«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.
Chapter 8
Late in the morning of the fourth day they rode out of the forest into the fields around the castle of Lord Tsekuin.
Yezjaro had sent a messenger on ahead to bring word to the castle. So Blade was not surprised to see the farmers, who had been working knee-deep in the flooded paddy fields, crowding up to the edge of the road as the party rode past. He was only slightly surprised at the open smiles, the cheers, and the ribald remarks that greeted the young swordsman. Yezjaro, for all his swashbuckling arrogance, was obviously popular.
They rode past paddy fields and villages of thatched wooden houses for nearly an hour. Then Blade saw a sprawling tangle of towers, buildings, and walls crowning a high hill about three miles ahead. He didn't need Yezjaro's comment to realize that they were approaching the castle. Nor did he need the instructor's pointing hand to notice the cluster of banners gliding out of the gate and moving swiftly down the hill toward them.
«As I hoped, the Lord Tsekuin himself is coming out to greet us. That is good news for you, Blade. If the lord is prepared to admit in public that you have rendered him a valuable service-well, you may find yourself in a stronger position than I had expected. But do not buy the barrels for saya made from grain as yet unharvested.»
«We have such sayings and rules in my own land, Yezjaro,» said Blade, deliberately showing more irritation than he felt. «As I have told you, I can see more than a small child and hardly like being treated as one.»
«So shall it be,» said Yezjaro, with a small bow and a large grin. Both held a hint of mockery. Then the instructor was reining in his horse and signaling the rest of the party to do the same. They pulled up to a stop in the road, and waited while the cluster of banners came bobbing and waving toward them.
The man who was obviously Lord Tsekuin was spurring along well ahead of his men. Blade had an extra chance to observe him as he rode up. The warlord was certainly no child. In fact, he must have been on the wrong side of thirty. But there was a softness about his face and his lanky figure that suggested he was still more accustomed to chairs and scrolls than to saddles and swords. Although he was riding out in front of his escort at a good clip, he was obviously not doing it because he felt comfortable on a fast-moving horse.
With much sawing on the reins the warlord brought his horse to a stop in front of Blade and Yezjaro. Blade noticed that he nearly went headfirst out of the saddle as the horse stopped. Yezjaro removed his broad leather hat and bowed from the waist. Blade did the same.
«Welcome home, Worthy Instructor Yezjaro,» said Lord Tsekuin. «And welcome, dabuno Blade. I understand it is your wish to enter my service?»
«It is, Honorable Lord Tsekuin,» said Blade.
«That is good. Our house has need of strong dabuni, and many such rise high.» The warlord's voice was clear but highpitched. He put no force and no sincerity that Blade could detect into the formal greetings. Perhaps he didn't feel any? There was nothing to do about it if he didn't. Besides, there was something else about Lord Tsekuin that practically jumped out at Blade and slapped him in the face.
The warlord positively dripped diamonds. Blade saw small ones in rings on three fingers of each hand and others set in a large circular gold pin that held his sash together. Slightly larger ones flashed from a medallion on a chain around his neck and from a badge on the front of his hat. A huge one-a good forty carats of the finest gem quality-flashed from the hilt of his sword.
As the warlord's escort rode up Blade noticed that they too were decked out with a princely abundance of diamonds. Not quite on the scale of their lord, of course. No doubt those forty-carat monsters didn't grow on bushes even in Gaikon. But all had at least one piece of diamond-studded jewelry and a jeweled sword-hilt.
Blade realized that he didn't need to ask what Lord Tsekuin's mines produced. Nor did he need to wonder why the Hongshu might be intriguing against Lord Tsekuin and casting greedy eyes on his lands.
He also realized that Yezjaro and Tsekuin had been exchanging polite formalities while he stared at the warlord. Now both broke off suddenly and looked back along the road toward the castle.
A large red two-wheeled cart was rumbling toward them, drawn by four horses and carrying a tented enclosure perched behind the two drivers. Blade saw both Yezjaro and Lord Tsekuin grimace. The warlord's escort reluctantly made a clear path for the cart. With shouts and whip-cracking it came to a stop just behind Lord Tsekuin's horse. The green curtains were thrust open from within, and a woman's head peered out.