Read Online The Sunset Warrior - 01 by Eric Van Lustbader - Free Book Online
Authors: Eric Van Lustbader
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seemed relieved. ‘Good. At least Freidal did not summon you.’
Ronin thought: He seems changed. ‘But he did summon me—very early, during first Spell.’
Sweat had come out on the Medicine Man’s broad forehead. ‘I told you! By the Frost you were warned!’
‘Calm yourself.’ Stahlig was finished with the dressing and Ronin stood up. ‘He only wanted me to corroborate the daggam’s report. What is the matter with you?’
Stahlig turned and went behind his desk. There was no colour in his face. ‘I want you to forget you ever went with me yesterday.’ He stared at Ronin, his rheumy eyes sunken and worn. A tablet slipped off the desk and fell to the floor with a muffled crash. He did not appear to notice. ‘It never happened.’
There was silence in the room, but still he was pleading.
‘I cannot.’
‘Oh, Frost!’ Ronin might just as well have hit him. His face crumpled and he collapsed on to the couch. His lips trembled. Ronin went and got some wine, knelt in front of him, made him drink it.
After a while he whispered. ‘I know you. I can do no more.’ But it was as if he were talking to himself.
‘Stahlig,’ Ronin said softly. ‘You must help me. I want to talk to Borros.’
‘How can you ask me to help you to die?’ His voice was feeble and there was no resolve behind it.
‘I will not die,’ Ronin said carefully, because he had to make Stahlig understand. ‘And this may be very important for the Freehold. Remember the talk we had?’
He sat up at last and looked into Ronin’s eyes. ‘Why do you wish to do this?’ But it had worked and the answer did not matter now.
Ronin shrugged.
‘But you must have a reason!’
‘How can I tell you when I do not know what it is myself?’
The old man sighed and shook his head. ‘I knew,’ he said sadly. ‘I knew all along.’ He stood and turned away. ‘Come back after Sehna. I need to look at that shoulder again.’
At that moment he experienced an acute and inexplicable sense of loss. ‘Stahlig, I—’
The Medicine Man raised his hand. ‘Mind the tablets on the way out.’
‘Enter.’
The door remained closed, and the soft knocking came again. He set down his wine, went across the room, and opened it. G’fand stood there, head down. Ronin could see the bandage across his chest under the shirt.
‘I—’ He cleared his throat. ‘I am not disturbing you?’
‘Not at all, I was just thinking of—’
‘Because if I am, I can—’
He touched the Scholar. ‘Come in.’ G’fand seemed rooted to the spot and Ronin had to draw him inside. ‘Sit. Please.’ He crossed the room and picked up something from the top of a low table. ‘I was about to return this to you.’ He held it out.
G’fand shrank from it as if it were alive. ‘I never want to see that thing again!’ he cried.
Ronin set the dagger down next to him. ‘Ah, but someday it may save your life.’
G’fand broke down then and sobbed into his hands. Ronin poured him some wine and this too he set beside him. At length G’fand stopped and his hands came away. ‘I am so ashamed,’ he said.
Ronin sat across from him. ‘And I too,’ he said quietly.
G’fand’s head came up. A light came back to his eyes. ‘You? What have you to be ashamed of?’
He held out his hands. ‘I am a Bladesman. But, as you pointed out at Sehna, I have studied with the Salamander.’ Spots of colour stood out on G’fand’s cheeks. ‘I learned many skills from him, many techniques few other Bladesmen know. You see, I almost killed you—with these.’
G’fand stared at his hands. ‘But I thought Combat is with the sword and the dagger.’
‘Combat is very ancient and has many layers.’
‘Yes, I see.’ G’fand knelt. ‘Oh, Ronin, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.’
‘Pick up your dagger and put it away.’
The Scholar wiped his face. ‘I want you to know what happened.’
‘G’fand, I know that you were not attacking me.’
Surprise, relief,
Ronin thought: He seems changed. ‘But he did summon me—very early, during first Spell.’
Sweat had come out on the Medicine Man’s broad forehead. ‘I told you! By the Frost you were warned!’
‘Calm yourself.’ Stahlig was finished with the dressing and Ronin stood up. ‘He only wanted me to corroborate the daggam’s report. What is the matter with you?’
Stahlig turned and went behind his desk. There was no colour in his face. ‘I want you to forget you ever went with me yesterday.’ He stared at Ronin, his rheumy eyes sunken and worn. A tablet slipped off the desk and fell to the floor with a muffled crash. He did not appear to notice. ‘It never happened.’
There was silence in the room, but still he was pleading.
‘I cannot.’
‘Oh, Frost!’ Ronin might just as well have hit him. His face crumpled and he collapsed on to the couch. His lips trembled. Ronin went and got some wine, knelt in front of him, made him drink it.
After a while he whispered. ‘I know you. I can do no more.’ But it was as if he were talking to himself.
‘Stahlig,’ Ronin said softly. ‘You must help me. I want to talk to Borros.’
‘How can you ask me to help you to die?’ His voice was feeble and there was no resolve behind it.
‘I will not die,’ Ronin said carefully, because he had to make Stahlig understand. ‘And this may be very important for the Freehold. Remember the talk we had?’
He sat up at last and looked into Ronin’s eyes. ‘Why do you wish to do this?’ But it had worked and the answer did not matter now.
Ronin shrugged.
‘But you must have a reason!’
‘How can I tell you when I do not know what it is myself?’
The old man sighed and shook his head. ‘I knew,’ he said sadly. ‘I knew all along.’ He stood and turned away. ‘Come back after Sehna. I need to look at that shoulder again.’
At that moment he experienced an acute and inexplicable sense of loss. ‘Stahlig, I—’
The Medicine Man raised his hand. ‘Mind the tablets on the way out.’
‘Enter.’
The door remained closed, and the soft knocking came again. He set down his wine, went across the room, and opened it. G’fand stood there, head down. Ronin could see the bandage across his chest under the shirt.
‘I—’ He cleared his throat. ‘I am not disturbing you?’
‘Not at all, I was just thinking of—’
‘Because if I am, I can—’
He touched the Scholar. ‘Come in.’ G’fand seemed rooted to the spot and Ronin had to draw him inside. ‘Sit. Please.’ He crossed the room and picked up something from the top of a low table. ‘I was about to return this to you.’ He held it out.
G’fand shrank from it as if it were alive. ‘I never want to see that thing again!’ he cried.
Ronin set the dagger down next to him. ‘Ah, but someday it may save your life.’
G’fand broke down then and sobbed into his hands. Ronin poured him some wine and this too he set beside him. At length G’fand stopped and his hands came away. ‘I am so ashamed,’ he said.
Ronin sat across from him. ‘And I too,’ he said quietly.
G’fand’s head came up. A light came back to his eyes. ‘You? What have you to be ashamed of?’
He held out his hands. ‘I am a Bladesman. But, as you pointed out at Sehna, I have studied with the Salamander.’ Spots of colour stood out on G’fand’s cheeks. ‘I learned many skills from him, many techniques few other Bladesmen know. You see, I almost killed you—with these.’
G’fand stared at his hands. ‘But I thought Combat is with the sword and the dagger.’
‘Combat is very ancient and has many layers.’
‘Yes, I see.’ G’fand knelt. ‘Oh, Ronin, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.’
‘Pick up your dagger and put it away.’
The Scholar wiped his face. ‘I want you to know what happened.’
‘G’fand, I know that you were not attacking me.’
Surprise, relief,
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