A Scholar Without Magic

by Guy Antibes

  The match went down from there. His opponent’s mind wasn’t where it needed to be, and Sam made quick work of his opponent, losing only a cheap point in the process. He wasn’t any more difficult to beat than the girl in his first match. Both of them had been defeated by their initial attacks not working

  Sam wondered how he would have fared had he not toughened up the mental aspect of his dueling. He wiped the Lashak sword blade and withdrew a pink-tinged line in his damp towel. The sword had done its share to ensure his victory. He didn’t think he could have moved quite so fast with Professor Grott’s sword.

  A figure stood in front of him. Sam raised his eyes and looked into the face of Captain Gortak.

  “I remember you. The Toraltian, right?”

  Sam nodded.

  “An unusual story that checked out, I must say, and you carry an unusual sword. A Lashak?”

  “I bought it when I stopped at Port Hassin in Wollia,” Sam said.

  “Ah, yes. You visited Wollian and helped the local authorities.”

  “We were in an unusual situation. Every situation is unusual in Wollia, just like me,” Sam said with a smile.

  Gortak looked back at his team. “You found the weakness of our third bracket competitor. He can get frazzled.”

  “So can I,” Sam said. “I did much the same thing when we dueled the Writer’s Guild.”

  “I know. I was there, up in the seats, gathering intelligence.” Gortak gave him a genuine smile. “It is what I do.”

  Sam swallowed, schooling his face to remain passive. “Then you saw me lose.”

  “I did. I admire a competitor who seeks improvement. Keep it up, and you will go far up the ranks.” He nodded and left.

  Sam watched him return to his defeated opponent and have an active conversation with the young man. It didn’t look like Gortak was as friendly to the young man from the Intelligence Agency as he had been to Sam.

  Norna was up next. There were two second-bracket groups, and she was defeated in her first match. She walked back to the university seats with her head down.

  “I give up!” she said.

  “Why?” Professor Grott said as he followed her to the seat.

  “I was beaten.”

  “Five to four. It could have gone either way, and you drew one of the best in the second bracket.”

  “Do you know how everyone will perform?” she said, her voice filled with petulance.

  “Pretty much,” Grott said. “All the better clubs have coaches attend the preliminary tournaments like ours with the Writer’s Guild. Don’t feel bad. The next tournament will be seeded. That means—”

  “I know what it means,” Norna said. “At least I’ll have a chance.”

  Professor Grott smiled, ignoring her attitude. “You always have a chance. I think I will put Sam in charge of your development.”

  “Sam?”

  “He quite impressively raised his mental game and performed much better than even I expected. Work with him for a few weeks. I guarantee you will do better in the mid-season tournament.”

  Norna looked sideways at Sam. “Will you?”

  Sam grinned. “If you promise to follow my instructions. I am a third-bracket competitor, though.”

  “A third-bracket champion. There is a little bit of a difference.”

  Sam sat back with his lips pursed. He hadn’t really thought about the champion part of it. He looked at Professor Grott, who stood with his back turned, watching the beginning of the next second-bracket matches. “Will I compete as a third-bracket, again?”

  Grott shook his head as he turned around. “Your ability was out there, easy to see. I think they will make you compete as a second-bracket next time, but if you do as I expect, you will be in the first bracket for the last tournament, and the competition, even to compete for the university, will be much, much harder.”

  Sam looked for Banna, Mito, and Desmon, but they had already left the building. He felt deflated, even after winning his bracket. For some reason, he couldn’t savor his victory, since his competition increased with every win.

  ~

  Sam’s third bracket performance only made him more of a target for the other Level Ones. He didn’t look forward to class, except for his work with Norna. She was just as merciless on the practice floor as the others, but her first-round loss had wounded her.

  “You have to concentrate on yourself. Think of it as inner armor,” Sam said during their first session. “That is how Mito Nakara termed it.”

