by Guy Antibes
“Oh,” Sam said. “No more tournaments, then?”
“Drak has said he will continue to work with a few students on a private basis, and that includes Norna and you. You won’t be able to enter a club tournament unless you find a club willing to take you in. I find that unlikely, however, with your being a foreigner.”
“Norna has the same problem?”
Grott nodded. “That she does. I hadn’t told you before because I didn’t need to as long as you were a student. It is a rule that was made shortly after Viktar Kreb began to make all kinds of small rules that bind us to Vaarek,” Grott said.
“I didn’t know.”
“You do now. When you leave the university, you will find life in Tolloy is a little harder now than when you first arrived in the city.” Grott raised his hand to forestall any comments. “I didn’t say any of that, right?”
“You didn’t.” Sam was about to mention his conversation with Gortak, but he didn’t want to implicate Professor Grott in anything that Desmon or Plantian might be doing through his contact with him.
“Why don’t you pick up the sword tomorrow? We can go to that Zogazin place that you’ve mentioned. Perhaps Norna, Drak, and us.”
“I’ll do that,” Sam said.
~
The dinner was a morose affair. Hilsa could probably tell the mood was subdued and was less effervescent than usual.
“I’ll leave some notes with Professor Drak to use as a guide. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for either of you to compete in the open tournament. This year there is a division for unattached, under-aged swordsman, and now that there isn’t a university team, you both will qualify. I suppose someone is looking for more swordsmen, if you know what I mean. However, it’s always good to train with a goal, I’ve always thought. I shudder what the goal of my new students will be.”
“To fight with abandon, like I did when I first showed up at the practice hall,” Sam said. “My style was developed in actual fighting.”
Grott laughed. “Perhaps the army should have drafted you as the instructor. I wouldn’t forget how to frame your mind to do that again.” He shook his head with deep disappointment. “The dictatorship has finally come and snatched me,” he said.
“When will it be my time?” Professor Drak asked.
“The first thing I will do is complain loudly enough for an assistant.”
Drak’s eyes grew large. “Not me!”
“I wouldn’t do such a thing, Whem, but who knows what the army will do?” The smile on Grott’s face faded.
The food came. “Let us concentrate on Zogazin food for the rest of the evening.” Grott called to the server, “Bring us some proper seasonings!”
The next day, Sam looked over at the empty practice hall. Some other sport would probably take over the space. Now, he thought, he had no reason for staying in the South Dormitory. With the exception of a few students, Norna included, his closest friends on the team were gone. Now he would have to concentrate on his studies.
Norna knocked on Sam’s open door. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “I still need a practice partner.”
“I was going to move to Professor Plunk’s house.”
Norna’s eyebrows rose. “You can’t do that. I’ll be without friends.”
“I have another female that I miss spending time with.”
Norna’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, at least not after your little pair of warders left.”
“Emmy, my Great Sanchian Hound.”
“A big brutish thing?”
“Big, but not brutish, at all,” Sam said.
“Stay until winter. Can you do that?”
Sam smiled. “If at all possible, I will.” And with that, Sam had changed his mind.
~
Winter came, and Sam continued to work with Norna, Professor Drak, and two other students in a smaller practice room in another building in the southern side of the university.
Desmon had left Plunk’s house again, and perhaps he was gone for good, since he had removed all his belongings this time. The foreign stalls at the Grand Market were to be closed down, and that left Desmon without a job in an increasingly hostile Tolloy. He had left before Sam could say goodbye.
Everything added to the changes Viktar Kreb’s government had made administering the capital city. It seemed, to Sam anyway, that the university was increasingly an island of order in a city descending towards becoming an armed city.
Drak took Sam and Norna to the first two club tournaments. The quality of the duelists did not match the previous year.
“You could beat any of the first bracket, either of you,” Drak said.
“I have to agree,” Norna said. She looked at Sam. “And you can beat me on a regular basis, so I suppose you are the winner for this tournament.”
“In my dreams,” Sam said. He didn’t think he could bring himself to watch the final tournament of the year.
~
Winter had come and gone, and Sam could sense his time in Tolloy was coming to a close. Nothing had really felt right since the food poisoning experiment.
They had dinner at the Zogazin restaurant close to the South Gate of the university.
Drak got up right after the meal. “It is time I put my little ones to bed. I’ll see you two in a few days for practice. Onward to the open!”
Sam watched Drak leave the restaurant.
“What are you thinking about?” Norna said. “I hope it isn’t about me.” She gave Sam a smile. “I have a new friend.”
“Is he a Vaarekian?” Sam asked.
She shook her head. He is a Wollian, and I asked him to have dessert with us. I thought Whem would stay. I hope it won’t be too awkward for you.”
“Not for me,” Sam said, without thinking.
“Here he is,” Norna said, looking over Sam’s shoulder.
Sam thought it might be Desmon Sandal, so he turned to greet him and was shocked to see Mito Nakara approaching their table. Sam cleared his throat in panic. He wondered if Mito had told Norna some story. Sam didn’t like the fact that the much older Lashakan would take advantage of his friend.
