Secca smiled. “Might I see them?”
“Of course, lady.” The armorer brought forward a pair and set them on the smooth and clean, but battered, bench to the left of the door through which Secca had entered.
As Secca began to try each of the practice weapons, the armorer brought the others to the bench as well. Secca hefted each. The smallest was still longer than the saber at her belt, but about the same weight, if of different balance.
“Could I borrow this pair?” asked the sorceress.
“You may have them so long as you like for all that you have done.” The armorer smiled. “You may also change either for another set, if they be not to the liking of your lancers.”
“One is for me.” Secca picked up the pair, then turned toward the door. “The other may be exchanged.” She smiled. "Thank you very much.”
“I hope they will suffice.”
“I’m sure they will.” One way or another. Secca opened the door and stepped back out into the chill winter day.
Before taking three steps along the barracks row, Secca caught sight of a captain in the green of Loiseau. “Captain Drysel!”
Drysel an angular young man a good head and a half taller than Secca turned quickly, then inclined his head. “Yes, Lady Secca?"
“I have found some practice weapons--- they’re not blunted iron, but rattan. I would appreciate it if you would spar with me.
Drysel bowed his head more deeply and nodded, looking down at Seeca. “As you wish, lady.”
“Captain . . . I am in a foul temper. Please do not humor me more.”
“Ah . . . yes, Lady Secca.”
Drysel was one of the newer captains, a younger son of a cousin of Lord Robero’s consort Alyssa, and the last officer to come to Loiseau. He’d been picked by Anna, but Secca hadn’t seen him or sparred with him before, nor had he seen her work with a blade. She wondered if she were making a mistake, but decided that if she were, she would pay for it, and if she weren’t and Drysel were as arrogant as his attitude indicated, he would. “These are not iron, and I would prefer we avoid head cuts. Other than that, if you can strike, do your best” Secca extended the longer weapon. “You may exchange this for another from the armorer if you wish.” She inclined her head toward the black-trimmed red door.
Drysel took the rattan weapon, hefted it then nodded. “This will be fine.” His smile as he looked down at Secca was almost patronizing.
Secca set the rattan weapon down, then slipped out of the riding jacket While it wasn’t too restrictive, and she’d certainly worn it in battle, she didn’t want to be hampered at all. Then she unfastened her own real sabre and scabbard. She didn’t want that banging her legs and getting in the way. Across from her, the young captain also took off his jacket, folding it carefully, almost as if it were a gesture to her. He left his sabre and scabbard on his belt.
The group of lancers who had been standing farther away began to edge toward Secca and Drysel, and Secca could hear a few of the words they exchanged.
“Captain. . . never crossed blades with her.
“...only those wooden things…”
“He’s good. . . she’ll be lucky that way.”
Secca could feel anger rising in her, and she wondered why she was so touchy. Wrong time of her season? Or something akin to what Anna had felt--- where people condescended to her because she was small, but simultaneously deferred to her because she was a sorceress? Secca pushed the thought away, taking a deep breath and positioning her feet on the smooth bricks. The snow and rain had washed away any grit, so that she wasn’t likely to slip.
Across from her, Drysel squared his shoulders, then tested his footing by scuffing his boots on the bricks.
The two moved forward, Drysel watching Secca’s rattan blade far more than her eyes, Secca aware of all of the younger man’s movements.
Almost casually, Secca feinted toward Drysel’s left shoulder, then pulled back. Diysel’s weapon did not move.
She tried another feint this time toward his left thigh. He eased to his left, blade still in guard position.
Secca feinted left, then ducked and swept under and inside his weapon and tapped Diysel on the right shoulder, almost before the taller captain blinked.
Quick . . . she was . . . "
“No force in it.
Secca pushed that back. It wouldn’t have been right to use full force on a captain who was just trying to avoid either being struck or striking his commander. She wanted to shake her head. She wouldn’t have had the problem if she had been a man. She’d seen enough lancers try to strike Jecks, Rickel, Himar, and others.
Drysel feinted, and Secca offered a half-parry, as if she didn’t know his move were a feint, then came over the top of his weapon and forced it down into the bricks before dancing back.
Still, the young captain avoided striking directly at Secca. If she struck him, under those conditions, she would be unfair, and she might even hurt him.
So she concentrated on his weapon, deciding to see what she could do to make him look silly, since he was clearly wrapped in his own superiority.
‘With his next half-thrust, she ducked and came up under his weapon, putting her full weight, if momentarily, behind her weapon, and taking her hilt against the rattan with enough force to drive the weapon out of his fingers. With a smile she stepped back and beckoned for him to retrieve it.
Drysel frowned momentarily, flexing his fingers as he retrieved the practice weapon.
Secca could sense his grip on the rattan blade was firmer, but he was obviously determined merely to defend.