  He duplicated what Professor Grott and Nakara had drilled into him for weeks. She, being the competitor she was, took it all to heart. Sam could see the progress she had made. Norna was as inclined to undisciplined breakdowns as Sam had been and he gradually saw those come under her control.

  “Aggression is good, as long as it is moved in the right direction,” Sam said. Professor Grott had made the same observation on Sam’d losing his offense and going on undisciplined defense.

  After a flurry of tournaments with other clubs, the time finally came for tryouts for the mid-season tournament, just before Midsummer Break. The school term was just finishing, and Sam had been at the University of Tolloy for ten months. He wondered where all the time went for it to be over a year since he had fled from Baskin.

  The tryouts were harder for Sam, since Grott put him with the better Level Ones. Everyone competed at a high level, but Sam and a much-improved Norna had both made it to the second bracket at the tournament.

  Sam focused on schoolwork and dueling. His life had room for nothing else, except for occasional trips to Professor Plantian’s back garden and regular reunions with Emmy. Even Desmon had left his job at the Grand Market and disappeared. So much for the Wollian being Sam’s servant. He hadn’t had much contact with Desmon in the last few months anyway.

  The mid-season tournament was pretty much a repeat of the first, except the competition was at a much higher level for Sam. He was deprived of winning the second bracket by a touch, and he was nearly as disappointed as Norna, who had lost by the same single touch to the same Intelligence Agency competitor who took first place in the second bracket.

  “We did just fine,” Grott said to all the fencing classes on the next day. “Our duelists reached the first and second-bracket finals, and the others placed high, as well. Everyone improved.”

  Grott took Sam aside. “You will have to practice very hard to make it in the first bracket. The judges won’t allow you to compete in lower brackets for the next tournament. Norna’s defeat showed she belongs in the second bracket, and she has an excellent chance of winning. You did a fine job with her.”

  Sam gave the professor half a smile. “So, do I quit if I can’t make it?”

  “None of that attitude with me. You sound like Norna did after the first tournament.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean it, but do I have a chance?”

  Grott’s face darkened. “Frankly, my two entrants into the first bracket will do well in the open dueling season. If you were a year or two older, I’d think you had a better chance, but I will have you work out with them more. In fact, with your progress, there are only four students that will now be a struggle to beat. Professor Drak and I will have to work out with all of you to bring your levels up, unless I can hire an open champion to spar. I’ve done it before, but not without some onerous promises to the administration.”

  Even with all the coaching from Drak and Grott, Sam didn’t seem to be able to make significant progress against his competitors for a first bracket in the last tournament of the year. He had improved, and even now, he could feel himself improve day by day, but he worried his competition was making the same progress.

  His sparring with Norna showed him that he had finally surpassed her in his abilities, but that didn’t make him feel any better. The tryouts finally came, and Sam, unfortunately, was going to be a spectator since he would be seeded with the Level Ones, and Grott told him that he couldn’t beat the older students on the un
iversity team as regularly as they beat him.

  “I want you to be down on the floor with Drak and me, helping the other competitors. I know Norna seems to think she needs you there.”

  Sam smiled. “I can do that. Maybe I’ll pick up some pointers observing from the floor.”

  The tournament was a bittersweet experience for Sam. He did help with the other competitors, noticing changes in their styles. Norna did prevail in the second bracket, and both of Sam’s competitors for the first bracket sought out his opinion between matches, but neither of them won.

  As they packed up to go, Captain Gortak sauntered over.

  “So you are a coach, now?”

  Sam shook his head. “I was close to getting a spot on the team, but not close enough.”

  “You haven’t given up yet, have you?”

  Sam shook his head again. “No. I’m still improving.”

  “You do that. At least one of Grott’s first-bracket swordsmen will be gone next year on assignment. I imagine you will have the field to yourself, Smith. Keep in shape,” he said as he strolled back to his team in time to walk with them off the field.

