Read Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 for Free Online

not to stare,
but he could not help noticing that the Swordsman, apparently fresh from his
bed, the laces of his shirt and trousers awry, nonetheless had his sword on his
belt. Breaker wondered if the man slept with it.
    "Depends on
what?"
    "On exactly
what's involved. I think I want to do it, but. . . well, you've been
the Swordsman a long time. Do you ever regret it?"
    The Swordsman
snorted as he wandered past Breaker toward the pantry. "Lad, I don't know
that there's much of anything worthwhile a man can do that he'll never regret. You'll
always wonder how it might have been if you'd done otherwise. All in all,
though, I've been glad I chose to be what I am."
    Breaker followed as
far as the kitchen doorway. "The hour's practice?"
    "It's
no great hardship. One gets accustomed to it quickly enough." The
Swordsman opened the pantry door, then hesitated. "I am an invited guest
in this home," he announced to no one in particular, "and a stranger
to this to wn.
If I am violating any customs or edicts, I am unaware of it." He waited.
    "I
think Elder would have told the ler you're her guest," Breaker said.
    "It never hurts
to speak up," the Swordsman said, leaning into the pantry to look around.
"What's custom in one village is a crime in the next. You've got a few
things here— this thing about never using any of a person's true
name is unusual, for example."
    "Is it?"
    "Well, I won't
say this is the only place that does it, but yes, it's unusual. There are
villages where it's an insult to not use part of a true name."
    "I've never
been in another village," Breaker said.
    "No?" The
Swordsman pulled his head out of the pantry and glanced at the youth. "No
surprise, really. Well, if you take the role, that'll change. You'll be
expected to travel to keep up on the news, so you'll know if the Wizard Lord is
misbehaving."
    "All the
time?"
    "No, no—just
occasionally. Where is the priestess,
anyway? I don't feel right opening her jars and boxes when she's not
here." He thrust his head back into the pantry.
    "She's
out in the fields talking to the ler, hearing what they have to say."
    "Keeping up
with the gossip, is she?" Breaker heard the rattle of an earthenware lid.
    "Asking about
the weather and the crops, I think."
    "Ah, that would
make sense. I'm sure she knows the ler of her land
better than anyone else, and knows what they want. What's in ... oh, raisins!
Excellent." Pottery rattled, and the Swordsman emerged from the pantry a
moment later with both hands dripping raisins and his mouth too full to speak.
He crossed the kitchen, gesturing for Breaker to accompany him out to the yard.
    Breaker
followed, and the two seated themselves on a wooden bench beneath a graceful
willow; the shade was hardly necessary on so cool a day, but it was pleasant
enough. Breaker could see flickering shadows among the leaves, too faint to be
birds, and knew some of the more visible ler were watching them.
He waited politely while the Swordsman chewed and swallowed.
    "Like
some?" the older man said, holding out a still-full hand.
    "No,
thank you," Breaker said. He wondered slightly at the audacity of the man,
grabbing great wallowing handfuls of Elder's goods that way—but then, not only
was he an invited guest, he was the Swordsman, one of the Chosen. Presumably his
position allowed him certain liberties and privileges.
    "They're
good."
    "No."
Breaker didn't have any special privileges—at least, not yet.
    The Swordsman
shrugged, and said, "Tell me what else you need to know," before
stuffing more raisins in his mouth.
    "What exactly
is involved? I mean, what do I need to do? What will my life be like?"
    "Well, we told
you about the daily exercises," the Swordsman said thoughtfully, licking
raisin residue from his fingers. "And every so often you'll travel to
either the home of one of the other Chosen, or some predetermined meeting
place, to discuss whatever rumors the two of you might have heard about the
Wizard Lord. Sometimes someone will drop