Seventh Sword - The Reluctant Swordsman Part 15

"Is he popular with the women, then?" Wallie asked and saw a flash of appreciation to indicate that he had scored.

"They give him high marks for enthusiasm and persistence, low marks for finesse," the priest retorted, eyes s.h.i.+ning with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Just like his table manners!" Wallie said. Mention of women reminded him of Jja. "Holy one, you recall the slave woman who attended me in the cottage?"

Honakura's smile vanished at once. "Ah, yes. I have been meaning to do something about that girl -- she deserves better -- but I have been too busy to get around to it. Do you want her?"

So he had thrown away a precious sapphire buying a slave he could have had for the asking.

"I think she is already mine," Wallie replied. "I sent Nnanji to buy her this morning." Now he could see that he had been more stupid than he had realized. He had displayed wealth in front of Tarru, who would surely suspect that there were more jewels where those two had come from so readily, and who now knew that Wallie had casually given away Hardduju's valuable sword.

The old priest was studying him thoughtfully. "I hope you did not pay too much," he said.

Wallie was thunderstruck. "Yes, I did," he admitted. "But how did you guess?"

Honakura looked smug. "You told me that your master was generous. I can guess how he pays."

"You can?"

"He is the G.o.d of jewels."

"Jewels?" Wallie had not mentioned those.

"Yes indeed." Honakura paused, looking puzzled and oddly uneasy. "He is usually a.s.sociated with the Fire G.o.d, not the G.o.ddess. Now why should that be, I wonder? Jewels are found in the sands of the River."

Wallie said, "In my world, we believed that most jewels were formed by fire and then spread by water."

"Indeed?" The priest found that interesting. "That would explain it, then. He is normally seen in the form of a small boy. A prospector who finds a good gem will say, 'The G.o.d has shed a tooth for me.'"

Wallie laughed and emptied his winegla.s.s. "I like that. As I like the nightingale. You are a poetic people, holy one. Explain to me the G.o.d's stick with the leaves?"

Honakura snorted and lowered his voice. "Dramatic effect, I should think. G.o.ds have their little vanities, too. I hardly expect that he needed a mnemonic."

"A who?"

Again the old man sighed and shook his head. "You care a babe in arms, my lord! I should not doubt the wisdom of the G.o.ddess, but I cannot see how She expects you to survive here when you seem to know nothing at all! A mnemonic -- an aid to memory. Don't you have public speakers in your dream world? They take a twig and make a mark on each leaf to remind them of a point they want to make, then they tear off each leaf as they go. It can be very effective when it is well done. And what else do you use if you want to memorize a long sutra?"

"We have other devices, holy one. But about Jja ... how does one go about freeing a slave?"

Honakura was more astonished by that than anything he had heard yet. "_Freeing_ a slave? One doesn't."

"You mean that slavery is for life?" asked Wallie, aghast. "There is no escape?"

The priest shook his head. "A slave is marked at birth. If he serves well in this life, he may be born higher on the ladder next time. You were planning to _free_ this girl?"

Wallie had confided so much to the old man that he could hardly hold back now. So he told how he had lost his temper.

"If I had any thoughts in my head at all," he said, "then I was thinking that I would buy the girl and free her. She was kind to me," he protested. "And of course she may have saved my life when the priestess came hunting for me."

"She was also a d.a.m.ned good lay?" the priest asked and cackled loudly. "No, do not glare at me, swordsman! I saw her. Were she of free birth, her brideprice might be many gems, but you have bought her, and she is your slave. You can give her away, you can sell her, you can kill her, but you cannot free her. Indeed, if it amuses you to burn her with red-hot irons, no one will stop you, except perhaps the G.o.ddess, or a stronger swordsman if it offends his sense of honor. Which it probably wouldn't. You should realize, Walliesmith, that a swordsman of the Seventh can do almost anything he wants. But he cannot make a slave into a free lady, and he cannot marry her. Not unless he wishes to become a slave himself, of course."

Wallie regarded him glumly. "I suppose you think this is another miracle?"

The priest nodded thoughtfully. "It could be. Her action to protect you in the cottage was very unusual. The G.o.ddess has perhaps chosen some companions for your journey, and that girl may have some small part to play, apart from providing you with enjoyable exercise. Never underestimate joy, it is the wages of mortality!" He was still astonished. "You can _free_ slaves in your dream world?"

"Where I come from we have no slaves," Wallie retorted hotly. "We regard the owning of slaves as an abomination."

"Then of course you will send her to the auction block?" the priest asked, chuckling. "I hardly think that Priestess Kikarani will give you back your gem."

For a moment the Shonsu temper stirred, and Wallie stamped it down. Anger against the G.o.ds was futile. He had been tricked.

Honakura was studying him. "May I offer a morsel of advice, my lord? Do you know the secret of success in owning slaves?"

"Tell me," the swordsman growled.

"Work them hard!" Honakura sn.i.g.g.e.red, and then cackled loudly at his own wit.

