Fred Saberhagen - Lost Swords 03 - Stonecutters story

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A faint sound from a dark side passage made Kasimir turn his head. The warning had come

just in time; he found himself confronted by a wild-faced man, who struck at Kasimir with a

desperate blow. Turning with a simultaneous thrusting motion of his torch, Kasimir did his

desperate best to parry. The assailant flinched away from the torch at the last moment.

Kasimir swirled his cloak and continued with thrusts and feints of the torch. The man, who

had a long knife in his hand, fell back. The two men stalked each other.

As soon as Kasimir called out for help, the other man lunged at him again. Kasimir parried

with the torch as best he could, stood his ground and swung his club, hitting his assailant on the

shoulder. The long knife went clattering to the floor.

A moment later, two Firozpur troopers had materialized in response to the physician's yell,

destroying the local darkness with their torches and taking charge of the howling prisoner.

Also by Fred Saberhagen published by Tor Books

A Century of Progress Coils (with Roger Zelazny) Earth Descended The Veils of Azlaroc

The Berserker series Berserker Base Berserker: Blue Death The Berserker Throne The

Berserker Wars

The Books of Swords The First Book of Swords The Second Book of Swords The Third Book of

Swords

The Books of Lost Swords The First Book of Lost Swords: Woundhealer s Story The Second Book

of Lost Swords: Sightblinder's Story The Fourth Book of Lost Swords: Farslayer's Story

(forthcoming hardcover)

THE THIRD BOOK

OF LOST SWORDS

STONECUTTER'S STORY

FRED SABERHAGEN

TOR

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK NEW YORK

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are

fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

THE THIRD BOOK OF LOST SWORDS: STONECUTTER'S STORY

form.

A TOR Book Published by Tom Doherty Associates, inc.

49 West 24 Street New York, NY 10010

Cover art by Maren ISBN: 0-812-55288-1 Can. ISBN: 0-812-55289-X

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 87-51397

First edition: May 1988

First mass market edition: March 1989

Printed in the United States of America 0987654321

CHAPTER 1

TWO hours before dawn the dreams of Kasimir were disturbed by a soft noise at the tent wall

no more than a sword's length from his head. The noise was the distinctive purring, gently

snarling sound made by a sharp blade slitting the tough fabric.

Once this sound had been identified somewhere inside the unsleeping portion of Kasimir's

brain, the remnants of his dream-a strange adventure involving the gods of the desert, and

enormous distances of space and time-went flying off in tatters. Still, complete wakefulness did

not come at once. With his eyes open to the partial darkness inside the tent, he saw by the

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filtering moonlight a figure moving silently. This figure had come in through the tent wall and

gone out again by the same route before he who observed it was fully awake. But Kasimir had no

doubt that he had seen it, a man's form, looking as slender and dangerous as a scorpion, clad in

dark, tight-fitting clothes, face wrapped for concealment. Nor had he any doubt, when this

apparition went gliding smoothly out through the wall of the tent again, that it was carrying a

long bundle wrapped in rough cloth, held tightly under its right arm.

Kasimir sat up straight. He was alone in the tent now. No one else was sleeping in it

tonight. Though it was quite large, much of the space inside was taken up by the more valuable

portions of the caravan's cargo.

The intruder certainly hadn't been Prince al-Farabi, leader of the caravan. Nor was

Kasimir able to identify that mysterious form as any of the Prince's followers who had been

traveling with him across the desert. Then who-?

Almost fully awake at last, Kasimir leaped to his feet. Just at that moment an outcry of

alarm was sounded at no great distance outside the tent. He dashed for the door but it was tied

loosely shut, as was usual at night, and undoing the knots delayed him briefly.

Hardly had he got out into the open air before he collided with a figure running toward the

tent.

"Thieves!" the other man shouted, right in Kasimir's face. "Robbers! Awake! Arouse and

arm yourselves!"

