She clattered down the stairs, but slowed down after she closed the second floor door. She never touched nothing inside the tower. The frayed thread had no proof she’d ever been up there. If nobody noticed her, it’d be just his word.
If he ratted on her, did she have the guts to lie about it? She’d lied when she needed to at home. The stakes were higher here, but she thought she could get away with it.
Might never be a problem, though. Sui’todou always looked good during practice. The instructors always handicapped her, big time. She wouldn’t even have to fake it and he’d still look good.
She opened the ground floor door a hair and peeked out. Nobody in sight. She crept out and eased the door closed behind her. She strolled down the corridor, and down three flights of stairs.
Tsai’dona waited outside their dormitory, fidgeting like a horse with burrs in her tail. “Hurry. Class starts now!”
Blood in the Weave. She’d forgotten about the next class.
They ran all the way to the training yard.
Sui’todou was already there. He grinned when she grabbed a wooden sword off the rack and trotted to her place in front of the class.
How had the miswoven brat gotten here ahead of her? He must have left the tower right behind her. So much for guard duty.
The instructor entered the courtyard and paced in front of the dead tree, talking at her. At them all. Sing to the Weaver, this teacher talked in Zedisti. If she could get her mind off the snitch, she had a chance of learning something today.
Pell, he’d called the dead tree a few days ago. She gotta remember that, even if she couldn’t remember the teacher’s name.
He held up a wooden sword and demonstrated while he talked. “Take time to evaluate your edge alignment. Strike with the edge when you mean to cut. Strike with the flat when you need to parry.”
She knew that.
“Do not strike with all of your strength. You are training your muscles to execute a technique without thought on your part. Slow down if you feel clumsy or inaccurate in your strikes.”
Right. If she slowed down, he’d bash her, before whoever was practicing on her had time to.
“Remember to hit with the correct portion of your weapon for the distance you stand from the target.”
He never showed her how to do that yet. She wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Focus your strikes. Don’t waste your strength. Try to strike deceptively without clueing your opponent.”
A dead tree was gonna notice?
“Strike with all the energy of the attack concentrated on the instant of contact.”
Weaver’s chamberpot. This guy used more big words than the kid.
“Cut into your target, not at your target. If your hands or wrists hurt from the strikes, don’t grip the weapon so tightly.”
Finally. Something useful.
“Your goal is to strike hard with ease by using the whole body behind the blow.” The instructor pointed at her. “The demonstration student is your target. Line up beside the pell. Sui’todou, you go first.”
Miswoven snaky twerp. Could she bash the snotty brat before he bashed her? No, he’d rat on her for sure.
“Target, you may defend, but you may not attack.”
Coward crap. Rules just like the kid’s. This weren’t gonna be near as much fun. At least he was gonna let her parry this time. And use any parry she knew, if she understood him right.
Except against Sui’todou. His friends eyed her like they knew something. Like he’d already ratted on her.
Her thread was so snipped. All she could do was pretend nothing was wrong. She lifted her toy sword to a general parry position and waited.
Sui’todou stalked forward like he thought he was a lion. Like he thought he was scary.
All he was really was a snitch.
She tightened her fingers on the wooden hilt and waited. The brat had to make the first move. Blood in the Weave, the brat got to make all the moves. But she could stop him from beating her up too much.
He strolled closer and tapped his toy sword on hers.
She parried and pushed his sword away. When he frowned, she looked at the instructor and raised her eyebrows. Did the noodle brain think nobody would notice if he didn’t even try to fight?
He crouched, leapt forward, and swung hard at her sword arm. She barely had time to raise her sword like a shield.
His friends snickered. Some even applauded. Snarky rich kids.
“Sui’todou, you have missed the point of my lecture.” The instructor strolled forward, herding the snooty snitch back. “This isn’t a contest. If you can’t control yourself with a live opponent, you may work with the pell.”
The brat glared at her like it was her fault, but walked over to the dead tree and beat on it like he wanted to beat on her. After a few strikes, he settled into a calmer rhythm.
The instructor nodded. “Better. Girl, remember to defend yourself. Your performance was not impressive, either.”
Sui’todou grinned and bashed at the pell. His friends tittered.
Lorel bowed to hide her burning face. She’d done the best she could. But nobody taught her nothing. She’d have to ask Tsai’dona later if she understood the point of this lesson. Maybe between them they could figure it out.
“Lai’ishlan, approach the demonstration student.” The instructor turned to Sui’todou and corrected his grip on the hilt.
The snooty snitch glared at her as soon as the instructor looked away. He was gonna get caught, if he didn’t watch himself. Feuds between students were forbidden. They’d come down on him, and he’d rat on her, for sure.
But he wasn’t stupid. They wouldn’t catch on to him any time soon. They didn’t care that much about what students did.
They had noticed that he was bullying her. Or was trying to. Like she cared if a stubby, shoulder-high swamp shrimp wanted to thump her.
She had to watch her footing. If she was careful, they’d never notice she was holding back when she fought him. When he ratted on her, she’d call him a liar. His word against hers.
He was rich. She was a charity student. Whose side would they take?
