“I believe I’ll walk to the healing center and visit my friend Corozen,” he said, pulling his rain cloak a little closer. “I miss his company, and perhaps it will help to have a chat with him. I do want very much to see your quarters and the parts of the State House that aren’t on the normal tour. Perhaps this evening would be better; then you can show it to Nikin and Jaros as well.”
“Of course,” Salomen said.
They made their farewells and watched him walk toward the main gate as his Guard unobtrusively joined him.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned Jaros,” said Tal.
“No. No more secrets. Not about my family. Not even if the truth is something we would rather not hear.”
Tal put her arm around Salomen’s waist and turned them toward the side entrance. “Come on, tyrina. I hear a soft chair and a good book calling my name. I still haven’t finished the one you gave me.”
“I swear I have never seen anyone read as slowly as you.”
“I don’t read slowly. I just don’t read often.”
They shook the drops off after entering the quiet, warm corridor. “I think I prefer the weather in Redmoon,” Salomen said as they walked toward the lift. “It was so nice to be dry.”
“Didn’t you say you loved the rain?”
“I do. In moderation.”
They were passing the training room when Tal heard something unexpected: Vellmar’s voice, loudly ordering someone to get their elbow up. Curious, she opened the door and looked in to find Vellmar attacking Senshalon, who was in full protective gear. Vellmar stopped short when Tal appeared, only to have her wrist nearly snapped by Senshalon’s blow as he disarmed her.
“Shek!” Vellmar held her wrist against her body, grimacing.
“Fahla, I’m sorry!” Senshalon sheathed his knife and reached for her, but she twisted away.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” She looked up at Tal. “Lancer Tal, you surprised me.” Awkwardly, she brought her fists together and saluted.
Senshalon turned around, seeing Tal for the first time, and saluted as well. “Lancer. We were just doing a little sparring.”
“I can see that.” Tal trotted down the steps and reached for Vellmar’s wrist, raising her eyebrows when the Guard hesitated before letting her take it. “I do apologize,” she said, gently checking the joint. “Had I realized, I wouldn’t have just barged in.”
“Maybe we need a sign for the door when someone’s training. That’s what we had at Koneza.”
“Senshalon, did you forget something?” Tal asked.
He looked down at his feet. “We do have a sign. A light over the door. I forgot to turn it on.”
Vellmar shot him a look of utter disgust. “Thanks for the helpful tip.”
“It’s still in one piece.” Tal released her grip. “He has a punch like a dokker’s kick, doesn’t he?”
“You’ve experienced it, eh?” Vellmar rubbed her wrist, clearly feeling better.
“Oh yes, more than once. Senshalon is our best at hand-to-hand. So he’s talked you into teaching him knife fighting?”
Senshalon raised his head and grinned. “I did. She’s already taught me two new moves I’ve never seen before.”
“Don’t you people ever take time off?” Salomen asked from the edge of the observation deck. “I should think after these last few days you two would be…oh, I don’t know…perhaps lounging around your quarters, enjoying a well-earned day of leave?”
“This is time off,” Vellmar said.
Tal laughed at both of them. “Salomen isn’t used to the warrior concept of leisure time. She’s a producer. She’d never dream of going back into the fields as a means of relaxing on her day off.”
“Not in this lifetime,” Salomen said.
“Actually, now that I think of it, I haven’t had a good sparring session myself in too long. How are you at sword fighting, Vellmar?”
“Not bad,” Vellmar said too casually.
“I’m going to take that as code for ‘I could enter a competition and win.’ Would that be about right?”
She smiled. “About, yes.”
“Good.” Tal enjoyed the familiar thrill of excitement. “Because I need to get a few things out of my system. Perhaps later this afternoon?”
“It would be my pleasure, Lancer.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it. Senshalon, remember that we just got her. I really don’t want her incapacitated her first nineday.”
“A little credit, please,” Vellmar said. “Now I’m going to have to take him apart just to prove myself.”
“You can try,” said Senshalon.
Tal and Salomen left them circling each other on the mats, and this time Tal made sure to activate the training light before shutting the door.
“You warriors really are a breed apart,” Salomen said as they made their way to the lift. “One tick you’re talking about relaxing on a soft chair with a good book, and the next you’re making an appointment to pick up a sword.”
“It’s been half a moon since I last sparred. My normal partner is in the healing center, and tomorrow is going to be tense. I need to blow some of the spinner’s webs out of my mind.”
Salomen shot her a sharp look, then wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come on, my warrior tyree. I’d like a chance to blow some things out of your mind.”
CHAPTER 52:
Sparring
As it turned out, Tal wasn’t allowed to relax. Blacksun had been electrified by the news of Parser’s and Shantu’s sudden fall from grace, the new Bondlancer, and tomorrow’s emergency Council session. Not counting the Voloth invasion, the capital hadn’t seen this kind of excitement in fifty cycles, and Tal’s vidcom never seemed to go dark. Given the political demands of her situation, she took every call and made the best of every opportunity to lay the groundwork she needed. But each time she had to explain she became a little more angry, until finally she called Aldirk and told him that unless there was a significant natural disaster somewhere, she did not want to be disturbed for the next two hanticks. Twenty ticks later, she left Salomen reading under the windows and stalked downstairs in a frame of mind that did not bode well for Vellmar.