  Sam didn’t know what to think about that comment. He would have to see if Professor Grott might know more about the two Level Ones that had finished second and fifth in the tournament.

  He didn’t have long to wait. “Ride with Drak and me back to the practice hall. I want to go over what you saw and give you my opinion on how you coached.”

  Sam shrugged. “I just did what came to me, Professor Grott.”

  “I want more than that, but don’t worry about trying to think about it. We will ask you questions, and you’ll come up with the answers.”

  Sam nodded and followed. Other students carried the bags of towels and other items that Grott lugged to every tournament.

  They had barely left the arena when Sam related his conversation with Captain Gortak.

  “They are due to graduate, but both were thinking of extending their time on the team,” Professor Grott said.

  “Perhaps.” Sam looked at them, not wanting to give them his ominous opinion, “I think Gortak is hinting that there might be a conscription shortly.”

  “He would know more than I would. They haven’t drafted foreigners; at least not to date. My boys are always targets, since they know how to use a sword,” Professor Grott said.

  “Men with college degrees are usually made into officers in Toraltia,” Sam said, thinking back to something Harrison Dimple and Dickey Nail had told him on different occasions.

  “So far, that is the case with the Vaarekian military, although rules and regulations are made to be changed,” Grott said, “but it doesn’t matter what happens, you still need to improve. Our competitors did well, but you can get there if you keep up your training.”

  Sam knew he could get stronger, and a little more growth might give him the reach he needed, as long as he could maintain his speed. He shook his head. It wasn’t worth daydreaming. He would have to continue to work hard to do any of that.

  “Why am I traveling with you?” Sam asked.

  “I like the way you worked with the other Level Ones. You are certainly good enough to earn their trust, and you aren’t a professor, to add to the intimidation.”

  “But a little intimidation is a good thing for a snoop and for a coach,” Sam said.

  Drak laughed. “I forgot you were a snoop.”

  Sam still considered himself a snoop.

  “I’d like you to work out with Drak or me and help coach the Level Ones. You did well preparing Norna Hawkal and gave solid advice to our two first-bracket competitors on the dueling floor,” Professor Grott said.

  If Sam were honest, he had had fun working with the duelists, nearly as much as he had competing. “I can do that, or at least we can try it out. If I don’t do well, then I can always stop, right?”

  “Right,” Grott said.

  Chapter Eleven

  ~

  S am’s first efforts being a coach didn’t seem to be so bad. Professor Grott worked with him for a few sessions with students, and then he was on his own. Sam didn’t intend to convert other Level Ones to his mental techniques, but it seemed Norna had begun singing Sam’s praises, and he spent most of his time coaching students to use their heads more, anyway.

  He found it a learning experience, since the other fighters all had different needs and different backgrounds. All Level Ones knew how to concentrate, so Sam didn’t have to teach them basics, but how to modify how they approached each match. As he worked out on the floor with each student, Sam found his own swordsmanship gradually improved along with the others.

  Towards the end of a class, he spotted Glory standing in the corner by the entrance watching the action. He approached her on his way out.

  “I’m in need of a good snoop,” she said. “You are really good with a sword, aren’t you?”

  “It is how I get exercise,” Sam said.

  “Right,” she said looking up at him. “Either I have gotten shorter, or you have gotten a lot taller.”

  “Maybe my final growth spurt,” Sam said. He had to agree with her comment, since he hadn’t seen her for months.

  “What brings you to the south part of campus? Are you taking up a sport?”

  Glory laughed. “Not me. I came for your help.”

  Sam shook his head smiling. “How can I be of assistance?”

  Her mouth turned into a pout. “Someone has stolen half of my money, and when I talked about it, others had experienced the same thing in my dormitory.”

  “And you want me to investigate?”

  She smiled with confidence. “Of course. Don’t you save ladies in distress? I am in distress, and I can put a price on it.”

  “All right. Let me get washed up. Give me the directions to your dorm, and I will be there in less than half-an-hour.”

