Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (8 page)

The first wizard came
flying down out of the gray winter clouds just two days later. He dropped down
into the middle of the village at midday, but stopped abruptly a few inches
above the ground and hung awkwardly in the air at the center of a small
whirlwind. Mad Oak's own
ler
were not making him welcome.

Naturally, this
apparition caused quite a commotion. The weather was cold and overcast, so most
of the townspeople were indoors, but a few children had been throwing snowballs
at one another in the square. They ran screaming when the wizard arrived,
calling for their parents, the priests, and the village
ler.
Breaker, who still thought of himself by that name even though most of
his neighbors now called him Young Swordsman, or just Sword, had been moving
firewood from the shed to the hearth when the commotion began, and did not
hear it immediately; when he did realize something out of the ordinary was
happening he still took the time to stack the wood in its proper place before
following his sisters down the sloping street.

The Old Swordsman had
been cleaning a sword, and did not rush the job; he finished his task, then
carefully sheathed the blade and put away his cloths and polishes before
finding his coat and joining the crowd.

Almost the entire
village stood in a circle, leavi
ng a broad open area around the wizard, when
the Young Swordsman arrived; only the three clerics—Elder Priestess, Priest,
and Younger Priestess—had dared approach closely. As the young man strode up he
could hear the wizard speaking.

"... no harm;
flying w
as
simply the fastest way to get here."

Breaker looked over
the shoulders of his neighbors, and marveled at this wizard—and quite aside
from the fact that he was hanging in midair, supported only by wind-spirits,
his appearance left no doubt that he was a
wizard.

The two wizards who
had accompanied the Old Swordsman three months before had looked like ordinary
travelers, for the most part. Oh, they had had their staves and talismans, and
the
ara
feathers any traveler would have, but their
clothing had bee
n plain woolen cloaks over the same garb anyone might have worn. This
new arrival, though, was far more flamboyant. He wore a bright red robe trimmed
with elaborate embroidery in gold and green; the patterned hem flapped around
his ankles, and the wide sleeves fluttered. His unbound black hair would have
reached halfway down his back had it not been whipping wildly in the unnatural
wind that held him aloft. A dozen talismans rattled and gleamed on a cord
around his neck, and gold rings the size of a circled thumb and forefinger hung
from his ears. The carved and enameled staff in his hands was capped and shod
in gold, and held a score of additional talismans.

"And why were you in such a hurry to
visit Mad Oak?" Elder Priestess asked.

"Because the opportunity to see the
world's greatest swordsman in formal combat does not come along often, and I
didn't want to miss it!"

The Young Swordsman stiffened as several
dozen pairs of eyes turned toward him, including the eyes of all three of his
sisters.

The wizard saw the direction of those gazes,
and turned his own attention that way, as well. Elder took her time before
she, too, turned.

"Formal combat?" she said.

"Yes," the Young Swordsman
admitted. "But it won't
...
I
mean, we aren't
..."

"To first blood," the Old Swordsman
said from behind him. "I believe the young man is ready to attempt
it." He strode up and clapped Breaker on the shoulder.

"You
said
he was," the
wizard called.

"And we will find out soon whether I was
right. I believe certain magic must be involved, though, for the match to have
its intended effect of transferring the title—magic requiring a wizard's
attention. That was why I sent word to all of you."

"I'd have been just as happy if no one
watched," Breaker said, to no one in particular.

"When will it be?" the wizard
asked. "The message was vague—you know how poor a sense of time some
ler
have."

"We hadn't set an exact time," the
Old Swordsman replied. "We needed to know just what's required in the way
of wizards' magic."

"Oh, it's a simple partial release and
fresh binding—very easy, the sort of thing even an apprentice could probably
do," the wizard said. "I could certainly manage it, if you like—you
could hold the match this very afternoon."

The two swordsmen looked at each other.

"If it's all the same, I'd prefer to
..."
the younger began.

"We wait," the elder interrupted.
"No offense, Red Wizard, to you or your
ler,
but I'd be happier
with more than one experienced magician involved. Just to be safe."

"Of course, of course." The wizard
attempted a bow of acknowledgment, but the magical vortex held him upright,
turning the bow into more of a wiggle. "You can demand half the Council,
if you like—I think we'll all be eager to see it."

"I was going to
say, I would rather wait," Breaker said, glaring at his teacher.

"Then might I
ask, my esteemed priest and priestesses, that you petition the
ler
of your lands to let me set foot in Mad Oak?" the wizard asked,
turning to the clerics. "I assure you, I mean no ill to any person or
spirit here, and will k
eep my own immaterial servants in check."

"And I suppose you'll want lodging, as
well," Elder Priestess said.

