The Reluctant Swordsman (40 page)

He was to be tried, here and now, in the echoing and blood-spattered guardhouse.
 
It was a strange courtroom: a big wooden shed with a wide cobbled floor like a street running through the middle of it. The horse stalls along one side were open to the high timber ceiling, but the opposite wall was solid, pierced by a few ordinary doors. Barn swallows swooped in and out the archways at the ends, soaring upward to their nests in the rafters, twittering angrily at the men below. If it reminded Wallie of anything at all, it was of a theater stage seen from the rear, the beams and bare flats exposed, and all the bodies from the last act of Hamlet strewn over the ground.

The skinner and the boat captain were marched in and made to sit, close to Jja and Cowie. Swordsmen preferred action to argument. Not that any sane civilian would argue.

Katanji was standing behind his brother, staring at Wallie with big, scared eyes. The low evening light was pouring in the River door, floodlighting Trasingji’s body. Horses were chomping behind the stall doors.
 
“You may begin, Honorable Yoningu,” the judge said.
 
The prosecutor led the way over to Trasingji. Imperkanni and Wallie walked beside him.

“I observed Lord Shonsu strike this man from behind, and with a dagger.” They paced back to Tarru. Wallie was staggered to see that he had cut the man almost in half, and that the cobbles were drenched with blood all around, as though he had exploded.

“I observed Lord Shonsu attack this man from behind.” Then the group of five corpses, and Yoningu paused for a moment, to refresh his memory, or to make sure that he had significant charges to lay. His wry expression was caused by a scar, pulling the corner of his mouth up—perhaps he had no sense of humor at all. If his mentor ruled against Wallie, would Wallie then become this man’s slave? No, these were capital offenses.
 
“I observed Lord Shonsu attack these men without formal challenge. I observed Lord Shonsu strike this one with a dagger, and this one also.” He shrugged, implying that those charges would do for now.

Imperkanni turned to Wallie. “Do you have any defense?”

“A great deal, my lord.” Wallie smiled to show that he was not feeling guilty.
 
“Honorable Yoningu has missed one, I think.” He pointed between the guarding swordsmen to the body of the Second outside. That one was a capital offense in Wallie’s eyes, and the only one.

Yoningu glared at him angrily, as though Wallie were wasting the time of the court with trivialities. “That man was running away,” he said.
 
A wave of culture shock broke over Wallie, temporarily choking him. By running away, the boy had forfeited his right to be avenged. Yet, after a moment, Wallie found some comfort in that, because the other Second had stopped and made obeisance, and that had been enough to trigger Shonsu’s controls and halt the berserker. Not much comfort, but a little. The first kid would still be alive, had he remembered his training.

The court was waiting for him.

“May I hear the charges against Adept Nnanji, please? Then we shall present our defense.”

Imperkanni nodded. Nnanji looked up from his study of the floor and gazed bitterly at the proceedings.

Yoningu hesitated over the first man Nnanji had killed, decided to ignore that one, and pointed casually to the body of Ghaniri. “I observed Adept Nnanji strike this man from behind when he was already fighting another.” Nnanji dropped his eyes again.

“Your defense, my lord?” Imperkanni asked Wallie. His manner implied that it had better be good.

“I think Adept Nnanji has some charges to bring against me, also,” Wallie said recklessly.

That had a welcome shock effect, but Imperkanni recovered quickly. “Adept Nnanji?”

Nnanji looked up once more. He stared at Wallie with more pain and reproach than seemed humanly bearable. When he began to speak, he was so quiet that he stopped and started again. “I saw Lord Shonsu draw a sword on Adept Briu this morning without warning. I saw Lord Shonsu disguise himself as a female slave.” That had even more of a shock effect. Wallie was looking regretfully at Honakura. A priest of the Seventh would be an unimpeachable witness, but the old man was still sitting like a rag doll. His eyes were partly open, but showing only the whites. He might be dead, he might be dying, but he was in no condition to testify.

“We are waiting, my lord,” Imperkanni said threateningly.

“Are you familiar with the legend of Chioxin?” Wallie asked.

“No,” Imperkanni said.

Hell!

