denying entrance to many of the outsiders. To gain
entrance to the city it was necessary to show pressing
business-other than that of one’s own survival, which
did not necessarily concern the Watch-or to bring in
some substantial material contribution to the city’s
ability to withstand a siege. Denis, on identifying
himself as an agent of the House of Courtenay, was
admitted with no fur
ther argument. And Mark, along with his escort, was
passed as a representative of Tasavalta, as his and his
soldiers’ blue-green clothing testified.
Mark thought that some of the Watch on duty at the
gate recognized Coinspinner at his side-it was not
mentioned, but he suspected that the fact of the
Sword’s presence was quickly communicated to the
Lord Mayor. Mark informed the officer who spoke to
him that he too could be reached at the House of
Courtenay, and alerted the guardians of the gate to
expect the survivors of Sir Andrew’s army. That
group, two or three hundred strong, was traveling a
few hours behind Mark and Denis; it would, they
agreed, make a welcome addition to the city’s
garrison, that Denis said was chronically
undermanned.
It was the first time Mark had ever entered a city as
large as this one-he had heard some say that there
were none larger-and he saw much to wonder at as
Denis conducted him and his handful of Tasavaltan
troopers through the broad avenues and streets. This
was also, of course, the first time that Mark had seen
the House of Courtenay, and he was duly impressed
by the wealth and luxury in which his old friends
Barbara and Ben were living. But he was given little
time today in which to be impressed by that. The
household, like the rest of the great city around it, was
in a state of turmoil and tension. Soon after entering
Mark got the impression that none of its members
knew as yet whether they were preparing for war and
siege, or for evacuation. Packing of certain valuables
as if for possible evacuation was being undertaken, by
a force of what Mark estimated as at least a dozen
servants and other workers, while simultaneously
another group barricaded all but a few of the doors
and windows as if in expectation that the House
must undergo a siege.
Almost immediately on entering the building’s
ground floor, coming into the clamorous confusion
of what must be a workshop, Denis immediately
became engaged in conversation with a man he
introduced to Mark as the steward of the house-
hold, named Tarim.
Denis was already aghast at some of the things
Tarim was telling him.
“Evacuation? Tashigang? Don’t tell me they’re
seriously considering such a thing.”
“We have heard something of the Mindsword’s
power,” said Tarim worriedly. He turned his aging,
troubled eyes toward Mark. “Perhaps you gentle-
men who travel out in the great world have heard
something of it too.”
Denis was impatient. “I think we’ve some idea
about it, yes. But we’re not helpless, there are other
weapons, other Swords. We’ve even brought one
with us . . . and if they evacuate this city, half a mil-
lion people or however many there are, where will
they all go?”
Tarim shrugged fatalistically. “Flee to the upper
hills, I suppose, or the Great Swamp. I didn’t say
that it made sense to evacuate.”
Someone else had just entered the ground floor
room. Turning, Mark saw the man who all his life
he had thought of as his father. Who was his father,
he told himself, in every sense that truly mattered.
And so Mark called him at first sight. For the time
being, the Emperor was forgotten.
Mark had been only twelve the last time he saw
Jord, then lying apparently dead in their village
street. But there was no mistaking Jord, for the
older man had changed very little. Except for being
dressed now in finer garments than Mark had ever
seen him wear before. And except for . . .
The really exceptional transformation was so
enormous, and at the same time appeared so right
and ordinary, that Mark at first glance came near
accepting it as natural, and not a change at all.
Then, after their first embrace, he wonderingly held
his father at arms’ length.
Jord now had two arms.
Mark’s father said to him, “What the Swords
took from me, they have given back. I’m told that
Woundhealer was used to heal me as I lay here
injured and unconscious. It did a better job even
than those who used it had hoped.”
“The Sword of Mercy has touched me too,” Mark
whispered. And then for a little time he could only
stand there marveling at his father’s new right arm.
Jord explained to Mark how the arm had begun as a
mere fleshy swelling, then a bud, and then in a mat-
ter of a few months had passed through the normal
stages of human growth, being first a limb of baby
size, then one to fit a child. It was as large and
strong as the left arm now, but the skin of the new
limb was still pink and almost unweathered even
on the hand, not scarred or worn by age like that on
Jord’s left fist, visible below the sleeve of his fine
new shirt.
Suddenly Mark said, “I’ve just come from seeing
Mother, and Marian. When they hear you have a
new arm… ”
The two of them, father and son, had many things
to talk about. Some things that were perhaps of
even greater importance than a new arm-and
Mark still had one problem to think about that he was
never going to mention to this man. But they were
allowed little time just now for talk. Ben and Barbara
were arriving from somewhere in the upper interior of
the house to give Mark a joyful welcome.
Barbara jumped at him, so that he had to catch and
swing her. She threw wiry arms around his neck and
kissed him powerfully, so that he held her, as he had
Jord, at arms’ length for a moment, wondering if in
her case too there had taken place some change so
great as to be invisible at first glance. But then he had
to drop her, for Ben, less demonstrative as a rule,
came to almost crush Mark in a great hug.
They were followed by a plump nursemaid,
introduced to Mark as Kuan-yin who was carrying
their small child Beth. The toddler was obviously
already a great friend of Jord’s, for she went to him at
once and asked him how his new arm was.
Kuan-yin, released from immediate duty, at once
went a little apart with Denis. Mark could see that the
two of them, standing face to face amid the confusion
of workers packing and barricading, had their own
private greetings to exchange.
“We’d like to get a welcoming party for you started
right away,” Ben was saying to Mark, “but we can’t.
It’ll have to wait at least until tomorrow. The Lord
Mayor has called a council of leading citizens, and
Barbara and I are invited. Substantial people now, you
know. Master and Lady Courtenay. And the Mayor
knows we have some kind of a hoard of weapons, to
help defend . . . what’s that at your side?”
Ben grabbed the sheath, and looked at the Sword’s
hilt. “Thank Ardneh, Coinspinner! We’ve
got to go to that meeting, and you’ve got to come too,
and bring this tool along, to see that they don’t decide
on some damned foolishness like surrendering. You’ll
be welcome, bringing word from outside as you do.
And also as a representative of Tasavalta. And
bringing another Sword . . . that’ll stiffen up their
spines. Townsaver is in town already.”
Mark grinned at him. “Doomgiver is on the way.”
“Thank all the gods!” Holding Mark by the arm, Ben
lowered his voice for a moment. “We can’t surrender,
and we certainly can’t evacuate. Imagine trying to
take a three-year-old on that . . . you and I know
what it would be like. But if the rest of the city goes,
we’ll have to try.”
The Lord Mayor’s palace, like every other part of
the city that Mark had seen so far, was a scene of
energetic, confused, and doubtfully productive activity.
Here as elsewhere the inhabitants appeared to be
striving to make ready for some allout effort, whose
nature they had not yet been able to decide upon.
Mark, Ben, and Barbara were admitted readily
enough at the main doorway of the Palace. This was
a building somewhat similar to the House of
Courtenay, though even larger and more sumptuous,
and with reception rooms and offices on the ground
floor instead of workshop space. Soon they were
conducted up a broad curving stair of marble, past
workmen descending with newly crated works of art.
On the way, Mark’s friends were trying to bring