"Dave Duncan - The Seventh Sword - 2 - The Coming Of Wisdom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

gory friend did not startle you too much?"
Quili shook her head dumbly.
"There is no swordsman nearby? And what of priests? Have you a mentor?"
"He lives in Pol, my lord."
"Then you are our hostess for now, at least until this Honorable Garathondi
appears."
"He lives in Ov, mostly, my lord. His mother, Lady Thondi, is in residence..."
"You'll do every bit as well," the giant said with a heart-melting chuckle.
"Nnanji tells me that you know of no task that may be awaiting our swords here?"
"Er... none, my lord."
Lord Shonsu nodded in satisfaction. "I am glad to hear it. We had our fill of
slaughter yesterday, as you can see. Perhaps the Most High has sent us here for
some rest and relaxation, then?" He boomed out a laugh and turned back to the
boat.
Quili doubted that Adept Nnanji had had his fill of bloodshed. She saw that he
was watching her with quiet amusement, rather wistfully. She felt herself blush,
and looked away.
Her eyes returned of their own accord to Lord Shonsu, and now she noticed the
sword on his so-broad rippling back. The hilt beside his black ponytail was
silver, gleaming in the rays of the sun god and the rain. There was a huge blue
stone on the top of it, held by a strange but magnificently crafted beast—a
grif-
DAVEDUNCAN
17
fon. She knew that the griffon was a royal symbol, so that was a king's sword.
The great gem could only be a sapphire, and there was another, matching stone,
in Lord Shonsu's hairclip.
But...
But these men were supposed to be free swords. Free swords were men of poverty.
Random had explained often—free swords served only the Goddess, wandering the
World to stamp out injustice, to regulate other swordsmen and keep them honest,
to guard the helpless. Having no masters, they would accept no reward except
their daily needs. A genuine free sword took pride in his penury.
A king's sword? The gem alone was worth a fortune, and the craftsmanship was
superb, priceless.
How could any honest swordsman acquire something like that? Bewildered, she
looked at Nnanji's sword to compare it. Nnanji was still holding that
incongruous baby, which was gurgling and enjoying his attention, but Nnanji's
eyes were on Quili.
"It belonged to the Goddess," he said.



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"What?"
He nodded solemnly. "It is very old and very famous, probably the finest sword
ever made. The man who crafted it was Chioxin, the greatest of all swordmakers,
and it was the last and best of his seven masterpieces. He gave it to the