Warlords Of Gaikon

Chapter 7

Eight hours of sound sleep later, Blade awoke feeling ready to face whatever the land of Gaikon might throw at him. But it was another hour before a heavy-eyed Yezjaro appeared. Judging from the circles under his eyes and the look of satisfaction on his face, the instructor had spent most of the night in bed but not much of it sleeping.

There was no sign of Captain Jawai, and Blade decided not to ask about him. One of the house dabuni supervised the serving of breakfast, but his face was as expressionless as one of the mats on the floor.

After swallowing down the last of his soup and porridge, Yezjaro stood up, stretched, and looked down at Blade.

«There is no reason for us to delay our departure any more-brother. And there is also no reason for me not to call you by your war name. Have you one?»

«My name is Blade.»

«Is that your war name or your house name?»

«In my homeland warriors have only a war name. It is a symbol of our dedication to war.»

«A very great dedication indeed. But I am not surprised. Your warriors must be exceptionally devoted to developing their skills, if you are typical of them. Although you seem to emphasize speed more than precision, if your style is typical of your homeland.»

«It is one style. We have many.»

«As it is with us. We will have much to teach each other, I suspect. But after we reach the castle of Lord Tsekuin and you are sworn into his service.» He began tying his sash and pulling on his sandals. «I have horses and traveling supplies ready for both of us, and my retainers are already mounted.»

Blade decided to ask, «Are we going to say farewell to Captain Jawai? He was our host, after all, and-«

«The thought does you honor, Blade,» said Yezjaro, with a faint smile. «But under the circumstances that ceremony would serve no purpose.»

The party included six mounted retainers, one of them carrying a banner, and four pack horses. The rain had stopped by the time they rode out, and the sun was emerging from behind clouds. But a strong wind blew down a continuous spatter of drops as they rode on to the narrow path through the forest. Blade was raising a hand to wipe the water off his face when Yezjaro suddenly called out, «Stop!» and pointed off to the left.

«Blade, you were asking about Captain Jawai, I believe?»

Blade followed Yezjaro's outstretched arm, to a small clearing at the top of the slope beside the trail. On top of a thick pole sat the severed head of Captain Jawai. A little crust of dried blood had already covered the upper foot or two of the pole. The captain's bony features were set in a mask of grisly agony, and a few eager flies had already clustered around the staring eyes.

Blade urged his horse forward until he was alongside Yezjaro and spoke in a low voice so that only the instructor could hear. «Did you have it in mind for things to come out this way?» He jerked a thumb at the impaled head.

Yezjaro threw Blade the unmistakable look of a man not sure whether he should answer a question or not. But after a moment he replied in an equally soft voice, «Yes, I was hoping for it.»

«May I ask why?»

«Quite simple. For many reasons the late Captain Jawai was unsuited for the post he held, particularly-«He broke off, hesitated, then began again. «He was unfit to protect the mines of Lord Tsekiun. But he would not resign. To have him dismissed or challenged and slain by one in Lord Tsekuin's service risked starting a feud within the ranks of the lord's own dabuni. This no wise man wished. It would give the Hongshu a great opportunity. But when I heard that a stranger who appeared warlike had come among us and already incurred the enmity of Jawai, I saw a clear path ahead.»

Blade nodded. «Yes.» His voice was deliberately cool. «If I slew Jawai or disgraced him so that he had to kill himself-«

«As he did.»

«I thought so. If that happened, you would be rid of Jawai. And if he slew me, at least there would be none of my family or sworn friends determined to avenge me and disrupt the peace of Lord Tsekuin's household. A wise plan, if you have such great need of peace.»

Yezjaro let the implied question pass him by. Instead he said, «You see clearly, Blade.»

«When it is a question of my life or my honor, Yezjaro, I can see very far and listen very well. I ask you not to forget that.»

Yezjaro nodded slowly. «I think I will take your advice, Blade.» The party moved on down the trail.

It was a journey of three full days and part of a fourth to Lord Tsekuin's castle. It was a slow and tedious journey, most of it over trails that were always winding and sometimes steep and narrow. But the small, shaggy horses of Gaikon seemed to be nearly as tough and sure-footed as mountain goats. There were no accidents, not even when they had to lead the horses one at a time across a rope-and-plank bridge swaying dizzily a hundred feet above a mist-filled gorge.

During those days Blade learned a great deal about life in Gaikon. Much of the knowledge was essential, however many strange words it might contain. Some of it was unnecessary; Blade suspected Yezjaro of showing off his learning and boasting of his native land's virtues. That was a harmless and nearly universal game. Blade didn't say a word against it, not even when Yezjaro spent three hours reciting the epic poem of the Seven Dabuni.

