Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (16 page)

"But why Greenwater and Valleymouth? Are
you planning to spend much time in the Midlands?"

"No—I'm going to Valleymouth because
it's on the way to the Galbek Hills."

"You're going to visit the Wizard
Lord?"

"Yes. I thought I should meet him."

She smiled again. "Well, that's simple
enough, isn't it?"

"Yes," Breaker said, with a sigh of
relief.

"So you're just out to see the world,
and meet the Wizard Lord, to reassure you that he's protecting us all properly.
And how can we help you in this task?"

"Well, I
...
I need a place to sleep, and something to eat
..."

"Of course."

"And I'd be happy to hear anything you
can tell me about the Wizard Lord."

"Of course. Though it won't be much
beyond the usual songs and stories."

"Or about anything else, for that
matter. Greenwater is different from Mad Oak, and
I'm
...
I'm
curious about why, and what all the
differences are."

"Are you?" She straightened in her
chair.

"Yes, I
...
yes."

"Good. You should be."

Breaker's mouth opened, then closed again.

"You know, young Swordsman, you're doing
quite well for a first-time traveler. I think the spirits did well when they
led the Old Swordsman to you. You haven't stared at my chest or my crotch,
though I know my appearance must be a shock to you—women don't go abroad nude
in Mad Oak, do they? Not even the priestesses?"

"No. No, they don't. They wear
robes."

"But you haven't stared, or made any
rude comments. That's very good. That's better than many male travelers can
manage."

"Oh." That
remark somehow made it
much
harder not to lower his gaze and stare, and Breaker forced himself to focus
all his attention on the tip of her nose.

"I suppose you've guessed that
I'm
Shilil, the High Priestess of the
Lake, and
my pact with the spirits, the
ler,
forbids me to wear any clothing in the warm months. I'm quite sure your
guide didn't bother to mention any of that; Kopol likes to watch his charges
make fools of themselves. It's a par
ticular foible of his; most guides prefer to
show off their knowledge, rather than hoard it."

The guide grunted at that, but did not deny
the accusation. Breaker threw him a resentful glance.

"I'm sure you're tired and hungry from
the journey; I'll have someone find you food and drink, and when you've rested
and eaten, I'd be pleased to talk with you further— you can tell me about Mad
Oak and how you became the Swordsman, and I'll tell you about Greenwater and
what little I know of the Wizard Lord. Would that suit you?"

"Very much indeed."

"You said your name is Erren?"

"I
...
We
..."
he stammered helplessly.

"They don't use true names in Mad
Oak," the guide interjected. "Not at all. They just call him
Swordsman."

"Oh? Oh! I'd forgotten that." She
frowned. "But have they always called him that? Did they
know
he would be the
Swordsman?"

"No," Breaker said. "I was
called 'Breaker' until I took up the sword."

" 'Breaker'? I don't think I like the
sound of that."

"Oh, it's just from childhood. When I
was little I didn't know my own strength, and didn't always look where I was
going; I broke a lot of dishes and toys and the like."

"Ah—nothing deliberate, then?"

"Well, no more than any other boy."
He smiled at her.

She smiled back.

"Let us hope you break nothing you shouldn't
here in Greenwater, then." With that she rose; taking his cue from the
guide, Breaker remained seated as
she headed for
the door.

She did not actually
go
through
the door, however; instead she merely opened it and
called, "See that our guests
are fed, and given beds!" Without
waiting for a reply she closed it again, then turned back to the two men.

"Someone will be with you in a moment. I
will be back before sunset."

And then, to Breaker's astonishment, she ran
across the verandah, sprang over the railing, and plunged into the lake. He
leapt from his chair and hurried to the rail.

She was swimming smoothly away, obviously not
in any distress.

"They all swim like fish here," the
guide said, coming up beside him. "She more than any of them; she spends
more time in the lake than on land."

"But she just jumped!"

"Yes. I suppose she's going to confer
with the
ler
and ask what they think of you." He turned and eyed Breaker.
"Can you swim?"

"No—at least, I don't think so. Most of
the river below Mad Oak is shallow and muddy, and the water's
ler
don't speak to our priests, and the bargemen don't like townspeople
intruding in their water, so I never saw any point in swimming. Even if I fell
off the dock, it'd be easier and cleaner to wade than to swim." He had never
tumbled off the dock himself, but Digger had once when trying to show off how
much he could lift, and had simply walked ashore, cursing the
ler
at
length for allowing
his fall. They had rewarded his blasphemy with a cold that lasted for weeks.

'That's a pity. It would be useful
here." "Can
you
swim?"

The guide smiled. "No. A girl here tried
to teach me once, but we didn't get very far in the lessons before I
left."

Breaker had no answer to that; he looked out
at the lake again, and at the dwindling figure of the priestess, swimming
easily through the greenish water.

