you to work against me. I know the sword guards you against death, but there are other unpleasant things that can happen. Remember that and say nothing.”
“I’ll remember.”
“Good.” Gor turned to open the door. “That’s all, then.”
“Not quite, my lord.” Valder stayed where he was and allowed his hand to drop nearer Wirikidor’s hilt. In this room he had the upper hand; if he drew Wirikidor there could be no doubt that Gor would die. Of course, there would also be no doubt about who killed him, but Valder could claim it was an accident; given Wirikidor’s untrustworthy nature, he might be believed.
He had no intention of drawing the sword, but it made a very effective threat indeed.
“Oh?” Gor was wary and, Valder sensed, very dangerous. He might hope to wound Valder and delay him long enough to slip out and allow the sword a choice of victims.
“I realize it’s an imposition, but if you could send a message to the paymaster to release the money owed me, I would like to be discharged and go about my business. You don’t need me around here anymore, talking to people.”
“Oh, is that all?” Gor relaxed visibly. He turned and opened the door, then leaned through and called to the people waiting in the main office. “Bragen! Inform the paymaster that Valder of Kardoret has been discharged without prejudice and is to be paid the full amount due him upon request!”
“Yes, my lord,” replied the secretary who had told Valder the appropriate form of address.
“Thank you,” Valder said as he made his way past Gor and out of the little room.
Gor did not answer; he was already bellowing for some other officer to pay attention.
Valder and Bragen marched side by side down the corridor, not speaking. Valder was thinking and planning intently, as he had not really done for months.
Gor was not a man prone to making empty threats; he undoubtedly really did have wizards working for him who would not balk at an assassination or two. He might well decide that Valder was simply too dangerous to have running around loose, particularly in his own home. That was why Valder had insisted on his immediate discharge and full pay; he did not care to stay in the Fortress where Gor might stumble across him and be reminded that Wirikidor was a real threat and where Valder could easily be found, if the overlord decided to do something about him. It was time to go — and quickly — as he had no desire to be blinded or hamstrung or imprisoned.
In his first rush of worry, he was not even certain he should take the time to collect his few personal belongings and make his farewells to Tandellin and other friends, but he decided, while the paymaster was counting out his coins, that Gor would be too busy to worry about him for at least a few hours yet. He would have time, once his pay was all securely in hand, to gather his things and stop by the barracks briefly.
That settled, the next question was where to go. Since the ocean lay to the west and an almost-empty wilderness to the north, his choices were limited. To the east was the former Central Command, under Anaran of the Sands; beyond that, he was not sure, since the demonic attack had wiped out the old Eastern Command. Somewhere to the southeast was Azrad’s Coastal Command, which had always been concerned with supply and communication rather than combat, and beyond that, across the Gulf, lay the small kingdoms that had once been the Ethsharitic homeland.
He had no interest in wandering about in the wilds, nor in being alone. If he were to hide from Gor, as it seemed he might need to, it would be easier to lose himself in a crowd than somewhere in the wilderness. Any decent wizard could locate the general area an individual was in with a few simple spells, and if he were living by himself somewhere he would be easily found by such methods — but the spells could not pick one man out of a camp.
The Fortress and the surrounding area were certainly crowded enough, but he did not care to stay so close. What of the other two headquarters, then?
Anaran was based on the south coast, well on the other side of the major western peninsula, and Azrad’s home port, reputed to be an actual city rather than a camp, was far beyond, on the northeastern corner of the eastern peninsula, not far from the mouth of the Great River and almost at the borders of the small kingdoms — after all, Azrad had been in charge of ports and coasts throughout the world, and his command had been the link between the other three and the old homeland.
Azrad’s base sounded promising; it was on the far side of Anaran’s, making it that much less accessible to Gor; and furthermore, Valder judged that there would be far more business opportunities there, where trade was already established. He might not wind up a wine merchant, but, by all the gods, he would find something and not wind up a farmer!
When he stopped in and told Tandellin he was leaving, Tandellin naturally asked where he would go.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he muttered.
“Yes, you do, Valder; you wouldn’t just leave this suddenly if you hadn’t picked a destination.”
Sheepishly, Valder admitted, “Well, I was thinking of Azrad’s home port — should be plenty of work there.”
“So there should. Good luck, then, in finding it!” With that, Tandellin embraced him and then turned away.
Valder was slightly startled; he had expected Tandellin to try and extend the conversation, not cut it short. Unsure whether to be relieved or hurt, he headed for the gate. Just an hour after the end of his interview with the overlord, he was marching down the hillside with a full purse on his belt, bound for Azrad’s headquarters.
CHAPTER 19
Valder was no sailor, nor was he particularly fond of the sea, though he did think its scent freshened the air nicely. Still, he decided after due consideration to travel by ship, rather than overland. He estimated the distance to Azrad’s home base at more than a hundred leagues, a long and weary walk under the best of circumstances. Nor did such circumstances exist, as the roads, he knew, were not good. Much of the route had been disputed territory at one time or another in the past few decades, and although roads had been built to accommodate troop movements, they had been intended as temporary and had not been maintained. A few had been torn up by actual battles.
And a walk it would have had to be, as no horses or other beasts of burden were available. The hundreds of people who had left the Fortress before him had bought or stolen every one to be found in a two-league radius.
Once this became clear, Valder took the first shipboard vacancy he could find. Fortunately, ships were coming in steadily, so that this caused no delay.
He was surprised to learn that these ships were bringing people in from further south and east, people who hoped to find greater opportunities in this most northerly of the three new capitals. Less startling was the observation that dozens of others were following his own course, leaving the Fortress for places closer to the old homeland.
He wondered how things stood elsewhere. Was all the Hegemony as unsettled as this? The sudden end of the war had apparently left hundreds or thousands of people unsure where they might fit in. As he stood at the ship’s rail and watched Gor’s demesne fade in the distance, he assured himself that he had done the right thing. True, all his living friends were still in or near the Fortress, but his departure meant a clean break with his past as an assassin and with all the rest of his former life. Nobody would know him in Azrad’s city; nobody would know that Wirikidor was anything more than an ordinary sword such as any veteran might carry. He would make new friends in time, friends who would not care what he had done during the war, and he would live peacefully as long as he kept Wirikidor sheathed.
If he kept it sheathed long enough, he could just outlive everyone who knew of its existence.
He wondered if that was really a good thing. He enjoyed life, or at least he usually had enjoyed it, but might it get wearing eventually? Living on indefinitely while everyone around him grew old and died might be depressing. Of course, he would presumably be growing older, too.
That thought brought him up with a start. Just how would that work? Would the sword keep him young, or
