The Destiny of the Sword by Dave Duncan

her wits together. No wonder she had been warned not to discuss this. “I have a message for you, my lord, from a priest of the seventh rank.” That was an odd way to describe Lord Kadywinsi, but it was what she had been told to say. There were no other priests of that rank in Casr, so who else could it be from?
    “Come out of the closet at last, has he?”
    “My lord?”
    The swordsman laughed. “Forgive me, priestess. The message, if you please?”
    Huli took a deep breath and repeated the words she had been given. “’The person of whom you inquired was born far off, arrived two years ago, and is unmarried, but has children. He held the office we understood and departed at the time we thought. He was believed dead, but there have recently been rumors. I shall remain at the temple until tomorrow.’”
    It was demeaning for a priestess of her rank to be used as a common herald, and not to be told what it was all about, either,
     
    but she served the Goddess as her superiors decided. Now she had completed this trivial errand and could get back to... thought to have died... came two years agol That message could apply to Shonsu himself!
    “I thank you, priestess. There will be no reply, I think.” The swordsman was studying her carefully, almost as if he could read her thoughts. “May we offer you refreshment before you depart?”
    Huli stuttered a refusal. Shonsu! She wanted to get away by herself and think. What rumors? Shonsu was supposed to have been killed by sorcerers. Had not this terrible tryst been called to avenge him?
    She made her formal farewell, hurried along the deck without a glance at the sailors, and almost ran down the plank. Shonsu come back? Casr had been well rid of Shonsu...
    Angry and upset, Priestess Huli marched off across the sun,bright plaza, with the wind whipping and tugging at her brown robe. She barely noticed the lanky, red,haired swordsman of the Fourth who strode past her, wearing an expression of black despair.
    tt
    Most cities presented a facade of warehouses to the River, but not Casr. Ships tied up alongside a wide plaza that ran off endlessly in both directions along the waterfront. Behind it loomed tall buildings and the entrances to wide streets, yet the general effect was one of improvisation. The buildings ranged through every architectural style imaginable—some old and some ancient, some smart and imposing, others crumbling and half in ruins. Arches and pillars and domes mingled at random among minarets and pilasters and arcades. Fragments of old walls jutted up in places, and the streets changed without warning from great avenues to narrow alleys like canyons, rolling up and down from one level to another as if the remains of a dozen cities had been shoveled out of a box. The only consistency was in color, for everything from the towers to the pavement was made of a shiny
     
    bronze stone like old gold, and even the scattered trees, those that had leaves remaining, glittered to match. Many of the windows sported bright,hued awnings, reds and blues and greens, like flashings of fire from a diamond.
    Casr was old. Its statues had weathered to shapeless monoliths; the stone bollards along the waterfront were worn into mushrooms by the windings of centuries.
    Wallie had sent his troops out to scout, while he spent the morning skulking in the deckhouse, almost as if Casr were a sorcerer city.
    The usual wagons and heaps of trade goods were in evidence, and the gangs of dock slaves labored in Casr as hi all ports. The traders and hawkers and busy citizens roamed as always, yet there was much less crowding and jostling than elsewhere, because of the sheer vastness of the plaza. In Casr business proceeded with more decorum and much less noise. The only thing hurrying was the wind, sweeping leaves along as if impatient to clean up before winter, flapping awnings like dust rags.
    Everywhere were swordsmen. Not in one or twos, as at Tau, but in sixes or dozens, marching along