The Destiny of the Sword by Dave Duncan

just to lead a band of ragtag swordsmen around the countryside looking for sport, killing and wenching.”
    She nodded and sighed. Honakura carefully arranged a shy smile on his face.
    He said, “I think he would be wasted doing that. The Goddess must have more important tasks for a man like Nnanji. He needs guidance!”
    “You mean...”
    He shook his head. “I don’t mink I need say more.”
    Thana blushed. She jumped up and strode away, the yellow tail of her breechclout swinging. She went by Shonsu without a glance, then by the three,man sutra session, which wailed into silence as the chanters were distracted. Then she vanished through the fo’c’sle door.
    Honakura chuckled. The chanters went back to their droning. Shonsu continued his whittling—apparently he had not even noticed Thana go by him, although Jja had.
    Honakura waited hopefully, but there was no sign of a wind rising, no diminution of the stabbing pain in his ribs. He sighed and told himself to be patient. However, perhaps he had earned one tiny reward—it would be satisfying to know just what that big swordsman was doing, littering Sailor Tomiyano’s tidy deck with shavings.
    The old man heaved stiffly off the steps, walked over to the hatch cover, and levered himself up beside Shonsu. He was accustomed to being small, but the big man made him feel like a tiny child. The swordsman turned his head in silence and regarded nun. For just a moment Honakura could imagine that he was back on the temple steps that summer morning when he had so briefly met the original Shonsu—that steady glare, those vindictive black eyes with their promise of carnage. Startled, he reminded himself that this was a man from a dream world, not truly Shonsu, and it was not his fault that his gaze was as deadly as his sword.
    “And how is Apprentice Thana?” the swordsman demanded in his distant,thunder rumble.
    Another shock! Honakura could have sworn that Shonsu had not even seen Thana depart, let alone noticed the two of them
     
    talking together. “She is well,” he said, carefully not showing reaction. Yet he knew that everything about Shonsu was of the seventh rank—his reflexes, his eyesight. Could his hearing be so acute that he had overheard the conversation? Impossible, surely?
    The swordsman continued his inspection of Honakura for a moment and then turned his attention back to the peg he was shaping. After a minute or so he remarked, “Apprentice Thana has been surprising me.”
    “How so, my lord?” inquired Honakura, as expected.
    “She has developed a sudden and passionate interest in sutras,” Shonsu growled. “I assume that she plans to seek promotion when Nnanji does.”
    “Commendable! She is qualified, is she not?”
    “In fencing, certainly,” the swordsman said. “And she has been surprising me with her speed at picking up sutras. Not quite a Nnanji, perhaps, but remarkable.”
    Honakura waited, knowing there must be more.
    There was. “Of course Nnanji is always available to coach her—he can gaze at her without interruption.” Shonsu paused again. “Yet she has been pestering me, also, and even her mother. She sets it up with either Katanji or Matarro, keeping Nnanji out.”
    Honakura remembered now that the swordsmen had a limit of three to a sutra session, another foolish custom.
    “Perhaps she is equally glad of a chance to gaze at your noble self, my lord.”
    The black eyes flashed dangerously at him. “No, she has some other reason. Apprentice Thana always has her impulses totally under control. She is a cold,blooded little golddigger!”
    Honakura certainly was not about to say so, but he thought Lord Shonsu rather resented Thana’s cold,bloodedness. With his rank and physical presence he could have any woman for a nod, with no questions asked. Not that he did, but he must be aware mat he could. It was precisely because young Thana would have questions to ask—and would require the answers first—that he smarted over her