Read Online Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 by The Wizard Lord (v1.1) - Free Book Online Page B

sometimes
Harp a great deal of what amounted to gossip about the Chosen, and later about
some of the wizards he had known in his dealings with the Council of Immortals,
and even the Wizard Lords themselves that the old man had known, the present
one and his two immediate predecessors. The old man seemed to think this
chatter was foolishness, but Breaker justified it to himself by saying that he
might someday need to work closely with the seven other Chosen, and to consult
with the Council, and perhaps to confront the Wizard Lord, so the more he knew
about them in advance, the better the chances for harmonious cooperation.
    Harp didn't bother trying to justify her
curiosity; she simply shrugged and said there was little else to do on nights
when her fingers were too cold to play the harp decently.
    Breaker took a special interest in the descriptions
of the current Wizard Lord, looking for reassurance that the man was sane and
good, and there would be no call for the Chosen to remove him. Alas, the
present holder of the office was apparently something of a hermit; the
Swordsman had only met him once, years before. No one seemed to know much about
him. He came from the south, and was reported to spend all his time in a lonely
tower in the Galbek Hills, well away from the nearest village, though the old
man did not know whether this was because he did not wish to trouble anyone, or
because he sought privacy to work his magic, or what. The previous Wizard Lord,
a friendly and well-liked man, had done well enough living in a mansion amid
the hustle and bustle of Spilled Basket, one of the trading towns in the
Midlands, and the Old Swordsman had anecdotes about him that kept Breaker and
Harp entertained for a night or two. The Lord of Spilled Basket had apparently
had a sense of humor, as well as justice, and some of the punishments he
visited on fleeing criminals had been amusing— rapists receiving the unwanted
attention of amorous hogs, thieves having their clothes stolen by raccoons, and
the like.
    That was the
evenings; by day there were still household chores to be performed, ice to be
fetched for melting, wood brought in for burning, cleaning and cooking to be
done, and of course at least an hour every day of practice in swordsmanship.
    And every day,
Breaker spent that hour being hit, and growing ever more frustrated by his
inability to hit the old man in return.
    One chilly, overcast
day, when the Young Swordsman had taken a whack on the ear as well as a jab in
the chest in quick succession, he flung his stick down in the trampled snow and
exclaimed, "I still haven't ever beaten you! Not even once!"
    "Well, no,"
the older man said, mildly surprised by his outburst. "And you won't,
until you're ready to take on my role. Lest you forget, I am not merely a very
good swordsman; I am the world's greatest swordsman,
magically guaranteed by all th e ler of muscle and steel. By definition, I can't
be beaten in a fair fight."
    "Then what's the use of these endless
practice bouts?"
    "I need to practice for an hour a
day," the Old Swordsman said calmly. "You know that. You'll have to
do the same, once I'm free of it. You might as well get in the habit. Believe
me, practicing against a live opponent is far more entertaining than thrashing
a dummy or a tree. Furthermore, lad, you will beat me
eventually—and when you do, when you draw first blood with a rea l blade, the magic
can then be passed from me to you, and it will be too late to change your mind.
You're learning quickly, and improving steadily, whether you know it or not—so
quickly I suspect some magic at work, though whether it's the doing of the
wizards, or your town's ler, or something in yourself, I couldn't
say."
    "But if you're the world's greatest, how
can I ever defeat you? The magic won't allow it!"
    "But / will. I said I can't be beaten in
a fair fight; who ever said we would always fight fairly?"
    "Then why don't we just do it now, and
get it over with? I'm tired