The Living Sword (3 page)

“Ah, I'm actually not sure if I will be staying in your city. I don't believe I will find my answers there.”

“Oh?” The scholar gave the blade in his hands a pointed look. “Would these questions have anything to do with that living sword?”

Eurik still felt oddly reluctant to share what he'd learned of his parents. Strange, for he couldn't understand why he wanted to keep them to himself. Silence, however, would not serve him now. Taking a deep breath, he forged on. “It was made by my parents.” Patheos eyebrows shot up, but he remained silent as Eurik went on. “And I found an illustration of a Mochedan claw-dagger in the library. Some of the markings on Misthell match those in the drawing.”

“Your parents were Mochedan?” Is-Ilad looked Eurik over, then slowly nodded. “It's hard to tell with those clothes, or the hair.”

One of his hands went to his head. “My hair? Whats wrong with it?”

Patheos chuckled. “Nothing, nothing. But those tribals wear it longer, and have all sorts of beads, bones, and other jewelry braided into it. And the way they carry themselves ... If it weren't for your skin, I'd say you were mistaken about your heritage. But there's no mistaking that reddish tan. Only a human descended from the Mochedan has it.”

The scholar's attention turned back to the sword. “But their lands are big and you have no idea what camp or tribe your parents belonged to. They don't like outsiders, especially if they find them in their territory,” he warned the boy.

“That was the impression I got from what I've read,” Eurik agreed. “But its closer than Vanha Forest. The Immortal is notoriously fickle on who he will receive in his home, and even if he does see me, how well did he know my parents?”

“You're assuming he trained them,” Patheos pointed out gently. “It's been a hundred years since he discovered how to make a living sword. He hasn't trained many in its secret, but I can think of three off the top of my head who in turn took on apprentices. Can't recall if one came from the Mochedan Nations, though,” the old Linesan reflected. “What were your parents' names?”

“Eurik One Claw and Kaite the Ardent,” Misthell said before Eurik had a chance to answer.

Patheos shook his head. “Never heard of them.”

“Oh,” was all Eurik said. He remained silent for a moment. “Somebody must have known them.” He started to clean the sword again. “I'll find that person. And find out how my parents ended up where they did.”

***

Standing on the bowsprit, his arms sticking out and his fingers spread, Eurik tried to get a feel for Wind
chiri
. His eyes staring at nothing; he could feel the breeze ruffle his hair, race past his neck, pluck at his sleeves, and slip through his fingers. It had none of the steadiness of Earth; it was restless. The power waxed and waned in a single breath.

His own thoughts mirrored that chaos. Jumping around from topic to topic, the connection between them eluding Eurik. One moment he'd be wondering what Zasashi would be doing now, the next was spent imagining what Linese would look like. Eurik had read descriptions of the city, but that didn't help much when he didn't even know what a human town looked like. Cities were supposed to be big, and Linese was the biggest of them all.

His mind was on everything except the task at hand. And he'd gone here precisely because he didn't want to think for a while. Eurik simply wanted to be, like back home. Resolutely ignoring the rest of the world, he concentrated once again on the wind. There was only him and the...

“That doesn't look like a very safe thing to do,” the real world broke in once more in the guise of Patheos' voice.

“This is the accepted way to train for Dance of the Whirlwind,” Eurik snapped, still trying to focus on the
chiri
around him.

“Oh? I got another impression from the crew. Then again, I don't really speak their language so perhaps what they said in their own tongue was more flattering than what they said in mine.”

He flinched at that. Opening his eyes, Eurik took a shuffling step back onto the deck. “They go out in boats, not ships,” he admitted. “But they do spend hours balanced on the bow as they learn the feel of the wind.”

Patheos remained skeptical. “Out in the open sea?”

“No, they don't go past the reef.”

“Youthful folly,” the old scholar sighed. “Even Trithun's blessing doesn't cure it.”

Eurik shifted his weight, unsure how to respond to that. Patheos caught it too. “Ah, I didn't know you shared the san's belief that the gods don't exist.”

“We know perfectly well that the gods exist. But we don't think they are special.”

“Special?”