Then he noticed the Second he had spared. He was cowering beside a post, hunched and still shivering.

“Let’s have an independent witness, my lord,” Wallie said. “My story is unusual, to say the least, and I should prefer to have it corroborated. You! What’s your name?”

The Second rolled his eyes and said nothing. One of the free swords, a Fourth, went over to him and slapped his face. The kid gibbered slightly, and drooled.
 
Hell and damnation!

“Then I must tell it myself, I suppose,” Wallie said. He needed food, drink, and about two nights’ sleep. “The reeve of the temple guard, Hardduju of the Seventh, was a very corrupt man. The priests have long prayed that the Goddess would send them a replacement . . . ”

That replacement was obviously Imperkanni, but to mention that would sound like a bribe, or an attempt at flattery. It was ironic that the man whom Wallie had hoped might come to rescue him had instead turned up in time to threaten him with vengeance for winning the battle. This whole thing was infinitely ironic.
 
He hoped that the little god was finding it amusing.
 
Halfway through the story he had to ask for a drink. Imperkanni was not a consciously cruel man. Now he noted Wallie’s fatigue and ordered seats. His men jumped to search the rooms and produced stools. The court continued to meet at the scene of the crime, a circle of four in the midst of carnage—Wallie, Nnanji, Imperkanni, and Yoningu. The other swordsmen moved in to stand around them, alert and impassive.

Finally, hoarse and so weary that he wondered if he still cared, Wallie reached his conclusion. “There were abominations,” he said, “but they were begun by Tarru. Once he imprisoned me within the temple grounds, this was no longer an affair of honor.”

Imperkanni waited to be sure that that was all, then drew a deep breath. He looked questioningly at Yoningu, as though saying, “Your witness.” “Did you try to leave the grounds, my lord?”

Wallie admitted that he had not.

“You say that you were Honorable Tarru’s guest. You were hardly still his guest when you reached here, were you?”

“Well, we hadn’t said good-bye and come again!” Yoningu was persistent. It was only his twisted mouth that made him look as though he were enjoying himself. It must be painful for him to denounce a man who had displayed such swordsmanship, but it had been illegal swordsmanship. “A guest who leaves without farewell does not remain a guest indefinitely. He was no longer your host, so he was within his rights in challenging Adept Nnanji.
 
You interfered in an honorable passage of arms.” That was ridiculous. Wallie was sure that there was an answer to all this somewhere, but even the fear of death seemed insufficient to get his brain working again.

“Nnanji,” he croaked. “You talk for a while.”

Nnanji looked up sadly. “I admit the charge,” he said.
 
Then he leaned his elbows on his knees once more, clasped his oversize hands, and went back to staring across the circle at Yoningu’s boots.
 
“What!”

This time Nnanji did not even raise his head. “I allowed a personal friendship to lead me into an abomination. I am happy that I saved your life, Lord Shonsu, but I was wrong to do so.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Wallie demanded, looking at Yoningu and Imperkanni. “We were his guests, and he had prepared a trap in our room. He was swearing his men to the blood oath at swordpoint. That oath needs a specific cause, and the only cause was that he wanted to steal my sword, the Goddess’ sword! They did not address him as ‘liege.’ He was keeping the oath secret—another abomination, as you well know.”

“Did you observe this swearing, my lord?”

Wallie sighed. “No. As I told you, it was reported to me by the slaves.”

Nnanji looked up and drew back his lips in a grimace. Slaves could not testify.

Lord Shonsu had already discredited that defense himself.
 
“Adept Briu confirmed the third oath!” Wallie shouted. “Also the attack on Adept Nnanji—” “Then, by admitting it, this Briu was either disobeying his liege or lying to you?”

Wallie wanted to pound his head with his fists. He could not think of an answer to that.

Katanji nudged his brother from behind. Nnanji waved him away without turning.

“Who shed the first blood?” Yoningu demanded.

There it was—death before dishonor. A man was supposed to be honorable at all costs. If his enemy killed him by dishonorable means, then that was too bad, he must be avenged. By their standards Wallie should have tried walking out the gate and let himself be cut down, or just waited until Tarru came for him. He who cast the first stone was the sinner.

