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poul-tice and spread it between his shoulder blades. Anton in-structed the
young cleric to lie down on his bedroll, and he massaged the tarlike substance
into Tarl's back and shoulder blades with his huge hands. The medication from
the poultice quickly spread a penetrating, rejuve-nating warmth through his
aching muscles.
"You've made the mistake of all young men," Brother Sontag said, sitting down
beside Tarl and Anton.
Sontag was the eldest of the clerics in the group and, as such, its leader. He
often had a word of advice for
Tarl or even some of the other brothers. "You let a single success pos-sess
you. For a day, the hammer was your master. When you go back and practice
again, you will be the master."
"You said the same thing about the ball and chain, Brother Sontag. Do all
weapons punish us before we gain mastery over them?"
"Yes, Tarl, they do and because you understand that, I believe you are ready
for the Test of the
Sword."
Anton's face paled noticeably. "Tarl's just a pup barely twenty, if I can
count. What's the rush, Brother
Sontag?"
Sontag waved a hand toward Anton to silence him. "How many weapons have you
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mastered, Tarl?"
Brother
Sontag stared directly into the youth's eyes as he asked the question.
Tarl thought for a moment. He knew of the Test of the Sword that it was the
final challenge he must face be-fore becoming a full-fledged cleric in the
Order of Tyr but the nature of the test was a secret.
For all he knew, Sontag's question could even be part of the test. Tarl sat
up, squared his shoulders, and returned the elderly cler-ic's piercing gaze.
"I can better my use of any weapon, Brother Sontag, but you yourself have told
me I have mastered the ball and chain and that I will master the hammer. I
believe, then, by my feelings, that I can also say I have mastered the
shield."
"And the sword, Tarl? Have you mastered the sword?" Sontag prompted.
Tarl laughed nervously. "Of course not. The clerics of Tyr don't carry swords.
There's no one here who can teach "
"Wrong, Tarl. You knew that was wrong before you even spoke the words. Didn't
you wield a sword before you took your vows?"
"Sure, I used a sword," Tarl answered self-consciously, aware that Brothers
Donal, Adrian, Seriff, and the rest had gathered round to listen.
"And did you master it?" Sontag asked, his wizened eyes glittering.
"I I guess I was pretty good. Of course, I didn't have the kind of intensive
training I've received from all of you with the other weapons." Tarl was no
longer looking at Brother Sontag. He felt that somehow everything he said was
wrong. During the months since he'd taken his vows, he had asked more than
once why clerics of Tyr couldn't use swords. Each time the response had been
si-lence or a gruff "You'll know soon enough." Swords were wonderful weapons,
certainly easier to wield than any of the weapons favored by the clerics of
Tyr. Tarl was deeply committed to Tyr and the order, but he had al-ways
assumed that the clerics' refusal to use swords was some quirk of fanaticism
of the type that seems to infil-trate almost any religious order.
"We all wielded swords before we joined the order, Tarl. There are men among
us who could teach you pro-ficiency with a sword, if you wanted to learn."
"I do want to learn, Brother Sontag. Swords are fine weapons. It's a shame the
warriors of Tyr don't learn to use them." Tarl's heart pounded with both
enthusiasm and trepidation as he launched into the argument he had rehearsed
mentally a dozen times. "A man with a sword can easily disarm a man with a
ball and chain, num-chucks, or a throwing hammer, just by the proper timing of
his thrust. And a kill with a sword is clean. There's no need for
bludgeoning "
Brother Sontag waved his hand at Tarl as he had at An-ton a few moments
earlier, then stood and walked to-ward the lead wagon. The clerics that were
gathered round parted to let him pass. None spoke or moved to his aid, even as
he returned with a large leather bag that was obviously very heavy. "Can I
help you with that?" asked Tarl, dropping the poultice as he stood and held
out a hand toward Sontag. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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