The youth frowned, speaking slowly since he had to search for the words. “The san consider them part of
Ayashou
, the whole. Like the sun, or the ocean. Powerful, yes, but they do what they will and care little for what smaller parts of the whole do. So why single them out for worship?”

The scholar shook his head. “I advise you not to repeat that bit of reasoning once we leave the ship. Most people would be appalled at your disrespect for the gods.”

Eurik tilted his head a little. “But not you?”

“My ancestors once only worshiped Trithun, Phores, Heitheron, Teidon, and a host of other deities that are now forgotten by all, save for a few scholars like me. Now, they direct their sacrifices to Ariod and Aethel, the gods of those we conquered, and think it was always so. If the gods don't get angry about this neglect, then why should I?”

Is-Ilad turned away and looked out over the waters. “The Mochedan, of course, have their own beliefs.”

“You mean they worship animals.”

Patheos chuckled. “Ha, definitely don't say that when you meet your relatives, or they'll chase you all the way back to the border!” he warned Eurik.

“Relatives? I hadn't thought of them.”

Patheos' mirth disappeared, his snowy eyebrows climbing up. “Hadn't thought of them? Why else would you be trying to find out who your parents were if not to find your family?”

Eurik shrugged. Now it was his turn to direct his attention to the sea. “I only thought of finding people who knew my parents, who could tell me what they were like. And perhaps find out how we ended up in a small boat out at sea. I hadn't considered family. There are none among the san.”

“That will be no easy task. You don't dress, speak, or act like a Mochedan should. To them, you will be an outsider, and they don't trust outsiders. Finding out how your parents ended up in that boat, though, might actually be easier.”

“How so?”

“From what you've told me, it sounds like your parents were on a ship that ended up in some sort of mischief. Could be a storm, could be orcs. Either way, there's good chance it didn't make it back to port. Most ships are insured, and every insurance company in the world has an office in Linese. If one of them has a ship on the books that went down around the time you washed up at the island, then that's something worth investigating. At the very least, it will give you an idea where your parents were going and where they boarded the ship.”

He'd waited patiently for the scholar to finish before asking his question. “What is insurance?”

“Ah, your speech is so civilized I sometimes forget you've never actually lived in civilization. Insurance is a, heh, it's a bet a merchant makes with a ship's owner that it won't sink or lose its cargo along the way. The ship's owner gets paid the value of the ship and its content if the insurer is wrong about the odds, and a fee if he's right; which is most of the time. It's how they turn a profit.

“My wife's brother's grandson works in one, last I heard; I'll have him over and see what can be arranged,” he finished, stroking his beard.

“Thank you. I didn't know that risk was a trade. Several of the books I've read heap scorn on betting and gambling.”

Patheos chuckled. “I'm sure that an insurer wouldn't appreciate my simple explanation or your equation of their profession with something as base as gambling.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

That answer set is-Ilad off for some reason, and his chuckle evolved into a full-blown laugh.

***

“Sail on the horizon! Sail on the horizon!” The outcry in San broke Eurik's concentration and he looked up. He could see the lookout's outstretched arm from where he sat on the deck, but saw nothing in the direction it indicated.

Around him, he could feel the Wind
chiri
die down as Zahoho ceased his work. Hoyashi shouted a question to the lookout. “In which direction is it going?”

“To the west,” the reply came back down.

Hoyashi bopped his head at that in a thoughtful manner, before addressing the san that had been directing the wind into the sail. “Zahoho, take a rest until we know who it is. The wind is coming from the right direction to push us along without your aid, and speed is not what we need right now.”

“Did the lookout spot something?” Patheos asked.

With Zahoho stopping, there was no reason to remain where he sat, so Eurik got up and walked over to the Linesan scholar. “Ah, yes. He saw a ship out there,” he indicated with a wave of his left arm. “But I can't see it. Regardless, Hoyashi is cautious and relying on the wind alone to propel us until he knows who is out there.”

Eurik didn't bother explaining who might be out there. It could be fishermen. They'd encountered a few of those already, or a patrol ship from Linese. Those ventured out into these waters from time to time too. A trading ship was unlikely on this course, unless they were orcs. But orcs freely mixed trade and plunder, with little warning when they switched from one to the other. And orcs had attacked the
Ichiru
in the past. Sometimes those attacks had not been stopped.