Judging by the growing uproar, the other thirty or forty occupants of the camp were already

doing just that. Other voices were shouting alarm from the perimeter. Men poured out of the half-

dozen sleeping tents, and weapons flashed in the light of rising flames. Smoldering cook fires

and watch fires were being quickly rekindled. Lieutenant Komi, second-in-command to the Prince

during this journey, trotted past Kasimir, barking orders to his men. And now, in the middle of

all this half-controlled turmoil, strode the Prince himself with his robes flying behind him. Al-

Farabi was tall and dark and at the moment a menacing figure with scimitar in hand. He was

demanding to know where the alarm had started.

Kasimir confronted him. "Prince, an intruder was in the cargo tent, where I was sleeping!

He came through the wall. I-I wasn't in time to stop him-"

"What?" In a moment Prince al-Farabi had sprung to the side of the tent where the cloth had

been slit. This was on the side opposite from the normal entrance, whose flap was now hanging

open after Kasimir's exit. In the fabric of the tent's rear wall, Kasimir saw now, were two

vertical slits, one right beside the other, only a couple of hand spans apart. Of course, it must

have been their cutting that had awakened him.

The Prince stepped into the tent through the largest of these rents, which was a full meter

long.

Peering in through the same aperture, Kasimir saw, by the torchlight that glowed in through

the walls, the tall man bending over the heap of baggage that occupied the center of the tent's

interior. For a few moments the Prince tossed things about, obviously in search of something.

Then al-Farabi straightened up to his full height, giving a great wordless cry as of bereavement.

Kasimir followed the Prince into the tent through its new entrance. "Sir, what's wrong?"

"It is gone." The face al-Farabi turned to the younger man was ghastly in the muted glow of

firelight entering the tent from outside. The Prince appeared to be swaying on his feet. Almost

shouting, he repeated: "It is gone!"

"I saw a man inside the tent with me when I woke up," Kasimir stammered, repeating the

little information he could give. "He went out carrying a long bundle under one arm. I started

to give the alarm but by then he was already gone."

Groaning unintelligibly, the Prince stumbled past Kasimir and out of the tent through its

normal doorway. Again Kasimir followed.

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Shouts coming from guards at the perimeter of the camp now reassured everyone that the

animals were well and none of them had been stolen. But a moment later a new alarm was sounded.

One of the guards, who had been posted nearest to the tent where Kasimir slept, had just been

discovered lying motionless in the sand.

"Bring him here beside the fire!" Kasimir ordered sharply. "And one of you fetch my kit

from the tent." It was the automatic reaction of a trained physician to a medical emergency. In a

moment three men came carrying the fallen one, and laid him down on clean sand in the firelight.

The physician went to work. He found that the victim was certainly alive, and a

preliminary examination disclosed no sign of serious injury. Kasimir hardly had a chance to begin

a more detailed investigation when the man began to stir and grimace, moaning and rubbing the back

of his head.

"Someone must have struck me down from behind," the young tribesman murmured weakly, trying

to sit up.

"Sit still." Kasimir's exploring fingers found no blood, or even any noticeable lump. "All

right, I suppose you'll live. Doubtless the hood of your robe saved you from worse damage."

Aware that the Prince had approached again and was standing beside him, Kasimir turned to

repeat this favorable report. But then the young physician let the words die on his lips. The

tall figure of al-Farabi, wild-eyed, stood gesturing with both arms in the burgeoning firelight.

"The Sword is gone!" the Prince shouted in a despairing voice. It was as if the full enormity of

his loss was still growing on him. "The treasure has disappeared!"

While others gathered around, Kasimir stood up from beside the fallen guard and moved still

closer to the desert chieftain. In a voice that tried to be soothing he asked: "You mentioned a

sword, sir. But how valuable was it? I had no idea that we were carrying any-"

"Of course you had no idea! Of course!" The tall man cast back his hood and pulled his

hair. "The presence of Stonecutter was intended to be a secret."

