Universe Vol1Num2

by Jim Baen's Universe

  That made more sense . . . but to see that a man wanted his wife . . . and to kill him like that? The Marshall would have acted that quickly, and Creslin was her son. I'd never thought of it that way. I lowered the wooden wand until the blunted point touched the stones.

  "Can you teach me?" Hyel asked.

  I could. Should I? "If you're willing to work," I answered, still distracted by what Hyel had told me.

  "Early in the morning?" A sheepish look crossed his face.

  "Early in the morning. Every morning."

  I'd been in Recluce only two days, and I'd already committed to teaching Megaera the basics of the blade and to improving the skills of the Montgren garrison commander.

  VIII

  With the Regent Megaera, I had to start farther back, with an exercise program of sorts. I gave her stones of the proper weight to lift and hold and exercises to loosen and limber her shoulders. After an eightday, she found me re-mortaring the stones in what would be the armory.

  "Regent." I laid aside the trowel that I'd recovered from the recesses of the keep and stood.

  "When can we start with blades?"

  I didn't answer her, but turned and walked to the wall where I'd laid aside my harness. I unsheathed one of the blades and extended it, hilt first. "Take it, if you would, Regent."

  After a moment of hesitation, she did.

  "Hold it out, extended. Keep holding it." That wasn't totally fair, because no blademaster works with her weapon fully extended or with the arm straight, except for a thrust. But it's a good indication of arm strength.

  Her arm and wrist began to tremble before long. She fought the weakness, but finally had to lower the blade.

  "When your arms are strong enough to hold that position longer," I answered.

  Her lips tightened.

  "If we start before you're ready, you'll learn bad technique because you won't have the strength you'll have later, and strength and technique won't match."

  Abruptly, she laughed. "Strength and technique won't match. That's almost what Klerris said about black magery."

  I nodded slightly. I knew nothing about magery, but it seemed that strength and technique should match in any application.

  "Did you ever see Creslin work magery?"

  How was I to answer that?

  "Did you?" Megaera's voice was hard.

  I thought I saw whitish flames at the tips of her fingers.

  "Only once. I wasn't certain it was magery. He called a storm and flung the winds against the south tower until it was coated with ice."

  "Why did he do that?"

  "I could not say, Regent."

  Megaera smiled. I didn't like that kind of calculating smile. "When did he perform this . . . weather magery?"

  I could have lied, but she would have known. "After his betrothal to you was announced. He left the Great Hall as soon as he could."

  "Oh . . . best-betrothed . . . if only . . ."

  While her words were less than murmured, I might as well not have been there.

  Abruptly, she looked at me. "I would appreciate it if you would say nothing of this."

  "I will not, Regent Megaera."

  "Next eightday, we will begin with blades."

  Then she was gone.

  IX

  Several days later, I took one of the mounts and rode up the winding road to the Black Holding. Several of the Guards had been detailed to help Creslin build the quarters for him and Megaera. I knew he'd never shirked work, but it was still strange to think of the Marshall's son and the Regent of Recluce working stone. I'd overheard remarks about his skill as a mason, and I wanted to see that, as well as check on the guards working there.

  When I reached the structure, still incomplete under its slate roof, I reined up and dismounted, and tied the horse to the single post. The stones of the front wall and the archway were of various sizes, but all edges were smoothed and dressed, and fitted into an almost seamless pattern that required little or no mortar. Had Creslin done that? I couldn't have dressed the stones that smoothly, especially not with the tools we had, and I was the best of the Guard stoneworkers on Recluce.

  Hulyan appeared immediately. She was carrying a bucket. "Guard Captain, ser, we didn't expect you."

  "What are you doing?"

  "It's my round to carry water to the Regent. He's cutting and dressing stone down in back, ser."

  "Where are the others?"

  "They're finding and carrying rough stones to the Regent. That's so he doesn't have to spend time looking."

  "You can lead me there, but don't announce me.'

  "Yes, Guard Captain."

  We walked quietly around the north side of the building and to the edge of the terrace. There I stopped and watched.

  Below the partly built terrace, Creslin stood amid piles of black stones. His silver hair was plastered against his skull with sweat, yet it still shimmered in the sun. He adjusted the irregular black stone on the larger chunk of rock, then positioned the chisel and struck with the hammer. Precise and powerful as the blow was, the stone shouldn't have split, but it did. One side was as smooth as if it had been dressed. I watched as he readjusted the stone and repeated the process.

  Before long he had a precisely dressed black stone block. He only took a single deep breath, wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm, and then started on the next irregular chunk of heavy stone. In some fashion, he was mixing magery and stonecraft, and the results were superb. At that moment, I did not want to look at another piece of stone. Ever.

  After a moment, I realized that Creslin must have known that as well. Was that why he worked alone?

  I watched as he cut and then dressed one stone after another. I could not have lifted the hammer so strongly and precisely. Not for stone after stone. No stone-cutter I had ever seen or known could have.

  Slowly, I moved forward, just watching, trying to sense what he was doing.

