"Duncan, Dave - Seventh Sword - 02 - Coming Of Wisdom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

Why would swordsmen be coming here?
They might be coming by chance, but few ships or boats came downstream, because southward lay the Black LandsЧ rough water and no inhabitants. It was even less likely that swordsmen would have come upstream, from the north, for that way lay Ov.
They might be coming to avenge Kandoni. Swordsmen were utterly merciless against assassins, swordsmen killers. Kandoni had told her so, many times. She would have to convince them that they were looking in the wrong place. A priest or priestess must never tell a lie and was therefore a favored witness, even if she had been his wife and not disinterested. And there were a dozen others. The killers had come from Ov.
But the assassination had not been reportedЧor at least, she did not think it had been. She did not need to repeat the code of the priesthood to know mat prevent bloodshed came very high on her list of duties to the Goddess.
A pebble rolled under her foot, and she stumbled. Even in daylight this bend of the gorge was a tunnel, confined between steep walls and overshadowed by trees. The stream bubbled quietly at her side. The rain had stopped, or could not get through the canopy. She picked her way carefully, testing every step, stretching out her hands to feel for branches.
If these swordsmen had come by chance, then they might not
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know about Ov. They might not know that they would soon be in terrible danger themselves.
Or they might have been brought by the Hand of the Goddess. In that case, their interest must be more than just one murdered old warrior. Their objective might be Ov itselfЧwar! There might be a whole army down by the jetty. That was what Kandoni had said to the first rumors of the massacre in Ov: "Sorcerers are not allowed near the River!"
Then, when the rumors had became more solid, he had said, The Goddess will not stand for it. She will summon Her swordsmen..."
Two days later Kandoni had himself been dead, felled before he even had time to draw his sword, slain by a single trill of music. He had been a good man, in his way. He had lived by die code of the swordsmen, an honorable man, if not a very understanding or exciting husband for a juvenile apprentice priestess. She wished she could have helped him more. She should have pretended a little harder.
The local expert... but all she had were vague memories of the stories Kandoni had told her, rambling on for hour upon hour, an old man with nothing but his memories of youth and strength, of wenching and killing; an old mart clasping his child bride in clammy embrace in a barren bed through endless winter nights. She should have listened more carefully.
Quili stopped suddenly, heart thumping. Had she heard something ahead of her? A twig snapping?
She listened, hearing only the stream and pattering dripping noises. It must have been her imagination. She went on, more slowly, more cautiously. She had been crazy to come without a light, for she knew that her night vision was poor. The priesthood was sacrosanct. No one, not the worst brigand, would harm a priestess. So they said.
She ought to be rejoicing at the thought of Kandoni being avenged. At fifteen she had been married; at sixteen a widow. At seventeen she found it hard to mourn, however much she reproached herself. She could perhaps have gone back to the temple, when Swordsman Kandoni had no further need for her services, but she had stayed. The tenants had made her wel-
8
THE COMING OF WISDOM
come and they needed her. So did the slaves, much more so. Her ladyship had let her remain in the cottage and she provided basic fareЧsacks of meal and sometimes even meat. She sent small gifts once in a while: sandals not too badly worn, leftover delicacies from the kitchen.
If the swordsmen did know about the sorcerersЧif they were planning an attack on OvЧthen there must be a whole army of them.
Floundering in the darkness, she almost walked into a vague shape standing square in her path, waiting for her.
She yelped and jumped backward, losing a shoe. "Priestess!" she squealed. Then she managed a slightly lower: "I am a priestess!"
"Good!" said a youth's soft tenor. "And I am a swordsman. In what way may I be of service, holy lady?"
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It was an absurd situation. Standing on one leg in the dark, with her heart still bounding wildly from the surprise, Quili could yet appreciate the absurdityЧneither she nor the stranger could see the other's rank. Who saluted and who responded? But of course swordsmen would never send a mere First to scout, nor a Second either. He must outrank her.
So she made the greeting to a superior, managing not to fall over, even in the final bow: "I am Quili, priestess of the second rank, and it is my deepest and most humble wish that the Goddess Herself will see fit to grant you long life and happiness and to induce you to accept my modest and willing service in any way in which I may advance any of your noble purposes."
The swordsman retreated one pace, and she heard, rather than saw, his sword whip from the scabbard on his back. She almost lost her balance again, before remembering that swordsmen had their own rituals, flailing their blades around in salute.
"I am Nnanji, swordsman of the fourth rank, and am honored to accept your gracious service."
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The sword shot back into its scabbard again with a hiss and a click. Random had not handled his so slickly.
"Do you always stand on one foot, apprentice?"
She had not thought he would have been able to see. "I've lost a shoe, adept."
He chuckled and moved, and she felt a firm grip on her ankle. "Here it is. Stupid-looking thing!" Then her foot was pushed back where it belonged, and the swordsman straightened up.
"Thank you. You see very well..."
"I do most things very well," he remarked cheerfully. He sounded so young, like a boy. Could he really be a Fourth? "Now, where is this, apprentice?"
"The estate of the Honorable Garathondi, adept."
The swordsman grunted softly. "What craft?"
"He is a builder."
"And what does a builder of the Sixth build? Wfell, never mind. How many swordsmen on mis estate?"
"None, adept."
He grunted again, surprised. "What's the nearest village, or town?"
"Pol, adept. A hamlet. About half a day's walk to the north."
"There would be swordsmen there, then. .."
It was not a question, so she need not say that the resident swordsman of Pol had died on the same day as her husband, or that bis assassination could not have been reported, either. Prevent bloodshed!
"What city? How far?"
"Ov, adept. About another half day beyond Pol."
"Mm? Do you happen to know the name of the reeve in Ov?"
He was dead, also, and all bis men. To answer just "No!" would be a lie. Before she could speak, the swordsman asked another question.
"Is there trouble here, Apprentice Quili? Brigands? Bandits? Work for honest swordsmen? Are we in any immediate danger?1'
"No immediate danger, adept."
He chuckled. "Pity! Not even a dragon?*'