"The presence of-"

"Of a Sword, the Sword of Siege itself! A priceless weapon! It was loaned to me by my

trusting friend Prince Mark. And now it is gone. Argh! May all the gods and demons of the

desert descend upon me and snuff out my worthless life!"

"The Sword of Siege," breathed Kasimir. "It is one of the Twelve, then." And suddenly the

extreme dismay of the Prince was understandable.

Practically everyone in the world knew of the Twelve Swords, though comparatively few

people had ever seen one of them. They were legendary weapons, for all that they were very real.

They had been forged by the god Vulcan himself more than thirty years ago, in the days before the

gods-or most of them at least-had disappeared.

Kasimir wanted to ask how the Sword of Siege had come to be traveling with them, in this

rather ordinary little caravan-but that was not properly any of his business. Instead he asked:

"Is it possible to overtake the thief?"

"Already I have sent some of my swiftest riders in pursuit," said al-Farabi, who was now

standing with his face buried in his hands, while his own people gathered round him in dumb awe.

"But to find and follow a trail at night ... we will of course do all that we can, but I fear

that the Sword is gone. Oh, woe is me!"

While Kasimir and others watched him helplessly, the desolation of the Prince became more

intense and at the same time more theatrical. He tore at his hair and his garments, saying: "How

will I ever be able to face Prince Mark again? What can I tell him? Even the worth of all my

flocks and all my lands would scarcely afford him adequate compensation."

"Prince Mark?" Kasimir could think of nothing more intelligent to say at the moment; still,

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he felt that it was up to him to reply. All of the Prince's own people who were watching looked

slightly embarrassed, and he had the impression that al-Farabi's outburst of grief was

increasingly directed toward him.

The Prince had paused and was regaining a minimum of composure. In a milder voice he said:

"Know then, my young friend, that my great friend Prince Mark of Tasavalta, despite many

misgivings on his part, was generous enough to loan me secretly the Sword called Stonecutter.

Why, you ask? 1 will tell you. In one far corner of my domain, hundreds of kilometers from here,

there is a nest of robbers that has proven all but impossible to eradicate, because of the nature

of the rocky fastness in which they hide. With the Sword of Siege in hand, to undermine a crag or

two would be no great problem-but now the Sword is gone from out of my hands, and I am the most

miserable of men!"

Kasimir felt moved to compassion. Ever since they had first encountered each other, a

month ago, al-Farabi had been a most kindly and generous host, willing to provide an insignificant

stranger with free passage across the desert.

"Is there anything that I can do to help you, Prince?" the physician asked. Though he had

never visited Tasavalta, he knew it was a land far to the northeast, bordering on the Eastern Sea,

and he had heard that its rulers were respected everywhere.

"I fear that there is nothing anyone can do to help me now. I fear that I will never see

the Sword again." Al-Farabi turned away, seemingly inconsolable.

Gradually the excitement in the camp quieted. With a double guard now posted, the fires

were allowed to die down once more. An hour before dawn the riders who had been sent in pursuit

of the thieves came back, reporting in Kasimir's hearing that they had had no success. When

daylight came they would of course try again.

Kasimir, lying awake in his blankets in the cargo tent, hearing the extra guards-now that

it was too late-milling around outside, thought that few members of the caravan were likely to get

any more sleep during the last hour of the night. But at last, after vexing his drowsy mind with

the apparently minor, pointless, and insoluble problem of why the tent wall had been slit twice-

one gash was only a minor one, not really big enough for anyone to crawl through-he dozed off

himself.

His renewed sleep was naturally of short duration, for at first light the camp began to

stir around him once again. As soon as full dawn came, al-Farabi sent out a different pair of

trackers. Then he ordered camp broken, and, with the remainder of his men, his passenger Kasimir,

and the laden baggage animals, pushed on along the caravan's intended route toward the Abohar

Oasis and, a day or two beyond that, the city of Eylau.

