Neq the Sword

  heavy winter coverings—the man was more like a bad-

  lands beast that a nomad. But nomad he was, and he

  had already assumed a stance of combat. His long arms

  and heavy chest suggested enormous power; he would be

  savage with those sticks!

  Mottled skin. ...

  "Var the Stick!" Neq cried, amazed.

  The other spoke, but it sounded more like a growl. By

  concentrating, Neq made out the gist. "You followed me

  for days. Now give cause why I should not drive you

  off."

  Neq unveiled his sword. "Cause enough here. But first

  you must answer my questions, for I have sought you

  long."

  "A changeling!" Var rasped, seeing Neq's arms. "Do

  you know the circle?"

  Neq was surprised. "You speak of the circle? You, slayer

  of children?"

  "Never!" Var roared, coming at him. There was some-

  thing wrong about his legs; though he wore boots, he did

  not walk like a man. A true beast in nomad outfit ... it

  was no longer a mystery why he had killed the young girl

  Soli. He had probably eaten her.

  Var struck at him and Neq parried, smiling grimly. He

  had no fear of hand-hewn weapons, and a clumsy charge

  was the simplest to terminate. But first he needed infor-

  mation.

  Var was more artful than his appearance suggested. As

  Neq dodged aside, so did he, so that they met squarely.

  One stick shot toward Neq's face while the other blocked

  his sword. Var had met many a blade before!

  So much the better. Neq's pincers also blocked defen-

  sively while his sword whistled. He struck first at the

  other's weapon, seeking to cut a stick in half. He pre-

  ferred to disarm this monster gradually, lingeringly, not

  hurting him much . . . until after the truth was known.

  "Before I down you," Var grunted, "tell me your

  name."

  "Neq the Sword." This courtesy of identification was

  due even for a beast.

  Var fought for a while, quite skillfully, pondering behind

  his overhanging brows. "I know of you," he grunted. But

  he showed no fear, only caution.

  It was increasingly apparent that this was no warrior

  of the decadent post-empire ilk. Var's technique was un-

  conventional, but he was years younger than Neq, and

  much larger, so that even with his considerable stoop he

  stood taller. He had quick brute power, and the crude-

  seeming sticks were more solid than they looked, block-

  ing sword-thrusts with considerable authority. The wood

  tended to catch the blade, holding it instead of bouncing

  it back, and that was dangerous indeed. The two sticks

  beat a tattoo on both his metal arms, their violent force

  bearing him back. Had his sword not been part of him,

  Neq could have been disarmed early, and certainly he

  was giving way before the onslaught.

  Yet there was a certain eloquence about Var's attack,

  ferocious as it was. His balance was excellent. Without

  pausing, the man kicked off his boots and exposed homy

  bare feet—and then his footing was not clumsy at all. He

  was astonishingly agile for his bulk, yet his motions were

  economical.

  A master sticker, in fact. Neq had encountered- only

  two empire stickers with power and finesse like this. One

  was Tyi—greater on the finesse, less on the power—and

  the other was Sol . . . whose whereabouts Var must know.

  But the sticks were not like the sword, and Neq's

  sword was not like others. His wrist was invulnerable.

  Though he was not young himself, he knew of no man

  who could match him in fair circle combat today, other

  than Tyi. Var might hold him off for some time, but Var

  had to tire, to make mistakes, to overreach himself. The

  real strength of a sticker lay in his endurance under stress

  and his continuing judgment. There was where Neq had

  him: experience.

  Neq fended off the blows and maneuvered for a clean

  opening himself. This was difficult, for Var danced about

  on his hooves and ducked his shaggy head sometimes

  almost to the ground—without ever exposing it.

  "You are skilled, man of metal hands," Var muttered.

  "As befits a chief under the Master."

  Neq eased his fencing, spying an opportunity to leam

  something. If Var were attempting to lull him by conver-

  sation, he would fail. "You are skilled too. I heard the

  Weaponless trained you himself."

  "The Master is dead," Var said, relaxing his attack.

  Neq let the pace slow, but remained vigilant. Var's

  companion might be near, ready to pounce treacherously

  during the double distraction of battle and dialogue. What

  kind of woman would mate with this kind of man, if not

  a beast-woman? "You could not have slain the Weapon-

  less."

  "Not in the circle," Var said grimly.

  Neq stiffened. In that moment the sticker could have

  scored, had he been alert. Then the sparring resumed.

  "Sol of All Weapons followed you. You could not have

  slain him either."

  "Not with the sticks."