The Lead Guard was waiting for her in the training room, a well-worn sword grip in her hand. “Lancer,” she said, saluting.
“I should probably warn you that I’m looking at this session as a means of sublimation,” Tal said.
“I can handle it.”
“Good.” Tal held out her hand. “May I?”
Vellmar extended her sword before handing it over.
“Double-edged; I’m not surprised.” Tal cast an appreciative eye along the shining blade, which was longer and heavier than her own, though very well balanced. The grip was longer as well, and too wide for her hand. But Vellmar had the reach and strength for a weapon like this.
“My birthmother taught me the classical style,” Vellmar said. “I got my height from her. My bondmother is shorter; she prefers the modern sintalon style and a single-edged blade.”
Tal nodded as she admired the engraving on the crossguard, a subtle depiction of a mountain range with the sun rising over one end and both moons setting over the other. “All of my early instructors thought I should use a single-edged blade, too. But I never got used to it.”
“I know.”
Tal looked up. “How do you know that?”
“Yulsintoh devoted an entire chapter to your sword in his book. He said you wouldn’t allow yourself to be limited to one style because you thought there were advantages and disadvantages to both. You wanted a blade that did everything, and that meant two edges. He thought your early instructors were blinded by tradition and expectations, so he took special pleasure in creating a sword that defied them.”
&nbs
p; “I can see I’ll have to buy that book. I had no idea he remembered everything a young warrior told him all those cycles ago.”
“I don’t think Yulsintoh has ever forgotten a detail about any sword he designed. He said the biggest challenge in making yours was finding the proper balance—making it heavy enough for the power you wanted but light enough for your speed and style.”
“And height.”
“I wasn’t going to say it.”
“Everyone else does.” Tal held out the sword. “You have excellent taste. It’s very well made.”
“Not as well made as yours. But someday I’ll get there.”
“I have no doubt. Have you already warmed up?”
Vellmar nodded. “I’m loose and ready to go.”
“Then show me what you have.”
They started slow in deference to Tal’s half-moon hiatus. She focused fiercely, cursing herself for every move that wasn’t perfect, but Vellmar matched her rhythm and parried each attack with a control that made Tal’s moves seem better than they were. Gradually, Tal relaxed into her own body, letting her muscle memory take over from her brain, and as things smoothed out, they picked up the pace.
“‘Not bad,’ she says.” Tal exhaled as their blades clashed and held at chest level. “I knew that was a pile of dokshin.”
Vellmar looked over their crossed blades with a full, natural smile, the first Tal had ever seen on her. “My bondmother taught me not to advertise. It’s better for an enemy to learn about my skills the hard way.”
Tal pushed her back and tried a low, sweeping cut, finding it effortlessly blocked despite Vellmar’s height. “I’m not your enemy.”
“You are right now.” Vellmar whipped her sword around in a blur, and Tal deflected it by pure instinct, feeling rather than seeing where it would end up.
In that moment, she realized that Vellmar was an opponent she could fight, truly fight, without worrying about the delicate dance of balance she always played with Micah. It was precisely what she needed, and she gleefully threw her normal caution to the wind.
The clanging of their swords came faster and faster, and Tal threw in a kick just to see what Vellmar would do with an unplanned blending of fighting styles. Her Lead Guard was surprised by it, but she avoided the worst of the impact by twisting away and still had her sword over her head in time to catch Tal’s downward cut. Tal grinned at her, and from that moment their sparring match became an outright battle. Vellmar gave as good as she got, all respect for her Lancer forgotten in the heat of the fight. She landed a glancing blow with her fist and followed it up with another that snapped Tal’s head back. Tal ducked under a third and struck out with the hilt of her sword, feeling the shock travel up her arm as it found its mark. Vellmar’s mouth opened as the blow landed, but she made no sound even though it had clearly hurt. Her eyes narrowed and she came back low, pushing Tal’s abilities in a rapid series of feints and thrusts she had never seen before. Tal parried all but one, a sudden change of direction that caught her by surprise and slipped past her desperate block. The sharp, thin pain shocked her, and they both stopped, staring at the blood trickling down Tal’s arm.
This was not a blood match; they were not equipped for it and they had not agreed to it. Vellmar had crossed a line. As Tal looked from the blood to her Lead Guard, her shock morphed into pure anger. Without warning she fell on Vellmar, channeling every bit of the rage she had been suppressing and unleashing her aggression in a furious blur of attacks. Micah, Parser, Shantu…their faces and others drifted through her mind as she fought, holding nothing back. A lesser opponent would have shattered under the onslaught, but Vellmar took her on and even taunted her, driving her into a mental space she had never experienced in a sparring session. She forgot where she was and who she was fighting, conscious only of a murderous need to do damage. Every cut was accompanied by a cry of rage and a desperate desire to hurt, and when Vellmar made a sound of pain as a particularly violent lunge slipped past her, Tal was vicious in her glee. Her fury poured out, seemingly without end, and she drove Vellmar from one side of the room to the other. It wasn’t until she began to tire that she finally came back to herself enough to realize what was happening. Horrified by her own behavior, she stepped back and held up her hand.
