In Althea the gardeners planted and pruned and trimmed the palace garden into a sterile facsimile of neatness, which required constant upkeep, even in the winter. He hoped to see this place in the spring, and perhaps bring some of these ideas back home.
They came upon a large wooden building that Alaire no clues to what it contained -- until they entered it.
Good heavens! he thought, gazing about at the racks of weapons, the open floor. This is a fighting- practice arena!
It made sense to have sword practice indoors this far north; what he found inside was clearly a training area with a dirt floor. On the wall hung several weap- ons; both of the wooden practice variety and the real, lethal thing. He recognized fifteen distinct species of sword, several spears, a cabinet of different knives.
The place smelled of leather, sawdust and sweat. And someone was waiting for them.
"Young Kainemonen," a big, burly man growled.
"You're late."
"I apologize, Captain Lyam," Kai said solemnly.
"I've brought a friend. A... diplomat from Althea."
Captain Lyam ignored the introduction. The man was huge, easily as tall as Alaire's father, and it was obvious that all his immense weight was muscle and sinew. His huge boots looked like something Alaire could row across a lake, with room for fishing gear. His scarred face looked like someone had ripped it apart and clumsily reassembled it. One eye was slightly higher than the other. He wore no insignia on the loose shirt or the dark breeches, but his stance, solid as a boulder and unmoving, commanded all the authority that seemed needed. Kai withered, and looked away.
The Captain sniffed the air. "As I thought. Drinking already, are we?"
Kai looked to deny this, but instead nodded meekly.
"Yes, sir," he squeaked. "I'm sorry."
"Oh, that you will be," Lyam assured him, in an ominous tone that made the hair on the ba Alaire's neck stand up. "That you will be!"
The scene was making Alaire uncomfortable. And nervous; Lyam was easily five times the size and weight of Kai, with longer arms and legs, both definite advantages in sword fighting. Plus, Kai was hungover, horribly hungover, a fact which Lyam appeared to take great displeasure from.
Kai seemed resigned to his fate as he went over and selected a sword from the wall, as Lyam did the same.
By the time they had taken positions in the center of the practice ring, that same feral look he'd seen the night before returned to Kai, as if touching the blade had restored the madness that got them into that fight with the sailors.
They wasted no time. They saluted with their blades and immediately plowed into each other, a blur of flashing steel that Alaire had trouble keeping up with. Lyam advanced, pushing Kai backwards, yet the boy was holding his own, deflecting every o Lyam's thrusts. But he wasn't making any headway with the big man. Purely defense, this time; he just didn't seem to have any energy today.
But Lyam did not look like he was making things easy on purpose. The Captain gave all appearances of delivering everything he had, a frightening prospect no matter what Kai's condition was. The swords con- tinued to clash, but despite Lyam's best efforts to corner the boy, Kai expertly sidestepped, proceeding to circle backwards, leaving his path clear. Alaire saw that Kai had an advantage, after all. Though he was much smaller than Lyam, this allowed him mobility.
He could move faster than the hulk he was up against, and Kai took advantage of this.
Two other men appeared in the ring, dressed much like Lyam, but neither had about him the same air of authority. The bearded one had a skin tone that sug- gested long years at sea. The other was a bit stockier, but built like Lyam.
"You, take over," Lyam said to the shorter of the men, who stepped in and began sparring with Kai.
The boy was sweating profusely now, but launched into aggressive swordplay with the other, chasing him around the ring the way Lyam had been chasing him moments before.
Alaire relaxed, once Lyam paired Kai with a more even opponent. The man was only a little taller then the boy, and didn't seem to be too enthusiastic about the practice. But he was fresh, and not suffering from a night of drinking. Despite the lackluster challenge, he was still a viable opponent. And the swords they were using were real, lethal tools even a novice could kill with.
As the new man warmed up to his work, he began to display a certain sadistic enthusiasm. The new man got a few good strikes in, slapping Kai's backside hard with the flat of the blade to get his attention as Kai grew wearier. He was also using street fencing and underhanded tricks -- exactly the kind of thing Kai could run across in the tavern district.
His relief on Kai's behalf was short-lived, however.
He felt a strange uneasiness, as if someone was staring at him, and turned to see that Lyam was regarding him with a hard, cold gaze.
"So, young Kai, how good do you think your friend is here?" Lyam said after sizing Alaire up, gesturing with his swordtip in Alaire's direction.
"He's passable," Kai shouted over the clashing swords. The brief shrug didn't interfere with his thrusts. "Give him a go if you want."
Me?
"Arm yourself, young man," Lyam said, grinning.
"Alvar, see what he's made of!"
The other man took a position in the ring, as Kai and his opponent continued fighting. Alaire wasted no time in arming himself, selecting a simple wooden practice blade about the size and weight of the one he used at home. He saluted Alvar, and immediately regretted his choice. Alvar's blade was a good two hands longer, and the man's reach was longer as well.
But Alvar was not very quick; the longer blade made for less mobility all around, and Alaire quickly touched him in several vulnerable places, once crack- ing the blade hard against the man's arm, delivering a bruise he hadn't intended. Alvar didn't seem to notice, and continued sparring like the trained practice- dummy he probably was, keeping Alaire alert, but not inflicting any real damage.
Lyam, now rested, took over for Kai's partner Alaire noticed was beginning to waver. He couldn't figure out where Kai's energy was coming from; he parried and thrust with the same skill Alaire had seen the night before -- but oddly, with none of the pleasure.
This was simple mechanics, the skill of the sword, but this time Lyam seemed determined to make headway.
Lyam drove Kai out of the ring and into the wall, hard. Kai ducked under the huge man, somersaulted, and landed on his feet, sword ready.
Alvar took advantage of Alaire's distraction, thrust- ing all too close to his torso, a controlled lunge that could just as easily gone through his heart if they had been using steel, like Lyam and Kai, instead of the blunted wooden blades.
Lyam took over Alaire's practice, setting the other stocky man on Kai again. He loomed over Alaire like a giant, but Alaire saw that the man was getting tired.
Nevertheless, he was a consummate professional, and he didn't make mistakes, even when weary. It took everything Alaire had to keep up with the Captain, even to the point of using some of Kai's evasive tactics, but he didn't make the same mistake he had made with his first opponent. His concentration didn't waver. Lyam looked for an opening, but couldn't find one.