The Seventh Book of Lost Swords : Wayfinder's Story Fred Saberhagen (phonics books txt) 📖

can raise sufficient treasure to make such a purchase—indeed such a powerful Prince ought to be able to do so.”

      A brief debate on this point followed, between Hyrcanus and his Director of Security. Finally the latter brought the discussion back to considerations of safety.

      Valdemar, listening attentively, gathered that neither the Chairman nor the Director believed Mark had been able to retain any appreciable amount of booty from the fabulous, infamous Great Raid. Both officials seemed to be saying that comparatively little Blue Temple wealth had actually been lost on that occasion.

      But neither of the Blue Temple leaders seemed able to believe that Mark had not spent his years in power in Tasavalta amassing more wealth for himself.

      Eventually they came back to the business at hand—getting the best possible quick advantage from Wayfinder.

      “The more I think about it, Director, the more it seems to me that you are right. To assure that we obtain an unequivocal, useful answer, we must be clear in our own minds about the nature of the specific treasure we are seeking.” Hyrcanus toyed meditatively with the Sword.

      The Director said: “I should think, Your Opulence, that the most likely site for a truly unsurpassable treasure might well be in one of the Blue Temple’s own vaults.”

      “What do you say?”

      “I wonder, sir, if we will know whether this Sword is pointing at our own gold. Do you, personally, know the locations, and certified values, of each and every one of our own hoards? Their bearings from this spot?”

      Hyrcanus hesitated fractionally before insisting: “Of course I do! Don’t you?”

      “Of course—sir.”

      Valdemar, listening, marveled at the indications suggesting that neither of these men was really sure of the matter.

      The young man could see the fires of cupidity beginning to burn out of control in the eyes of the new masters of the Sword of Wisdom, as they huddled close over their prize. It looked as if the Director was beginning to be won over from his concerns of safety by his master’s all-powerful greed. They were both staring at Wayfinder obsessively now. Perhaps, Valdemar thought, they were coming to terms with the condition all users of this weapon had to face—that the so-called Sword of Wisdom would never tell anyone Why, or What, or How, or When—or Whether—regarding any thing—but only, with seeming infallibility, exactly Where.

      Hyrcanus murmured: “You are right. If our own treasure be not the greatest—then whose?”

      Hyrcanus’s chief aide said to him: “Possibly some Old World trove that for all our searching we have never been able to discover?”

      “Possibly.” The Chairman sank back into his chair. “Or possibly it is some property of the Emperor’s, to which access is restricted by some tremendous enchantment?”

      The Director, who had risen when his leader did, was not really listening. Instead he now waved his arms in the excitement of an inspiration of his own. “Wait! I have it! The Sword’s answer to your original question was hard to interpret, ambiguous, for a very good reason—because it was self-referential!”

      “Aha!”

      “Yes, Your Opulence, the Swords themselves are the world’s greatest treasure. And this Sword in particular must be valued above all the others—Wayfinder itself may be—no, must be—the greatest treasure in the world! And why? Because it is the key to all the rest!”

      “Ahh.” Hyrcanus, his eyes suddenly gone wide, let out a breath of satisfaction.

      He had no need to ponder the Director’s claim for very long before giving it his approval. “This very weapon before us, my good Director. Yes, what could be more valuable? I will see to it that you receive a bonus of shares. Perhaps even—a seat on the Board.”

      Valdemar was thinking that it made sense. Very possibly they were right—from their point of view the Sword of Wisdom had a transcendent value, because it was capable of leading them to all the other Swords, or to any other treasure that they cared to specify.

      “Having made that identification,” the Director remarked, “are we any further in deciding how best to use our greatest treasure?”

      “I think,” said the Chairman, “that we must be somewhat more specific, and somewhat more modest, in our next inquiry.”

      “Indeed. Yes.”

      “Very well then.” He addressed Wayfinder again. “Sword, I adjure you to show us … to show me … the way to the Emperor’s most magnificent treasure.” Hyrcanus hesitated, then gave a little nod of satisfaction and plunged on. “I mean, to that thing, or collection of things, that I would consider most magnificent were I to see them all.”

      Valdemar, and Yambu standing beside him, watched and listened, the young man at least hardly daring to breathe. But he was somewhat puzzled. The Emperor? The name evoked only the vague image of a hapless clown, of a legendary figure out of childhood fables, who, even if he really lived, would be far less real and less important than any of the now-vanished gods.

      Wayfinder twitched visibly in the Chairman’s hands, but that was all. Evidently it was still giving only an ambiguous indication at best.

      Hyrcanus evidently found this behavior unacceptable. “Surely you can respond more definitely, Sword. If I said I wanted to find the Emperor, how would you answer me?”

      This question was so obviously hypothetical that Hyrcanus scarcely paused before recasting it, with firm Blue Temple legalism.

      “Sword, I bid you guide me to meet the Emperor.”

      But again the Sword only demonstrated uncertainty.

      The Chairman set his treasure gently down upon the table, and drummed his fingers next to it. “Well, Director, how are we to interpret this? That we are only to wait here, to meet the Emperor? That does not seem to make much sense—unless he is coming to call upon us.” He added drily: “An unprecedented event, surely.”

      “I agree, Your Opulence.”

      In the following silence, Yambu’s voice sounded quite unexpectedly, so that everyone turned to look at her. “Perhaps the Emperor is on his way here, to meet you.” Her face wore what Valdemar thought an odd expression, even considering her situation.

      Her statement was received with mixed reactions by the men in power. These were knowledgeable, worldly leaders.