The Seventh Book of Lost Swords : Wayfinder's Story by Fred Saberhagen (best books for 7th graders TXT) 📗

Wood considered it unlikely that his rival Vilkata had really been permanently removed from the scene. But no, not even the Dark King would represent the ultimate challenge.

      Sooner or later, the Ancient One was thinking now, it would be necessary to concentrate his efforts with the Sword of Wisdom on locating the Emperor, in anticipation of a final combat with that man.

* * *

      The Lady Yambu, lying on an ebon couch, covered with a white sheet, her head now pillowed on rich fabrics, was being more or less forcibly maintained by her newest captor in a state of responsive consciousness. Finding it necessary to converse with him whether she wanted to or not, she expressed to Wood her surprise that his first questions to the Sword of Wisdom did not seem to have been concerned with establishing his own safety.

      She asked him the reasons for this lack of caution.

      He assured the Silver Queen that he scorned to be so timid.

      “You will understand that, I am sure, my lady. You yourself have never been accused of excessive caution.”

      “No doubt that is intended as a compliment.”

      “Of course. I have always regarded you with the greatest respect.” Wood paused, before adding in a low, convincing voice: “I would never have deserted you in your time of need.”

      “Meaning that the Emperor, who was my husband, did?”

      “You are the best judge of his behavior in that instance.” Without hesitating, the Ancient One continued: “Support me now, and I will give you real youth. Eternal youth and beauty, a far more lasting change than even Woundhealer will ever be able to provide.”

      Her head turned on the brocaded pillow. “And Tigris? Did she have the same promise from you?”

      “What has happened, is happening, to that woman is no secret. But dear lady, I made her no promises. I never found that woman half as interesting as I find you.”

      “I have no interest in what is happening to her. Now will you let me rest?”

      “Of course, dear lady. For a time.”

* * *

      Walking alone, a few moments later, Wood developed a shrewd suspicion: this lady was really trying to find, to rejoin, her former husband. Though he thought it doubtful that the Silver Queen herself was fully aware of her own motivation.

      Perhaps he, Wood, ought to announce his readiness to help her in this quest. Because he really wanted to find the Emperor too.

      On an impulse drawing Wayfinder, Wood took time out from his immediate struggle to command that Sword to guide him to the Great Clown.

      The Sword’s reaction was simply to point straight down to the spot of earth on which Wood was standing. He could readily find one interpretation of this answer: If he remained where he was, the Emperor would come to him.

      Of course there were other possibilities. “Am I to dig into the earth? I hope not. Or do you simply mean that I must wait? Faugh! The secrets of the gods are welded into this bar of metal, and all I can do is ask questions like any other supplicant, and hope, and wait!”

      Faced with this behavior by the Sword of Wisdom, the Ancient One began to wonder if his calculations regarding Mark’s behavior could have been wrong.

      He wondered also whether it might be the Emperor, instead of Mark, who was now armed with Shieldbreaker.

      When Wood tried to locate Mark directly, Wayfinder became as inert as any farmer’s knife.

* * *

      Wood, who had also taken possession of Woundhealer on entering the camp, was considering that he might eventually want to trade that treasure for a Sword he wanted more—though he would dislike having to give up the Sword of Healing, having certain uses for it in mind.

      He thought that the next time he talked with Yambu, he would elicit some comment from her on the subject of trading Woundhealer.

Chapter Fifteen

      Mark in a grim mood kept riding forward. The country through which he traveled was largely desert, and for a time remained almost flat. The land got rougher as he drew closer to a river’s rocky gorge.

      He had now been traveling alone, ahead of the advancing column of Tasavaltan cavalry, for more than a full day.

      The Prince had had no conscious contact with anyone, friend or foe, since he had separated from his hundred picked troopers, from Karel, the assistant magicians, and the rest of the fast-moving force.

      On parting from his friends, Mark had ridden for a short time without drawing either Sightblinder or Shieldbreaker. But rather soon the Prince decided that he had better not advance any farther without having in hand one of his two Swords—or, better, both of them.

      Mark wanted to have the Sword of Stealth in hand before he was seen by the enemy’s reptile scouts.

      And he wanted to draw Shieldbreaker before coming within range of any enemy weapons.

      Since leaving Karel behind, the Prince had several times sensed the power of contending magical forces, and he realized that something might be happening to delay his uncle and the cavalry. But even with Sightblinder in hand to enhance his powers of observation, he had been unable to perceive the details of the magical combat between Karel and Wood, or of Karel and Wood’s demons.

      Mark supposed that, barring such magical hindrance, his Tasavaltan escort ought to be not much more than a couple of hours behind him.

      Carrying Sightblinder drawn for protection deprived Mark of information he might otherwise have received from scouting birds and made him unable to send winged couriers to his friends. Confronted by magic powerful enough to deceive humans, the birds, with their limited intelligence, could hardly be expected to disregard the visual image—they would either perceive Mark as some fearful presence, and refuse to approach him, or they would see him as some beloved object—another bird, he supposed, or a favorite handler—not the two-legged master for whom they had been trained to carry messages and fight.

      Thus on occasion, when he saw a friendly messenger in the air, Mark risked