Lord of Lies

armor and then buckle on my sword. 'Now you'll have to win, won't you? Walk with the One, Val, and watch Lord Dashavay's sword.'

He smiled at me as he clasped my hand weakly. And then I walked out into cool morning air to face Lord Dashavay and others.

In the Sword Pavilion that day, the mats had been pulled up from the fencing rings to reveal nine circles of polished oak. Facing them were the center stands where King Waray and King Mohan sat between King Sandarkan and King Kurshan. Lord Viromar was present, too, and my uncle took his place next to King Danashu, who kept his wary eyes on King Hadaru as I expecting a knife in the belly for his plotting against Ishka. But King Hadaru, like the many lords, ladies and knights in the rest of the stands around the pavilion, looked straight ahead toward the three rows of fencing rings where the four hundred and forty knights remaining in the tournament would face each other with our bright kalamas.

By good chance I drew a bye in the first round, and so I had a few moments of rest to watch Lord Dashavay at work, along with other great swordsmen such as Lord Marjay and Sar Shivamar. But by bad chance I drew Lord Dashavay as my opponent in the second round. Maram, sitting with Yarashan and me on one of the many waiting benches between the stands and the fencing rings, grumbled loudly, 'Do you suppose King Waray arranged this to knock you out early so that you don't even point?'

'No,' I told him as I looked up at the stands where King Waray sat glaring at me. 'Surely it was just the luck of the lots.'

Usually, in these first rounds of the competition, matches were fought in all nine rings at once, for there were many knights to be eliminated. But because King Waray and many others wished to witness my match with Lord Dashavay undistracted, the heralds called forth only Lord Dashavay and me. We took our places in the center ring. Lord Dashavay wore his green surcoat with its white lion over his gleaming armor; he was helmless, as was I. We both found places for our bare feet on the shining white wood. He drew his sword and faced me with an almost palpable confidence. He studied me with great intensity. His first match with Sar Araj had lasted exactly nine seconds, long enough for him to beat aside Sar Araj's sword and stop the arc of his own three inches from Sar Araj's head.

I should have studied my famous opponent too; I should have looked for weakness on his striking face or in his preternaturally calm black eyes. Instead, I stared at the bloodstains that reddened the wood of our circle. I listened to the thunder of my racing heart as I waited for the judge to approach and give the signal for us to begin.

From the bench where Lord Issur sat with Lord Mestivan and the other Ishkans, I heard Lord Nadhru call out to me, 'Now we'll see if it was luck that you defeated Lord Salmelu in that shameful duel!'

I drew Alkaladur then, and many men and women in the pavilion gasped at its brightness. Flick appeared to turn a spiral around my sword's silver length before winking back into nothingness. A flicker of doubt broke the coolness of Lord Dashavay s demeanor.

And then the judge, Old Lord Jonasar of Taron, cried out: 'Begin!'

Lord Dashavay sprang at me without the slightest hesitation. I met his sword in a clash of steel against my sword's silver gelstei. We leapt back from each other, circled and closed again. Our swords whipped out, once, twice, thrice. The clanging of the blades was deafening; the burn of bright steel past my eyes nearly blinded me and struck fear into my heart. It was not fear for myself, or for losing this match; it was a gut-twisting dread that I might wound or kill Lord Dashavay. I knew that I could. For Kane, the bright angel of death who was my friend, had taught me too well. All the enemies that I had fought with this sword on the road to Argattha and within its dark hell of cold rock and bitter hatred had taught me, too. Something dark now dwelled within my sword as if it had drunk in these many deaths and demanded more. Or rather, something incredibly bright blazed down its shimmering length into my hands and heart, and called me to prevail at all costs even if others must be utterly destroyed. And this, I knew, was why these many months I had practiced alone with this terrible and beautiful sword.

