state of awareness, one where you size everyone up as a potential enemy, and everything as a potential weapon. And I mean everyone and everything. From the stranger walking toward you, to YOUR mother-from the halberd on the wall to your underwear.'
I can't live like that,' she protested.' Nobody can.' But at Kero's raised eyebrow, she added doubtfully, 'Can they?' Kero shrugged. 'Personally, I think no royalty can afford to live without an outlook like that. And I've managed, for most of my life.'
'So have I,' Skif seconded. 'It doesn't have to poison you or your life, just make You more aware of things going on around you.'
'That's why we've started the program here,' Kerowyn finished. 'A salle is a pretty empty room even with repair stuff scattered all over it; that makes YOUR job easier. Now,' she fixed Elspeth with a stern blue-green eye, 'before you leave, you're going to figure out one way everything in here could be used against an assailant.' Elspeth sighed, bade farewell to her free afternoon, and began pummeling her brain for answers.
Eventually Kerri left for other tasks, putting Skif in charge of the lesson. Elspeth breathed a little easier when she was gone; Skif was nowhere near the taskmaster that Kerowyn could be when the mood was on her. Heraldic trainees at the Collegium used to complain of Alberich's lessons; now they moaned about Kerowyn's as well, and it was an open question as to which of the two was considered the worst. Elspeth had once heard a young girl complain that it was bad enough that the Weaponsmaster refused to grow old and retire, but now he'd cursed them with a female double and it wasn't fair!
But then again, she had thought at the time, what is?
Skif grilled her for a little longer, then took pity on her, and turned the lesson from one on 'attitude' to simply a rough-and-tumble knife-fighting lesson. Elspeth found the latter much easier on the nerves, if not on the body. Skif might be inclined to go easy on her when it came to the abstract 'lessons,' but when it came to the physical he could be as remorseless as any of the instructors when he chose.
Finally, when both were tired enough that they were missing elementary moves, he called a halt.
In fact, she thought wearily, as he waved her off guard and stepped off the salle floor, I doubt I could be a match for a novice right now.
'That's... enough,' he panted, throwing himself down on the floor beside the bench, as she slumped down on the seat and then sprawled along the length of it, shoving the forgotten leather armor to the floor.
The angle of the sunlight coming in through the high clerestory windows had changed; there was no longer a broad patch of sunlight on the floor.
It was starting to climb up the whitewashed wall. Not yet dinnertime, but certainly late afternoon.
'I have to get back to drilling the little ones in a bit,' he continued.
'Besides, if I spend too much more time in your unchaperoned company, the rumors are going to start again, and I don't feel like dealing with them.' Elspeth grimaced and wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The last time rumors had started about a romance between her and Skif, she'd had to placate half the Council, and endure the knowing looks of half the Heralds. She wasn't sure which group was worse.
Now I know how Mother and Stepfather felt when they were my age.
Every time someone gets interested-or interesting-most of the time they're frightened off by the matchmakers. You'd think people would have more important things to worry about.
But it was too bad poor Skif had to pay the price of her rank. There ought to be something she could do about that, but right now her weary mind was not supplying the answer.
'I'll see you later, then,' she said instead. 'I've got a few things of MY own I'd like to do before dinner-if you're satisfied with my progress, that is.' 'you're getting there,' he told her, getting up with an effort, his sweat-damp hair curled even tighter. 'I was making more mistakes than you were, toward the end. What's the closest weapon to your right hand?'
'The bench I'm on,' she replied without thinking. 'I roll off it and kick it in your direction.'
'I was thinking of the shears on the floor there, but that'll do,' he said with a tired chuckle. 'See you at dinner?'
'Not tonight. There's some delegation from Rethwellan here to see Father. That means all meals with the Court until they're gone.' She levered herself up on her elbows and smiled apologetically. 'I guess they won't believe I'm not plotting against the rest of the family unless they see us all together.' Skif was too polite to say anything, but they both knew why that suspicion of treason might occur to a delegation from Rethwellan. Elspeth's blood- father, a prince of Rethwellan, had plotted to overthrow his own wife and consort, Queen Selenay-and in the end, had attempted to assassinate her himself.
Not the best way to handle foreign relations...As it happened, though, no one in Rethwellan had any idea he might attempt such a thing-certainly there was no one in the royal family who had backed him. In fact, there been no love lost between him and his two brothers, and there had been no repercussions from Rethwellan at the news
