The Ninth Talisman by Lawrence Watt-Evans Page B

Wizard Lord had influenced the choice, for his own reasons.
    â€œI am a little surprised that you keep Lore so close at hand, in that case,” Sword said. “After all, he may not carry a sword, but he is still one of the Chosen.”
    â€œOh, but I’m not at all worried by the presence of the Chosen
as
the Chosen! I’ve done nothing wrong, and if you ever did decide I had become a Dark Lord, I would choose abdication over death. But if
you,
dear Swordsman, were at my side
with
a sword in your hand, I might worry that perhaps instinct would get the better of you should I do something of which you disapproved, and you might act before giving me a
chance
to abdicate.”
    â€œIt doesn’t work that way,” Sword said.
    â€œDoesn’t it?”
    â€œNo.”
    The Wizard Lord glanced over at Lore, who confirmed, “It doesn’t. The very essence of the Swordsman’s ability is control, not violence.”
    â€œIndeed? I’m pleased to hear that!” Artil sat back, grinning.
    â€œYou would find the sword at your throat, awaiting an explanation or further threat, not in your heart,” Lore continued calmly.
    The Wizard Lord’s smile was suddenly less steady.
    â€œThat’s assuming I drew it at all, rather than just asking,” Sword said hastily.
    â€œAnd wouldn’t you?” Artil asked him, turning to look him in the eye.
    â€œThat would depend on the circumstances,” Sword said truthfully. “I don’t draw it frivolously.”
    â€œNo? The legends about the Chosen would seem to imply otherwise.”
    Sword was puzzled. “I earned my living while traveling by doing sword tricks, if that’s what you mean.”
    â€œNo, I was thinking about tales of duels and executions and so on.”
    Sword blinked. “Are there such tales?”
    â€œIndeed there are.”
    â€œI don’t remember any,” Lore offered.
    The Wizard Lord turned to him. “No? You’re saying they’re all lies?”
    â€œAll that I have heard.”
    â€œAll
of them?”
    â€œI can’t be sure I’ve ever heard any,” Lore replied.
    â€œOh, but you must have! There are dozens. Not just the usual sorts of stories; besides the supposed bits of history, they range from jokes about jealous husbands to stories where our friend the Swordsman is used as a threat, a monster to terrify children into behaving themselves. I’ve been hearing them all my life, and surely you have, as well! While I knew they were exaggerations, I had always assumed they had some basis in fact. They’re so widespread—you
must
have heard some!”
    â€œI don’t remember any,” Lore replied.
    â€œThen
every
tale I’ve heard about the Swordsman or the Archer killing people in duels or contests, or executing people other than Dark Lords, was false?”
    â€œSo it would seem,” Lore replied. “I don’t remember a one.”
    â€œReally! That’s astonishing.” The Wizard Lord turned back to Sword. “Tell us, then, honestly—how many men have you killed?”
    Sword stared at him, astonished. “One,” he said.
    â€œJust one?”
    â€œYour predecessor.”
    â€œAh.” The Wizard Lord seemed discomfited. “No one else?”
    â€œNo.” Sword found himself too baffled by the Wizard Lord’s surprise to be really offended. He hesitated, testing his own resolve, then asked, “How many people have
you
killed?”
    â€œOh, well . . .” The Wizard Lord waved the question away.
    â€œFewer than your predecessor, I trust.”
    â€œYes, of course! I haven’t killed anyone.”
    Sword nodded a wordless response.
    The Wizard Lord gazed at him silently for a moment, then leaned back in his chair and took a swig of beer. “As the Chosen Swordsman, you could probably kill your enemies with impunity,” he said.
”I
certainly