*5*

In the marble splendor of the barracks entrance Wallie met the old commissary and asked if Nnanji had returned.

"Oh yes, my lord," Coningu said, with a look affirming some secret amus.e.m.e.nt, too precious to spoil by telling.

Wallie, therefore, must not show undignified haste, so he took his time mounting the great staircase. But he hurried up the second stairs and raced along the pa.s.sage. Silent on his bandages, he crossed the first room to the door of the second, whence came the sound of laughter.

There were three people there, and they were all on the floor, on a sunlit rug. On the right was Jja, posed like a Copenhagen mermaid, as graceful and desirable as he remembered, and it was she who was doing the laughing. On the left was Nnanji, down on knees and elbows with his scabbard sticking up behind him like a tail, generally resembling a dog trying to dig out a rabbit. He was tickling the belly of the third person, a brown, naked, giggling baby.

For a moment the tableau held, one of those scenes that burn into the mind to become instant memories -- in the end, what is a lifetime made of but memories? Then they saw him. Jja rose, crossed to him, and dropped on her knees to kiss his foot in one flowing movement. She did not seem to rush, but she had done it before Nnanji had scrambled to his feet in pop-eyed embarra.s.sment.

He said, "I didn't know if you wanted the baby, too, my liege, so I brought it. You did say belongings. Kikarani says she will take it back if you don't want it."

Wallie cleared his throat. "The baby is fine. Would you offer my respects to Master Coningu and ask if he could spare me a moment?"

Nnanji disentangled himself from the baby now climbing his leg and left quickly. Even the backs of his ears were pink.

Wallie looked down at the girl kneeling at his feet and stooped to raise her. He smiled at her, seeing again the high cheekbones that gave her face such a look of strength, and the wide, dark, almond eyes that had fascinated him before. No slender elf-maiden she: tall and large-boned, deep-breasted and strong, yet graceful in her movements and bright-eyed. She was younger than he had thought, but he saw again the corrosion of slavery -- chapped hands, and her black hair roughly hacked short. Given a fair chance she would be a great beauty, and he knew that she could be tender. If a swordsman must have a slave, then this was the woman to choose.

She looked in alarm at his face and then down at his other bruises and marks.

"Welcome, Jja," he said. "I have acquired a few sc.r.a.pes since we last met. I sent for you because you are so good at caring for damaged swordsmen."

"I was very happy to hear that I am to be your slave, master." Her expression was attentive, yet so guarded that he could not guess at her thoughts.

The baby was crawling rapidly toward the door, following his new friend. "Bring him over here and sit down," Wallie said. "No, on the chair." He sat on a stool and studied her. "What's his name?"

"Vixini, master." The baby had a slavestripe on its face.

"And who is his father?"

She showed no embarra.s.sment. "I don't know, master. My mistress swore to the facemarker that his father was a blacksmith, but she had never sent me to serve under a blacksmith."

"Why? What's special about a blacksmith?"

She obviously thought he should know. "They are supposed to be big and strong, master. A blacksmith fathermark brings a good price."

Wallie thought a few silent oaths and struggled to adjust his thinking. To buy a slave and free her was one thing; to buy her and keep her and use her was something which only that morning he had defined as rape. Yet the sight of her and the memory of their night together was already arousing him. To own her and not use her would insult her, and was probably beyond his self-control ... how did one conduct an employee interview with a fixed a.s.set?

He said, "I want you to be my slave, Jja, but I don't want an unhappy slave, because unhappy slaves do bad work. If you would rather stay with Kikarani, then please tell me. I shall not be angry, and I shall return you. I won't ask for the money back, so you won't be in trouble."

She shook her head slightly and looked puzzled. "I shall do the best I can, master. She never had cause to beat me. She charged a higher price for me than for the others. She did not sell me when I conceived."

Wallie decided that she did not understand the question -- a slave could not choose between owners, or have a preference.

"You were very good to me when I was sick. And I enjoyed..." He wanted to say "making love," but of course it translated into "making joy," which stopped him. "I enjoyed that night with you more than I have ever enjoyed a night with a woman." He could feel his face burning as he stammered. "I would hope that you would want to share my bed in future."

"Of course, master."

Why else would he want her? What choice did she have?

Wallie was feeling more and more guilty, and consequently getting angry with himself. The sight of that silk-smooth skin and the curve of her hips and b.r.e.a.s.t.s ... He struggled to suppress the guilt and deal with the World on its own terms.

He asked after parents, lovers, and close friends, and she continued to shake her head. That was a relief. He smiled at her as rea.s.suringly as he could. "Then you will be my slave. I shall try to make you happy, Jja, because then you will make me happy. That is your first duty -- to make me happy. And your second will be to look after that beautiful baby and make him grow up as big and strong as ever any blacksmith ever seen. But you will make joy with me, and with no one else. There will be no other men."

At last he got a reaction. She looked both astonished and pleased. "Thank you, master."

Another problem: "I shall be leaving here in a few days."

No reaction.

"We may never return."

Still none.