Choosing to ride side by side with the young physician, the Prince explained that his men

as well as their animals needed to rest and replenish their supply of water at the oasis before

undertaking what promised to be a lengthy pursuit into the wilderness. And al-Farabi himself

appeared even more fatalistically certain than before that the Sword was permanently gone.

The conversation between the two men faded, and most of the day was spent in grim and

silent journeying. The pace was steady and there were few pauses. In late afternoon tall palms

came into view ahead, surrounded by a sprawling burst of lesser greenery. They had arrived at

Abohar Oasis.

Several other groups of travelers, Kasimir observed, were here ahead of them; indeed he

thought that there would probably be someone resting here almost continuously. He had already

learned it was an unwritten rule that peace obtained in the oases, and that the rule was usually

observed even when bitter enemies encountered one another. Water was shared, fighting rescheduled

for some other time and place.

On this occasion, there was certainly shade and water in plenty for all, and no question of

fighting. The Prince gave no sign that he observed any enemies of his Firozpur tribe among the

people who were already resting at the oasis- and as for Kasimir, he was not aware of having an

enemy anywhere in the world.

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As soon as the caravan had halted the Prince directed his people, working for once in

shade, as they busied themselves seeing to the animals, and laying out their campsite for tonight.

Meanwhile Kasimir, wanting to enjoy a walk in the grateful shade himself, left them temporarily

and went exploring.

He moved along cool, well-worn footpaths bordered by grass and shrubs, between inviting

pools. Eventually, having chosen the largest and deepest pool of the oasis to quench his thirst,

he noticed as he approached it that on the far side of the pool, upon a little knoll of grass,

there stood a richly furnished tent. Though it was no bigger than a small room, such a pavilion

obviously belonged to someone of considerable social stature if not of great wealth.

Kasimir threw himself down upon a little ledge of rock at the near edge of the pool to

drink. As he finished and arose, wiping his lips, there arrived near him at poolside a woman from

some tribe whose dress Kasimir was unable to identify. As she was filling her water jar, he

questioned her as to whether any single traveler, or pair of them perhaps, had arrived at the

oasis since last night.

She answered in a melodious voice. "No, I am sure, sir, that your party is the first to

arrive today."

"How do you know?"

"My family has been keeping watch on every side, for some kinfolk who are to meet us here."

"I see. By the way, whose tent is that across the pond? Have you any idea?"

"Certainly." The woman seemed surprised at Kasimir's ignorance. "That is the tent of the

Magistrate Wen Chang. He has been here for several days."

Kasimir blinked at her. "The Wen Chang?"

The young woman laughed again. "There is only one Wen Chang that I know of. Only one that

anyone knows of. From what remote land have you come that you do not know him?"

"I know of him, certainly." Now the conviction was growing in Kasimir's mind that it was,

or ought to be, somewhat below the dignity of a physician to stand here debating with a girl who

had been sent to fetch water. He turned and started round the pool, ignoring a smothered giggle

behind him.

The tent ahead of him was silent as he approached it, the entrance flap of silken fabric

left half open. If this pavilion were really occupied by the legendary Wen Chang, then it

appeared that the gods might be favoring Prince al-Farabi and his friends with a matchless

opportunity.

The Magistrate Wen Chang was a renowned judge, whose fame had spread far from his homeland,

which lay well to the south of the desert. In the more fanciful (as Kasimir supposed) stories,

Wen Chang was credited with the ability to see into the secret hearts of men and women. It was

said that he knew, as soon as he laid eyes on any group of people, which of them were innocent and

which were guilty. It was even alleged-Kasimir had heard this variation once-that the Magistrate

could tell, just by staring at the thief, where stolen treasure had been hidden. But Kasimir had

never heard that the famed Wen Chang was wont to travel as far as this from his usual base of

operations.

When Kasimir was still a score of strides from the tent's doorway, the flap opened fully

and a tall, imposing man emerged from the dim interior. He was dressed for desert traveling in a

gray robe, almost plain enough to be that of a pilgrim.