How long would she last against his blackmail? As long as she had to. She had too much to learn. She’d never give up. She’d fight to the death.
Lai’ishlan walked closer and raised his sword.
She smiled at him.
His face got pale. Poor little guy must think she’d work her anger out on him. No way, she wasn’t like the snitch. She’d parry just well enough to keep from getting hurt. She wouldn’t make him look stupid again.
She’d concentrate on learning everything anybody could teach her.
Chapter 29.
Viper eased down to the floor and pulled Lorel’s swords out from under his bed. They weren’t the least bit dusty. The chambermaids must have cleaned them, even though they’d been ordered not to touch them. That wouldn’t be a problem now.
Hiding them at all would be the challenge.
Early dawn light seeped through the window, and made him feel even more vulnerable. He had to hurry. Someone would come for him soon.
He opened the harp case, pulled out the secret compartments, and slid the swords and the honor knife into their slots. He restored the first false bottom, filled it with Lorel’s sheet music (when had she written that new one?) and fitted the second false bottom in position. After storing the battered old harp in its place, he latched the case closed.
The hardest part was done. And just in time. A nurse appeared at his door. “Are you ready, child?”
He’d be glad to get out of the healer’s house just on the hope people would stop calling him ‘child.’ He grabbed a crutch and levered himself upright. “I’m ready.”
“Menogin will escort you to your new home.” The nurse bustled out of the room.
A manservant almost as tall as Lorel and three times as wide entered the room diffidently. He ducked his head before it touched the ceiling and
stood beside the door.
He looked familiar. “Didn’t you hold me down when… while… during the surgery?”
The servant nodded.
“Thanks.”
Menogin looked up, surprise written all over his face.
“It must have been a nasty job.” He still had nightmares of the stench. And of the popping of his joint bones.
“You lived.” Menogin smiled tentatively. “That made it a good job.”
That was one way of looking at it. Viper picked up his pack and started to sling it over his shoulder.
“I am to carry everything.” The servant glanced back toward the door.
In other words, there’d be trouble if he didn’t play packhorse. Viper nodded and handed over the pack.
Menogin picked up both instrument cases and Lorel’s oversized pack. His eyebrows rose.
“I collect books.” Viper paused and mentally counted all the books he’d stowed on top of the gem pouch. “I didn’t keep any of Karisu’s.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t. He’d double check later, and return any strays.
The manservant nodded and backed out the door. “This way, please.” He led the way to the back of the house.
“You don’t need to avoid the front stairs on my account.” He’d gotten the hang of his crutches, though his balance was still a little off. Amazing how a few missing ounces of foot could make such a difference.
“The room our Lady Healer approved lies this way.” Menogin gestured toward the back gate.
Nothing was back there but the lake. And all those houses sitting way up high on stilts. “I’m not sure I’m up to ladders.”
“No ladders. My family lives on a houseboat.”
Wait a minute. He’d been promised his own room. “I’m going to live with you?”
“No, I live in the healing house. You will board with my clan. It’s unsafe for a young man to live alone.”
That sounded rehearsed. But it was probably true. “So if I go missing, they’ll ask the Paduans about me?”
“If you don’t arrive home when expected, my father and uncles and brothers and cousins will tear apart the Paduans’ camp.”
That sounded secure enough. “I’ll be sure I check in before I go partying.”
“Mother will appreciate that.” Menogin snortled. “Last time Father raided the Paduans’ camp, we had to pay restitution. Somehow four papered slaves escaped in the confusion.”
Plus who knew how many illegal slaves. He liked these people already.
Menogin led the way down the hill to the lake, and out on a floating walkway, past a series of houseboats.
The walkway wobbled with his every step. And separately with Menogin’s every step. It was worse than clambering up Trevor’s treacherous front staircase. His crutches slipped and slid across the rotting wood. Was he really going to brave this slimy thing every day?
Wait a minute. It wasn’t all that bad. What was wrong with him? When had he gotten so whiny? He’d walked all the way from Toranan-Yiet to Sedra-Kei on crutches. A damp wooden walkway wouldn’t hurt him.
Unless something lived deep in the lake. He was monster bait if another hunter-thing swam up for a snack. He decided to move a little faster.
Eyes peered from doorways as his crutches thumped across the wood. Men working on the boats nodded to him.
He nodded back. Were these his new neighbors?
Menogin waved one hand. “My clan. If you ever need help nearby, just shout. They know you now.”
They couldn’t help but recognize the only Setoyan in Sedra-Kei. Considering they were all as tall as Lorel, they ought to be good in a fight. Or at least impressive enough to discourage one.
Menogin stopped at a large boat pulled close to the dock and hopped over the railing. He looked back and froze.
Really, what an overreaction. He wasn’t that crippled. Viper sat on the railing and swung both legs and crutches over it, onto the boat.
“Mother said you’d have no trouble.” Menogin shrugged, but his face was bright red. “I couldn’t figure out what she meant until just now.”
A tall, stout woman in a long, sleeveless orange robe hurried through the cabin door. “Greetings, greetings, call me Mother. Everyone does. Come this way.” She bustled back into the houseboat.