But some of what Blade needed to know he had to pry out of Yezjaro like a pearl out of an oyster. There were a good many subjects about which the instructor remained as mute as a temple image.

In the land of Gaikon, one man reigned-the Emperor. Another man ruled-the Hongshu or Most Exalted Warlord. The country was divided into the Emperor's precincts, a number of cities directly under the Hongshu or the chancellors of his household, and the fiefs of a large number of greater or lesser warlords like Lord Tsekuin.

The members of the ruling families and households were something of a class apart, as were the warlords themselves. The rest of the people of Gaikon were divided into three broad categories: the warriors or dabuni, the merchants (who included the artisans), and the peasants. Blade was hardly surprised to learn that the dabuni considered themselves the source of all honor, virtue, and prowess in Gaikon, and that they despised and even abused the merchants and peasants. They were indeed like too many other warrior castes that Blade had met in too many other dimensions. But while he was in Gaikon, it was live by their rules or face a good chance of not living at all. And that meant learning as much as possible, whether Yezjaro told him willingly or not.

There was the time Yezjaro mentioned that the Most Exalted Warlord had the additional title of «Strong Younger Brother.»

«How is that?» said Blade.

«In the tales of Kunkoi, the Sun Goddess, it is said she bore two sons, a year apart. The elder was terrible in his wisdom and magical powers, so he became the ancestor of our Emperors. The younger was far less wise, but he was the mightiest warrior since the beginning of time. He protected his brother's rule faithfully, and it is from him that the Hongshus claim their descent.»

«I see,» said Blade. Then he threw out a deliberately vague question. «This means, I take it, that the Hongshu is patron and master to the warlords of Gaikon?»

«Sometimes,» said Yezjaro shortly.

«How can it be otherwise?» said Blade, trying to sound naive.

«It depends very much on the warlord,» said Yezjaro. «Also on how honorable the Hongshu is. If a warlord has something the Hongshu covets-«

«I see,» said Blade again. After a moment's remembering what he had heard at other times from the instructor, he thought he did see. «The Lord Tsekuin goes in some fear of inspiring the intervention of the Hongshu, doesn't he?»

«Perhaps.» To Blade's trained ear, that short one-word reply was almost a shouted «Yes.» He was silent for a moment, to give Yezjaro the impression that he had given up his questioning. Then:

«Does the Hongshu's interest in the affairs of Lord Tsekuin have something to do with mines? Possibly those mines that the late Honorable Captain Jawai was not fit to guard?»

Yezjaro said nothing. He didn't need to. The startled look on his face and then the quick masking of his expression told Blade more than enough.

There was another time when Blade and Yezjaro were sipping hot saya wine in the back room of a small tavern. They were discussing keeping the peace in the frequently turbulent and unruly families of the warlords.

«Often enough, it is decided to train the younger sons as scholars or send them into the service of Kunkoi,» said the instructor. «Our own Lord Tsekuin was destined for a scholar's career. But Kunkoi's will was otherwise.»

«How so?»

«The eldest son and heir died of a fever. So our Honorable Lord was called to put away his scrolls and brushes and his Hu board and take up steel.»

«How well did he make the change?» asked Blade. He held out the flask of hot saya. The instructor practically snatched it from Blade's hand, poured his cup full, and drained it at a gulp. Then he leaned back, shaking his head slowly.

«Not as well as-«He broke off and shot a hard look at Blade. «He is young yet, and has much to learn. He will learn it, I am sure.»

Blade sensed that Yezjaro's suspicions might be aroused if he pushed any farther. But he also sensed he might be on the brink of learning something important.

So he gambled. «You're a strange one to call a warlord 'young,'» said Blade. He managed to put laughter into his voice. «Unless he's hardly more than a child. You can't be much more than-«

«I'm ten times older than Lord Tsekuin is in what counts now!» snarled Yezjaro. «He's thirty, I know. But he didn't pick up a sword at six, or kill his first man at twelve, or fight in a pitched battle at fourteen and live through it! And he didn't put on the blue robe at sixteen! I did. So if I want to think he's young, Kunkoi knows I've got the right to!» He poured himself more saya, and gulped it down.

Blade dropped the topic. He didn't want to push things any farther. Certainly not to the point of provoking the instructor to a fight. Blade suspected that was a fight he would lose. Even if by some chance he won, he would lose a strong and useful guide and ally.

In spite of occasional bits of luck like this, Blade did not learn as much as he wanted to on the journey. He certainly learned enough to know that he would have to be careful. His eyes would have to be looking in all directions at once, his hand ready to snatch up a spear, and his feet as ready as a cat's to jump.

But that he would have known without exchanging a single word with anyone. It was the only way of staying alive in Dimension X.