“Stop!”
Vellmar lowered her sword, breathing hard as she wiped the sweat from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Tal retracted her sword, threw the grip onto the nearest mat, and turned around. “Great…shekking…Mother,” she swore between gasps for air. What in the name of the Goddess did she think she was doing?
“Lancer Tal? Are you all right?”
Tal turned back to face her. “Are you?”
Vellmar looked confused. “Of course. It was a good match. You’re an excellent sword fighter. Especially considering that you don’t do this as often as you should.”
Tal gaped at her. “I tried to kill you!”
“So? You warned me ahead of time. I told you I could handle it, and I did.”
Her expression made it clear that she didn’t see the problem, and Tal’s laugh came out of nowhere. “Don’t advertise, eh? I think I’ve met my match and then some. Thank you; I feel lighter than I have in days.”
“Believe me, it was my pleasure. I don’t often get the chance to spar with a left-hander. And no one at Koneza could really challenge me, so I’m delighted to have an opponent who makes me work.”
“If my wanting to kill you just makes you work, I’d hate to see what it would take to make you break out in a real sweat.”
“Oh, I’m sweating,” Vellmar said with a grin. “Who do you normally spar with?”
“Colonel Micah.”
The grin vanished. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Tal reached down and scooped her grip off the mat. “About many things. But this felt good, really good. I’ve never been able to let go like that before. Sign me up for regular sessions. And show me that parry you used against my overhead cut—the bind that pulled my blade down and inside. You almost disarmed me with that one.”
Vellmar’s eyes lit up. “Right now?”
“Of course right now.”
They spent half a hantick going over that move and two others, and when Tal finally returned to her quarters, she felt positively languid. She crossed the main room without stopping, only waving at Salomen as she passed through, and walked straight into the shower. The hot water felt divine, except when it hit the cut on her upper arm. She washed it carefully, then soaped the rest of her body and spent several ticks just standing there, letting the water loosen her muscles. Before the lassitude could completely take over, she stepped out, dried off, and hoped Salomen would not take it upon herself to check on her while she treated and skin-sealed the cut.
She didn’t, and Tal was able to hide the newly sealed cut under a robe before emerging into the main room. With a blissful sigh, she poured herself onto the seat next to her tyree.
Salomen looked at her over the top of her book. “Well, that seems to have worked. I don’t even want to know what you were doing. Just tell me that everyone is still alive.”
“Oh yes,” Tal said in tired contentment. “It worked, and Vellmar still lives. Micah really knew what he was doing when he picked her. I’ll have to thank him.”
“Will you be ready to thank him in a hantick? Or have you forgotten that we’re meeting my family at the healing center?”
“I’ll be ready.” Tal shifted position, laying her head in Salomen’s lap and closing her eyes as a gentle hand began brushing through her hair. “Just let me know when it’s time to leave.”
“I think I’d better let you know a little before that.”
“Mm-hm.” Tal wasn’t even sure what she was agreeing to. She drifted in a comfortable haze, barely aware as Salomen picked up
her book again, and a moment later was asleep.
CHAPTER 53:
Bedside visit
The Opahs and their Guards were already in the healing center’s notification area when Tal and Salomen arrived. Tal barely had time to get through the door before a small body barreled into her.
“Lancer Tal!” Jaros looked up, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. “I knew you’d bring him back! Those warriors didn’t have a chance against you.”
Tal didn’t know if he was talking about Micah or Herot until Salomen crouched down for her own warmron. “No, they didn’t,” she said as Jaros threw himself into her arms. “Hello, Jaros. Herot is safe, but he won’t come home for a while yet.”
“I know. Father said he’s being punished.” Jaros looked over at Tal. “He said you would get his punishment reduced, but not even you can take it away altogether. Even though Herot never meant for anyone to be hurt.”
Salomen’s no-more-secrets policy did not apply to a boy of nine cycles.
“No,” Tal said, “and I think he’s learned something about how to choose his friends.”
“Cullom Bilsner is a dokker’s backside,” Jaros announced, and Salomen had to turn her head away. With Jaros’s attention on her, Tal had no such option and managed to keep a straight face only with the greatest of effort.
“I couldn’t have put that better myself,” she said with a nod.
“The Bilsners have no name in Granelle anymore,” he said with the importance of someone holding great news. “Did you know that Gordense has put the holding up for sale?”
Salomen looked back at him, then up at her brother and father, who stood waiting for their own acknowledgment. “Really?”
Tal stepped over to Nikin, holding up her palms. “Well met,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see you.”
“Well met, La—Andira,” he said with a wry smile. “I haven’t gotten used to that name yet.”
Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3) Page 41