  Sam listened to her address twice, so he wouldn’t get it wrong, and left her to return. He hurried to change his clothes, and soon he knocked on the door to her room. Tera Barako opened it. She wore a uniform.

  “Have you already been inducted into the army?” Sam asked.

  She nodded. “We have to train in these now, so we are used to them when we are finished.”

  Sam smiled. “Are you just about done with the university?”

  “Are you here about the money?” Tera said.

  “You mean the loss of the money?”

  “Of course, I do,” Tera said, smiling. “Glory and I had to wager to see who would go.”

  “She lost?” Sam asked.

  Tera shook her head. “She won, but you beat her here.”

  “That isn’t possible,” Sam said. “Who would have stopped her?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe Smaller?”

  “You still call Smallbug’s son that?”

  Tera giggled. “It is a little foolish, perhaps, but we always have a laugh doing that.”

  “Let’s find her.”

  Sam let Tera take the lead. He had no idea what route Glory might have taken, except he hadn’t seen her at all along the way. He wished he had Emmy to find the girl, but they passed an alleyway where Sam could hear shouting.

  “Don’t hit me!”

  That was Glory’s voice. He ran down the alley, wishing he had a sword or at least his wand. Sam didn’t think he was very adept with his fists. Tera’s steps sounded right behind Sam as they reached where Smaller held Glory.

  Sam pushed Smaller aside. “What are you doing?” Sam said.

  “She didn’t wear her uniform today. Every cadet has to wear their uniform,” Smaller said.

  Sam noticed that he wasn’t wearing one. “Where is yours? You probably rank higher than cadet,” Sam said.

  Smaller let Glory go, pushing her against the wall. “Mind your own business,” he said, “or I’ll toss a ward at you.”

  Sam couldn’t believe his ears. “You are threatening me over Glory not wearing a uniform, while you don’t have your
s on? Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?”

  “Get back!” Smaller said. He slapped something on Sam’s forearm. “That will teach you!”

  Sam kicked Smaller at his knees, making him buckle and fall to the ground. The man wasn’t much of a fighter.

  “Come with me, girls.” He looked down at Smaller. “I’ll make sure Glory gets her uniform on.”

  Once he looked at his arm, out of Smaller’s sight, he saw the glint of a flesh-colored ward.

  “What kind of creep is he?” Sam said. “This is a ward! Let me sit down so I can eliminate it.” He looked at Glory, who had returned. “You better get your uniform on. Tera will show me the way back to your room, and we can get the snooping started.”

  Glory nodded. She wiped away a tear and ran off.

  “Should I call for Professor Smallbug?” Tera asked. “I’ve never put a ward on a person before.”

  “Haven’t they taught you how to deactivate wards?” Sam spotted a bench and sat on it to look at his predicament. He hadn’t seen a ward like this, but it couldn’t be much different from the wards he had learned to disable on the voyage.

  “I’m not very good at it. I make them better than destroy them,” Tera said.

  Sam shook his head. “You’d better learn quickly. Destroying a ward can be very dangerous.”

  She nodded. “We are in the Vaarekian Army now, so I’ll learn. It was official last week. Glory was missing some money, and then many of us were. We leave the university in two days.”

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Why wasn’t Glory in her uniform, anyway?”

  “She didn’t want to wear it on the campus.”

  “So, it’s my fault?”

  Tera sighed. “Only indirectly. What are you going to do?”

  Sam put his arm on the back of the bench and took a deep breath. Using his mental sight, he saw three layers. He guessed one attached the ward to his arm and insulated the active layer from triggering from the bottom; the active one might be some kind of explosive and the trigger layer.

  He struggled to pull out a golden tip. He had had ten made. This was the original one his father had given him. He held it just off his skin and watched the ward’s edge begin to disintegrate. Within a minute, the ward was deactivated. He brushed the inert pollen flakes from his arm.