And then the door
opened and a woman entered with a tray of food—a properly clothed woman, though
her dress did have the odd tight half-sleeves. The smell of fried fish pierced
the more general fishy odor of their surroundings, and Breaker suddenly
realized just how hungry he was.

Their hosts spoke
very little, but the supply of food and drink was generous, and kept Breaker's
mouth busy enough without words. He didn't always know what
he was eating or
drinking, but all of it seemed tasty enough.

By the time the priestess finally returned,
and climbed dripping from the water onto the verandah, Breaker was well stuffed
and well rested, and eager to talk.

Except for old songs
about hunting down criminals and stories about saving lost livestock, the High
Priestess knew no more about the Wizard Lord than Breaker did—perhaps less, as
she had not known he could make a rabbit speak.

"I had heard
that he could see through the eyes of birds and beasts, but to speak with their
mouths—this is new to me," she said, when Breaker described the day of the
duel.

"I hadn't heard
of it, either, but the Old Swordsman knew it could happen." It was odd,
Breaker thought, how quickly he had grown accustomed to the lake priestess's
nudity; he only noticed it now when she moved in certain ways.

"Well, he
is
supposed to have greater magic than a dozen lesser wizards combined,
far greater than any priest who ever lived. He can probably do a thousand
things we never heard of."

"I suppose
so," Breaker agreed. He grimaced. "If he
did
go mad, I don't know
how I could ever hope to kill him."

"You have your own magic, surely."

"Yes," Breaker said, very aware of
the talisman in his pocket and the sword on his hip—and the need to get his
daily hour of practice before he slept that night; he had been too busy packing
and worrying to do it that morning. "But nothing like his!"

"And you wouldn't be alone; you would
have your seven companions."

"I've never met them," Breaker
said. "I don't know how much help they would be."

The priestess stared at him for a moment.
"You haven't met them?" she asked at last.

"No. Not yet, at any rate. I suppose I
should try to find them."

"I should say so, yes. Ask them what
they
know o
f the Wizard Lord, and what they think of them—surely, they will have
given the matter some thought, and they have all held their roles for years,
have they not?"

"I suppose so. I don't really
know."

"You know very little, it seems."

Breaker started to protest, then stopped. He
paused, considering. "That's true," he admitted at last. "The
Old Swordsman taught me a great deal about the use of the sword, but not as
much about the Wizard Lord or the Chosen. He told me a few things, but somehow
now it seems as if he missed the most important ones."

"Then you should
find the other Chosen, and talk to them, and ask them about the Wizard Lord, as
well as visiting the Wizard Lord himself. Ask anyone who knows the Wizard
Lord—there must be men and women who work wi
th him in his tower."

"Just a few women,
I'm
told—and in all likelihood, they would
not dare to speak ill of him, would they?"

"Perhaps not. You could speak to his
friends and family, though, to the people who knew him before he became the
Wizard Lord, perhaps even people who knew
him
before he was any sort of wizard at all. He's not so very ancient, after all,
is he? Not yet ten years in the role? He might have brothers yet alive who
would tell you all his secrets, from the name of his first girl to when he
stopped wetting his bed."

"Brothers?" That possibility had
never occurred to Breaker, that the Wizard Lord might have family. Wizards were
not tied to a single village like ordinary people, nor to a few known roads
like a guide; they traveled freely, their magic protecting them from hostile
ler.
Breaker had never
stopped to consider that they must nonetheless have come from somewhere, that
they would have parents like anyone else, and homes, but of course they would.
They could not, after all, spring full-grown from the forest, as if they were
ler.
Wizards might have
strange powers, and might accomplish wonders, but they were still human.
"Does he have brothers?"

"I don't know." The priestess
shrugged, and her breasts bobbed distractingly; it took Breaker a moment to
compose his thoughts.

"Where is he from? One of the
valleys?"

The priestess glanced at the guide, who
shrugged. "I have no idea," he said. "His tower is in the
southern hills, so maybe that's his homeland, but I don't know."

"His tower is in the Galbek Hills,"
Breaker said. "Is that in the south?"

"Yes," the guide said. "I
haven't been there, but I know that much."

"I think it would be very strange, to
talk to the Wizard Lord's family," Breaker said.

"Perhaps," the priestess
acknowledged. "I think I would like to do that."

"As you please; you are one of the
Chosen, and all in Barokan are obliged to lend you aid, within reason."

"I suppose that's true," Breaker
said slowly. He thought for a moment, glanced at the guide, and then said,
"I know the Old Swordsman came this way, months ago, and I had thought I
might follow his route for a time, in hopes I would catch up to him, so that I
could ask him more questions. I didn't know anyone else outside Mad Oak. But if
he wanted to tell me more, he could have done so, couldn't he? No one compelled
him to leave Mad Oak so hastily. If I found him, he might have no more to say
than he did at home. But as
you say,
everyone
is supposed to aid the Chosen in their duties, even complete
strangers—I don't need to
seek him out to find people who can help me learn what I want to
know."