If this was indeed Wen Chang, he was a younger-looking man than Kasimir had expected, with

black hair and a proud narrow mustache still quite innocent of gray; but there was that in his

bearing that convinced Kasimir he was indeed confronting the famed Magistrate. From his elevation

upon the little knoll the tall man squinted through narrowed eyes in Kasimir's direction; then he

ignored the approaching youth and went unhurriedly to the edge of the pool, where he knelt down

and with a silver cup scooped up a drink.

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Meanwhile Kasimir had come to a stop about ten strides away, where he stood waiting in an

attitude of respect.

Presently the tall man rinsed his cup, hurling water from it in a little silver spray, and

rose unhurriedly to his full height. His eyes, turned again on Kasimir, were remarkably black.

It seemed to the young man that those eyes glittered whenever they were not squinted almost shut.

Kasimir cleared his throat. "Have I the honor of addressing the Magistrate Wen Chang?"

"It is my name. And that was formerly my office." The voice was precise, and spoke the

common tongue with a slight accent of a kind Kasimir had seldom heard before. "Whether you are

honored by the mere fact of talking to me is something you must decide for yourself."

"Honored sir, I am honored. And I really think that the kindly fates have sent you here.

Or they have sent me here to meet you. There is a matter in which your help is greatly needed."

"So?" The tall man eyed the youth intently for a moment. Then he said: "I believe this

grassy bank provides a finer seat than any of the pillows in my pavilion. And out here the view

is finer too. Let us make ourselves comfortable and I will hear your story. Mind you, I promise

nothing more than a hearing."

"Of course, sir, of course." Kasimir let the older man choose a spot to sit down first,

then cast himself down on the grass nearby. "Let me think-where to begin? Of course, forgive me,

my name is Kasimir."

"And you are on your way to Eylau, to seek employment through the White Temple there."

"Yes, I-" Kasimir forgot his hope of making a good impression so far as to let his jaw drop

open. "How could you possibly know that?"

The other made a gesture of dismissal. "My dear young man, I did not know it, but the

probabilities were with me. The size and arrangement of the pouches you wear at your belt-the

cloth container for drugs, the lizard-skin for items thought to have some potency in magic-these

identify you as a physician, or at least as one who has some pretensions of skill in the healing

arts. Certain other details of your appearance indicate that you have already been more than a

few days in the desert-therefore you are now traveling toward the city, which is only two days'

march from here, and not away from it. And once an itinerant physician has arrived in Eylau,

where would he most likely go, but to the White Temple of Ardneh, a clearinghouse for jobs in his

profession?"

"Ah. Well, of course, sir, when you put it that way, your deduction seems only

reasonable."

"'Only,' did you say?" The Magistrate sighed. "But never mind. What is this most

disturbing problem?"

Listening to the hastily outlined story of the theft, Wen Chang allowed his epicanthic eyes

to close almost as if in sleep. Only slight changes of expression, tensions playing about the

thin-lipped mouth, indicated to Kasimir that his auditor was still awake and indeed listening

intently.

Kasimir in his relation of the events of the previous night had just reached the point

where he had begun his examination of the stunned guard when the Magistrate's eyes opened, fixing

themselves alertly at a point over Kasimir's left shoulder.

The young man turned to look behind him. Prince al-Farabi, walking alone, his eyes looking

haunted and wary, was advancing toward them along the shaded path beside the pool.

Kasimir jumped to his feet and hastened to perform introductions. The two eminent men

greeted each other with every indication of mutual interest and respect.

Then Kasimir announced: "I have taken it upon myself, Prince, to appeal to the Magistrate

here for his help in recovering the missing Sword."

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Once more al-Farabi demonstrated grief. "Alas! I fear the treasure has gone beyond even

the power of Wen Chang to bring it back-but of course I would welcome any chance of help."

