certain where. If he tried to move backward, that sword could advance the whole length of Wallie's arm in an instant. Wallie could feel sorry for him, for he was obviously a proud professional in his smartly pleated kilt and shiny-oiled harness, yet now he was exposed to both danger and utter ridicule. The pause was probably only a few seconds, but it seemed an hour before the man on whom the drama waited suddenly awoke to take up his cue.

"Er ... yield?" Nnanji said in a croak.

The Third was staring unbelievingly at Briu and the deadly length of steel that had appeared from nowhere. "Yield," he agreed at once, looking as shocked as his princ.i.p.al.

Briu's arm seemed to melt, and his hand sank down. The sword was still at his heart, and now he was Wallie's, even to the ritual of abas.e.m.e.nt, if that was what the victor demanded. He must obey, or be put to death. His eyes showed horror and shame.

"Tell me, Adept Briu," Wallie said, still speaking loudly enough for the audience to hear, "when you instructed your protege in the second and third oaths, did you explain that the third must not be sworn without mentor's permission?"

Of course Briu could say yes, but no one would believe him -- the point was too hypothetical and abstruse. "No, my lord." His voice was hoa.r.s.e.

"Then the fault -- if there was one -- did not lie with Apprentice Nnanji, but with the inferior instruction he had received from his mentor?"

Briu's lips moved and no sound came. Then he swallowed twice and said, "It would seem so, my lord."

Wallie pulled the sword back slightly. "I don't think everyone heard that. Proclaim your error."

"Lord Shonsu," Briu said, more loudly, "I see that I omitted to instruct my former protege, Apprentice Nnanji, in the proper precautions for swearing the third oath, and if there was any flaw in his actions yesterday, then the fault was mine, and he acted in good faith."

"Then you have no further grievance against either Apprentice Nnanji or myself in the matter?"

"No, my lord."

Wallie sheathed his sword to show his acceptance. "I withdraw any allegation of cowardice, Adept Briu. You displayed exemplary courage in challenging a Seventh. I shall congratulate your mentor the next time I see him."

"Thank you, my lord," said the humiliated Fourth.

"Now perhaps, _as guests_, we may finish our breakfast?"

Wallie sat down and pulled his stew bowl back toward him, paying no further attention to the rest of the room. Nnanji reluctantly did the same. Briu's companion put an arm on his shoulders and led him away.

However, the matter was not closed for Wallie. He had known that the theft of a protege must be followed by challenge, but he had truly expected that the challenge would be directed at him, for that seemed only fair. Obviously he had misjudged the swordsmen's view. The sutras did not recognize duress as an excuse -- a forced oath was binding, no danger ever excused reneging. So they blamed Nnanji, not him. A merciless creed, but he should have known.

The problem lay in that shadowy region between his Shonsu self and his Wallie self. _You do not think like Shonsu, and that pleases me_, the demiG.o.d had said. But when his sword was in his hand, he must think like Shonsu. It was a divided rule, strategy from Wallie and tactics from Shonsu, and a bothersome and potentially serious problem if he were to make errors of judgment like that very often. There was more to being a swordsman than manual skill and a list of sutras -- values, for example.

Much whispered argument was going on all over the room. Nnanji was toying with his stew and frowning furiously at it.

"What's wrong?" Wallie demanded. Nnanji did not look like a man who had just escaped maiming.

"I should have refused that oath to you, my liege."

"And died?"

"Yes," Nnanji said bitterly.

"I should not have killed you," Wallie said and got an astonished look. "I rarely kill unless I must." He hoped he was keeping a straight face.

"Well, what would you have done if I had refused?" asked Nnanji, amazed and perhaps resentful.

Wallie was wondering the same. "I'm not sure. I suppose I'd have asked you to go and bring me a coward. I'm very glad you didn't. Do you want me to release you?"

Nnanji could not find an answer to that.

His mentor resisted an impulse to pick him up and shake him. Obviously Nnanji's standards were totally unrealistic and might therefore become a serious nuisance some time in the future. However, now that he had time to think, Wallie could see that a Seventh, with more than eleven hundred sutras available to him, could justify almost anything.

"I certainly would not want a man of doubtful honor along on my mission," he said -- and Nnanji paled. "And you did make an error." Nnanji blanched.

"You ought to have asked," Wallie continued, "_why_ blood need be shed. I should have told you, of course, that I had a mission from the G.o.ddess..."

Nnanji's eyes widened, perhaps at the thought of cross-examining a Seventh.

"And of course loyalty to the G.o.ddess takes precedence over everything, even duty to a mentor."

Nnanji gasped. Relief and grat.i.tude flooded over his astonishingly legible face. "I am a man of honor, my liege ... I think."

"So do I," Wallie said firmly. "And the matter is now closed! However, we have just had lesson two. What did you learn from the duel, if I may call it that?"

