Chapter 31
“God’s blood,” Halloway said into the telephone. His voice fell, and his smile vanished.
The door to Annabeth’s suite opened and she walked into their suite.
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. We’ll fly home on the next flight.”
“But--”
Annabeth took the receiver from him. “How are you, Jhon?”
“How is Abraham?”
“Okay. Thank you.” She passed the receiver back to Halloway.
“Yes, sir. We’ll find a way. God go with you. Please check in on Molly for me and tell her I love her. Yes, sir.”
He put the receiver back in its cradle. “Headquarters got hit a couple of hours ago. Jhon says he’s lightly wounded, but says he’ll be fine. So are Sharon and Hui. Greg lost an arm. Hawkins is dead. So is Li Hua. Lee Quisling is in the hospital. They don’t know if he’s going to make it. Same with Gantry. Eight others in the hospital but should recover.
“The enemy team was twelve men. All Buchanan’s. Eight died on the scene, two committed suicide on the way to the hospital. The last two were assassinated in the emergency room. They burned my house down, and Jhon’s, Sharon’s, Lee’s, and Hui’s. All of the management are homeless. One of Hui’s kids is in the hospital, but they think he’ll be fine.”
Halloway shook his head. “Hui’s family survived because the dog woke them up, and they had a bomb shelter in the basement. Lee survived because a patrol car happened by at the perfect moment.
“Jhon says we’re to arrest Heyerdahl and Archibald and bring them home for trial. If we cannot affect their arrests, we’re to kill them. We are at war with the Buchanans, so if we get an easy shot at any of their operatives, take it. Above all, be careful. The bureau can’t send anyone to help us in the immediate future.
“Recommendations?”
Chun got out of his chair. “I am very sorry to hear this. For the loss of friends, and homes. We are exposed here. We should pack and drive back to Montague’s mansion. He will have room for us there, and we can reinforce his guards. Our odds are much better there.”
“Agreed,” Halloway said.
“Let’s get packed,” Annabeth said.
* * *
Montague met them in front of the house when they arrived. He wore a silk smoking jacket over his pajamas but looked alert.
“What brings you back at this hour?”
Halloway explained the call.
“We thought that since we are working together, and reinforcements will not be coming, it would be wise to stay with you, where we can benefit from your sentries. Is that alright?”
He nodded. “Of course. Come inside. We’ll get you good rooms, and you can get some sleep.”
Montague accompanied them to the second floor where the butler showed them to a pair of suites that were marginally smaller than their hotel rooms but had the air of old quality on everything within.
“Will these be sufficient?” the butler was sufficiently stiff.
“Sir, these rooms are magnificent,” Halloway said. “Much better than sufficient.”
“Excellent. Then I shall leave you for the time being,” Montague said.
“Sir?” Chun’s voice was quiet.
Montague turned to face him.
“May I see your armory?”
“Of course. Follow me.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get some sleep,” Halloway said.
Chun traded looks with Annabeth. “I’ll stay with him,” she said.
The armory was in the back of the house, on the ground floor. It had small windows onto a courtyard where horses could be shod. A traditional blacksmith shop sat next to modern machining equipment--it looked to Chun’s uneducated eye like they were equipped to do a wide variety of work.
Montague opened a heavy door with an elaborate old key, then got an oil lamp for himself, and one for Chun. They walked into the armory proper, and Chun looked around. The room was part storage, part museum. Some of the equipment was on display, and a large number of trunks around the edges of the room suggested that much more was available.
Various bits of armor and weapons reacted to his breath--tahlis created for warriors. The storage hall was long, over a hundred feet. It appeared from the limited reach of his lamp that the newest items were near the door.
“I assume you’re hoping to find a tahlis,” Montague said. “The oldest items are in the back.”
They took a few steps forward, and Chun gasped, a full inhale. His eyes went wide. The tickle at the edge of his breath was familiar, nearly as familiar as his own weapons and armor.
“Are you alright?” Montague regarded Chun with a sideways glance.
Chun trotted to the end of the hall, where he found a set of bronze and jade armor, and beneath it a jian with a feeling of buoyancy wafting out. He put his hand on the pommel and ran a thread of breath into the weapon. It danced into his hand, moving with an ease beyond lightness--it wanted to go where he wanted to go.
The sword was several inches shy of four feet long, with enough handle to grab with two hands. The blade was sharp on both edges and came to a slightly rounded point strong enough to survive hits, but still suitable for stabbing.
“How?” Chun was breathless.
Montague ran a hand down the side of the blade. “I don’t know the details. My grandfather or great-grandfather found it on a trip to Kashi. We have never displayed it publicly, which leads me to believe he acquired it through theft or trickery.”
“This armor and this sword are for the emperor of Fu Tan. I was his champion for a number of years. I have seen these things many times. Stood beside them.” He turned to Montague. “Kashi sounds like a Skrit place.”
Montague nodded. “It is the southernmost kingdom in Solond.”