Some of the swordsmen had died rather than swear to Tarru . . . but there were no witnesses to that, except the slaves.

“I killed first!” Wallie said. He was thinking of Janghiuki, but they would assume he meant Transingji. Did it matter?

Imperkanni broke the ensuing silence. “Why did you release your vassal and protégé from his oaths, my lord?”

That must seem a very odd decision to him, and perhaps he was looking for some way to spare Nnanji.

“I hoped that he might be allowed through,” Wallie said, “with the others.” Imperkanni and Yoningu glanced at his companions and then at each other—two slaves, a boy, a baby, and a beggar? Why bother?
 
Imperkanni folded his arms and pondered for a moment, studying Nnanji. Yes, he was trying to find some way to acquit the accomplice—Wallie’s guilt was obvious.
 
“I am curious as to what happened when you arrived, adept. What was said before Honorable Tarru challenged you?”

Nnanji raised his eyes and returned the Seventh’s gaze glumly. “I challenged him, my lord,” he said.

Obviously Imperkanni was finding this a difficult case. He frowned. “By the look of your facemarks, adept, you were a Second quite recently.” “This morning, my lord.”

A very difficult case; both defendants seemed to be insane. “You were a Second this morning, and this afternoon you challenged a Sixth?” Nnanji glanced at Wallie and suddenly, for just an instant, grinned. Then his face darkened again. Wallie dearly wanted to punch him. Gorramini and Ghaniri had known how to provoke Nnanji to violence. It must have been common knowledge in the guard. Tarru had only to make some remark about rugmakers.
 
“He insulted you?” demanded Imperkanni.

Nnanji shrugged. “Yes. He was determined to pick a fight, so I ignored his insults to me, but then he insulted my . . . friend, Lord Shonsu, who was not there to defend himself.”

The other men glanced at one another. Wallie could guess what was coming now.
 
“What did he say?” Imperkanni asked. When Nnanji did not speak he added, “The noble lord is here to defend himself now.”

Nnanji looked up angrily. “He said that he was a murderer.” The court looked at Wallie, who was sadly feeling that he was not worthy of Nnanji’s friendship. That hurt almost as much as the guilt of the murders, or the prospect of sudden death now looming ahead of him.
 
“I’m afraid that he was right, Nnanji,” he said. “I killed Janghiuki with my fist. I only meant to stun him . . . but his death was not an affair of honor.” Imperkanni demanded to know who Janghiuki might have been, and Wallie explained, not caring very much any more what was said.

“I add that confession to the list of . . . ” Then Yoningu stopped. He and Imperkanni stared at each other for a moment in silence. The Seventh did not seem to move at all, but his white ponytail waved very slightly, as though in a faint draft. Yoningu said quickly, “I withdraw that.” “I will accept that Swordsman Janghiuki’s death was accidental, my lord,” Imperkanni said. “If you had wanted to kill him, I hardly think you would have used a fist.”

Nnanji looked up momentarily in surprise.

Katanji poked his back again. Nnanji ignored him.
 
Wallie glanced over at Honakura. His eyes were properly open now, but he was panting wheezily and not paying attention. No hope there.
 
“The will of the Goddess overrides the sutras!” Wallie said. Incredibly, this trial was going against him. He needed witnesses! Old Coningu would do—he had known. Or Briu. But he was certain that the court would not adjourn to the temple if he asked it to. Imperkanni was starting to fidget.
 
“True,” said the court. “We swear to obey the will of the Goddess ahead of the sutras. But who is to determine Her will? We must assume that the sutras represent Her commandments to us unless we receive clear evidence to the contrary . . . a miracle, I suppose. I agree that you have a remarkable sword, Lord Shonsu, but it does not give you the right to commit any atrocity you fancy. There are eight dead men here. Do you have any further defense?” What was the use of saying more? Wallie had been given a fair hearing, probably a lot more than a man of lesser rank would have received. The gods were punishing him. He had murdered Janghiuki and then he had cut down a Second running away. It could be that he would be punished for the wrong crimes, but crimes there were. Nnanji was right—why not just admit it?
 
The penalty for failure was death. Decapitation was quick and painless; he might have done worse.