"Oh."
Aiko stretched and turned and moved her head from side to side while Burel watched. "It would not do to pull a muscle or have a cramp in mere practice," she said. "In war, one does not always have the luxury of loosening up, but drill is an altogether different matter."
Burel grunted noncommittally, though he watched carefully, as if noting each and every detail.
Finally, Aiko stood still, her eyes closed, her breathing deep and regular. "I am now visualizing the drill," she murmured, as if speaking any louder would break her concentration.
Burel nodded, but remained silent.
Then Aiko exploded into action, her swords appearing in her hands as if they had somehow been there all the while. And she spun and whirled, her blades humming through the air, cutting high and slicing low, thrusting and backing and cross-blade blocking, driving forward in running fleches, battering, parrying, retreating, crouching, leaping, striking, ducking, dropping to her knees and all the while her steel singing hissing songs of death- swords, daggers, shiruken, appearing, disappearing, lethal weapons always in hand…
Whuff! The air exploded from Burel's lungs with the wonder of it all, and he watched in awe as she gyred and fled and charged and stood, her blades but a blur.
At last she stopped, her steel once again tucked away.
Burel drew a deep, shuddering breath. "That was magnificent," he said. Then he looked at his great sword. "I could never do such."
Aiko nodded. "Your weapon is meant for battle against heavily armored foe and generally in single combat."
Burel nodded. "Have you experience with such weapons?"
Aiko turned up a hand. "They were part of my training."
Burel frowned. "Even though I can easily handle my father's sword, I have had no mentor to tell me whether what I do is right or wrong. -Will you teach me what you know?"
Aiko smiled. "I will do more than that, Burel. I will teach you other weapons as well."
"I already know the bow," said Burel. "The women here have taught me, albeit my skill can be honed. And though I would gladly learn other weapons, I need especially to learn this sword, for I have a task to do."
"But a quick foeman can defeat such a sword."
"Surely," said Burel, nodding. "By arrow cast or thrown dagger, by sling or dart or perhaps even by one of those star-blades you bear."
"Yes, Burel. A missile weapon will indeed do in a swordsman, if the missileer gets the chance and has the skill. But I am speaking of single combat with hand-held blades, neither foe casting. More often than not, quickness and craft will defeat your blade."
"Oh?"
"Let me show you. -Take up the sword."
Aiko drew one of her daggers as Burel hefted his blade.
"Swing at me," said Aiko.
"What?"
"Swing at me," she repeated. "Cleave me in two."
"Lady, I will not."
"If you expect to learn, if you want me to be your mentor, you must do as I say. Now swing at me and fear not, for I will evade."
Gritting his teeth, Burel took a half-hearted cut through the air.
Aiko easily stepped away. Shaking her head, she sheathed her dagger. "You do not want to learn." She started to turn away.
"But I do want to learn," said Burel through gritted teeth. "I just don't wish to kill my teacher."
Aiko faced him and captured his gaze with her own. "Then you must trust me." Again she drew her dagger.
Taking a deep breath, Burel stood long moments staring at her. Then he hefted his sword, and this time the blade hummed as it cut through the air and past Aiko, and viper quick she stepped in and tapped his neck with the flat of her steel as the two-handed blade carried onward.
"Dead man," she said, resheathing her dagger. And in that moment the sun burst over the lip of the scarlet basin, shedding its golden light down and in.
On the bed pad in their acolyte cell, alone for the first time in weeks, Arin and Egil, lost in one another, made gentle love again.
In an adjacent cell, Ferret sat with her back to the wall, her head in her hands, wondering at this inchoate feeling deep inside her, wondering what to do.
In his own cell, Delon fingered his amulet in reverie. Ah, Ferai, my sweet Ferai, I've sung about amour all my life, yet I've never known its touch. Is this what it's like? Am I truly in love?
On his pad in yet another acolyte cell, Alos snored away, the oldster weary from the long trip. Too, he was weary from being startled awake in the mid of night by the howl of the demon horn, and, shrieking, had started to scramble beneath his bedding ere he remembered that it was but a bellows-driven chambered contraption. The oldster had shouted into the hallway about not being able to get any sleep and how could they do such a thing to their guests? But moments later he was snoring again.
In the nave, priestesses of Ilsitt gathered together 'round the circle set in the floor to sing sunrise matins, their sweet songs drifting throughout the corridors and chambers of the convent and across the red basin as well, as the women sang praises to Ilsitt, to Elwydd, to Shailene, to Megami, to the Lady, whatever her name. And they pled for good harvest, for contentment, for peace.
And out on the scarlet flat, Aiko slow-stepped Burel through a deadly dance of the sword.
It was nearly midmorn when they gathered together to break their fast. "Abbess Mayam is in the far field, but she said she would join you at the noon meal," said Jasmine as she served tea and spooned a small portion of oatmeal into bowls to stave off their hunger till then.
Side by side, Egil and Arin eagerly dug into their porridge, as if they relished the day. Alos, though, seemed yet weary, and he stirred the contents of his bowl as if too exhausted to eat, though he drank his tea well enough. Delon took seat next to Ferret, the bard smiling somewhat shyly, which she returned in like kind. Burel and Aiko, their hair plastered down with sweat, commandeered one end of the table, the two yet in deep discussion about the particular ways of fending as well as means of getting through, their tea and oatmeal ignored. Finally, Aiko looked across at him and said, "Eat up, and when we are done, I will show you just what I mean." Burel, eager to learn, spooned in great mouthfuls of the boiled meal, for the sooner finished, the sooner he and Aiko could resume. But Aiko ate slowly and carefully, as if the rite of taking in food was as important as aught else.
Looking at her porridge in dismay, Ferret said, "Well, Dara, if Burel, here, turns out to be the cursed keeper of faith in the maze, then it's time to go after the treasure."
Burel, his full spoon halfway to his mouth, paused and looked at her. "Treasure?"
"The green stone."
"Ah."
"It should be worth a fortune, you know. -To the right buyer, that is."
Arin said, "Ferai, I think it no treasure, but a thing we must give over to the Mages-in Black Mountain or in the college at Rwn."
Without replying, Ferret returned to her oatmeal, but Burel said, "What is it again that the rede named it?"
Arin sighed. "The Jaded Soul."
Delon began tapping the table with his spoon, and as he did so he chanted:
"The Cat Who Fell from Grace;
One-Eye in Dark Water;
Mad Monarch's Rutting Peacock;
The Ferret in the High King's Cage;
Cursed Keeper of Faith in the Maze:
Take these with thee,
No more,
No less,
Else thou wilt fail
To find the Jaded Soul."
Burel nodded, then leaned back. "And what do you think the rede means when it calls the green stone a 'Jaded Soul'?"
Arin shrugged, but Alos said, "Huah, Burel, I would have thought you'd know."