  Despite the brilliant sunlight, there was a darkness around him, but it wasn't any kind of darkness or shadow that I had ever seen. It was more like something felt, the sense of how a blade should be held, or a saddle adjusted to a skittish mount. I kept watching, trying to feel what he did, rather than see.

  For a moment, I could feel the stone before Creslin, knowing where the faults lay, and where chisel should be placed . . .

  "Guard Captain Shierra!" he finally called, as if he had just seen me.

  "Yes, ser. I was just checking on the guards."

  "They've been most helpful. We couldn't have done half what's here without them." He paused. "But if you need them at the keep . . ."

  "No, ser. Not yet anyway. Thank you, ser." My voice sounded steady to me. It didn't feel steady. I turned and hurried back to my mount, before Creslin could ask me anything more.

  I untied the gelding and mounted, turning him back toward the keep in the harbor valley.

  Thoughts swirled through my head as I rode down the dusty road.

  Was that order-magery? The understanding of the forces beneath and within everything?

  What I had seen wasn't what anyone would have called mage-craft. There were no winds or storms created. No one had been healed, and no keep had been suddenly created. Yet those stones could not have been cut and dressed so precisely in any other fashion. What I had also seen was a man who was driving himself far harder than anyone I had known. His body was muscle, and only muscle, and he was almost as slender as a girl guard before she became a woman.

  I had thought I'd known something about Creslin. Now I was far from certain that I knew anything at all.

  Back at the keep, I couldn't help but think about the way in which Creslin had turned irregular chunks of rock into cut and dressed black building stones. Could I do that? How could I not try?

  I settled myself in the stoneyard on the hillside above the keep, with hammer and chisel and the pile of large chunks of broken dark gray stone. I set an irregular hunk on the granite-like boulder that served as a cutting table an
d looked at it. It remained a gray stone.

  I closed my eyes and tried to recapture the feeling I'd sensed around Creslin. It had been deliberate, calm, a feeling of everything in its place.

  Nothing happened.

  Knowing that nothing was that simple, I hadn't expected instant understanding or mastery. While still trying to hold that feeling of simplicity and order, I picked up the chisel and the hammer. After placing the chisel where it felt best—close to where it needed to be to dress the edge of the stone, I took a long and deliberate stroke.

  A fragment of the stone chipped away. It was larger than most that I had been chiseling away. That could have been chance. Without hurrying, I placed the chisel again, concentrating without forcing the feeling. Another large fragment split away.

  Slowly, deliberately, I worked on the stone.

  After a few more blows, I had a clean face to the stone, cleaner and smoother than I'd ever managed before, but the face was angled slightly, compared to the other, rougher faces.

  I kept at it. At times, I had a hard time recapturing that deliberate, calm feeling, but I could tell the difference in the results.

  Learning how to harness that feeling, and to use it effectively in cutting and dressing stone was going to take some time. I just hoped it didn't take too long. We needed dressed stones for far too many structures that had yet to be built. Creslin had also asked that some of the stone be used to finish the inn near the pier, especially the public room. That was to give the guards and troopers some place where they could gather and get a drink. I had my doubts about how that would work, for all of Hyel's efforts, and those of Creslin.

  X

  Exactly one eightday after she had last asked me, Megaera appeared in the keep courtyard, early in the morning, right after I had finished my daily session with Hyel.

  "We're running out of time, Guard Captain," she said firmly. "Whether I'm strong enough or not, we need to begin."

  "You've made a good start with the physical conditioning. But whether you can master a lifetime of training in a season or two is another question." That wasn't even a question. I doubted that she could, but she could learn to use a shortsword to defend herself against what passed for eastern bladework. In case of raiders or invaders, or even assassins, that could save her life just by allowing her to hold someone at bay long enough for help to reach her.

  "There's no other choice."

  The way she said the words, it seemed as though she was not even thinking of raiders.

  "Creslin's not that hard, is he?" I couldn't believe I'd said that to the Regent, and I quickly added, "My sister felt he was a good man at heart."

  Megaera laughed, half-humorously, half-bitterly. "It's not that at all. Against him, I need no defenses. Besides, from what I've seen, I'm not sure that I'd ever prevail by force of arms."

  Her words lifted a burden from me. But why was she so insistent that she needed to learn the blade? She was a white witch who could throw chaos-fire. I'd even seen it flaring around her once or twice.

  Megaera lifted the white-oak wand. "Where do we begin?"

  "At the beginning, with the way you hold the blade." I stepped forward and repositioned her fingers. "You must have firm control, and yet not grip it so tightly that it wearies your muscles." I positioned her feet in the basic stance. "And the way in which you stand will affect those muscles as well."

  "Like this?"

  I nodded and picked up my own wand. "You may regret this, lady."

  "The time for regrets has come and gone, Shierra. There is only time to do what must be done."

  "Higher on the blade tip . . ." I cautioned.

  For the first few passes, breaking through her guard was almost laughably easy. Unlike many of the junior guards when they first began, once she had a wand in her hand, Megaera had no interest in anything but learning how to best use it.

  Her eyes never left me, and I could almost feel that she was trying to absorb everything I said. Her concentration, like Creslin's, was frightening.

  What was between the two regents, so much that they each drove themselves beyond reason, beyond exhaustion?

