Free Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 by The Wizard Lord (v1.1)

of being publicly humiliated."
    The Old Swordsman cocked his head and gazed
thoughtfully at his student; then he took a moment to look around. The
surrounding yard and the village streets were empty of life, since anyone with
any sense was staying inside, out of the cold wind.
    "Whether it's
done publicly, you can judge for yourself," he said. "As for
humiliation, I don't think anyone considers you to be humiliated—not after they
saw what you could do against someone who isn't the world's greatest swordsman."
    "/ consider myself humiliated," the
Young Swordsman replied. "I'm not as concerned with the opinions of others
as I am with my own self-respect, and that's taken a beating with every unanswered
blow you've laid on my skin these past three months."
    The Old Swordsman once again gazed at Breaker
thoughtfully.
    "You may have a point," he said.
    "You say it's the magic that makes you
unbeatable, and that we'll cheat to let me defeat you," Breaker said.
"Then why do we need to wait? Why continue these practice bouts? Let me
win, get it over with, and you can have the rest you say you want."
    The Old Swordsman
took his time before replying. "The simple answer to that is that you need
to be good enough to make your victory convincing; the ler must believe my defeat is genuine. When I first came, you couldn't
have fooled them for a moment. But the simple answer isn't always the best. You
still aren't one-tenth the swordsman I am, or that you might someday be even
without magic—it takes years to master the blade—but you have come a
surprisingly long way in a short time. Perhaps you are good enough."
"I think I am."
    The older man snorted. "Of course you
do," he said. "Then shall we summon the wizards, and say you are
ready to challenge me for the title of world's greatest swordsman?"
    "Yes!" the Young Swordsman said,
but then his enthusiasm faltered. "That is, I think ... Just how were you planning to
cheat?"
    "The easiest way would be to slip or
stumble, giving you an opening. Or I might contrive to break my blade at an inopportune
moment. We'll be fighting with blades, not sticks—we can use either wood or
steel, but they must have points and edges. The magic requires the fight be to
first blood—well, or worse, but I am not interested in a fight to the death,
and since I would not care to lose such a battle, I assume you would be at
least equally reluctant. It's easier to draw blood with steel, but of course
it's also easier to slip and do some serious damage."
    "Oh," the younger man said.
    "I'll need to beseech the ler of blades and steel
not to aid me, but that can be done easily enough, especially since we'll have
a wizard or two present."
    "Do we really need an audience?"
    The Old Swordsman hesitated. "You know,
I'm not entirely sure," he said. "It's traditional, certainly; there
was an audience when I took the title, quite a large one. We'll need a wizard
afterward, to transfer the binding upon the talisman, but I'm not ..."
    "The what?"
    "The binding of the talisman."
    The Young Swordsman did not repeat the
question, but his expression made it clear that he wanted further explanation.
    "Haven't I explained this? Or didn't the
wizards, while they were here?"
    "Not that I recall just now."
    "Well, of course, there's a talisman.
All the magic that makes me the Chosen Swordsman is bound up in it."
    "I knew that part, that there are
talismans."
    "Yes, well, there's one essential
talisman, the one that holds the ler of
swordsmanship, and then I have a few others that help out in lesser ways. That
first one, though, is bound to my soul, and that binding will need to be
broken, and a new one made to your soul. And
the wizards will want to make sure that the link to the corresponding Great
Talisman is transferred secure ly."
    "That's a part I don't quite understand.
What link?"
    "The link that keeps the Wizard Lord
from just killing me if I go up against him; my talisman, the Talisman of
Blades, is bound to one of his,