  This time Neq stiffened deliberately, proffering a seem-

  ing opening. Still Var did not strike. He was either too

  clever or too stupid. "You admit you killed them treach-

  erously?"

  'The radiation."

  That blotched skin of his! Neq remembered now—there

  had been a story that the beast-boy could feel radiation,

  avoiding lethal concentrations himself while leading

  others into some badlands trap. So it was true, and Var

  had doomed both his friend and his enemy by luring them

  through an unmarked radiation pocket! Now he dared

  to return with his bitch, thinking his crime unknown or

  forgotten.

  So Neq's sources of information were gone. But there

  was one more thing to know. "Soli—the child of Heli-

  con—"

  Var actually smiled. "Soli exists no more."

  Neq could hardly speak. "The radiation?" he whispered

  with biting irony.

  But this question Var avoided, as though some lode of

  buried guilt had finally been tapped. "We have no quar-

  rel. I will show you Vara."

  Then the opening came, and Neq's sword struck true.

  TyI returned at dusk, with a companion. "Neq! Neq!

  Look what I found in the village!"

  Neq looked up from the caim he had been fashioning.

  As the two approached he saw that the stranger was a

  woman. "I'm so glad to find you!" she exclaimed.

  Neq stared. It was a crazy woman! She wore the typical

  skirt and blouse despite the cold, and her long dark hair

  was bound the crazy way. And she was lovely.

  "Miss Smith," he murmured, reminded achingly of his

  love though there was little actual, physical similarity

  between the two women. This one was neat to the point

  of precision, as Miss Smith had been; she was beautiful

  in that fragile manner; and she was incongruous in the

  wilderness. That was the connection. Intelligent, literate,

&nbs
p; innocent. His heart felt as though a dagger had nudged it.

  "This is one of the two we traced," TyI said. "She was

  reconnoitering in the village, the same as I, and when we

  met—"

  "She traveled with a nomad?" Neq asked, still bemused

  by the parallel to his own experience of six years before.

  "A crazy?"

  "I am Vara," she said. "I travel with my husband. He

  should be around here somewhere—"

  Neq still had not come out of his fog. "Var? The Stick?"

  "Yes! Did you meet him? From what TyI says, we have

  a common mission—"

  Then Neq came to total and ugly awareness. He touched

  the fresh burial mound with one foot. "I—met him."

  TyI looked at him and at the cairn, comprehending.

  He went for his sword, but stopped. He turned away.

  Vara went to the caim and carefully removed a section

  of the stone lining. She excavated the fresh earth and sand

  with her slender fingers while Neq watched. Finally she

  uncovered a foot, with its blunted, hooflike toes. She

  touched it, feeling its coldness.

  By this time it was dark, and night closed in completely

  as she contemplated that deformed, dead foot. Then she

  covered it gently, filled in the hole, and replaced the stones.

  "My two fathers are dead," she said wistfully. "Now

  my husband. What am I to do?"

  "We met. We fought."

  "I served Sol," TyI said from his section of the night,

  still facing away. There was an anguished quality to his

  voice that Neq had not heard before. "I served the

  Weaponless. Var the Stick was my friend. I would have

  barred you from the circle with him, had I been certain

  of what I suspected. When I saw Vara, I was certain. But

  you met Var too soon."

  "I did not know he was your friend," Neq said, hating

  this. "I knew him only as a slayer of men by treachery,

  and of a child at Helicon."

  "You misjudged him," TyI said in the same quiet tone

  Vara had used. "He was bold in combat but gentle in

  person. And he had an invaluable talent."

  "Var slew only of necessity," Vara said. "And not always

  then."

  Neq was feeling worse, though it had been an honest

  combat He had struck too hastily, as he had so often

  before. His sword outreached his intellect. He could have

  disengaged, waited for Tyi's return.'Now he had to defend

  his action. "What need had he to slay the child of Sol?"

  Vara turned to him in the dark. "I am the child of

  Sol."

  Neq's stomach heaved with the pang of unwarranted

  killing, knowing what was coming. "He killed Soli at Mt.

  Muse, when she was eight years old. All accounts agree

  on that."

  "All but one," she said. "The true one. He claimed to

  have killed me, so that the nomads would win, and my

  two fathers could be together again. But then I couldn't

  get back to tell Sol the truth, and the Weaponless was

  seeking Var for vengeance—"

  "Vengeance!" Abominable concept!

  "So we had to flee. We went to China, and I took his

  bracelet when I came of age. Soli exists no more."

  Now Neq recognized her face, though it was no longer

  visible in the night. The classic beauty of Sola! The crazy

  dress and his own dawning guilt had blinded him to her

  identity.

