Brightly Burning

increased the pace of his clapping. All the time, he strode among the five pairs of students, watching and correcting. Faster and faster the pace went; Lan was sweating furiously now. This was the fastest that Odo had ever taken them, and he felt the strain in every muscle.

:Relax. Don't fight yourself by thinking. Don't think, just listen, and do. Let do, love. Let go it all go and just become part of the sword and the shield—:

Don't think? How was he going to know what counter to use? What in the world did she mean?

:Your body already knows. Trust me. Don't try, just be. Experience, and become part of the experience.:

Don't think and don't try—if he didn't trust Kalira so much—

But he did, he did; she had never put him wrong yet. Between swings, he told his muscles to loosen; he stopped trying to anticipate the next move—after all, they were working patterns, not actually fighting. Instead of thinking, he felt; getting into the way his muscles strained, the hollow thock of the wooden practice blade on the shield, the vibrations in his hands and arms as each stroke hit. He stopped worrying about when Herald Odo was going to increase the pace.

He began to feel as if he was in a waking dream; his arms and legs stopped hurting, and his body accomplished the moves all by itself. Was this what Herald Odo meant?

'All right!' Odo clapped his hands, breaking Lan's trance; the student pairs broke apart and dropped their weapons to their sides with groans and sighs of relief. Lan's arms and legs went back to hurting, and he panted with the rest of them, sweat dripping off his nose and landing on the snow, where it promptly froze.

'Go back to stretches, and cool down, Trainees,' Odo ordered with some satisfaction. 'Then take five laps around the Training Field, at an easy jog. Don't race. Then come on inside and get a small drink.'

Lan put his mock weapons aside with the rest and jigged and shook out his cramps. His hands were the worst; it was always hard to get his fingers to let go of the hilt of his wooden sword. He wasn't the first to start running around the edge of the field, but he wasn't the last either.

When everyone had finished running, Herald Odo brought them into the Salle and passed out cups of lightly salted cider. It had an odd taste, but they all craved the salt and drank down their brew without complaint. There in the Salle, he had them practice hand-to-hand moves, looking into a mirror so they could see their own faults. Kicks, punches, blocks, and counters, over and over. Lan stared at his own reflection fiercely, alert for mistakes. He liked this better than the sword practice. There was something very satisfying about it, knowing that using this knowledge, he could probably get away from any bullies in the future.

This building, called the Salle, was one large open space, with an office and storage partitioned off at one end. This was where all of the practice weapons were kept and where Odo spent most of his day. It had a wooden floor, sanded smooth but not polished, wooden walls, and a mirror all along one side.

Lan didn't want to think about how much that much mirrored glass had cost; several families could have eaten well for years, surely. But it was worth the expense; Trainees could see their mistakes with their own eyes and correct them immediately, or at least know to ask for help in getting positioned.

There were no windows on the walls; instead, south-facing clerestory windows near the peak of the roof let in generous amounts of light. No danger of getting the sun in your face in here—though Odo would, no doubt, introduce them to the joy of fighting when sun-dazzled in due course.

There was no fireplace in here, so it was pretty chilly, but better than outside. A certain amount of heat radiated from the one wall where the chimney from the fireplace in the office made a break in the expanse of wood paneling.

When they had practiced long enough, Odo had them cool down a second time, then worked with them individually. When it was Lan's turn, Odo showed him a new move, the way to break someone's hold on his wrist, and had him practice it until he got it right. 'Now, combine that with what you know,' the Herald said, and grabbed for him.

Much to his own shock, Lan evaded the rush, broke Odo's grip, tumbled the Weaponsmaster to the floor, and spun out of reach.

'Now what do you do, boy?' Odo called from the floor.

'I run like fury!' Lan replied, making good his words and fleeing to the opposite end of the Salle, much to the amusement of the rest of his mates.

Odo got up off the floor and dusted himself off. 'Don't laugh, Trainees; he's right. As long as you have an escape, take it. Run. Never stand and fight unless there's no other choice. What if you're carrying a vital message? What if it's bandits that ambushed you and you have to get the Guard? You're not in the business of being heroes, you're in the business of being Heralds, and that means staying alive to do your duty.'

He walked over to Lan and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Lavan has the right of it. Incapacitate your enemy, and run like fury.' He winked broadly. 'Of course, if I had been in his place, I'd have broken a few things to make certain my enemy stayed where I put him for a while, but you aren't up to that yet. When you are skilled enough to hold back your full force, then we'll practice those moves on each other.'

Lan took his place with the others as Odo called another Trainee out for a session. He hadn't expected to like weapons' training; he was a passable shot with a bow, but he'd expected that the bigger, older boys would be all over him. But there were no bigger boys in this class; there were several who were older, but none bigger. It wasn't all Heraldic Trainees, either; three of the boys were in Bardic Trainee rust, and three were in the pale green of Healer Trainees. The Trainees of all the Collegia took the basic weapons' courses. Bards were out in the wild parts of the world alone at least as often as Heralds, and not everyone believed in Bardic immunity. Healers weren't molested very often, but they might find themselves forced to defend a sick or injured patient. Some of the Trainees from the other two Collegia stuck with it through the entire weapons' curriculum, too. Not every Bard or Healer found skill with sword and bow incompatible with his or her other training.

When Odo was finished with the last of his students, he had them all get up and run around the Salle for another few laps, then allowed them to cool down and stretch themselves out one final time. They gathered up their cloaks just as the class-change bell rang outside.

'Off with you!' he said, flapping his hands at them, looking as if he were shooting geese. 'Same time tomorrow, and try not to overeat!'

Lan trudged out into the snow with the rest of them, then like the rest of them, broke into a trot, drawn by the prospect of a hot bath to ease their aches and bruises before the final two classes of the day. If they hurried, it