After another series of engagements, blade against blade, Secca hammered his weapon into the bricks with enough bite that, in order to hold the weapon, Drysel went almost to his knees.
As the captain straightened and stepped back, Secca caught some of the murmurs from the on looking lancers.
“...he won’t strike...see...she knows it...”
“...she won’t either. . . won’t take advantage...”
" . . .tying to disarm him . . .done it once already. . .”
In the next set of exchanges, Secca managed to force Drysel’s blade higher and more to the side, then slammed her blade into the side of his weapon just above the hilt. As Drysel’s practice weapon seemed to bend in his hand and then drop to the bricks, Secca tried to break the momentum of her follow-through, but even so, her rattan slammed into his upper arm.
She stepped back. "I'm sorry, captain. I was only trying for your weapon, not for you.” As she watched, she could see blood oozing through the fabric of Drysel’s sleeve.
Drysel concealed a wince. “I know, lady. That was obvious.”
“I am most sorry,” Secca apologized again.
“That is all right.” Drysel started to bend to retrieve the rattan weapon, then paused, with a less-well-concealed wince.
“I didn’t . . . ” Secca stood back, taking a deep breath, wondering what she could say. She shouldn’t have let her temper, even focused into the weapon, get the better of her. Just because she wasn’t big . . . everyone seemed to think she was fragile.
“So . . . you are beating up on your officers, lady?”
Secca mined to see Alcaren standing there. “I was trying to get some exercise. I’m not used to the rattan, and I didn’t realize...” She broke off as she saw the amused expression in his gray-blue eyes. “Perhaps you would like to take Captain Drysel’s place, overcaptain?"
“And if I injured our sorceress, then where would I be?” Alcaren shrugged.
“The same place you are now--- waiting in Elahwa.” Secca’s words were as chill as the wind she scarcely felt.
“I can see you will not accept my deferral.”
“Not at the moment,” Secca replied.
“Then. if you will allow me, captain...” Alcaren stepped toward Drysel and scooped up the blade off the gray bricks.
“Captain Drysel?" Secca said.
“Yes, lady?’
“I am most sorry for being overzealous. I would appreciate it if you would have Chief Player Palian look at your shoulder. She is a fair healer.”
“If you would allow me to watch for a moment before I do?"
“Of course… but not too long.” Secca turned toward Alcaren, who had not bothered to remove his riding jacket.
“Limitations, lady?" asked Alcaren.
“No head thrusts. I might still have to sing, and you might need to give orders.”
“Most fair.”
Alcaren was even more cautious, than Drysel, parrying Secca’s exploratory cuts, but not attempting to slip by her weapon or begin an attack.
The Ranuan followed the same pattern as Drysel had, except Alcaren was willing to attack Secca’s weapon, and she was the one who almost lost her rattan blade. After the first set of exchanges, her fingers tingled, and she circled, flexing them as she did, trying to get more feeling back into them.
Abruptly, Alcaren stepped back. “A moment, Lady Secca, while I remove the riding jacket.”
Secca nodded, stepping back and taking a deep breath. She noticed that there were more onlookers, mostly SouthWomen, easing forward from the northern wing of the barracks.
Alearen finished folding the jacket and stepped forward with a nod, then began a tightly focused series of attacks, always at Secca’s weapon.
She slipped aside, then managed to strike his weapon with fair force before falling back.
They circled again.
Secca could feel the dampness all over her body, despite the chill wind, and she could see the sweat beading on Alcaren’s forehead.
She feinted, then struck upward under his weapon, but he recovered and came slashing down. She pulled his rattan blade to the side, and almost drove it into the bricks, but, again, he recovered, and was on the attack again, and Secea had to circle back.
For a moment, they were almost hilt to hilt, but Secca managed to disengage before his superior strength literally lifted her off her feet.
Even so, he pressed the attack so fiercely that Secca had no choice but to slide his blade. The rattan did not slide as smoothly as did steel, and the effort sent a jolt down her arm. She danced back, barely avoiding a slashing thrust that, while possibly not intended, swept toward her right thigh, then stepped inside and used the comparative roughness of the rattan to help his weapon along.
While Alcaren staggered for an instant, he was back on balance almost before Secca was.
They circled again, and Secca began the attack, but had to back off.
Alcaren returned the favor.
How many times this continued Secca did not know, only that she wondered how long she could continue. Yet she’d started it, in a way, and she hated to be the one who called the match--- if that was what it was.
Abruptly, Alcaren eased back “You . . . are more... dangerous than you look . . ." he said between gasps.
“So . . . are . . . you.” Secca wished she weren’t breathing so hard, but keeping up with the bigger and stronger over-captain had taken everything she had.
“I. . . .am sorry,” Alcaren continued quietly. “I did . . . not . . . understand.” He grinned. “I will be... very sore in many places. . . because . . . I did not” He paused. “You have made...your point, lady--- pardon...my pun, and I...would humbly...suggest...that...we cease before. . . . you render. . . . . me. . . unfit for. . . duty.” The grin was strained.