Lord Dashavay, with perfect timing and sense of distance, aimed another blow at me, and another, and then a whole series of cuts, feints and thrusts. I parried them all. The faster he moved, the more quickly I whipped Alkaladur about to knock his blade aside. As I began to perceive the pattern of his attack, my silver sword wove an impenetrable pattern about me, like a fence of light. Frustration furrowed Lord Dashavay's sweating brow. He gasped from the pain of his burning muscles as his heart pushed hot blood through his veins and he swung his sword at me, again and again. Now his sureness was broken by dismay, and dismay began to give way to a fear that ate into his spine. I took a step toward him and then another. I turned my blade, right and then left, parrying and using the momentum of his sword striking mine to whip my sword around in an arc back toward him. I felt no tiredness, only an inexhaustible strength that my sword drew down from the sun and poured into my arms. Yarashan had warned me to beware of my weaknesses. But here, in this circle of honor, with this bright sword ringing against Lord Dashavay's well-tested blade, I knew that I would make no mistakes.

I struck with great speed at his head, and he took a step backward. Again I attacked him, and again. Alkaladur flared and flashed like a cloud of light, like entire whirling constellations of stars. The Sword of Light, men called it. And now Lord Dashavay's fear deepened to awe as I showed him something beautiful about this terrible art of ours that he had never hoped to see. The light of my sword pursued him and chased him about the circle; he couldn't escape it any more than he could strokes of lightning. And neither of us could escape our fate. I pressed him ever backwards, pounding at him relentlessly. My heart pounded out bright bursts of joy, for suddenly my fear left me, and I knew that I had the power to score against him rather than to slay. And so, as his sword swept by me for the hundredth time, I thrust forward with a savagery that tore away my breath. And I stopped the point of my blade an inch from his heart.

'Hold!' Lord Jonasar cried out. 'Match to Lord Valashu Elahad!' I stood there gasping for air as the cries of hundreds of Valari in the stands came roaring into my ears.

'Lord of Light!' I heard someone call out. 'Maitreya!'

Lord Dashavay looked down at my bright blade that had stopped him cold. His astonishment burned away in the flame of sudden understanding. He gasped out, 'Brilliant, Lord Valashu! I never knew. Perhaps some day we can make another match.'

He bowed his head to me then, and I bowed to him. Then we walked out of the circle to rejoin our friends where they sat with the other knights of our respective kingdoms.

'Champion! Champion! Champion!'

Maram rose from our bench, threw his arms around me and pounded me on the back. Baltasar, taking care of his wounded hand, joined him in congratulating me, as did Sunjay Naviru and Yarashan.

Of course, their celebration was premature, for I had won only my first match of the morning. There followed a long day of other matches and other rounds, with Lord Marjay, Sar Siraju of Lagash and others. I vanquished them all even more quickly than I had Lord Dashavay. Between my matches I watched other knights fence. It was a good day of excellent swordsmanship and only one death. Late in the afternoon, I drew my sword for the last time in that tournament and sheathed it scarcely half a minute later, after I had swept away Sar Shivamar's fevered defenses — and nearly his head. The judges awarded me my ten points, and King Waray was forced to drape around my neck the gold medal of the tournament's champion.

'Lord of Light! Lord of Light! Lord of Light!'

At the edge of the stands, I stood before King Waray as the many people in the pavilion rose to their feet and cheered me. Lord Viromar, with the Valari kings, bowed their heads to me. And then King Mohan, as blunt and honest as he was contentious, said to me, 'Sar Maram was right about you. That was the finest swordwork I've ever seen. No knight has ever deserved the championship more.'

'Thank you, King Mohan,' I said. 'Do I then deserve to ask if you will make the journey to the conclave in Tria?'

'You do.'

'Will you?'

His black eyes seemed bright with the light of my sword, and something else. He said, 'Yes, I will.'

I turned to King Kurshan, and I asked him the same question, as I did Lord Viromar; they both gave their assent. After I had queried King Danashu likewise, he hesitated a moment as he looked to King Waray for sign of what he should say. And then he seemed to find the best of his own will inside himself, and he said, 'Perhaps this is the time to meet in Tria. I won't be the only Valari king to stay behind.'

I bowed my head to hiand then looked at the gaunt, disbelieving King Sandarkan. We locked eyes together for