Джеффри Лорд - The Towers Of Melnon

«I am honored,» said Blade. He managed a brief bow.

«I wish there were time to fit you with proper armor,» said Kir-Noz. «You are in terrible danger going forth with nothing but a belt and two swords.»

«I doubt that,» said Blade. «Unless there is a warrior among the Eagles as good as you are, I expect to be back without a scratch on me.» That was more confidence than he felt, in truth. But the occasion seemed to call for the pose.

Kir-Noz grinned. «I am not sure that you may not be right. And in any case, the Eagles will get a surprise today. When you come out thus, they will expect you to be easy meat. I wonder how long it will take them to find out otherwise.»

«After my first opponent hits the ground,» said Blade.

«Well and good, Blade,» said Kir-Noz. «Now, Pen-Jerg, have the reel-master send down a lifter, and lead our warriors forth to beat the Eagles.» Pen-Jerg bowed his head, then straightened and turned to the other warriors.

«All right, it's time to stop gaping. We've got a war to fight today. Form line and follow me.»

Blade found his opinion of the tower warriors' training growing unfavorable again as Pen-Jerg led them away from the base of the tower and through the Waste Land, toward the Plain of War. They made no effort to keep any sort of orderly formation, but marched in a long, straggling single line. Forty warriors trailed out over a space of more than a hundred yards like a class of schoolchildren on an outing. In fact, it was almost too charitable to describe the warriors' progress as a march. They made no effort to set or keep a cadence, and in their heavy boots they stumbled and lurched drunkenly over rough ground that the barefooted Blade crossed easily.

Blade could not help wondering what would happen to this ragged collection of individually skilled fighting men if they were ambushed on the way through the Waste Land. Of course in daylight the men on the balcony could see anything that moved on the ground near the base of the tower. But suppose one of the other towers sent over fifty men by night, and concealed them in the bushes and gullies near the outer edge of the Waste Land? There was enough room to hide a battalion there, and plenty of places for a surprise attack. He mentioned this possibility to Pen-Jerg.

The Serpent warrior's jaw dropped and a gasp of pure horror came out of his open mouth. «Don't ever say such things aloud, warrior-ah, what did Kir-Noz call you?»

«Blade. Of England.»

«Blade, then. It would be impossible for the other towers to think of something so monstrous. They-they would be hurling defiance to the War Wisdom.»

Blade nodded. He decided against going on to suggest that if the other towers couldn't use ambush tactics, the Tower of the Serpent should take advantage of the fact. Ambush tactics were contrary to the War Wisdom, and that was that. This explained, of course, why the area around the towers was so wild and overgrown. It didn't matter to any of the tower warriors, because they knew that none of their opponents would ever take advantage of natural cover. And-

«Are all your wars fought on the Plain of War?»

Pen-Jerg gave Blade the kind of look one gives a child or an idiot who has just tried to ask a question. «Of course. Is it otherwise where-«his voice dropped to a half-whisper «you come from?» Apparently Pen-Jerg would not commit himself to believing the strange tales of Blade's origins.

«Certainly. We fight wherever each side thinks it can do so to the greatest advantage.»

«What happens if the two sides seek different places?»

«Then sometimes there is no war at all. On the other hand, sometimes one side gets to its chosen place before the other one does. Then it can sometimes win a very great victory, at a small cost.»

«That hardly seems fair,» said Pen-Jerg. His tone was that of a man who hears another talking folly, but is trying to be polite about it.

«I know,» said Blade. «But war among the English is not fought to be fair, or in keeping with some War Wisdom. When we fight, we fight to win, and all our people go to the war.»

Once again Pen-Jerg was unable to keep an expression of horror off his face. «Your Low People, too?»

«What are Low People?»

«Those without honor or wisdom, Blade. Those unfit to go to war. Those fit only to clean the halls and levels of the towers and to serve the High People, who possess honor and wisdom. Do you-are you trying to tell me that in England-there are no Low People?» Pen-Jerg's voice was that of a man trying to conceive of the inconceivable.

«That is almost true,» said Blade.

Pen-Jerg threw up his hands-literally. Obviously he wasn't sure whether he was dealing with a fool, a madman, or an extremely cunning man whose people's customs he could never in a century hope to understand. And it obviously didn't matter much to him. He strode along in silence for a time, then turned back to Blade.

«Look you, Blade,» he said in a low voice. «Perhaps you are telling the truth. Perhaps you are telling lies. I don't care. But I will ask you, by the War and Peace Wisdom alike, to say no more of what war or peace are like in England-or wherever you come from. Few among our people would understand you. And half of those who did would haul you before the Council of Wisdom and Queen Mir-Kasa for judgment. Then you could expect to be sent down among the Low People. After that you would be degraded forever and you could never be a warrior again. And I would grieve to see the Tower of the Serpent lose such a warrior as you seem to be simply because you cannot keep your tongue still.»

«But-«began Blade.

«Enough,» said Pen-Jerg. «Remember what was said of a warrior called Bryg-Noz?»

«I did not know that he was a warrior.»

«He was. The greatest of the past ten-year, by far, greater even than his brother Kir-Noz, who is the greatest among us now. He was Kir-Noz's elder brother, Principal Chooser, Guide to the Candidates, Steward to Queen Mir-Kasa. There seemed to be nothing in the Tower of the Serpent beyond his reach and grasp. But he fell. He fell because, like you, he would not give over questioning the War Wisdom by which we fight our war, or the Peace Wisdom by which each Tower of Melnon is divided into the High People and the Low People. Except for the Tower of the Leopard,» Pen-Jerg added, with distaste in his voice.

«I see,» said Blade. He actually did not see much more than the wisdom of following Pen-Jerg's advice and keeping his mouth shut. But for the moment that was enough.

«Good,» said Pen-Jerg. «Keep silent, and though you may be from-some place-you may yet become a warrior of the Towers of Melnon.» He turned back to the line of warriors. «In the name of the Wisdoms, hurry! We're not going to lose man-points simply by letting those cursed Eagles reach the Plain ahead of us.»

The warriors behind them broke into a run, clumping and lumbering along in their heavy boots, sometimes stumbling and sprawling on the ground. Blade's mind could not help returning to the image of the ambush. If a force of tower warriors was ever attacked in the Waste Lands, half of them would break their necks falling over their own feet before a single sword touched them!

The warriors of the Tower of the Serpent rushed across the last few hundred yards of their tower's Waste Land and reached the edge of the Plain of War. Pen-Jerg called a halt there, and stared out toward the center of the Plain.

From the edge of the Waste Land the ground sloped sharply down to the level of the Plain nearly a hundred feet below. The slope was all grass, thick and as neatly-trimmed as a suburban lawn, in vivid contrast to the yellow coating of the Plain. The grass strip was nearly a hundred yards wide and divided into seven sections by lines of pink stones. Yes, definitely pink. The color at first seemed ridiculous to Blade. Then he realized that against the green it was probably the most visible color not already associated with one of the seven towers.