Time passed as the crew and passengers waited for the ship to get closer, waited for the lookout to tell them who it was. The creaking and groaning of the wood mixed with the clapping of the sail to fill the silence that had descended upon the
Ichiru
.

At last, the lookout spoke up. “Orcs! It's an orcish longship!”

“Judging from that, it's not a fishing boat,” Patheos concluded. He looked around. “And we don't have a lot of people to fend off a boarding party of orcs. Of course, that doesn't matter. The orcs won't attack a ship whose crew can command the sea and the wind.”

“Actually, orcs have attacked san ships in the past. And some of those attacks weren't repelled. That's why everybody's on edge.”

“When was the last time they tried?”

“Hmm, I'm not sure. I know I was very young at the time...”

“Twelve years ago,” Hoyashi told them joining the conversation. “Guren of Loiran managed to gather three other captains under his command, and ambushed our ship on its return journey. It failed, but we still lost Saphaoh and Zothohi. I knew them well.” The captain said no more.

Patheos turned his attention back to Eurik. “So we might have a fight on our hands. I think I can still handle an orc or two, but how much can you do, away from land?”

“Enough,” Eurik assured the scholar. Retrieving a few copper coins from the folds of his sash he showed them to Patheos. “My
sesin
gave me these to use out in the world, but they'll serve a purpose now as well. There's enough
chiri
here to strengthen my body or I can turn them into a very effective projectile. Don't worry, I'm not defenseless.”

The old Linesan grunted. “At least you're not fool enough to try and swing that sword of yours around in a sea-battle without any training. Guess we'll be fine then.” His gaze went out over the water. He didn't look reassured to Eurik.

For all the suddenness with which the orcish ship had appeared, it still took more than an hour before it got close enough for Eurik to actually see them. The lookout hadn't identified the ship based on who was aboard her, but on the vessel itself. Humans went for plain sails, though both races liked to decorate their bowheads. The ship coming towards them had a bow ending in a bull's head, and its sail showed a seagull with an eye in its beak. Eurik didn't recognize the symbol, but there were so many. Rare was the orc that owned more than one ship, and there were a lot of ships; certainly more than there were islands in the sea.

Now everybody could see the orcs. From afar they looked like san, with their green skin and tall bodies. But san didn't have ears, or hair like a horse's mane flowing from the top of their head down their back. And their eyes didn't catch the sunlight like a san's would.

On the other ship, the orcs looked back at them and more than one of them held a weapon as they sailed past. Only the orc at the helm, their leader, kept his eyes forward as if their ship didn't exist. Still, Eurik didn't relax. Orcs would only be led where they wanted to go, and it was looking like this captain hadn't done a good job in convincing his crew to follow him.

“They look unhappy,” Patheos observed.

“If they were going to defy their leader, they would have done it before now,” Eurik reasoned. “There's no way they'd catch us when we're both sailing with the wind.” Still, even he only started to feel better when the longship shrank into the distance.

***

The seagulls bobbing in the sea indicated they were approaching land. The increase in traffic told Eurik they were getting closer to Linese. He counted six ships in the gloom of the setting sun, including two low-slung warships escorting a sleek ship with two masts. A long purple banner flew from one of them.

“And here I thought I'd done a good job keeping track of time,” Patheos mused as he joined Eurik at the railing.

“What do you mean?”

The scholar's hand swept out to indicate the small convoy on their right. “Behold, one of the traditions of my people. That ship carries the report of the High Governor on the state of the Overseas Provinces to Nese. When I was young they sent it every year, now it's only once every five.”

Eurik frowned. “But... there has been no contact with the other continent in 240 years.”

Patheos chuckled. “Oh, the scroll is probably empty. And High Governor Alexandrios II is supposed to have filled his with poetry. The custom hails back all the way to the invasion itself, when General Parmenos sent word back to Nese that the army had landed. No reply came back, of course, so he sent another ship, and when he didn't hear back from that one, he sent another.”