Verdondi studied the layout. "Are you in training, too, Saviar?"
"In… training?" A wave of ice washed through Saviar. He knew better than to mention his Renshai background to any Northman.
"Yes, in training." Verdondi looked at Saviar as if he had gone mad. "Are you going to be a Knight of Erythane, too?"
The question caught Saviar oddly off his guard. "Well, I… I'd like to."
"With a family like yours, how could you not?"
"I don't suppose I… couldn't."
Verdondi shook his head, clearly impressed. "Talk about honor. What father could resist pressing his son to follow in his footsteps?" He walked to the bottom of the spiral staircase and looked up it. "Your father sounds like a special man."
"He is," Saviar admitted, gaze following Verdondi's. "Isn't yours?"
Verdondi grinned. He stood straight and tall, and his chest seemed to expand with the motion. He was a well-built youngster with bulky muscles evident beneath his tunic. "My father is the captain of the Sea Dragon."
Saviar made an awed noise, mostly from politeness. He knew little about sailing or ships, but he suspected becoming a captain took knowledge, ability, and courage.
"He commands the ship, the crew, and is representing Nordmir at the Council meeting with the king of Bearn."
"Impressive."
"Captain Erik Leifsson. And I'm going to be a naval captain, too, someday." Verdondi added softly, "I hope."
"Sounds wonderful," Saviar said, now meaning it. "Traveling the world, commanding a squadron of men and a shipful of sailors, forging into battles." He shook his head in genuine awe. "I could live like that and never regret a moment."
A proud smile hung on Verdondi's face, and he drew himself up to his full height. "Defender or attacker?"
"Huh?" Once again, Saviar found himself driven into confusion and sounding silly.
This time, Verdondi accepted the blame. "I'm sorry. I changed the subject rather abruptly, didn't I?" He tipped his sword toward the spiral staircase. "Defender seems more suited to you, you being Erythanian and this being Bearn. My goal will be to reach the top, yours to keep me at the bottom."
Saviar hopped up the stairs, finally understanding. He sheathed the practice weapon. "Ready?"
Verdondi patted his hilt, still at the bottom of the staircase. "Ready." Suddenly, he drew his sword and charged.
Saviar met him more than halfway down, drew, and cut in one fluid motion. He caught Verdondi a blow to the head that jarred him backward. The Northman lost his footing and started to tumble.
Realizing he had badly overestimated his opponent, Saviar caught Verdondi's arms as he fell. The weight of the Northman nearly swept them both down the steps. Saviar jerked upward.
Verdondi struggled, staggered, then caught his balance. "Whoa, thanks. Can't believe I let that stroke get through." He clamped a hand to his head, then looked at his palm.
Saviar danced clear, sheathing his sword. He could not see where his blow had landed beneath the golden braids, but no blood stained Verdondi's pale hand. A solid bruising seemed more likely. "I'm sorry. Are you all right?" Stopping in the middle of a spar unnerved him. An amputation would have to have occurred before a Renshai would quit fighting, even in practice.
"Don't apologize for my incompetence." Verdondi rubbed at the sore spot, then looked at the railing. "I'm a bit thrown by the staircase. I've just realized why the craftsmen spiraled it rightward."
Saviar had not noticed. "Why's that?"
Verdondi again took up a position of attack. "Because my right arm's against the wall. See?" He tried to raise his sword, limited by the railing and the wall stones. "While yours is free, unhampered. Smart design. If it wasn't on purpose, it should have been."
Saviar touched the railing with his left hand, realizing Verdondi spoke the truth. Such details did not usually concern Renshai. In fact, he imagined his people demanding backward spirals just for the challenge. He considered the other staircases in the castle and realized they all twisted the same way. "I'm pretty sure it's by design."
"Clever."
"Want to defend for a bit?"
Verdondi looked up and down the stairs, clearly pondering.
"It doesn't matter to me," Saviar assured him.
"Well… if you're sure it doesn't matter…"
Saviar made a broad gesture to indicate Verdondi should pass him, then headed down the steps. He waited for Verdondi to reach the top, sword clutched in his right fist.
"Ready?"
"Whenever," Saviar called back. Then, realizing he, as the attacker, had to make the first move, he drew and charged upward with a battle scream.
They met nearer the top than the bottom this time, and their swords clashed together. Pain thrummed through Saviar's arm, the first time he faced an opponent with as much strength as himself. He parried deftly, then flicked his sword beneath Verdondi's. He could have disarmed the Northman but withdrew instead. It would have required a deft Renshai maneuver that would have made the other young man suspicious. Saviar had no intention of revealing his Renshai heritage to a visiting Northman of any age.
Instead, Saviar awaited an attack. It came high and sweeping. He riposted, then bore in with a gut shot that would have skewed his opponent had he not pulled it.
"I'm dead," Verdondi announced honestly. His arm drooped to his side. "No wonder you don't care if you're defender or attacker. You didn't tell me you were ambidextrous."
All Renshai were. If not born to use both hands equally, they learned to at such an early age it seemed as if they were. At any age, if one hand showed more promise than the other, they practiced only with the weaker one until they managed equal competence. It had not taken a thought for Saviar to draw left-handed. When the time came to attack, instinct had taken over. He smiled. "You didn't ask."
"You're full of surprises, Saviar Ra-khirsson." Verdondi headed down the staircase. "I'm considered one of the best warriors of my age, and you're making me look like a beginner."
Though grinning inwardly, Saviar allowed no sign of it to appear on his face. "I've just had more experience with the staircase. Why don't we spar on open ground?"
Verdondi gave a respectful bow. "How honorable of you to give up your advantage.You clearly are your forefathers' son." He headed toward the open practice area.
Following, Saviar bit his cheeks to keep from laughing. What Verdondi had attributed to knightly honor was actually a Renshai desire to make an easy battle more challenging and interesting. For the first time, Saviar truly appreciated his heritage: the obsessive focus on swordwork, the secret maneuvers, the endless practices. Even he, as yet incapable of passing his manhood tests, might actually be a match for three non-Renshai.
Verdondi braced himself, legs solidly beneath his body, knees bent, hand on hilt. "All right. I'm ready." His eyes followed Saviar's every movement.
Saviar took a position directly opposite Verdondi and beyond sword range. Though he kept his weight balanced, he strove for a more casual look and did not bother to clutch his hilt. "Begin."
Verdondi drew his sword. In the same space of time, Saviar freed his blade, lunged, and cut. Verdondi retreated, rescuing his legs but losing the opportunity for attack. Saviar saw an opening, but resisted, not wishing to humiliate his companion. Instead, he flipped his sword into position for a low cut that Verdondi successfully blocked with a quick parry.
Again, Saviar surrendered an opportunity, this time for a gut slash. Verdondi managed a hacking cut that Saviar easily dodged. He counted his openings, two this time, one nearly at his opponent's back. He resisted both to feign a high slash to the neck, followed by a swift slice to Verdondi's hip. Suddenly realizing the blow would fall, Saviar switched to a blunt side hit that slapped against Verdondi's hipbone.