Read Online The Summer Palace by Lawrence Watt-Evans - Free Book Online Page A

but all those years of practice had not vanished with his magic, and his skills were still sufficient to impress the Clan of the Golden Spear. By the fourth day his practice sessions were drawing a crowd—mostly young men and children, but a few women and older men watched, as well. Sword was not entirely sure at first just what they thought of his actions, since most of their conversation was in their own Uplander tongue rather than anything he could understand, but eventually a few began to comment in Barokanese.
    â€œI think I’m glad the Patriarch didn’t tell us to take your sword away,” one hunter remarked as he watched Sword slice a drifting feather to shreds without seeming to move anything but his wrist. “It wouldn’t have been easy.”
    â€œI’m glad of it, too,” Sword replied, without taking his eye off his target. “I wouldn’t want to harm anyone here.”
    â€œWouldn’t you?” the hunter asked. “But your role is to kill people, isn’t it?”
    â€œMy
role,
” Sword said as he split the remaining bit of quill lengthwise, “is to see that the Wizard Lord does no great harm to the people of Barokan.” He flicked a floating shred of feather upward to provide a fresh target.
    â€œBut haven’t you slain any number of people?”
    Sword paused, and looked at the questioner, letting the bit of feather drift away unmolested. “Why do you ask?”
    The man shrugged. “Oh, well, last winter, when we were in Winterhome, I heard stories about how you . . . well, about what you did to a rapist in Dog Pole, and how you cut off the hands of the woman who trapped you in the Dark Lord’s dungeon and left her to bleed to death—”
    â€œThat didn’t happen,” Sword said sharply, lowering his blade. “I know nothing of any rapists in Dog Pole—I was in Dog Pole onlyonce, years ago, and I barely spoke to anyone there, I certainly didn’t get involved in any local business.”
    â€œWell, but the Dark Lord’s maids—,” the hunter persisted.
    â€œWere all alive and well last I saw,” Sword interrupted, wiping his blade with his handkerchief. “I admit to threatening two of them, but I never actually struck them. I never drew blood. As of last winter the only person I had ever killed was the Dark Lord of the Galbek Hills. I regret to say I did slay several of the Wizard Lord’s soldiers several days ago, shortly before fleeing up the cliffs, but that’s all.”
    â€œBut the stories—,” another man began.
    â€œLies,” Sword said. “Lies spread by the Wizard Lord.”
    â€œIs that why you plan to kill him?” Fist asked. “Because he’s spreading lies about you?”
    â€œNo,” Sword said. He slid the sword smoothly into its sheath.
    â€œBecause he’s changing all the traditions?” another man asked.
    â€œNo,” Sword replied.
    â€œBecause he wants to kill
you
?” Whistler asked.
    Sword glanced at him. “Partly,” he said.
    â€œWell, don’t expect us to believe you’re killing him so we can take back the cliff-edge where he built his palace,” Fist said. “I wouldn’t believe that for a minute.”
    â€œNeither would I,” Sword agreed.
    â€œTo protect Barokan?” someone suggested.
    â€œFrom what?” Fist asked. “What’s he doing to Barokan that’s so terrible?”
    â€œOh, yes, they need to be protected from roads and canals and merchants bringing silks and spices and fancy wines,” a hunter said scornfully.
    â€œHe killed a lot of wizards, Whistler told me.”
    â€œYes, he did,” Sword agreed, “but that’s not really why I intend to kill him. Let the wizards look after themselves—they chose the Wizard Lord, and if they chose poorly, let them face the consequences.”
    â€œHe killed your