Looking as dazed as if he had taken several blows to the head, Treysind huddled behind a tree. If he had interfered with the combat in any way, Calistin had not noticed him.
The sword withdrew, replaced by a proffered hand.
Ignoring it, Calistin bounded to his feet. "Again," he growled.
The old man complied. Like quicksilver, he threaded around and through Calistin's attacks, toying with his defenses. For several moments, they waged a battle that seemed perfect and endless before Calistin found himself, once more, on the ground. He scuttled up instantly, but the damage was done. He had lost.
Without a word, the old man sheathed his swords and returned to his seat on the intertwined tree limbs.
Calistin also put his swords away, and brushed leaf mold off his posterior. He could not help staring. "Who are you?"
"I told you," the stranger seemed no more winded than Calistin. "I'm a teacher at the school."
"But you must have a name; it should be known far and wide."
The stranger shrugged. "I'm simply called Teacher or Amazir, swordmaster, because the blade is my weapon of choice. You may call me what you wish, Calistin, though I prefer you drop the address you've used so far."
Calistin had to think back to remember. "Old man." A grin stretched his lips.
"Not that it's false. It's just that, when you get to be my age, you don't need the constant reminders."
Calistin shook his head and studied the stranger again, but nothing stood out as extraordinary. His build seemed average in most ways, though Calistin could make out the well-apportioned, if not particularly large, sinews. He had keen eyes for one so old; the steeli ness had returned. Yet nothing else about him could explain his exquisite mastery of the sword.
"Why are you staring at me?"
Calistin ceased his inspection, blushing that it had become so obvious. "It's just that… well… no one's ever bested me before. Not since I've become a man."
"As I said, no matter how competent you are, there is always someone better."
"Really."The old man had no way to know that Calistin had battled every Renshai, had fought in the Pirate Wars, and had even faced a Valkyrie. He could not fully comprehend his latest victories; but Calistin did and had to ask, "Have you met anyone who can defeat you?"
The man sometimes called Amazir smiled. "Not yet. But the day I do, I'll either go to my pyre happily or find my sword instructor, depending on how I handle the situation."
Calistin was not stupid. He believed he knew exactly what this man meant. "Are you offering to teach me?" He had long outstripped his many torke and had spent the last several years creating new maneuvers to keep him improving and occupied. The idea of learning new techniques from the old warrior left him desperate with yearning. Worried he might lose the opportunity, that the old man might think he meant the question sarcastically, he added quickly, "Because I'd like that. I'd really like that. More than anything else in the world, truly."
"Well." Amazir seemed unsurprised by Calistin's enthusiasm. "I'll have to ask your current teacher if there's room in the group for me as well."
"My current…" Calistin watched in surprise as Amazir turned to address Treysind, who had stepped out from the trees once the battles ended. "But he's not…" Assuming the old man meant to humor the boy, Calistin went silent and watched their exchange.
The old man made a serious bow. "Would you allow me to assist you in training this talented, but brash and unsophisticated, young man?"
Treysind pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Ain't tha school gonna miss ya?"
Amazir shrugged. "They have other instructors." He jerked a thumb toward Calistin. "And it appears this young Renshai needs me more."
Calistin began to wonder if he would ever fully reunite his top and bottom lips. Every word this aged warrior spoke took him completely off his guard. "How… how did you know I'm…?"
Amazir laughed. "First, you have a classic Northern appearance, but you're in the Westlands."
That did not impress Calistin. Currently, it seemed, many Northmen had come this far south; and Westerners, themselves, were the most diverse people in the world.
"Second," Amazir continued, "your accent is Western, not Northern."
"I can do Northern," Calistin explained. "When I'm speaking Northern."
"Third," Amazir continued undaunted, "you're overconfident, aggressively impetuous, and socially irritating."
Treysind piped in. "Them's jus' his good traits, sir."
Calistin focused his glare on the boy.
"And fourth, you look about the same age as this fellow…" He indicated Treysind with a tip of his head, "… but you're more like his father."
"Hey!" Calistin could not let that one go. "I'm eighteen; he's like about ten."
"I's eleven," Treysind said.
Calistin threw up his hands, his point made. "So I'd have had to have had him when I was seven." Realizing he had left open a teasing point, he amended. "My wife would have to have had him when I was seven." That also needed fixing, "If I had a wife, which I don't." Even as the comment emerged, Calistin realized that put him into a potentially worse situation. "Not that I don't plan to have one eventually. I mean, I do love Treysind, but not like a lover or anything. I'm not a pervert. I love him like a…" Now, Calistin stopped completely. No matter what he said, it seemed to make perfectly innocent things sound ever more sleazy.
"… son?" Amazir inserted.
Calistin groaned. "Let's just say a brother."
Treysind wriggled like a happy puppy. "Ya loves me like… like fam'ly? Ya rilly does?" He clenched his hands and trembled, as if forcing himself not to dance with glee.
Calistin could only stare. "Well, of course. Why else would I let you travel with me? Haven't you noticed that the only people who annoy me as much as you do, and live, are my stupid, irritating brothers? If I didn't think of you as one of them, I'd have killed you a long time ago."
Treysind let out a muffled squeal of excitement.
Calistin looked at Amazir for guidance. "How could he not know that?"
"Apparently," the old man replied softly, "this is the first time you ever told him."
Though he had taken the tirade with a grain of salt, Calistin could not forget that the old man had referred to him as "socially irritating." "You mean I have to tell him?"
Amazir laughed. "Well, if you're otherwise relying on signs like 'you didn't kill him yet,' then yes. You definitely have to tell him things like that. In fact, you could start just saying a few positive things in general to him."
Treysind looked at Calistin expectantly.
Placed on the spot, Calistin flushed. He did not know what to say, and nothing upset a Renshai more than an utter disarming. "I do say positive things to him," he mumbled.
Treysind's brows slid upward.
"You do?" said Amazir.
"Sure, I… I thank him when he brings food."
"He do do that," Treysind defended.
Amazir snorted. "Nothing any man with a hint of manners wouldn't say to a total stranger who brought him an ale in some tavern."
That reminded Calistin of something else. "And I called him clever when he figured out how to find me after I ditched him."
Amazir stood on the balls of his feet, perfectly balanced. "And which part was the compliment? The 'ditching'?"
"The 'clever' part, of course. He's a smart little boy and surprisingly good with people, especially for an orphan."
Treysind beamed.
Amazir also smiled. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Actually, it was; but Calistin had no intention of admitting it. He simply grunted. "I thought you were going to train me in swordwork, not in how to humor my tagalong."
Amazir's grin widened, and he winked at Treysind. "I can't train you in anything until I've gotten permission from your other teacher." He bowed grandly to the boy. "Again, young sir, I ask you.Would you allow me to assist you in training this Renshai?"
To Calistin's surprise, Treysind did not answer right away but seriously considered the proposal and asked a studied question when he finished. "Is I gonna hafta feed ya, too?"