At the mention of swordsmanship, Nnanji recovered his good spirits and snickered. "He had his thumb up his nose, my liege."

"True," Wallie said with a smile. "But why? A Fourth shouldn't be that easy, even for me."

Nnanji thought, counting on his fingers, then said, "You insulted him so that he must challenge, and that gave you the choice of time and place, right? Then he had seen your bandages and probably he thought you would want to put it off for a day or two. Three: dueling isn't allowed inside the barracks. He forgot that you wouldn't know that rule, or be bound by it." He laughed aloud. "And who ever heard of anyone trying to fight a duel across a table?" He grinned happily.

"Very good!" Wallie said. He thought it over himself for a minute. "I wouldn't recommend that technique for everyday, though. If he'd been a fraction quicker, he'd have nailed me back against the wall." Shonsu might be the fastest draw in the World, but swords were not pistols. This was not Dodge City.

Un.o.btrusively, a couple of Fifths slipped back into the room, and other men departed on their duties. After a short interval -- just long enough to suggest that he had not been waiting nearby -- Honorable Tarru came hurrying in, overflowing with remorse. Wallie rose for the formal greetings. Nnanji moved as though to leave, but Wallie waved him back to his place.

Tarru apologized profusely for the breach of hospitality, which of course would not have occurred had there been any seniors around, and which would certainly not happen again.

"Good," Wallie said, with what he hoped was menace.

Tarru was probably younger than he looked, he decided -- prematurely gray, and weathered rather than wrinkled -- and possibly about as trustworthy as a starving leopard with rabies. During the ensuing polite exchange of pleasantries, inquiries about healing and other trivia, his eyes wandered frequently to the hilt of Wallie's sword.

Nnanji waved for a second bowl of stew. Tarru accepted a tankard of ale and Wallie refused one, although it was small beer and relatively harmless. Wallie suspected that as soon as the conversational froth had settled, Tarru would start inquiring about his guest's plans, so he forestalled him with some business of his own.

"There is a small matter that concerns me," he said. "The priests' attempt at exorcism three days ago left me unconscious. I awoke in a sort of hut, up on the canyon road."

"Pilgrim huts," Tarru said. "They are run by a dragon of a priestess."

"I saw no dragon. But the slave girl who looked after me ... her name was Jja. I took a fancy to her."

Tarru was contemptuous. "Faugh! Nothing but s.l.u.ts, my lord. They clean floors by day and clean out pilgrims by night -- for Kikarani's benefit, of course -- horse traders, pot throwers, and common sailors. Now, we have a very fine stable of wenches here in the barracks..."

Wallie heard a strange noise and was astonished to realize that he was grinding his teeth. His fists were clenched, and his heart was pounding in fury. Tarru had paled and stopped in midsentence.

"A s.l.u.t could be bought at a reasonable price?" Wallie whispered. He reached two fingers into his money pouch and dropped a glittering blue stone on the table. "That would be enough for a s.l.u.t, I expect?"

Tarru gasped audibly. "My lord! That would buy all of Kikarani's slaves and the dragon herself!"

"I happen to be out of change," Wallie said. He knew he was being unreasonable and he didn't give a d.a.m.n. "Nnanji, do you know this Kikarani?"

"Yes, my liege," Nnanji said, his eyes wide.

"Then go directly to her now. Offer her this stone in return for outright ownership of the slave Jja. Bring the girl back here, with whatever belongings she may have. Any questions?"

"She will a.s.sume that the stone is stolen, my liege."

Wallie gave him a glare that caused him to grab up the jewel and turn quickly toward the door. But after a few steps he wheeled round and headed instead for the far exit. It let him walk the whole length of the room, head high, enjoying the eyes that followed him.

"His father is a rugmaker," Tarru said with infinite contempt. "You may never see either gem or girl, my lord."

"I would rather lose a gem than trust my back to a thief." Wallie's blood pressure was still high.

"True," said Tarru diplomatically -- but he could not leave well alone. "A smaller temptation might have been more prudent. I would wager at least that the stone is turned into cash before Kikarani ever sees it, and you will get no change."

The thought of Nnanji being dishonest was utterly ludicrous. "Done!" Another sapphire dropped on the table, and Tarru's eyes widened. "I a.s.sume that the temple guard has a few inconspicuous agents? Follow my liegeman. If he cashes the gem or flees with it, then you win this."

He had known of Tarru's greed. The man was hypnotized by the blue star on the table. His hands reached for it and then stopped. "I have nothing of equal value to set against your wager, my lord."

Wallie pondered for a moment. "If I win I shall require a small favor only, nothing that impairs your honor. Here, you hold the stakes." Tarru picked up the gem and stared at it. He was suspicious, but the blue fire was burning his palm. He rose and hurried from the room.