"Having just undertaken a long journey which came to naught," said Wen Chang, "and being in

no particular hurry to return to my former place of service-there have been political changes

there, which I find unwelcome-I have been waiting for two days at this oasis, in hopes of

receiving some sign from the Fates to direct me. It appears to me that your problem may well be

the sign I have been looking for. I have long been an admirer of Prince Mark of Tasavalta, though

I have never met him; for that reason alone I would like to see that his property is recovered.

Also, from what I have heard of this problem so far, there are certain aspects of it that are

intrinsically interesting."

"Thank you, sir!" Kasimir cried.

"Almost," said al-Farabi, "you allow me to begin to hope again!" He wiped his forehead with

the edge of his robe.

A few minutes later, the three men were seated more formally if no more comfortably inside

the larger pavilion of the Prince, which by now had been erected in cool shade at the other side

of the oasis from the pavilion of Wen Chang.

Here inside the Prince's tent, with a small cup of spiced wine in hand, Wen Chang began to

ask questions, probing into one detail after another of the disappearance of the Sword.

"In what sort of container was the Sword carried? And why was it stored in that particular

tent when the caravan stopped?"

"It was wrapped in blue silk, and that in turn in coarse gray woolen cloth, that it might

seem an ordinary bundle and attract no special attention. And when we stopped for the night the

Sword was always placed, in a pile with certain other pieces of baggage, in the same tent as my

valued passenger here, who has been passing through my domain under my protection. I had no

reason to believe that tent less safe than any other. Rather the contrary, as it was near the

center of our small encampment."

"Nothing else was stolen last night? From that tent or any other?"

"Nothing."

"And was the pile of baggage in the tent disturbed?"

"It was very little disarranged, or perhaps not at all; until I began to search through it

in hopes that the Sword might still be there. Alas!"

Wen Chang sat back in his nest of pillows. "Then it would appear that the thief, or

thieves, knew just what they wanted, and where to lay hands upon it."

"So it would appear, yes." And al-Farabi once more raised his hands to hide his face.

Kasimir tried to reassure him. "They might have been-I suppose it is likely that they were-

helped by powerful magic. Perhaps even the magic of one of the other Twelve Swords. Wayfinder,

say, or Coinspinner. I have never seen those Swords but either of them, as I understand the

tales, may be an infallible guide to locating some desired object."

"Then would that we had them both in hand today!" the Prince cried out.

Wen Chang was nodding thoughtfully. "That the thieves had either of those Swords is a

possibility, I suppose. Or some lesser magic might well have been strong enough to let the

robbers find what they wanted. Was any wizard traveling with you?"

"None, Magistrate." Ai-Farabi shook his head. "I am a simple man of the desert, who lives

more by the sword than the spell. With such trivial magical powers as I myself possess, I have of

course already tried to get Stonecutter back. But as I say, I am no wizard. I suppose you will

be able to bring to bear much stronger spells and incantations?"

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"Probably not."

The Prince blinked at him. "Sir?"

"I prefer to rely upon a stronger tool even than magic."

"And what might that be, Magistrate?"

"Intelligence, my friend. Intelligence." The Magistrate drank spiced wine, and sighed,

pleasurably. He moved a trifle on his pillows, like a man settling himself to play a round of

some congenial game. "Now tell me. Who, before your caravan set out, knew that you were carrying

Stonecutter with you?"

"Among my own people, only myself and Lieutenant Komi, the commander of the escort-and I

would trust Komi as I trust myself. Our fathers were blood brothers, and I have known him all his

life."

"I certainly had no inkling of the Sword's presence with the caravan," Kasimir put in.

Wen Chang nodded slightly at him, prolonged the look appraisingly for a moment, then

returned his narrow-eyed gaze to the Prince. "And who, not among your people, would have known

that you were carrying Stonecutter with you?"

Al-Farabi took time to give the question serious thought. "Well-the only people I can

think of would be the Tasavaltans who delivered the Sword to me at the other edge of my domain.