“Mito, how have you been?” Sam said.
At least Mito and Norna had met plenty of times when Mito had tutored Sam the previous year. Sam had not, under any circumstances, expected Nakara to have a romantic relationship with the rather plain Norna.
“I have been busy. You should congratulate me on my new occupation.”
“Congratulations. Now tell me what your new line of work is.”
“I am an assistant in Professor Dinik’s Mechanical Sciences class,” Mito said. “I barely made it in. They are about to restrict new faculty to Vaarekian citizens.”
“That means the next step is to expel all three of us,” Norna said.
Sam couldn’t fault her claim. “So, why my Mechanical Sciences class? I’ve never seen you there.”
Mito put a finger to his lips. “I don’t officially start until tomorrow, but I’ve been there for the past month. Norna knows.”
She smiled and nodded. “I saw him at the main commissary and got reacquainted. She took Mito’s hand and smiled at him. “We are just friends, though. We foreigners have to stick together.”
“Where are you staying?”
“West Dorms, for now, and probably until the end of this term,” Mito said. “I’m looking forward to both of you competing in the open tournament.”
“In our own special corner,” Sam said.
Mito tapped Sam on the shoulder. “There will be plenty of competition. The army is letting its unattached swordsmen compete. I doubt you stand much of a chance.”
“But the good swordsman will enter in the real open.”
“The open open,” Norna said with a giggle.
She hadn’t giggled a lot around Drak and Sam ever since Grott left the university.
Sam shrugged.
Hilsa walked up, rubbing her hands together. “What for d
essert?”
“Something sweet,” Sam said, giving Mito a half-smile.
~
Mito showed up at Drak’s practice session. It was just before Professor Dinik’s Mechanical Sciences course on innovation.
“Mind if I see how you’ve improved? You have certainly grown some in the past year.”
Sam nodded. “We will see if my swordsmanship has expanded along with my body.”
They warmed up with their own version of Lashakan warm-up forms. Sam’s had changed in the past year as his stature had changed and matured. Mito noticed the difference.
“I’m glad to see you have worked on your warming up,” Mito said. “A good Lashakan will continually work on optimizing his forms during his life. Now let us see how you handle a dueling sword against my Lashak.”
Sam was a little uncertain about how he would measure up with Mito, but he took a deep breath and found the mood that he sought. Mito did the same thing, and they pointed their toes at each other and slid them back in the Lashakan style that Sam hadn’t used since on board the ship that brought him to Tolloy.
Mito advanced quickly, but Sam stood his ground as their swords clanged with a loud sound in the smaller practice room. Mito was very aggressive. Sam had seen this before and had always been on the defensive, but in the last year, Grott had taught him how to be defensively aggressive, as his former teacher had said. Sam reached underneath Mito’s arm after wiping away a thrust and touched the Lashakan’s chest with the tip of his sword.
“Your speed has done more than keep up,” Mito said.
They continued to spar. Each one working to defeat the other in a series of single touch matches, at least that was how Sam viewed them.
They finished less than ten minutes later, each drenched with sweat. Sam had out-touched Mito seven to three.
“Grott worked out all your little mistakes, and there were plenty when I left last year.”
Sam frowned. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t have the time to tell you, but your former teacher and I talked about what to do with you. I suspect Whem Drak was given a book full of notes to guide him on working with Norna and you.” Mito checked himself for blood and found a few places that needed some attention.
Norna walked over. “Very good. I wanted to see you up against a swordsman with a similar style to yours, Mito. I am impressed with both of you.”
Mito spread his arms wide. “But I lost to the boy.”
Norna smiled. “You scored on him four times. I count that as a victory.”
“Three,” Sam said.
Mito laughed. “He is right. You said he beats you regularly and I agree with that.”
Professor Drak joined them.
“He is ready?” Mito said.
Drak shook his head. “No one is really ready. It is a period of expansion, followed by declines for the rest of your life. Sam has shown me that I am beginning my decline.”
“Not true,” Norna said. “Professor Drak is still expanding.” She looked at the professor. “You still thrash me mercilessly.”
Sam kept his mouth shut. He was getting closer and closer to Whem Drak’s level. Sam considered a little of both was going on. Drak was losing a tiny bit of his edge, and Sam was improving as he worked out and improved his speed, his strength, and the mental part of his capabilities. His advisor still beat him every time, but Sam didn’t feel as inadequate sparring with the professor any longer.
“Then let us see Norna and Sam duel,” Mito said, folding his arms.
“No,” Norna said. “I’ve fought Sam every day for months. We know he has surpassed me. That should be good enough.”
Sam wondered if Norna didn’t want to be beaten in front of Mito Nakara. “I don’t need to prove anything,” he said.
“It’s not you I want to see,” Mito said.
A flash of worry adorned Norna’s face. Sam smiled. “I am willing to spar for a touch or two. What do you say, Norna?”
She looked unhappy but unsheathed her sword. “I need a bit more warming up.”
Sam watched Mito observe Norna’s moves. He still didn’t understand what attracted the pair to each other, even as friends, but Sam still didn’t understand much about what signals people gave in a relationship. He still thought of Winnie Bentwick and wondered how she was faring.