  "The boy Var traveled with, going north—" Neq mur-

  mured. "A girl with her hair hidden."

  "Yes. So no one would know I wasn't dead. I can't do

  that now."

  She certainly couldn't! The child of eight had become a

  woman of fifteen. "And Sol pursued you too, not knowing

  ... he must have met the Weaponless on the way!"

  "They learned in China. And gave their lives carrying

  radioactive stones into the enemy stronghold, so that we

  could escape. Var always felt that it was his fault they

  died, but it was mine. I knew they would do it."

  Var had blamed himself . . . and so had let Neq's

  accusation stand. Now Var's assumed guilt was Neq's.

  "It was a mistake," Tyi said after a long pause. "Var

  told everyone he had killed the mountain champion. Heli-

  con itself was fired and gutted to avenge thai murder—it

  does not matter by whom. Neq did not know. Only /

  knew Var would not have slain a child. And I know the

  kind of terms Sola makes. She was kind to Var, but her

  price was surely the life of her daughter."

  "Var did say something," Vara admitted. "He had

  sworn to kill the man who harmed me. And for a long

  time he was reticent, though he loved me. ..."

  Neq remembered Sola's comment about Var's sterility.

  Strange, driven woman!

  "Yet I knew it could have happened," Tyi continued.

  "Mt. Muse is high and steep, and there are rocks to drop.

  Had you attacked him with stones while he was climbing,

  he might have had to fight before he knew, and he was

  deadly in rough terrain. So he might have killed you, and

  I could not bar Neq from combat until I was sure. It was

  my mistake; I am to blame fpr your husband's death—"

  "No!" Neq and Vara cried together.

  There was silence again, as each person sifted his

  tangled motives. The conversation was unreal, and not

  because it emanated from darkness. Neq's emotions were

  partly in suspension. "Why do you not curse me? Why do

  you not weep? I killed—"

  "You killed because you did not understand," Vara

  said. "I have some share of guilt for that, for I agreed to

  play dead. Tonight I make you understand. Tomorrow I

  kill you. Then will I weep for you both."

  She meant it. She was like Miss Smith, who died Neqa.

  Changed of name, precious beyond all imagination, but

  loyal to her man. Neqa had tried to kill Yod when Yod

  made ready to cut off Neq's hands. Would Vara do less?

  Yod had killed Neqa by accident. Now Neq had killed

  Var. The guilt was the same. Vengeance would be the

  same.

  She would not have it, any more than he had. Neq

  bent his elbow, bringing his sword-arm to his own throat.

  It was past time for him to die.

  "I claim my price," Tyi said, startling Neq as his

  muscles tensed for the fatal slice.

  Of all times! Yet Neq had a debt of honor, and he

  would have to acquit it. "Name your price."

  "Give back what you have taken this day."

  Neq delayed answering, trying to discover Tyi's mean-

  ing. Obviously he could not restore Var to life.

  "What you have to do," Vara said evenly, "do before

  dawn. When daylight comes I will destroy you in the

  circle."

  "In the circle!" Now Neq could not fathom her meaning

  either. Women did not do battle. "What is your weapon?"

  "The stick."

  The morbid situation could not suppress Tyi's interest.

  "So Sol did train you in combat!"

  "My father. Yes. Every day we practiced, inside the

  mountain. He hoped to take me away fromtlelicon some

  day, but Sosa wouldn't let him. And I have practiced

  since.
"

  Now Tyi's voice was more concerned. "Mere practice

  can not make a woman into a man. My daughter is older

  than you, and she has a child of her own now—but this

  would never have come to pass if she had ever entered

  man's province. The circle is not for you."

  "Nevertheless." Sol's child, all right!

  "This man," Tyi continued persuasively, "this man, Neq

  the Sword, was second only to me in the empire, when

  the Weaponless departed. Now he has no hands, but he

  retains his weapon. He is less clever in technique, but

  more deadly than before because he cannot be disarmed.

  His sword is swifter than his mind. I think no man can

  stand against that sword today."

  "Nevertheless."

  "I can not permit this encounter," Tyi said.

  Her voice was cold. "Your permission is irrelevant."

  "Var was my friend. He taught me to use the gun. I

  hurt with his loss, as you do. Yet I say this: do not lift

  stick against Neq the Sword. We must not make this

  terrible mistake again."

  "Var was more than friend to me," she pointed out

  caustically.

  "Nevertheless."

  "You have no right," she said.

  Tyi did not answer, and the strange, tense conversation

  ended.

  Neq did not know whether he slept that night, or