They were three, including Prince Mark himself, and one of his chief wizards, and the strong man

called Ben of Purkinje. It was plain to see that the Prince trusted his companions as thoroughly

as I trust Komi. And why would a man connive to steal his own Sword?"

The Magistrate was frowning. "There might be several answers to that question. If there

is a good answer in this case, it is not immediately obvious. No doubt other people in Tasavalta

might have known that the Sword was being loaned to you?"

"No doubt."

"Then, for the moment at least, this line of inquiry seems unproductive. Let us try

another."

Al-Farabi, sitting with his head bowed again, said through his hands: "As soon as we have

replenished our supplies and rested, we will return to the desert and try again to track the thief-

or thieves. But I fear that the Sword of Siege is lost."

Wen Chang nodded. "And I fear that you may well be right. Still, the situation is not

utterly hopeless, even if your pursuit through the desert should fail."

"It is not?"

"No. Not utterly. Consider-what will a thief do with such a treasure when it falls into

his hands?"

"He'll most likely want to sell it, I suppose," Kasimir put in.

The narrowed eyes of the Magistrate turned on him again. "Almost certainly he will. And

where would anyone go to sell an item of such value?"

Kasimir shrugged. "Why-he'll go to the metropolis, of course, to Eylau. There's no city

of comparable size for a thousand kilometers in any direction."

"It would be more accurate to say for several thousand kilometers. Yes, I shall be

surprised if our robber has not turned his steps toward Eylau already."

Al-Farabi was frowning. "But such traces of a trail as we were able to find by moonlight

led out into the desert in the opposite direction from the city."

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"That, I think, is hardly conclusive."

"I suppose not."

"Certainly not." Wen Chang drank spiced wine. He nodded. "If I am to continue my

investigation I shall do so in Eylau."

"By all means-by all means." The Prince appeared to be doing his best to look politely

hopeful. "Will you require money for expenses?-but yes, of course you will. And naturally I will

provide it, in advance. And in addition a great reward, a thousand gold coins or the equivalent,

if you are successful."

Wen Chang raised an eyebrow at the extravagant size of the reward. Then he bowed slightly

in his seated position. "Both provisions will certainly be welcome. The expenses because I shall

be proceeding as a private investigator, with no official status in this land, and the purchase of

information-not to mention a bribe or two-may be essential. I presume that, although you will of

course organize a pursuit, a part of your caravan will be going on into the city?"

"Yes. The remaining goods that my caravan is carrying must be delivered there, as well as

our passenger. Meanwhile I, with some of my swifter riders, will endeavor to follow the thieves

and overtake them-there is nothing else I can do."

"Of course not-how many men are you going to send into the city, then?"

Al-Farabi took thought. "Perhaps a dozen. That should be an adequate guard for my

passenger and my cargo for the remainder of the journey."

"Good. When those dozen men have seen your remaining freight-and your passenger, of course-

safely to their destination-by the way, I suppose there are no more Swords still with you? Or any

comparable treasures?"

"No, nothing at all like that."

"I see. Then, when your dozen men who are going on to the city have seen to the safe

disposal of your remaining goods, will you place those men at my disposal? Since I will be unable

to call upon official forces in Eylau, it may be necessary at some stage to use a substitute."

"Of course-I shall place a dozen men, with Lieutenant Komi at their head, at your command."

The Prince paused delicately. "You realize I cannot be sure of the attitude of the Hetman, who

rules the city, toward such a private army. I do not know him."

"Nor do I. But a dozen men are hardly an unusually large bodyguard for a rich merchant,

and many such must pass in and out of Eylau. And even if my true mission should become known to

the Hetman, well, thief takers are welcome in most cities."

"Then of course you may have the guard. And for your expenses, all the proceeds for the

merchandise when it is delivered-may all the gods help you to recover and retain the Sword!"

