«Possibly. But where is Yezjaro?»
«We will have to find him.»
«That may take time, Blade. We may not have any more time.»
«I know. But have we any other choice?»
Chapter 19
At first, it looked like finding Yezjaro would be like finding a single fish in the ocean. But Blade knew that the young instructor was too fond of wine, warmth, and women to drift away to some mountain warlord's castle. If he was still alive, he was likely to be close enough to Deyun so that they would hear of him sooner rather than later. But how much time did they have?
The waiting became an ordeal. Blade knew that patience was essential in this game. But he also knew that if he spent much more time sitting in the cramped back room, he might take out his bad temper on Lady Musura.
So he took to drifting through the taverns by day as well as by night. Within a week, he had drifted straight into what he was looking for.
Two dabuni wandered into a tavern where Blade was sitting over saga and biscuits, ordered their own wine, and began to talk.
«Poor stupid Kuras,» said one. «He wouldn't believe the 'Flying Bird Cut' could do all that Yezjaro said it could.»
«No great blame there,» said the other. «Why should anyone take it on faith?»
«He shouldn't, I agree. But to insult Yezjaro to his face was the act of a fool.»
«Well, he paid for it. And not as heavily as he deserved, either. Yezjaro used a wooden sword, so Kuras will live even if he won't walk again.»
Blade rose and went over to the two dabuni. «Excuse me, Honorable Dabuni, but are you speaking of Yezjaro, master of the 'Flying Bird Cut'?»
One of the dabuni glared at Blade and started to answer him contemptuously, then noticed Blade's size and the two swords in his sash. His face straightened itself out and he replied more coolly, «Yes, I am. He stays now at our lord's house, near the city. What would you want with him?»
«I would have you take a message to him,» said Blade. «If he will come to this tavern tomorrow night at the tenth hour, the man whom he would need ten minutes to defeat would speak with him.»
«Is there such a man?» said the first dabuno, with a harsh laugh. «I cannot imagine it.»
«Whether there is or not, I do not know,» said Blade politely. «But a man whom Yezjaro once described as such would like to speak to him.»
«Must Yezjaro come alone?» said the second dabuno. His eyes were fixed on Blade, hard and skeptical.
«That is as the Honorable Instructor wishes,» said Blade. It would be far better if Yezjaro did come alone. But mentioning that to these two men would probably make them suspect treachery. In any case, Yezjaro would be certain to recognize the message. There had been no one else within earshot the day he praised Blade's swordsmanship with those words.
«Anything will be as the master wishes,» said the first dabuno. «Including your death, if this is a trap.»
Blade bowed politely. He was still bowing politely as he backed out of the tavern, and he did not straighten up with a sigh of relief until he was out in the street. At least he had found his fish. That was a good beginning.
Yezjaro appeared at the tavern at the appointed time the next evening. He came alone, as Blade had expected. The instructor might wonder who was asking for him, in spite of the message. But he was too proud and too self-confident to admit that there was any situation in which he might need help.
That was not good sense. But there was a gallantry in it that Blade could not help admiring. Home dimension offered too few opportunities for it these days. The gallant were too often the first to die, the last to be recognized, and the ones most frequently laughed at.
Yezjaro stalked into the tavern like a tiger on the prowl, light-footed and with one hand close to his sword hilt. He was thinner than he had been a few months ago, and there were dark circles under the deep-set eyes that searched the room from ceiling beams to floor mats. But his robe was as expensive and elegant as ever, his sandals were new, his scabbard polished until its blackness shimmered like metal.
His eyes swung across the tables, reached Blade-and stopped. He blinked twice, and Blade saw his free hand clench tightly into a fist. Those few signs were enough for Blade. He knew he had been recognized.
Blade threw a glance at the door and rose. Yezjaro nodded, turned, and preceded Blade out of the tavern. They stayed well apart as they moved down the noisy Street of the Pink Ape, until they reached a small alley behind a warehouse.
There they stood and faced each other, shielded from prying eyes and ears. Yezjaro spoke first.
«What words do you have for me, Blade? Have you found the Hongshu's service so uncongenial so soon?»
«I have never been in the Hongshu's service, Yezjaro,» said Blade. His voice was cool but not hostile. If Yezjaro wanted to play a few games in order to reassure himself, so be it. «And this you should know well enough to have no need of asking me foolish questions.»
«Are they foolish questions, Blade? Certainly your former comrades in the service of Lord Tsekuin have seen and heard little of you these past few months. You could have sprouted wings and a green tail for all we knew.»
«Indeed?» said Blade. «I thought my departure from among you was your wish, not mine. I saw written on every face the clear message: 'Go away, Blade. The Hongshu has tempted you and we fear you must yield sooner or later.' Well, I have not yielded. I think I am farther along in my plans to avenge our foully betrayed lord than you people are in yours.»
Yezjaro's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he rested his right hand with elaborate casualness on his sword hilt. «You think there are plans afoot among those who served Lord Tsekuin?»
«My friend, I don't think so. I know it. If not, why keep me so much in the dark about what you dabuni were going to do? If you were all going to go off and set up cucumber farms in the Wishru Mountains, then Kunkoi knows you had no need to keep it a secret! In fact, you would have done well to tell everything to one you suspected might carry tales to the Hongshu. But you said nothing. You obviously feared the kind of tales I might bear.»
Yezjaro seemed to be fighting to control his face. When he had won the struggle, he crossed his arms on his chest and frowned at Blade.
«Have you told the Hongshu anything of what you think of us?»
Blade was tempted to smile sarcastically. But he decided it would be better to feign anger, or at least indignation. His voice hardened. «I have already said once that I do not serve the Hongshu. What my eyes see and my ears hear stops with me. It does not go onward to the Hongshu or any who serve him. This makes twice that you have accused me of lacking the honor of a dabuno who once served Lord Tsekuin. I will not answer your next accusation with words.» He shifted his own right hand to the hilt of his sword.
A long silence fell down between the two men like a stone wall. Blade was tempted to step back, but knew Yezjaro might take that as preparation for an attack. He was also tempted to say something to prod Yezjaro into an answer, but decided against it. The instructor was no fool. As long as he could salvage his pride, he would find no trouble in reaching the correct decision.
Finally the silence was broken. «So, Blade,» said Yezjaro. «What are your plans for a blow at the Hongshu's pet wolf?»
«We have found a way into his cage, Lady Musura and I,» began Blade. He quickly sketched out what they had done and were planning to do. Yezjaro listened in frozen silence. Only his widening eyes and quickening breath showed that he was still living.
«But the two of us cannot strike a blow that will go home,» Blade concluded. «There is no wisdom in throwing away our lives to make a mere gesture. Lord Geron must die. For that we thought it proper to call upon those who were once our comrades in the service of the lord we would all avenge. We trust in your honor, though you have not trusted in ours. We ask that your strength and skill be thrown into the battle beside us. If it can be so, then soon we will have Lord Geron's head to cast before the emperor as a lesson for unruly rulers and their servants.»