Free The Death of Nnanji by Dave Duncan

Zek and then Nolar, but no farther.”
    “Tell me about Mibullim.”
    Endrasti frowned at this mention of other trouble. “Mibullim of the Seventh was a free sword, who’d come to meet us in Obla about four weeks before. He had fifteen men in his troop, and they were a very impressive band, my lord. One of them, Master Notukasmo, helped examine me for my promotion and almost shredded my kilt! He gave me the fight of my life, my lord, and I’m fairly sure he threw me the final point out of pity. Lord Nnanji complimented Lord Mibullim on his own fencing. He was eager to enlist, and so were his men.”
    “Valuable reinforcements.” Of course the troop could have been sorcerer agents, but swordsmen took their ferocious oaths seriously, and it would be very hard to assemble such a large group of traitors. The fact that at least two of them were first-class fencers for their ranks was almost certain proof that they were what they claimed to be.“Glad to see ‘em, we were, sir, because we’d picked up rumors about the king of Plo planning to cause trouble. We knew we might have to wet our blades there. Nolar, which we would come to first, was also large, but I was hoping we might win some support there against Plo. I’d heard of a long-time inter-city rivalry, you see. But we’d smelt blood in the air ever since Arbo.”
    Over the years the Tryst’s expansion had not required as much bloody warfare as Wallie had feared when Nnanji had first suggested that its mission must be to reform the entire swordsman craft. Wallie had imagined the Tryst conquering like an empire, but in fact it had spread more like a religion, by conversion. Its forces had advanced city by city along the River, swearing in the garrisons as they went, collecting and organizing the nomadic free sword troops. Any swordsman who refused to swear allegiance was denounced as a disgrace of the craft and challenged. If he won that bout, he could be challenged again and again, but in practice he would usually accept the inevitable and swear the oath. Since duress was not an admissible excuse for a swordsman, he was just as effectively bound then as if he’d submitted right away. If he later reneged, then he would be challenged again, and this time to the death. The Tryst’s commander on the spot—Nnanji, Shonsu, Boariyi, or another—would appoint a new reeve, clean up the guard, and then move on.
    In effect, the reeves were police chiefs, kept honest by regular moves to new postings and by Casr’s roving inspectors. The inspectors were basically the old free swords, but they now had defined domains and the whole resources of the Tryst behind them; they could investigate even the largest cities and depose rulers if necessary.
    Exceptions prove rules, though, and there had been minor battles.
    “Cross Zek was a trap?”
    “Aye, that it was, my lord. And so was Zek, but we were lucky there. After the Cross Zek scouting party disembarked, the rest of us went over to Zek itself. Wind and current made us detour downstream, but we arrived the following day and were made welcome. The reeve and the mayor had gone goose hunting, we were told, but they’d heard we were coming and left word that we were to be billeted in the shearing barn. We weren’t green enough to be caught like that, my lord, so when they sprang their trap, we were ready. They tried to burn the barn down on top of us. That didn’t work, but there were a lot of them and there was a battle. We killed every man found with a weapon or seen fighting. We left the women and children in the shearing barn, burned the rest of the town, and scuttled their fishing fleet.”
    Horrible as that revenge was, Wallie knew that in Nnanji’s place he might well have done the same thing, for such blatant treachery must not go unpunished. With thousands of swordsmen scattered over half the World, the Tryst could not allow any to be molested without reprisal. The blood oath that bound it together laid an