CHAPTER 2

SHORTLY after dawn on the following morning, Kasimir stood under tall palms beside the

Magistrate, watching while al-Farabi and about two-thirds of his men finished packing up their

tents, mounted their rested animals, and rode back out into the desert in the direction from which

they had come yesterday.

Wen Chang's pavilion had already been struck, and his temporary servant dismissed. It only

remained for him and Kasimir to mount their own riding-beasts and start out in the direction of

Eylau, which was still two days' travel distant. Travelers going in that direction followed an

obvious and well-traveled road that could hardly lead to anywhere but the great city. Lieutenant

Komi, calling orders now and then to his comparatively small detachment of Firozpur troopers, rode

a few meters behind Kasimir and Wen Chang. Eleven soldiers, looking fierce and capable, followed

their officer today, with the pack animals bearing the caravan's cargo bringing up the rear.

Among the cargo were a few latticework crates containing winged messengers, small birdlike

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creatures used as couriers. Al-Farabi had ordered his officer to let him know immediately of any

and all developments affecting the search for his lost Sword in the great city.

Wen Chang opened the morning's conversation with his younger companion in a pleasant way,

speculating on the nature of the city they were approaching, a metropolis neither of them had ever

seen before. Soon Kasimir had been put thoroughly at ease. He found himself telling the older

man more of his background, ending with the recent chain of more or less commonplace events which

found him now on his way to the White Temple in Eylau, where the temple's usually efficient

placement service would more than likely be able to help him find a good place in which to

practice medicine.

Their conversation gradually faded, but the ensuing silence possessed a comfortable and

companionable quality. Presently, when no words had been exchanged for some time, Wen Chang

brought out a folded paper from somewhere in his traveler's robe; he unfolded this paper into a

map, and squinted at it between glances at the ascending sun and the empty land around them.

"I suppose you are an experienced traveler, Magistrate."

"Not as experienced as I should like to be. To enter a strange land is to be presented

with a vast and intricate puzzle."

By now they had been about two hours on their way. Wen Chang, map still in hand, muttered

something and suddenly turned his mount aside from the well-traveled way. Making a detour to his

right, he went riding for the top of a sizable hill that rose no more than a hundred meters from

the road.

Kasimir turned his mount too, and followed, completely in the dark as to the purpose of

this detour. Glancing back, he saw Lieutenant Komi, his expression stoic and incurious, bringing

his men and the pack animals along.

At the top of the barren hill the leader halted, and then the whole group followed. From

this vantage point there was nothing to be seen but more desert in every direction.

Still Wen Chang sat his mount for what seemed to Kasimir a long time, his eyes narrowed to

slits against the wind, and shaded under the folded gray hood of his desert robe. He was intently

scanning the empty landscape on all sides.

Twice, as the silence lengthened, Kasimir almost broke into it with a curious question, but

he forbore. He was for the third time just on the point of yielding to curiosity when Wen Chang

spoke at last.

"The place where the Sword was stolen, according to the information given me by yourself

and Prince al-Farabi, is a long way from the city. Too far, probably, for anyone to travel

without stopping to renew his supply of water. And even if our thief's destination was not Eylau,

he would still most likely need to obtain water somewhere in this region." The Magistrate paused.

"But he did not come to Abohar Oasis for water while I was encamped there. The people there

discussed each new arrival, whether by day or night. Therefore . . ."

"Yes sir?"

"Therefore he sought out another source of water, somewhere in this region."

"May I see the map, sir?" Gripping the paper tightly in the wind when the Magistrate handed

it over, Kasimir pored over it for a few moments. Then he announced: "According to this there are

no other oases or springs in the area we are considering."

"Exactly. Therefore ..."

"Yes?"

There was no immediate answer from Wen Chang, who was still staring into the blue heat-

shimmer that ruled the far horizon, but now had fixed the direction of his eyes. Following the

aim of the Magistrate's gaze, Kasimir was at last able to make out what looked like traces of

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Fred Saberhagen - Lost Swords 03 - Stonecutters story

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