Read Online Swords: 09 - The Sixth Book Of Lost Swords - Mindsword's Story by Fred Saberhagen - Free Book Online
Authors: Fred Saberhagen
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after what must have been several days in the field. He glared at Murat in triumph. “As to the matter of escorts, you’ll get one, all right. I have my orders as to what to do, should you ever be caught trespassing within our boundaries. And I intend to carry out my orders. If your son and the rest of your gang wish to depart now, they’ll save themselves some trouble. I have no orders concerning them.”
The officer, thought Murat, must have felt confident that the ragtag ruffians before him would take to their heels rather than confront regulars at equal odds, the moment he gave them leave to do so. But instead Murat’s fanatical bandits, enraged at the very idea of their lord made captive, gripped their weapons and surged forward. Only the Crown Prince shouting at them made them stop.
Startled, the cavalry officer yelled commands at his men, quickly deploying them in readiness for combat. Then, his face reddening, he informed Murat that he and all his escort were prisoners, and that they had better throw down their arms at once.
Murat, struggling to control his restive riding-beast, could feel his anger escalating and the situation slipping away from him. “I have told you that I come in peace—”
The patrol commander interrupted, ordering his archers to nock arrows.
Murat’s fanatical defenders bristled; they were not disciplined troops, whom he would have been able to hold in check. His veteran judgment warned him that whatever sway he still held over the situation was rapidly disappearing. Now it seemed that everyone was shouting, so his own conciliatory words had no chance of being heard. A fight was on the verge of breaking out, in which his own life and Carlo’s would be at stake. And if they were to kill Tasavaltan border guards, how could they approach the Princess afterward with a claim of peaceful intentions? But neither could Murat surrender and allow himself to be disarmed.
Once again, with a reluctance as great as on the first occasion, but now feeling a fatalistic acceptance also, he drew his Sword. Uppermost in Murat’s mind as the dazzling steel cleared leather was the thought that he could not allow his own son to die in his defense.
This time the Crown Prince felt even less of the shock of unleashed magic than when he had first drawn this Sword. But this time, as on that first occasion, every other human being within a hundred meters was engulfed, overwhelmed by the Mindsword’s influence.
* * *
In the matter of a few moments, the once-arrogant officer of the patrol had joined his men in abandoning their sworn duty without a qualm, and proclaiming their undying devotion to Murat. The Crown Prince, observing their behavior as disinterestedly as possible, thought the scene was very much like that of the bandits’ conversion, except that this time the bandits were on hand to welcome their new comrades to the fold, and make them feel more comfortable with their new status.
And this time Murat found himself able to view the matter somewhat more calmly; true, Carlo had now been exposed twice to the Mindsword’s power. But there was really no reason to think the experience would do him any harm.
The young lieutenant, as soon as he had regained control of himself, ceased groveling in the dust, brushed off his no-longer impeccable uniform, drew himself up stiffly at attention before the Crown Prince, introduced himself by name and rank, and asked his new lord’s pardon for his inexcusable misbehavior of a few minutes ago, when in his confusion of mind he had actually dared to utter threats against his glorious master.
Murat, speaking in a distant voice, pardoned him freely. The Crown Prince, feeling suddenly depressed, was wondering to himself how he had managed, all unintentionally, to land himself in this situation.
One
The officer, thought Murat, must have felt confident that the ragtag ruffians before him would take to their heels rather than confront regulars at equal odds, the moment he gave them leave to do so. But instead Murat’s fanatical bandits, enraged at the very idea of their lord made captive, gripped their weapons and surged forward. Only the Crown Prince shouting at them made them stop.
Startled, the cavalry officer yelled commands at his men, quickly deploying them in readiness for combat. Then, his face reddening, he informed Murat that he and all his escort were prisoners, and that they had better throw down their arms at once.
Murat, struggling to control his restive riding-beast, could feel his anger escalating and the situation slipping away from him. “I have told you that I come in peace—”
The patrol commander interrupted, ordering his archers to nock arrows.
Murat’s fanatical defenders bristled; they were not disciplined troops, whom he would have been able to hold in check. His veteran judgment warned him that whatever sway he still held over the situation was rapidly disappearing. Now it seemed that everyone was shouting, so his own conciliatory words had no chance of being heard. A fight was on the verge of breaking out, in which his own life and Carlo’s would be at stake. And if they were to kill Tasavaltan border guards, how could they approach the Princess afterward with a claim of peaceful intentions? But neither could Murat surrender and allow himself to be disarmed.
Once again, with a reluctance as great as on the first occasion, but now feeling a fatalistic acceptance also, he drew his Sword. Uppermost in Murat’s mind as the dazzling steel cleared leather was the thought that he could not allow his own son to die in his defense.
This time the Crown Prince felt even less of the shock of unleashed magic than when he had first drawn this Sword. But this time, as on that first occasion, every other human being within a hundred meters was engulfed, overwhelmed by the Mindsword’s influence.
* * *
In the matter of a few moments, the once-arrogant officer of the patrol had joined his men in abandoning their sworn duty without a qualm, and proclaiming their undying devotion to Murat. The Crown Prince, observing their behavior as disinterestedly as possible, thought the scene was very much like that of the bandits’ conversion, except that this time the bandits were on hand to welcome their new comrades to the fold, and make them feel more comfortable with their new status.
And this time Murat found himself able to view the matter somewhat more calmly; true, Carlo had now been exposed twice to the Mindsword’s power. But there was really no reason to think the experience would do him any harm.
The young lieutenant, as soon as he had regained control of himself, ceased groveling in the dust, brushed off his no-longer impeccable uniform, drew himself up stiffly at attention before the Crown Prince, introduced himself by name and rank, and asked his new lord’s pardon for his inexcusable misbehavior of a few minutes ago, when in his confusion of mind he had actually dared to utter threats against his glorious master.
Murat, speaking in a distant voice, pardoned him freely. The Crown Prince, feeling suddenly depressed, was wondering to himself how he had managed, all unintentionally, to land himself in this situation.
One
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