T suppose not," the priestess agreed.

"I'll want to find the Wizard Lord's
home village, if I can; surely, the people there can tell me whether he is a
good and trustworthy man, or not."

"I'm sure he
is," the priestess said. "Otherwise, why would the wizards and their
ler
have accepted him as
the Wizard Lord?"

"They could have made a mistake; it
has
happened before,"
the guide pointed out.

"Not for a century," the priestess
replied.

"Then perhaps we're due."

Breaker grimaced, his eyes meeting the
priestess's, and the two of them shared a moment of silent derision at the
guide's suggestion that Dark Lords happened on a schedule.

"How will you find his home?" the
priestess asked.

"I'll ask, until I find someone who
knows where it is. I'll start in the southern hills."

"That's a long walk, out of the valleys
and across the Midlands."

"Then I should get started as soon as
possible."

And with that, the conversation came to its
close. Breaker excused himself and set about his required hour of practice,
leaving the guide and the priestess to chat.

As he went through a
familiar routine of thrust and counterthrust against an imaginary opponent, he
mentally reviewed the day's events, and found himself pleased. He had left his
home for the wider world, and so far the adventure was going well. The incident
with the oak was unfortunate, but educational, and his stay in Greenwater was
proving entertaining, as well. He was interested to' notice that while he felt
just as disconnected from this town as he had from his own, it bothered him
less here, because he was not
expected
to feel
at home in Greenwater. Mad Oak was still nominally his home, the place where he
should fit in, but he no longer felt at home there, or in his proper place;
here in Greenwater he was a stranger made welcome, and
he felt
like a stranger made
welcome. It was oddly comforting to no longer have that disjunction between
expectation and reality.

Late that night, as he lay drowsing but not
yet asleep upon the bed they had given him, the door opened silently and a
figure slipped in. He held his breath and tried to see who it was, but me
darkness was too complete; his hand slid toward the hilt of his sword, lying
close by the bed.

"T
he spirits command
me to attend upon worthy visitors," a familiar alto voice said. "As
their High Priestess I am forbidden a husband, but must instead be wife to the
lake itself—but the lake cannot easily get a child on me, and my line must
continue if Greenwater is to thrive."

Breaker withdrew his hand and began to
breathe. As with her nudity, Breaker had heard tales of such things, but had
never entirely believed them.

"Besides," she said, "the
rumors say that the spirits give you superhuman skill with
both
your swords, not
just the steel one, and your predecessor lived up to that legend, despite his
age. Shall we see whether you do as well?"

Certain remarks he had heard among the women
back home suddenly made sense; Breaker had never heard such rumors himself, but
obviously they had reached female ears in Mad Oak, just as the tales of naked
priestesses seducing strangers had come to his own. Magical speed, strength, coordination,
endurance, the ability to anticipate another person's actions and respond
appropriately—perhaps his newfound talents
did
have another use.

"I make no promises," he said,
sitting up, "but I'll do my best."

And his best was apparently good enough;
Breaker had never heard a woman squeal so, certainly not any of the few girls
he had bedded back home. He worried that some listener might think her cries
needed investigation, but no one interrupted them.

And as he fell into
an exhausted slumber at last he found himself thinking that, quite contrary to
what he had been told since infan
cy and his own initial expectations, he
liked
traveling.

In the morning, at first light, he awoke as
Shilil left his bed, and he looked out his window just in time to see the
priestess leap into the lake again. A few moments later Kopol appeared at the
door of his room, eager to hustle Breaker through his preparations for
departure—"It's farther to Hartridge than to Mad Oak," he explained.
"We need to get an early start if we want to be sure of arriving before
sundown."

And scarcely an hour
after dawn the
two passed a wooden fence carved with prayers, and were out of
Greenwater and in the wild again, making their way south along the slopes above
the Greenvale River.

The Longvale River
flowed south to north, and Breaker found it mildly disorienting that the
Greenvale did the
opposite, but he adjusted to it readily enough.

The sun was indeed
skimming the western ridgetop when they reached Hartridge, where the priests
were all men who had seen eighty summers and the
ler
respected only age. Although the guide s
howed him to a guesthouse, no one there
seemed interested in speaking with him, nor admitted to any knowledge of the
present Wizard Lord or his origins.

They stayed the night
before continuing on to Bent Peak, where the half-dozen priests and priestesses
were as ordinary as those in Mad Oak but the brightly clad farmers had a custom
of gathering in their odd, dirt-floored pavilion and telling tales in the
evening. He heard a score of fine stories about the Wizard Lord, none of which
he believed; somehow h
e doubted even a Wizard Lord could fly to the moon and challenge the sun
to a game of riddles, or build a tower of nothing but
ara
feathers to hide his sea-sprite mistress from other wizards. Alas, as
Breaker had no good tales to tell in exchange, his welcome wore thin quickly.