After Norna nodded that she was ready, Sam smiled, and they saluted each other in the Vaarekian fashion before attacking. Sam could tell Norna was trying too hard, and Sam made weaker attempts to touch than he usually did, but eventually, there was an opening too large to miss, and he made the first touch.
Mito pursed his lips and looked at Sam through narrowed eyes. It was obvious he could tell Sam held back. The second touch occurred much sooner. Sam had to admit Norna was off her usual level of expertise, and he could excuse that seeing how nervous she was.
“Is that acceptable, Mito?” Sam asked.
Mito grinned broadly. “It is. Matches are more interesting when you look deeper into the motivations of the swordsmen.” He bowed to Norna. “I am sure I put you off.”
Norna gave Mito an appraising look. “I am sure you did,” she said.
~
Professor Dinik called Mito and Sam over to a corner of the laboratory that had been walled off by a pollen curtain.
“Inside,” he said.
Sam looked at a curious contraption. It had a circle of arms held back by thick pollen lines. It looked like a circle of catapults. “This is some kind of sowing machine?” Sam said. “You fling the seed by setting off the arms?”
“That is close enough,” Dinik said. “Mito has been working on this for Plantian’s daughter.”
“A ward flinger,” Sam said. “I don’t like it. How can you possibly control where the wards are tossed?”
“That is why I am here,” Mito said. “Even the pollen lines aren’t up to the task.”
“Rubber,” Sam said to Renatee. “It will stretch better than any pollen I’ve seen, and it won’t deteriorate as quickly, either.”
Mito smiled. “That is exactly what Professor Dinik told me. It is already on order. What else can you comment on?”
Sam walked around the thing. “Bigger wheels, if it is to be used on dirt, or mud, or whatever. With wards, definitely tires on the wheels to keep the wards from exploding. Everything should be made out of metal. No pollen because it won’t stand up to the elements for any length of time, like the rubber stretchers.”
“We have already discussed those changes,” Renatee said.
Sam turned to his professor. “Then why did you bring me in here? I would have rather not known anything. This is a war machine, and it is dangerous to let anyone see it.”
“It is an agricultural implement. As you said on your first glance, it can be used for sowing,” Mito said.
“Then make it look like one,” Sam said. “You could engineer an articulating spreader.” Sam went to a worktable and grabbed a scrap piece of paper. He turned and looked at the mechanism and sketched out a broadcasting arm that might be able to toss seeds at different levels. “Something like this.” He examined the space. “And you might want to bring in some sacks of seed grain and make it look like you are working on something to help farmers.”
“You won’t help us?” Professor Dinik said. He made a face. “Oh, please. I’ll give you a higher grade.”
Sam clamped his lips together. “Leave me out of it. I want to duel and train, not spy.”
“But you would snoop?” Mito said.
“I would, but for a crime of some kind.” Sam bowed to both men and left them to their awful machine.
Sam wondered if he had been too harsh. He knew he had overreacted to Mito’s machine, but at least he had left them with some workable ideas, although even he could think of problems they would have with the spreader mechanism he had sketched out. It would be better to use some kind of a dropping mechanism for seeding. He could think of hoppers with adjustable holes in the bottom and
let gravity do its job rather than flinging it.
He had read about sowing in Cherryton when he went to compulsory school, about how much an art hand-sowing seed was. Sam didn’t know if he believed every word of what he recalled, but there certainly had to be a better way than sowing seeds, although Mito wasn’t interested in flinging seeds, but wards. Cover a battlefield with wards in unpredictable patterns, and lives would be shed too easily.
Chapter Fifteen
~
P rofessor Dinik had apologized to Sam, but Mito was no longer as friendly. Sam was walking from the laboratory to the commissary when Lieutenant Kelch stopped him.
“I have another job,” Kelch said. “We think it is an art robbery.” He looked at Sam with pleading eyes. “I don’t know anything about art.”
“And I do? I’m only seventeen,” Sam said. “Where did I ever pick up an interest in art?”
“Someone stole real paintings and substituted them with pollen copies. I thought you might have some insights with the pollen.”
“Actually, I do,” Sam said. “Let’s talk while I eat.”
Kelch smiled. “I’m a little hungry myself.”
They sat down in the commissary and ate while Kelch told Sam what he knew, but it wasn’t much. Sam guessed it was the same kind of thing that had happened enough times in Toraltia and in Carolank with the Wollian who had killed the harbormaster.
“I will need to examine the phony paintings,” Sam said.
Kelch stood up. “I was hoping you would say that. Let’s go.”
In a modest art gallery across campus, close to the administration building, a guard unlocked the door and let them in.
“We closed it off as soon as the curator discovered some of the more valuable paintings were pollen copies.”
“None of these are supposed to be made out of pollen?”
Kelch nodded his head. “The curator is on her way. She said all the paintings were real.”
Sam didn’t know anything about art, but he did know about pollen forgeries. As Kelch followed him, Sam strolled through the gallery and noted the fake paintings in his notebook.