  XI

  The following morning, Hyel was waiting for me.

  "You're early," I said.

  "I wanted to make sure I got my time with you before the Regent Megaera appeared." He laughed easily.

  "You don't need that much more work." He really didn't. He learned quickly. His basic technique had never been that poor, but no one had ever drilled him in the need for perfection. I wondered if the Westwind Guards had developed that insistence on absolute mastery of weapons and tactics because the women were both the warriors and the child bearers and every woman lost meant children who would not be born.

  "I'll need to keep sparring with you to improve and hold what you've taught me."

  True as his words might be, I had the feeling that Hyel was not telling me everything. "And?"

  He gave me the sheepish grin. "Who else can I talk to? You're the only one who commands fighting forces. The regents are above me, and . . ."

  I could understand that. I did enjoy talking to him. Still . . . "If we're going to spar before the Regent gets here . . ."

  "You're right." With a nod, he picked up his wand.

  We worked hard, and I had to admit that he'd gotten enough better that I had to be on guard all the time. He even got a touch on me, not enough to give me more than a slight bruise, but he hadn't been able to do that before.

  When we set down the wands, I inclined my head. "You're pressing me now." I even had to blot my forehead.

  "Good!" Hyel was soaked, but he was smiling broadly—for a moment.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Is everyone from the West like you and the Regents?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You never stop. From dawn to dusk, you, Creslin, and the Regent Megaera push yourselves. Anyone else would drop. Some of my men have, just trying to keep up with Creslin on his tours of the fields and the springs. He cuts stone, looks and finds springs, runs up and down mountains—"

  "Compared to Westwind," I interjected, "they're just hills."

  "They're mountains to the rest of us." He grinned before continuing. "You and the Regent Megaera are just as bad. You give me and her blade lessons, drill your own guards, cut and dress stones, check supplies and weapons . . . I've even seen you at the grindstone sharpening blades."

  "A Guard Captain has to be able to do all that. That's what the position requires."

  "Stone-cutting, too?"

  "Not always stone-cutting or masonry, but all guards have to have at least apprentice level skills in a craft."

  "No wonder Westwind has lasted so many ages." He shook his head. "That explains you and Creslin. What about the Regent Megaera?"

  I shrugged. "She's more driven than Creslin, and I don't know why."

  Hyel cleared his throat abruptly. "Ah . . ."

  I turned. Megaera had entered the courtyard carrying a practice wand.

  "Until later, Guard Captain." Hyel inclined his head, and then stepped away, offering a deeper nod of respect to Megaera.

  "Can we begin, Shierra?" Megaera asked.

  "Yes, Regent."

  I turned and lifted my wand.

  Megaera had practiced . . . or she had absorbed totally what I had taught her the day before. Once more, she concentrated totally on every aspect of what I showed her. At the end of the practice session, she inclined her head and thanked me, then left hurriedly. I couldn't help but think about what Hyel had said.

  Her intensity made Creslin look calm, and I knew he was scarcely that.

  After washing up a bit, I was back working on cutting stones. I couldn't match the pace that I'd seen in Creslin, but with each day I felt that I was getting more skilled. That was strange, because I'd felt no such improvement over the years before. I couldn't exactly explain what was different, except that the work went more quickly when I could hold onto the sense of calm and order.
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br />   I'd cut and dressed several larger stones when I sensed more than saw Lydya approach. She radiated a calmness that didn't interfere with my concentration. Her presence should have, but it didn't. She said nothing, and I kept working.

  Finally, she stepped forward, almost to my elbow. "You're good at cutting and shaping the rough stone."

  "I've been working at it."

  "You're using some basic order skills, you know?"

  "I watched Creslin for a time. I just thought I'd try to do what he was doing. It looked . . . more effective."

  "Just like that?" Lydya raised her eyebrows.

  "No, not exactly. I already knew something about masonry and stone-cutting. But there was a certain feel to what he was doing . . ." How else could I explain it?

  The healer laughed, softly, but humorously. "There is indeed a feel to the use of order. If you continue to work on developing that feel to your stone-work, you may become a master mason." The humorous tone was replaced with one more somber. "In time, it will impair your ability to use a blade."

  "But . . . Creslin . . ."

  Lydya just nodded. "Order has its price, and there are no exceptions."

  XII

  Megaera made solid improvements. By the end of the second eightday of practice, she was sparring at the same level as the most junior guards. At times, she made terrible mistakes. That was because she had so little experience. Each of those mistakes resulted in severe bruises, and she was fortunate not to have broken her wrist once. Even so, she continued to improve. After our sessions, I began to match her against the guards. That was as much to show her that she had improved as for the practice itself.

  After one session, she forced herself not to limp, despite a slash-blow to her calf that would have tried the will of most of the guards. She did sit down on the stone bench beside me.

  "That was quite a blow you took."

  "I should have sensed it coming." She shook her head.

  I couldn't help noticing that the circles under her eyes were darker. "You can't learn everything all at once."

  "You sound like . . ." She stopped, then went on. "Do you have a sister, Shierra?"

  "A younger sister. She's probably a squad leader now."

  "How do you get along?"