"Oh, I would not wish to intrude on your
privacy; I will be happy to sleep in the pavilion on the ridge, if that might
be permitted."

"I thought wizards were supposed to be
arrogant," Spider whispered in Breaker's ear as the clerics conferred.
"He doesn't seem arrogant to me!"

"He
looks
fancy enough,
though, with all his bright colors and things!" Fidget whispered in reply.

"Wizards are just people," their
brother replied. 'The Old Swordsman's told me all about them—some are arrogant,
some are humble. Like anyone."

A murmur of chanting
came from the circle, and abruptly, the whirlwind vanished; the wizard stumbled
as he dropped the last few inches on
to the frozen mud of the square, but caught
himself without falling.

"Thank you," he said, essaying a
proper bow this time.

"Our
ler
prefer human beings to arrive on foot," Priest said,
apologetically. "They have a very strong sense of how things ought to
be."

"Of
course," the wizard said, brushing off his robes and shaking his hair into
place. "I meant no offense. Every town's
ler
have their
own little whims; I just hadn't realized yours had that particular preference.
Naturally, I'll do everything I can to oblige them."

"Come on,"
Elder Priestess said. "I'll show you where you can sleep." She
beckoned for the wizard to follow her as she led the way toward her home.
Apparently she had no intention of making the town's guest sleep in the
drafty, poorly heated pavilion, despite his offer.

Thinking of the cold,
Breaker wondered idly, not for the first time, why the Wizard Lord allowed
winter to still happen; was his command of the weather not enough to prevent
it? The Old Swordsman had claimed not to know any answer to that one.

"Well, that's
one
wizard," the Old Swordsman said, smiling at Harp, Fidget, Spider,
and their brother as they all turned toward home, eager to get out of the cold.
"Two or three will be enough. Then we'll put on our show, give you th
e talisman and bind
the
ler,
and
I'll be done with it all, ready to leave as soon as the roads are open in the
spring."

"And you'll be the Chosen
Swordsman," Fidget said, looking up at her brother. "Who'd have ever
thought
that
would happen?"

The Old Swordsman laughed, but Breaker just
batted a hand at his sister, who ducked the blow easily. He did not laugh.

And, he noticed, neither did his other
sisters.

Other
wizards were
not long in coming. With the river
frozen over and snow blocking the paths only those who had captured wind
elementals or found other ways to fly were able to come, so the first wizard's
flamboyant arrival was repeated, with minor variations, three more times over
a period of five days. All these wizards, two men and a woman, were str
angers; apparently
the two who had brought the Swordsman to Mad Oak in the first place either had
not received the message, had decided not to attend, or were unable to fly.

And four wizards, the
Old Swordsman decided, was plenty; with this fourth and la
st arrival the
wizards now outnumbered the priests hosting them, and waiting for more would
be an imposition on Mad Oak's hospitality. Furthermore, he and Breaker had
gone over their plans carefully, and both felt ready to perform their little
exhibition. They could not rehearse it move for move, as that would make it
impossible to fool the
ler,
and trying
to set out specific moves in words did not seem entirely practical, but they
agreed on what areas the Old Swordsman would try to leave exposed to Break
er's blade, and
discussed just how the performance could be kept spontaneous and convincing
while still yielding the desired result.

Thus prepared, the
Old Swordsman sent Spider and Fidget to tell the assorted magicians that the
formal challenge would be
made the next day, and on the afternoon following the fourth wizard's
arrival the Old Swordsman strode into the town square and proclaimed loudly to
no one in particular, "I am the world's greatest swordsman! No one in
Barokan can defeat me with a blade!"

Breaker had been
waiting in a convenient doorway, feeling the tension in the air that meant
ler
were listening and watching; he thought he had even glimpsed light and
movement in some of the winter shadows. Now he straightened up, flung back his
hood,
and
marched out to face his teacher.

"I can defeat you, you old fraud,"
he said, "if you forgo magical assistance!"

Wind stirred, and shadows moved; a wave of
glitter seemed to glide across a nearby snowdrift, as if something were
refracting the watery sunlight. The air almost seemed to vibrate; the former
Breaker had never before felt such a concentration of
ler,
not even during the
spring planting rites.

"I need no magic to beat the likes of
you," the elder sneered.

"The empty words of a windbag!"
"The simple truth."

The younger raised
his hand in challenge. "Then prove it—send away your captive
ler,
put down your
talismans, and face me on even terms!"

Now he could feel dozens of eyes on him, as
well as the presence of the
ler.
He resisted
the temptation t
o look around at the hidden audience, peering through shutters or door
cracks, or around corners—but even Priest's old cat, curled on a windowsill,
seemed to be staring at him.