Finally the Guardian raised his head.
«Blade, come here.» He might have been addressing a puppy who'd made a mess on the floor. Blade swallowed his resentment at the tone, assuming it was part of the ritual, and obeyed the command.
«Blade, stop right there.» Blade did so, about six feet from the Guardian.
«Is it the custom among the English to use the Seed of Wisdom?»
«By this, do you mean what the-your enemies-call the kerush?»
«That is their unlawful name for the sacred seed, yes. You are forgiven for using that name in this place-once.»
«I will have no need to call it by other than its lawful name now that I know that name.»
«You certainly have some wisdom. So, do you use the Seed of Wisdom in English magic?»
«No. But I did use it when I was among your enemies. It made it easier for them to learn about my magic. It also made it easier for me to learn how unlawful their wishes were for me. I do not know if your magic is like your enemies' magic, or if you and I will also need the Seed of Wisdom. And that is not seeking to gain knowledge I must not have. It is just the wisdom of knowing that I do not know everything.»
Blade hoped this effort at tact would pay off. He only knew as much about Uchendi telepathy as the Rutari had told him, which wasn't much. It certainly didn't include what form of the kerush the Uchendi used, and he didn't like the idea of taking unknown quantities of drugs even among a people who'd treated him decently.
In fact, he didn't even know if he would be telepathic without either Cheeky or the kerush. But he wasn't going to hint at that possibility, not with someone as shrewd as the Guardian.
There was a long silence. It seemed to Blade that this trip to Dimension X was full of long silences, while he or somebody else decided what to do next. He'd read science fiction stories in which telepathy solved all human problems. All his experience with telepathy so far suggested that it caused more problems than it solved. The only thing he'd really gained from telepathy was Cheeky-and then he'd lost the feather-monkey to a case of the hots!
Blade's eyes roamed around the circle of witnesses. River Over Stones was looking nakedly triumphant. Winter Owl's face was unreadable, but his eyes moved back and forth, from the Guardian to Blade. Eye of Crystal was frowning, but this might be her mother's fault. Kyarta looked ready to shout advice to her husband.
Then the Guardian smiled. Blade didn't need to hear River Over Stones's snarled obscenity to know that was a good sign. «You do indeed show much wisdom. Also a kind of courage not common in a warrior: the courage to admit a weakness.»
«If you wish to kill me, Guardian, you can do so whether you know my weaknesses or not. If you do not wish to kill me, then knowing my weaknesses will do me no harm. Indeed, it may keep you from killing me by chance. I do not think you would be happy to do that.»
«I would not. But let us leave the contest of praise until after I have tested you. For now, I will say that we boil the Seed of Wisdom with water and the juices of fruit. Then we drink it. Does this seem to make it dangerous for you?»
«It does not.»
«Good. Then it is my advice that you drink it. If you have survived the kerush-magor of our enemies, our Sweet Wisdom can do you no harm. Also, it will make your testing easier. «
«Do you wish to make my testing so much easier, that I might succeed where I ought to have failed? Is that wise for you and the Uchendi?»
«As you say, Blade of the English, if I want to kill you I can do so easily. And I assure you that if you fail the testing I will very probably wish to kill you. By making the testing easy I mean only that it will take less strength from either of us. I should guard my strength for other tasks, you also if you do succeed.»
That made sense, and Blade said so, then added, «Bring me the Sweet Wisdom, and I shall drink it.»
The Guardian clapped his hands, and Eye of Crystal herself ran out, carrying a gourd closed with a gilded-leather stopper on a loop of thin copper wire.
The Sweet Wisdom fizzed like a carbonated beverage; the Uchendi must have mixed it with gasified water from a natural spring. The fruit juice was purple and sweet without being overpowering, like a cross between an apple and a peach. Blade knew that the slight bitterness of the kerush would be lost under the sweetness, so he didn't waste time trying to guess the dosage. He simply drank the gourd empty, then set it down.
«You should sit down, Blade,» said the Guardian, pointing at the ground.
Blade started to shake his head, then found his knees quivering slightly. He quickly obeyed the Guardian so none of the watchers would suspect him of being afraid.
Then suddenly the world twisted around him, so much like it did during a Transition that he half expected to see the booth surrounding him. Instead the circle of Uchendi spectators seemed to widen enormously, until they were only a dark fringe of barely human figures around a vast empty expanse of bare earth.
At the same time Blade felt as if his head were sitting on a sheet of glass, entirely separate from his body but still alive. He could see his body down there below the glass, but he couldn't make it do anything or feel any sensation from it. He was a disembodied brain attached to just enough sense organs to remind him that there was something outside his brain.
So he wasn't surprised to hear the Guardian's voice as if it was spoken both in his mind and in his ears.
(«Welcome to the Sphere of Wisdom, Blade.»)
(«It is for you to say if I am welcome or not, He Who Guards the Voice. «)
(«You are more welcome because you have come here swiftly. And yes, that is a good sign for your judgment, and yes again, I can see even the beginning of a thought and from that beginning read the whole.»)
(«I can see why you were sure you could kill me easily.»)
(«Very surely, Blade. Without much effort, I could stop your heart. With a little more effort, I could make you tear your flesh from your bones with your own hands. I have not punished anyone that way in my whole life, but He Who Guards the Voice before me did it three times and died of old age… And tell me, Blade, who is Lord-Lay-tun-and why should he wish to know me?»)
(«Lord Leighton was my teacher. He is a great teacher among the English, and would give much to learn the Wisdom and the Voice of the Uchendi.»)
(«From your mind I understand that he is an old man. Did he begin to learn the Voice and the Wisdom when he was six years old, as I did?»)
(«He did not.»)
(«Do you English know so little of the Voice and the Wisdom that you do not teach it to your children?»)
(«There are many among the English who use these things for evil purposes. So it is unlawful for all but warriors such as myself to learn.»)
(«That seems to me like burning down the village to kill the rats in one hut. Of course the Voice and the Wisdom are ill used, if they are not properly taught. Few who are not taught before they are men and women will ever learn properly!»)
The mental equivalent of a shrug and then: («This Laytun seems to be a very great teacher indeed, so I would like to meet him, but your mind also tells me that Lay-tun is far away. A man that old might not survive such a long journey. He cannot come here, and I cannot leave my people in their time of need?… Yes, I will tell you what that need is, when you have passed your testing.»)