At the Hiring Hall -- just that, a hall lined with benches on both sides, and a desk at the end, all of the ubiquitous varnished wood -- they gave essentially the same story they'd given the guard. Their tale differed only in that Kethry was being more of herself; it wouldn't do to look an idiot when she was trying to get work. As they had been told, the steward of the hall shook his blond head regretfully when Tarma informed him that she was only interested in short-term assignments.
"I'm sorry, Swordlady," he told her, "Very sorry. I could get you your pick of a round dozen one-to-five-year contracts. But this is the lean season, and there just isn't anything for a hire-sword but longterm. But your friend -- yes."
"Oh?" Kethry contrived to look eager.
"There's a fellow from a cadet branch of one of the Fifty; he just came into a nice fat Royal grant. He's getting the revenue from Upvale wine taxes, and he's bent on showing the City how a real aristo does things when he gets the cash to work with. He's starting a full stable; hunters, racers, carriage beasts and pleasure beasts. He knows his horseflesh; what he doesn't know is how to tell if there's been a glamour put on 'em. Doesn't trust City mages, as who could blame him. They're all in the pay of somebody, and it's hard to say who might owe whom a favor or three. So he's had me on the lookout for an independent, and strictly temporary. Does that suit your talents?"
"You couldn't have suited me better!" Kethry exclaimed with delight. "Mage-sight's one of my strongest skills."
"Right then," the steward said with satisfaction. "Here's your address; here's your contract -- sign here -- "
Kethry scrutinized the brief document, nodded, and made her mage-glyph where he indicated.
" -- and off you go; and good luck to you."
They left together; at the door, Tarma asked, "Want me with you?"
"No, I know the client, but he won't know me. He's not one of Kavin's crowd, which is all I was worried about. I'll be safe enough on my own."
"All right then; I'll get back to the inn. Maybe Hadell has a connection to something."
* * * Hadell poured Tarma a mug of ale, sat down beside her at the bench, and shook his head with regret. "Not a thing, Swordlady. I'm -- "
"Afraid this is the lean season, I know. Well look, I'm half mad with boredom, is there at least somewhere I can practice?" Her trainers would not come to her while she was within city boundaries, so it was up to her to stay in shape. If she neglected to -- woe betide her the next time they did come to her!
"There's a practice ground with pells set up behind the stable, if you don't mind that it's outside and a simple dirt ring."
"I think I'll survive," she laughed, and went to fetch her blades.
The practice ground was easy enough to find; Tarma was pleased to find it deserted as well. There was a broom leaning against the fence to clear off the light snow; she used it to sweep the entire fenced enclosure clean. The air was crisp and still, the sun weak but bright, and close enough to the zenith that there would be no "bad" sides to face. She stood silently for a moment or two, eyes closed; shaking off the "now" and entering that timeless state that was both complete concentration and complete detachment. She began with the warmup exercises; a series of slow, deliberate movement patterns that blurred, each into the next. When she had finished with them, she did not stop, but proceeded to the next stage, drawing the sword at her back and executing another movement series, this time a little faster. With each subsequent stage her moves became more intricate, and a bit more speed was added, until her blade was a shining blur and an onlooker could almost see the invisible opponent she dueled with.
She ended exactly where she had begun, slowing her movements down again to end with the resheathing of her blade, as smooth and graceful as a leaf falling. As it went home in the scabbard with a metallic click, the applause began.
Startled, Tarma glanced in the direction of the noise; she'd been so absorbed in her exercises that she hadn't noticed her watchers. There were three of them -- Hadell, and two fur-cloaked middle-aged men who had not been part of the Guard contingent last night.
She half-bowed (with a wry grin), and let them approach her.
"I'd heard Shin'a'in were good -- Swordlady, you've just proved to me that sometimes rumor speaks truth," said the larger of the two, a weatheredlooking blond with short hair and a gold clasp to his cloak. "Lady, I'm Justin Twoblade, this is my shieldbrother Ikan Dry vale."
"Tarma shena Tale'sedrin," she supplied, "And my thanks. A compliment comes sweeter from a brother in the trade."
"We'd like to offer you more than compliments, if you're willing," said the second, amber-haired, like Kethry, but with blue eyes; and homely, with a plowboy's ingenuous expression.
"Well, since I doubt it's a bid for bed-services, I'll at least hear you out."
"Lessons. We'll pay your reckoning and your partner's in return for lessons."
Tarma leaned on the top bar of the practiceenclosure and gave the notion serious thought. "Hmm, I'll admit I like the proposition," she replied, squinting into the sunlight. "Question is, why, and for how long? I'd hate to miss a chance at the only short-term job for months and then have you two vanish on me."
Hadell interceded for them. "They'll not vanish, Swordlady," he assured her. "Justin and Ikan are wintering here, waiting for the caravans to start up again in spring. They're highly valued men to the Jewel Merchant's Guild -- valued enough that the merchants pay for 'em to stay here idle during the lean season."
"Aye, valued and bored!" Ikan exclaimed. "That's one reason for you. Few enough are those willing to spar with either of us -- fewer still with the leisure for it. And though I've seen your style before, I've never had a chance to learn it -- or how to counter it. If you wouldn't mind our learning how to counter it, that is,"
"Mind? Hardly. Honest guards like you won't see Clan facing your blades, and anyone else who's learned our style thinking he'll have an easy time against hirelings deserves to meet someone with the counters. Done, then; for however long it takes Keth to earn us the coin to reprovision, I'll be your teacher."
"And we'll take care of the reckoning," Justin said, with a sly grin. "We'll just add it to our charges on the Guild. Odds are they'll think we've just taken to drinking and wenching away the winter nights!"
"Justin, I think I'm going to like you two," Tarma laughed. "You think a lot like me!"
Three
Yellow lamplight made warm pools around the common room of the Broken Sword, illuminating a scene far more relaxed than that of the night before. The other residents of the inn were much more cheerful, and certainly less weary, for there had been no repetition of yesterday's riot.
The two women had taken a table to themselves at the back of the room, in the corner. It was quieter there, and easier for them to hear each other. A lamp just over the table gave plenty of light, and Kethry could see that Tarma was quite well pleased with herself.