Chun smiled. “Your ancestor did not steal these things. He rescued them. I am cousin to the Son of Heaven. Last someone told me, I was fifty-seventh in line to the throne. With all of my people long dead, I am the last emperor of Fu Tan. This is my sword, and my armor.”
Montague frowned slightly. “If these things will help you defeat Heyerdahl, then I release them to you gladly.”
Chun patted him on the shoulder. “I did not mean that I intend to take them from you. This sword may be enough. The armor is useless to me.”
“May I ask why?”
“It is made for an emperor, and when he ascends to the throne a team of artisans binds it to his will. I cannot bind it to myself, and there are no artisans left.”
“Why would they do that?”
“To prevent it being used against him.”
“Why did they not do that with the sword?”
“They did. But unlocking it is a puzzle, not an investiture. As a member of the royal line, I know the key to the puzzle.”
Montague opened the stand beneath the armor and retrieved the scabbard. It was a functional sheath for a functional weapon, made by a master artisan. Ironwood, lined with a silvery metal that did not corrode, inlaid with fine strands of the same metal, the never-ending waves of the sea.
Chun took the scabbard and slid the sword inside.
“Now I have a chance. I will sleep now. Tomorrow, I train. Do what you must to initiate the duel.”
* * *
Chun slept for a few hours and rose with the sun. He ate quickly in the kitchen, then asked for a copy of the dueling rules he would follow. One of the servants took him to a library and found a copy for him.
The book was thin, and the prose was written for clarity. Most of it applied to the types of disputes a duel could apply to. Chun skipped over those sections and found the rules for trial by combat.
A trial could be initiated by an equal or an inferior. The wealthy and powerful could not threaten the weak with a duel, they had to rely on arbitration or the courts.
That probably means Montague cannot initiate a duel at all, since he is the head of the most powerful family.
A trial’s specific rules would be negotiated when the trial was accepted. They could be detailed enough to require combat with specific swords or pistols, or they could be open. The only equipment a combatant could bring onto the field was whatever they were personally able to carry.
Once a trial began, it could only be stopped by the death or surrender of a combatant. The field of battle would be clearly defined, and leaving the field during battle was cowardice, punishable by summary execution.
Montague entered the room. “Studying the rules. That is good. For the most part they are simple, but the families will expect them to be followed.”
“Is the law permissive, or restrictive?” Chun looked up from the book.
“I don’t understand.”
“These rules mandate certain actions and forbid certain actions. For example, once combat begins, I am not allowed to receive assistance from outside the field. Including food, water, and medical care. Am I allowed to take food and water with me?”
Stolen novel; please report.
Montague considered. “I’ve never heard of anyone taking rations to a duel, but many men take a flask of liquor. I see no reason why you could not take a canteen, except of course for the weight.”
“How about poison?”
Montague frowned at the book. “It’s not in there?”
“I don’t think so.”
Montague took the book and flipped to the back, then spent a few minutes flipping through pages and mumbling to himself.
“Here it is. The result of a duel was reversed in 604 when it was determined that one party had applied poison to their blades. Everyone involved in equipping the fighter was executed.”
Chun nodded. “Good. They will likely not poison me. What about magic?”
“Allowed unless specifically bargained away.”
“You seem certain there will be a duel, but you cannot challenge him. What if he does not challenge you?”
Montague smiled. “I have contacted him and wagered Emilia on the result. Right now, I am the head of the table. He can take my position and my property by winning a duel. He will challenge me. Today, tomorrow, perhaps the day after, but soon.”
“Do you have access to an armorer?” Chun needed every advantage he could get.
Montague nodded. “I have a smith and an armorer on duty.”
“Good. Then I will prepare.”
* * *
Chun knocked on Annabeth’s door. He could sense her sleeping inside. When the first knock didn’t rouse her, he knocked again, with more force.
“What?” her voice was groggy.
“Get up. I need your help.”
She came to the door and opened it, then blinked at him. Her hair was a mess, and the tank-style shirt she wore had slipped to expose a nipple.
Chun looked up at the door frame.
“Oh. Sorry.” Her clothes rustled softly, and Chun brought his gaze down to her face.
“I am not your father, nor am I embarrassed by nudity. Please do not apologize.”
She squinted at him. “If you’re not embarrassed, why did you look away?”
“I wish to be polite.”
“Oh. Then thank you. What do you need?”
“Is that Jhon’s shirt?”
She looked up and down the hallway, then leaned in and whispered. “It’s my father’s shirt. Sometimes I can’t sleep, and it helps if I can smell him.”
“If you like, I can teach you some techniques that will help you sleep.”
Her eyes bored into his, and then she relaxed. “That might be nice. What did you want?”
“I have decided to accept a duel if it can be arranged. I need a second. You are stronger and faster than anyone here. Will you back me?”
She nodded.
“Excellent. We need to train.”
“Alright. Let me get dressed.” She closed the door in his face.
Chun went and showered, then dressed and belted the sword on. Annabeth walked in as he was lacing his boots. Her hair was slightly damp, and she was dressed in boots, good, heavy trousers, a t-shirt, and a canvas jacket suitable for fight practice.