Mother? No, thank you. He already had a mother, and he missed her. A lot.
“She’s my great aunt,” Menogin whispered. “We really do all call her Mother. It’s better than calling her Matriarch.”
Oh, it’s a title. He could live with that.
“This way,” Mother called.
A dozen little doors lined each side of the low hallway. At each end there was a ladder leading up, and other down. The boat had three levels, then, maybe four. It looked a lot bigger from the inside than it did from the dock.
She waited at the end of the hall and pointed into a room. “This one is yours. All the other empty rooms can only be reached by ladders.”
If he could avoid ladders, he’d be far happier. He didn’t feel strong enough to haul himself up hand-over-hand yet.
He crutched up to the door, and stumbled to keep from falling in. Menogin grabbed the back of his shirt and steadied him, but he barely noticed.
This wasn’t a room, it was a closet. The ceiling was so low he could touch it. The bedmat took up almost all the floor space. He wouldn’t even be able to lay out all his books. The round window above the bed let in a dreary circle of light, not really enough to read by. The polished wood walls reeked of dead fish and rancid cooking oil.
But there was a lock on the door, and a key in the lock. He’d have more privacy here than he ever had in Karisu’s house. It would have to do.
He looked up at Mother and forced a smile. “This will be fine. Thank you.”
Mother’s forehead wrinkled. “You don’t like it.”
“It’s fine, really.” And if he was where he thought he was, it was only a few blocks from the library. He offered her a real smile. “It will encourage me to get out and walk, so I’ll get stronger.”
“Good, good.” She took his gear from Menogin and laid it on the bed. “You unpack. Clothes chest there.” She pointed at a small door on the far wall that he hadn’t noticed. A closet inside a closet? Could this be a normal-sized room?
She took the key out of the door and handed it to him. “Three renani each lunar.”
That was even less than he’d expected to pay. Karisu must have bargained for him. Or set the rate herself. That took the fun out of the process. Viper reached into his pocket and pulled out three silver coins. “I am honored to live in your home.”
Mother bowed, pushed Menogin back, and shut the door as they left.
He didn’t bother to unpack his clothing, but quickly retrieved Lorel’s swords and honor knife from the harp case. They just fit between the wall and the bedmat. He’d find a better hiding place later, but that should discourage a quick search. He’d bet a Zedisti sovereign that his wasn’t the only key to this room.
He grabbed Lorel’s pack, piled his books beside the door, rescued the gem pouch, and placed it under the pillow. Not an original place to hide it, but he’d never dreamed he’d end up in such a tiny room. He didn’t have many choices. He could only pray his hosts were honest people.
He left Lorel’s half-empty pack, the instrument cases, and his own pack on the bedmat. If anyone wanted to search through them, they were welcome.
He paused, and rescued RedAdder’s grimoire from his pack. It might be too obviously valuable if it was the only one hidden away. He slipped it into the middle of the piles of books and notebooks on the floor.
Three piles of books, totaling forty-seven books. No wonder people rolled their eyes when they picked up Lorel’s pack. It was a good thing he’d discovered the library; it might slow down his book-buying addiction.
The library must be open by now. He desperately wanted to start reading Trevor’s books.
He shuffled out of the tiny room, locked the d
oor, and crutched back down the hallway. Children darted in and out of the other rooms, as silent as owls. He hadn’t even guessed there were children on the boat.
A sturdy young woman clambered up the downward ladder faster than a sand lizard could climb a canyon cliff. “Welcome to our home, Vi’pair. If you need anything, just ask.”
It was the best pronunciation of his name he’d heard in Duremen-Lor. “Thank you. What’s the name of your ship?”
She laughed. “Don’t let the ocean singers hear you call a houseboat a ship. Her name is Mangrove Dancer. When we change slips, just ask the local children, and they’ll show you where we’ve gone.”
The boat moved? What a turybird he’d become. Of course it moved. He hoped it wouldn’t wander off while he was in the city.
His face must have shown his concern. She laughed again. “We always moor somewhere on this wharf. And if the Dancer isn’t here when you are, any of our clan will keep you safe until evening.”
“Thank you.” He needed to get off this boat before he said something rude. Having a room that wandered off was as bad as–
As bad as living in a Setoyan tent. He’d migrated every few days for most of his life. How spoiled he’d gotten while living in Zedista.
That was his problem. Life in Zedista had been far too easy, too predictable. As long as he stayed away from the street gangs, anyway. Now he had to get used to everything changing all the time. A house that moved was a good place to start.
He waved at the young woman, slid over the boat’s railing, and headed for the library.
The back of his neck prickled. Someone was staring at him. Again.
Who was he kidding? People watched him all the time. He was too short, too blond, too foreign. Too crippled. His crutches made too much noise. Of course people looked at him. As long as the slavers didn’t bother him, it didn’t matter.
He held his head higher and thumped onward.
˜™
Viper knelt on the floor in front of Trevor’s shelf and traced the spine of the largest volume.
Sorcery's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 2) Page 29