"Yesterday I got Nnanji as my protege and I gave him a present. What can I give you? Is there anything at all that you want?"

"No, master," she said, but he thought he saw her arms close more tightly around the baby on her lap.

"I shall give you a promise," he said. "I promise never to take Vixini from you."

It was so pathetically easy! She slid to her knees and kissed his foot. Angrily he rose and lifted her and saw that she was weeping.

"You surprise me, though," he said, forcing a smile.

"Surprise you, master?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"Yes. You are just as beautiful as I remembered and I didn't really think that was possible." The baby was on the floor now, so he could take her in his arms and kiss her. What had been planned as a friendly greeting became instantly an affair of tongues and clenching arms and fingers pressing into her flesh. Desire exploded within him; he burned, then released her quickly and turned away, ashamed, fighting for control. When he looked around she had removed her tattered dress and was sitting on the bed, waiting for him.

"Not now," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "First we must discover whether I can keep a slave in these quarters, and we must find you some better clothes and make arrangements for Vixini."

Vixini was heading out the door again. Wallie strode over, scooped him up, and on the way back started to tickle him. Vixini shrieked with glee and sent a warm wet sensation down Wallie's chest. His first thought was that he was in the middle of one of those priceless silk rugs. He scrambled to catch the flow with his spare hand and get over the woodwork. By the time he had done so and could hold the baby safely away from him, Vixini had done a fine job on him. Jja gave a gasp of horror and Wallie roared with laughter. Vixini grinned as toothlessly as Honakura.

Jja was staring at Wallie in dismay, and for some reason he found that funny also and laughed harder. She looked around for a rag or a towel and, not seeing any, grabbed up her dress and started to wipe his chest.

It was at that moment that Nnanji and Coningu came in. Wallie tried to explain, pointing to the baby he still held and the dark stain on his kilt, but the expression on Nnanji's face was too much for him. He could not get the words out. Coningu would never be surprised by anything and was much too respectful to laugh at a Seventh, but he did turn away to straighten the wall hangings.

Nnanji had also brought a matronly female servant, Janu, housekeeper of the women's quarters, and Wallie was surprised to learn that there would be no problem in having Vixini cared for. "You have children here, too?"

"Oh yes, my lord," Coningu said. "The women say it is the swordsmen's fault, but I never heard of a swordsman having a baby. I shall ring for a fresh garment for you and some water, my lord."

"Janu," Wallie said. "I sent out to buy a slave and find I have two. As you can see, they are both naked at the moment. Jja's dress was not worth the purpose to which she has just put it. I want her fitted out in suitable style. What would you recommend?" He hoped his credit was good.

"She is for night duty, my lord?" Janu asked, inspecting the naked Jja as a cook might inspect a piece of meat, but not waiting for an answer. She scowled at Jja's feet and looked closely at her hands. "For the baby, a blanket, back sling, and a hood for rainy days. For the woman, two day dresses, sandals, boots for wet weather, and a cloak. I presume at least one gown for evening wear and suitable shoes? We can't do much with her hair until it grows longer, and her finger and toe nails ... I'll see what we can manage. A few scents and body oils and cosmetics, nothing too elaborate."

Wallie looked at Jja. "Anything else you want? Will that do to start with?" She nodded, her eyes wide. "Very well," he said. "I am sure that Janu will advise you and dress you in proper style for my station. I shall settle the purchases later."

He gave Jja what he hoped was an encouraging smile. She went off wrapped in a bedsheet, looking overwhelmed.

Wallie was feeling the same way. He had a nagging suspicion that he also had just been given a present, and his conscience would allow him no peace for even thinking like that.

By the time Wallie had repaired the effects of Vixini's performance, Nnanji was seeing the funny side. Such courage, he said slyly -- to do that all over a Seventh!

Wallie agreed. "This is turning out to be quite a day," he said. "And the jewel was acceptable to the formidable Kikarani?"

Nnanji laughed. "I never saw anything vanish faster, my liege."

He had pa.s.sed the test, for Nnanji attempting to lie would have red warning lights all over his face. Wallie was not going to tell him about it, though. He said, "By the way, the armorer confirms your opinion of my sword -- the seventh sword of Chioxin."

Nnanji beamed. "I wish I had heard that part of the ballad, then, my liege."

"Apparently there isn't any more. Chioxin gave it to the G.o.ddess, and no more was heard of it."

Unlike Tarru, Nnanji was willing to believe in miracles. He laughed excitedly. "And now the G.o.ddess has given it to Shonsu!"

"Certainly, although I perversely refused to say so. But I am curious. It was three years ago that you heard that ballad?"

A shy smile slid into Nnanji's eyes. "A little longer, my liege."

Wallie stared at him, then seated himself on the floor and laid down his sword. Nnanji immediately sat in front of him and put his sword across the first. It was the traditional position for the reciting of sutras.

"How far have you got?"

"Five seventeen, my liege, 'On Duels.'"

Coincidence? "Lucky me! Let's hear a few. Eighty-four, 'On Footwear.'"