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

in on you, too, or meet you somewhere
while you're traveling. You'll get messages from the other wizards every so
often—the Council of Immortals, they call themselves, though that's just
bragging."
    "Messages? What
sort of messages?"
    "Oh, mostly
just checking up to make sure you're paying attention. They . . ." He
suddenly stopped and threw Breaker a sideways glance. "Can you read,
lad?"
    "A little. My
sister learned it to help with her music, and she taught me the letters."
    "Well, you'll
need to read and write sometimes. Not much. Let's see, what else?" He
looked up at the luminous green of the willow leaves, and Breaker noticed light
and shadow flitting across the greenery in ways that had nothing to do with sun
or wind, but only with the movement of the ler. The Swordsman's presence seemed to have disturbed them some what.
    "You need to
keep a sword handy, of course," the Swordsman said. "And you need to
carry certain talismans when you travel, and have them nearby when you do your
practice."
    That explained why
the man had his sword with him here in Elder Priestess's home, where no one was
going to attack him. "What else?"
    The Swordsman pursed
his lips thoughtfully, then blew out a puff of air. "Nothing else. That's
all of it, as long as the Wizard Lord behaves himself."
    Breaker hesitated,
then said, "And if he doesn't, you kill him."
    "In
theory, yes. The Chosen would gather, discuss whether the misbehavior is bad
enough to call for removal, and if it is we would devise a plan, then go and
deal with him. But it hasn't happened for a century, remember. My father used
to say they should have disposed of the Lord of the Golden Hand, but apparently
the Chosen at the time didn't think so. My father thought he made the winters
much too cold, but that wasn't really a crime, was it?"
    "So you've
never killed a wizard?"
    "No."
    "Have you ever
killed anyone? I mean, if you're the world's greatest swordsman, then you must fight
other swordsmen sometimes ..."
    The Swordsman
snorted. "Who'd be stupid enough to fight me to the death? Everyone knows that I'm the best in the world, that the ler of steel and flesh make sure I can't be beaten. Oh, sometimes people
want to duel me just for fun, I've fought any number of duels, but it's always
just until I disarm them, or at most to first blood. No, I've never killed
anyone, and I fervently hope to keep it that way. If you're thinking taking my
role means you can go out and slaughter anyone who annoys you, then you're
wrong—being one of the Chosen doesn't exempt you from the law, and we can be
hanged or otherwise punished just as effectively as anyone else. And if you are thinking along those
lines, then we've all misjudged you."
    "No! No, I
don't want to kill anyone. I just wanted to be sure I wouldn't need to."
    "Not unless a
Wizard Lord goes bad."
    "And that
hasn't happened for a hundred years."
    "That's right."
For a moment he looked as if he intended to say more, and Breaker waited, but
nothing more came.
    After
a brief silence, Breaker asked, "What's it like? How do people treat you? Do women ... Are you married?"
    "I was married
once," the Swordsman said. He frowned. "She died in childbed. So did
the babe."
    "I'm
sorry."
    The Swordsman
shrugged. "It was a long time ago." "But ... well, what is it like, being one of the Chosen?"
    The Swordsman had
been looking off down the valley; now he turned his attention to Breaker and
met the youth's gaze.
    "I
ought to tell you it's wonderful," he said. "I want you to take the
job, so I can retire and rest and just forget about practicing and listening to
all the nasty gossip and the rest of it, so I ought to tell you whatever will
make it sound good to you. I should say that everyone loves you, and women
throw themselves at your feet, and all that—but I won't, because not only do I
have too much respect for you, for myself, and for the truth, but if I did lie to you like that, and you took the job and found I'd lied, you
might hunt me