Free The Destiny of the Sword by Dave Duncan

die gods and claim them as your own, to find them honorable crafts when they reach adulthood?” ; “Yes.” ;    “Apprentice Thana, swordsman of the second rank, do you
    take this Nnanji, swordsman of the fourth rank, as your husband, offering your person for his pleasure and no other’s, conceiving, bearing, and rearing his children, and obeying his commands?”
    “Yes.”
    Along with one copper, Wallie thought, Brota was not obtaining much of a commitment from Nnanji, in return for exclusive enjoyment of Thana’s person.
    And now, obviously, all that was required to seal the marriage was a kiss. Eyes shining, Nnanji turned and put his arms around Thana. She raised her face.
    He bent his head...
    He raised it...
    He looked wide,eyed at Wallie.
    And then Wallie heard it also in the sudden silence, drifting across the water out of the darkness—the sound of clashing swords.
    ttt ttt
    Yes, there was something there, uncertainly visible through the dark and fog, something pale and glimmering, drifting slowly downstream toward Sapphire’s bow as she lay at anchor.
    By the time Wallie had established that fact, Tomiyano had the tarpaulin off the starboard dinghy, and his orders were crackling through the night. The wine fumes had vanished and a well,trained crew was leaping to stations. Swords and boat hooks... the four adult male sailors would row, Tomiyano steer... the two swordsmen...
    “No Thana!” the captain snapped.
    “Yes, Thana!” Nnanji said firmly. There was a moment’s pause. Then Tomiyano nodded and carried on; she was Nnanji’s wife now, and he would decide. The boat went down with a rush to the water as Wallie vaguely registered Nnanji’s thinking... Thana was as good a swordsman as any, and families were not divided on the River, for the Goddess could be fickle. Had Wallie not been there, Sapphire’s crew would probably not even have gone to investigate. They might have done so, for She would not
     
    penalize an act of mercy, but he wished he had Jja with him.
    Then the four men were pulling the dinghy through the inky River with long, sure strokes, rowlocks squeaking, water hissing by hi surges. Thana sat by her brother at the tiller. Wallie and Nnanji crouched in the bow—their amateurish efforts would only hinder if they tried to help with the rowing.
    Stroke. Stroke. Silver flecks flew from the oars in the chill air. The Dream God was a road of shining mist through the dark sky, his light blurred and ineffective.
    Stroke. Stroke. Metal clanged again in the darkness ahead, less faintly now. A cold cramp of fear knotted Wallie’s gut—he thought he could guess who was out there. He took a deep breath and cupped his hands.
    “What vessel?” he bellowed.
    No reply. Stroke.
    “In the name of the Goddess, lower your blades. I am a Seventh ...”
    Then, very faintly: “Help?”
    A woman? A child’s voice?
    “What vessel?” Wallie yelled once more.
    Stroke. Stroke. More clashing of blades, louder now.
    “Sunflower!” came a male reply. “Stay clear!”
    Stroke.
    ft was coming clearly into sight, the fog darkening and congealing into the shape of a small ship, barely more than a fishing boat, with fore,and,aft rigging. Her sails were raised, but there was something wrong with the foresail. She was listing slightly, drifting sideways.
    Stroke.
    “I am a swordsman of the Seventh! Put down your swords.”
    Stroke.
    “Lord Shonsu.” Again that high voice. Wallie was certain of it now, an adolescent voice made shrill by stress.
    More strokes of the oars, more clattering of blades, and men a male voice, hard and breathless: “Polini, my lord!”
    “Stay clear!” shouted another.
    Stroke. Silver flew from the oars.
    The fear had expanded. It filled Wallie with ice. He clenched liu fists so hard that they hurt. He peered through the cold night
     
     
     
    air at that pale blur slowly growing. So slowly! He was going to be too late. The swords were ringing faster, and there was shouting and