“Do you know where to find the kitchen?” she stretched and yawned.
“Of course.” He finished tying his boot and stood.
He went to Halloway’s door and knocked. “Sir? We are going to breakfast, and then to train. You should be alert while we are away.”
“Alright,” Halloway said from the other side of the door. “I’m up. Thanks for the warning.”
The cook was perplexed when Chun entered the kitchen and asked to eat again. He shooed them out and had them seated in a small dining room, and they were served steak, eggs, crusty bread, and watered wine.
“You eat like a machine,” Annabeth said.
Chun swallowed. “I need to eat a lot. If I dawdle, I will waste the entire day eating. I’m surprised you could sleep in a strange place like this.”
She gave him another long look. “This is the first time I’ve really slept this week. I figured you would wake me if anything went wrong.”
Chun frowned. “Does that mean you trust me?”
“Maybe. Partly.”
He studied her for a few seconds. “I will have to think about that.”
When they were finished eating one of the servants showed them to the practice yard. It had room for a few dozen to practice, with racks of weapons under a lean-to at one side, and practice dummies of wood or straw around the edges.
“How much education do you have with swords?” Chun scanned her with trainer’s eyes.
“Not much. I know the basic cuts, and the basic stances.”
Chun got a pair of heavy wooden training swords from one of the racks and tossed one to Annabeth.
“Show me.”
She turned her left side to him, and held the sword above her head, with the blade pointing toward his face.
“The ox,” she said.
Stance is too narrow.
She shifted to hold the sword at her waist, with the blade pointing up toward his face.
“The plow.”
Stance is still too narrow. She is vulnerable to direct pressure, and circling attacks.
She slid back half a step, bringing her stance higher and pointed the sword downward, with the point near the ground.
“The fool.”
Annabeth turned to face him directly and raised the sword above her head.
“The roof.”
She transitioned to hold the sword pointing down and away from him.
“The tail.”
“Good. Generally, you should widen your stance a bit. In the roof, hold the blade higher. Expect an experienced opponent to take advantage of your footwork by lunging or circling.”
Chun brought his weapon up. “Attack.”
Annabeth’s initial strike was from a high grip, slashing down. Chun side-stepped. She slashed sideways, and he blocked. Both of the wooden blades broke.
“What do we do now?” she tossed the handle aside.
“In combat, fight with what remains of the blade, or replace the blade, if you are fortunate enough to have the opportunity. In training, we need stouter weapons.”
One of the smiths helped them make practice swords out of heavy steel bar stock, with cloth tape wrapping the handle. The resulting weapons were blunt, crude, and heavier than a sword of the same length.
Annabeth put her heart into the contest. Chun had a difficult time understanding her wild strength. She swung her practice sword with nearly the speed he would expect from a well-trained swordsman with a master-crafted weapon. He survived by anticipating her moves and constantly pressing her for space and balance. Despite his best efforts she hammered his defenses, and after a few rounds of training they swapped for a new set of bar stock.
“Touch,” Chun said. “You win.”
They reset, and he went on the defense again. Annabeth’s reserves were deep, and where he would have successfully defeated a human opponent by simply waiting for them to tire, she kept up the pressure for minutes at a time.
Chun’s back hit the wall. He was cornered. Annabeth lunged, and he parried. She slashed, and he blocked. The hits came in like a tornado, and despite mistakes in her timing and spacing she put so much pressure on him that he could not capitalize on the errors.
She slashed, and he blocked. His guard slipped fractionally. She hit him again. And again. His guard slipped down and down. A dark light came on in her eyes.
She’s going to kill me right here.
He timed the next hit, then the instant after it hit, he pushed with everything he had, muscle and breath together. She pulled her sword short, and his burst of power sent his own weapon out in a broad arc that left him defenseless. Time seemed to slow.
After all this time. Training, fighting, surviving the impossible, I die to a child with a bar of unshaped steel. Pride, you are a cruel bastard.
The blunt point of her practice sword came to rest on his throat.
Chun blinked.
“Touch. You win.”
Why didn’t she finish me? I could see it in her eyes.
Annabeth stepped back and let him recover his breath and balance. “Why don’t you attack?” she frowned.
Chun propped his practice sword against the wall. “You could have killed me just then.”
She smiled. “I know. But I promised Jhon I would only do that if you threatened my life.”
“Why do you care what he thinks? It is not your way.”
She shook her head in a display of golden hair. “Most of the things you think about me are true, but not all. I want to see Heaven, and the messenger told me Jhon could show me the way.”
Chun paused to consider. “You do not wish to be good, but it is what you must do to get what you want.”
Annabeth stared into his eyes. “I want what I want. This is how I get it.”
“What happens if your faith falters?”
“I don’t see how that is possible. I saw the messenger with my own eyes. Heard his voice with my own ears. I am what I am, but greed understands investment.”
One of the servants entered the courtyard. “Sir, ma’am, your presence is requested. Please follow me.”