Wallie downed some more ale and waited for his fury to subside. This time Shonsu's glands had won. In a relaxed social context, with swordsmanship not evident, he had let down his guard, and that lightning temper had slashed through before he knew it was coming. It had made him appear as an irresponsible spendthrift and gambler, caused him to throw away his expense money on personal whims when he did not even know the purpose for which the gems had been given him -- an inauspicious beginning to his quest. Then he realized that he might also have signed his va.s.sal's death warrant. He half rose and then sank back. It was too late now to stop the bet or recall the gem. Miserably he told himself that Tarru, as the only witness, could not order the jewel stolen without incriminating himself.

So he hoped, but his early-morning joke about avenging Nnanji no longer seemed funny at all.

Then Tarru was back, now accompanied by a tall and heavily built Seventh whose facemarks were swords, but inverted. The man's azure robe was spotless, and his thin white hair neatly combed, yet his hands were h.o.r.n.y and blackened, and even the ruddy skin of his face seemed to be ingrained with tiny black specks. He was older than Shonsu, but not a swordsman, so it was he who was presented and made the salute -- Athinalani, armorer of the Seventh.

He hardly gave Wallie time to respond and he had no small talk. "It must be!" he said. "The seventh sword of Chioxin! My lord, I beg of you to let me see."

Wallie laid the sword on the table. Athinalani peered at it closely, every tiny line and mark. Tarru and Wallie drank while the examination continued. Athinalani turned the sword over and eagerly scanned the other side in the same detail. When he had finished, he looked deeply moved.

"It is the sapphire sword of Chioxin," he said. "There can be no doubt. The griffon forming the guard ... the figures on the blade ... the quality. No one else but Chioxin! When I heard the rumors I was sure it would be a forgery, but seeing it, I am convinced. My lord, may I pick it up?"

His big hands gripped it lovingly, testing the stiffness and the weight and the balance. Here, clearly, was an expert. Then he laid it down and looked inquiringly at its owner.

Wallie shrugged. "Tell me."

Athinalani was tactfully astonished at his ignorance. "Chioxin," he said, "was the greatest swordmaker of all time. Many of his weapons are still in use, after seven hundred years, and greatly prized. His skill was equaled only by his art. His swords were not only the best, they were the most beautiful. The lines of these figures ... see here, and here?

"Now, tradition tells us that he made seven great masterpiece swords when he was very old. The minstrels claim that he bought seven more years of life from the G.o.ddess on the promise of making these weapons. Perhaps so. But each sword had a different heraldic beast forming the guard and each had a great jewel on the hilt ... pearl, beryl, agate, topaz, ruby, emerald, and sapphire. Each sword has its own history. I am no minstrel, my lord, so I shall not attempt to sing for you, but the emerald sword, for example, was wielded by the great hero Xinimi when he slew the monster of Vinhanugoo, and then it came into the possession of Darijuki, who won the battle of Haur with it -- or so they say. The minstrels can go on all night about them."

At last he noticed the tankard waiting for him and took a long draft. Tarru was looking skeptical. Wallie was waiting to hear of some dreadful curse or other -- such stories usually had a curse or two in them. The dining room was emptying as the guard went about its business, the attendants retrieving the bowls the dogs had cleaned.

The armorer wiped froth and plunged ahead with his lecture. "And I have seen the pearl sword! Or part of it, anyway. The hilt and a fragment of the blade are owned by the King of Kalna, and he showed me it when I was a young apprentice. It is said that the city of Dis Marin owns the beryl, and there is a piece of another blade in the lodge at Casr. The hilt has been lost, but is thought to have been the ruby."

Again the whisper of memory: _Casr?_ "And the sapphire sword?" Wallie asked.

"Ah! There is no history of the sapphire. Only the six are known. According to the minstrels, Chioxin gave the seventh to the G.o.ddess Herself."

There was a significant pause. That explained the expression on old Coningu's face last night. The unasked question hung in the air, but one did not ask such questions of a Seventh.

"No curses?" Wallie inquired. "No magic powers?"

"Oh, the minstrels ... they will tell you that a man wielding one of these blades could never be beaten. But I am a craftsman. I know no recipe for putting magic into a sword."

"This one has so far recorded two wins and one draw," Wallie said blandly.

Tarru managed to blush. "It is in remarkable condition for a weapon of that age."

"The G.o.ddess would have taken good care of it, I suppose," Wallie said, playing with them. He smiled at Tarru. "You saw me come out of the water. I a.s.sume that you have questioned the swordsmen who saw me go in?"

"Yes, my lord," Tarru said grimly. "Very closely." Like his former superior, he was not a man to believe in miracles.

"My lord," Athinalani said. "Would you graciously consent to let me have an artist draw this? I should be eternally in your debt."