Secca straightened, still breathing heavily. “I accept . . . gratefully . . . your advice.
After a moment, she slowly bent to recover the riding jacket, although she was sweating all over, and dared not don it until she cooled off. Then she refastened the sabre and scabbard to her belt.
Alcaren slowly followed her in reclaiming his own jacket. Then he bowed.
Secca bowed in return.
‘‘Like cats . . . they were . . . "
“So alike . . . because . . .”
Secca couldn’t hear the last words, because Wilten moved in front of the SouthWoman who was talking and stepped toward Secca.
“Lady Secca?"
“Yes, Wilten?’ Secca smiled politely.
“It has been some time since I have seen you work with a blade. You use it like the best of lancers now. Even the men saw it.”
“Yes . . . the overcaptain and I did put on quite an exhibition. I trust our form was good enough to inspire the lancers?’
“It was most inspiring.” Wilten’s smile was warm. “It was also most impressive to the SouthWomen and their captains.” The Defalkan overcaptain laughed. “It matters not to them how impressive we men are, but how impressive you are.
Secca nodded. "I do hope they were impressed." She paused. “If you will excuse me . . .?"
Wilten bowed.
The redheaded sorceress turned and walked across the courtyard toward the main guest quarters building, still carrying the rattan exercise weapon. She was going to be sore in more places than she wanted to count, but no one was going to see that, especially not Alcaren.
92
Secca eased into the chair at the conference table that would let her look out the windows to the southwest.
She had too many stiff muscles, more than she would have thought after the weeks of riding, but riding and sorcery were not bladework against bigger and stronger men. Her left shoulder hurt especially. At times, she detested being small.
She glanced toward the window, not that there much to see, since the clear skies of the previous day been replaced with gray clouds and a drizzling rain.
“I wish I could have seen you sparring with Captain Drysel and Overcaptain Alcaren," Richina said. “Drysel’ s whole arm is black, and there’s a slash that will take weeks to heal.”
Secca winced. “That was an accident and bad blade work. I never meant to strike him. He was being kind and refusing to engage anything but my blade. So I was trying to disarm him.”
“He said that.”
“How do you know? You said you weren’t watching.”
“I was working with Palian and the players when he came in to have her look at his arm. He was most uneasy. Palian told him not to worry, that you were far better with a blade than most lancers, and that your size meant nothing."
“It does, though. I have to work harder with a blade, and I can’t do as much sorcery as Anna could before I get tired.” Secca shook her head. “Size has its advantages. If you learn to sing as well as I do, then you will have the strength to do more sorcery. Lady Anna thought she was small, but she was not.” Anna hadn’t understood what small was, Secea thought.
“How could she think that?” asked Richina. “Only a handful of women are taller than she was.”
I asked her that once. She said that in the Mist Worlds, she was a small woman, and that many women were neartwo yards in height, if not taller.”
"They must be giants there."
“She was strong. . ." Secca mused. “her warhorses... all of them raider beasts. None but her or a few favored ostlers could handle the first.” As she recalled Anna, she could feel again that gaping emptiness, and she swallowed.
“Despite your size, lady, you are strong,” Richina said quietly.
With her sore muscles, Secca felt anything but strong as she gazed out into what seemed endless rain.
Suddenly, there was a dull clunk, and the odor of hot metal filled the main chamber.
Secca glanced around. On the working desk, not two yards from the conference table, rested a bronze cylinder that had not been there moments before.
Richina was the one to use her riding gloves to lift the bronze cylinder before it scorched the table desk.
“Careful. . .“ The appearance of the message cylinder had Secca even more worried.
Slowly, Richina extracted the contents of the cylinder---three parchment scrolls. Two were unsealed, the third was beribboned in blue and set inside the second.
Secca began with the first scroll, one from Jolyn, she confirmed by a qu
ick look at the signature at the bottom.
Dear Secca—
I have been watching your progress through the glass and relaying what I have seen to Lord Robero. He was pleased with your defeat of the Sturinnese, but concerned about the retreat of their ships to the south. I was also surprised that he was so pleased about your destruction of the keep at Dolov.
Secca nodded. She could see why Robero would be pleased.
Clayre is having great difficulty with Belmar. The Neserean sorcerer travels quickly, and from place to place. He knows what a glass will show, and what it will not, and often remains separated from his lancers and his players. He has a group of players, and uses four thunder-drums as well. He has taken the keep at Sperea through some kind of treachery, and most recently, just two days past, he destroyed the hold of one Jysmar, near Netzla. . . . Why he did so is unclear; unless Jysmar opposed Belmar’s efforts to claim the seat of the Prophet of Music. Lord Svenmar has declared his support for Lord Belmar, as have several other holders in the south of Neserea.
The Shadow Sorceress Page 42
