she had the parry for his elbow and she rolled it aside-Carl switched

tactics, twisted, went with her move, looped his parried hand across

her chest and stepped in for a throw behind her leg, the kenjit-Toni

dropped her weight, knees bent deeply, leaned forward, and reversed the

move, snapped her own foot back, caught his leg for a beset

takedown-Carl leaned in, put his head on her shoulder, stole her base,

and switched feet--fast!--and did the inside sweep, sapu dalqm-She

wasn't quick enough with the counter, and she went down, dived and

tried to make it into a roll, but he was there, tapping her on the

floating ribs with the heel of his wrestling shoe, just hard enough to

let her know he had the shot.

Toni grinned, took his offered hand, and got back to her feet.

The entire sequence had taken maybe three seconds.

'Good series,' he said.

'Yes.'

They were alone in the school where he taught his classes, a version of

the Indonesian martial art of pentjak silat that was similar to her own

system.  Toni had been training since the age of thirteen; she knew the

eight djurus of the entry-level style called Bukti Negara, plus the

eighteen djurus of the more complex parent art, Serak, and until she

had met Carl Stewart, had never sparred with anybody who could beat

her.  Well, except for her teacher, Guru De Beers  Guru was in her

eighties now, still shaped like a brick and dangerous to anybody who

might be stupid enough to think she was a helpless old lady, but if

push came to shove, Toni knew she could best her teacher in a fight.

Barely.

That was the thing about silat; it didn't depend on strength or speed,

but more on principles.  In theory, a player always expected to go up

against bigger, stronger, and multiple opponents, who were probably

armed, and at least as well trained.  Being able to survive and even

prevail under such circumstances meant your technique had to be very

good, and your system absolutely scientific.

There were no perfect arts that would handle every possible

attack--when Toni talked to martial artists who claimed their ancient

systems were complete, she'd always ask them which form taught them how

to defend against a twelve-gauge shotgun at thirty feet--but some arts

were more effective than others.  In her opinion, silat was better than

most.  Of course, she would think that, given her years of training in

it.

Carl glanced at the wall clock.

'Got an hour before the beginning class gets here.  You want to get a

cup of tea?

Or coffee?'

Toni hesitated a second, then said, 'Sure.'

There was no reason not to.  Alex was back in Washington, and she was

still not happy with him.  She had programmed her com to bounce his

calls, though he still tried to get through at least once every day.

They were officially broken up, and she didn't work for Net Force

anymore.  She had enough money to stay in London through the summer, if

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