The Etari tended to be very physical and very expressive. As she had already learned, different hand signs represented different ideas, but what she hadn’t realized was that there was a tone to the signs as well. Sharp motions indicated anger or frustration. A gentle sign meant that all was well, or that one didn’t need to worry.
Worse, there was no standard guide. After one particularly frustrating afternoon, Azaleth switched from tutoring to making fun of her. “You want a rule for everything!”
“Are you saying there are no rules?”
He made a sign for idiocy, but the motion of his hand was slow and easy. He wasn’t upset about her question. “There are rules, but not written rules like what you want. You need to feel it! How can you talk to one another when all you have is your words?”
Alena opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. The idea made her head hurt. Words were the best way to transmit ideas. Writing was practically the foundation of civilization!
But Bayt had often told her that when she didn’t understand something, the smartest thing she could do was close her mouth and watch.
So she did. She begged off lessons for the rest of the day and just observed her new family.
It was easier as an observer than as a participant. As an observer she could keep her eyes focused on the conversation without feeling like she should be looking down or away.
By the time they stopped for the evening, she thought that perhaps she understood. Etari communication wasn’t just in the language, or even in the hand signs. She was looking for a direct correlation with her own language where none existed. Their communication was a combination of facial expressions, gestures, posture, and the words that they used.
As the family pitched their one large shelter for the evening, Alena pulled Azaleth aside. She smiled, performed the sign for gratitude slowly, and kept her other arm loose to her side.
Azaleth’s laugh came easy. He spoke in imperial. “I think you begin to understand. But don’t think about it so hard. Relax into it.”
He turned to brag about his accomplishment to whoever would listen. Alena was just grateful they could break eye contact.
After the tent was set up, she and Azaleth practiced their martial skills. It was another area for Alena to learn humility. Azaleth was smaller and weaker, but that didn’t seem to stop him from besting her in every fight they had.
The conclusion was inescapable. The martial training taught at the academy was inferior to what the Etari learned as children.
Sometimes the duels were close. Alena learned fast, and Azaleth tended to show off when he could, trying more complex techniques when simple ones would do. Every time she thought she had him, though, he would overcome her.
Some of it was through his sheer doggedness. He never gave up, no matter what position she had him in.
Azaleth provided most of the instruction. They would spar, and after he won they would break down what happened. Sometimes an adult would watch, providing suggestions if they found it appropriate.
The only time she didn’t embarrass herself was with a knife. It had always been her favorite weapon at the academy, and only Azaleth’s quick speed saved him from the wooden edge of her practice weapon.
Azaleth made her work with many different types of weapons. When she said that she preferred knives, he replied that a knife was great if you had one in hand, but that wasn’t always the case. She needed to be prepared to fight with whatever was nearby.
That phrase, more than any other, seemed imprinted into Etari philosophy. They valued preparedness, almost to the exclusion of all else. After only a few weeks among them, she found the attitude seeping into her own thoughts as well.
Where martial skills were a struggle, their training with affinities was disastrous. No matter the amount of encouragement Azaleth offered, Alena couldn’t summon any display of aptitude. Among a family in which every member could display multiple affinities at will, Alena’s shame grew deep. Once, when a small gust of wind blew dirt into Azaleth’s face, she claimed it as her own.
No one believed her lie.
Today’s training was no different. Azaleth ran through the same exercises they practiced every day, hoping for a different result. She hated how he looked at her during those sessions, as though he was trying to puzzle out why she was broken.
Whenever she saw that look on his face she wanted to shout at him, to tell him that she wasn’t damaged. She just wasn’t capable. Perhaps Ryder’s guess was accurate and she did have some small air affinity. But it meant nothing, especially here among the Etari, where affinities manifested differently.
They were about to end the training one evening when Sooni came to them. She tossed a leather bracer on the ground between them. “Use this.”
Azaleth looked up at his leader, surprise evident on his face. “But she’s displayed no mastery.”
“And she won’t. She doesn’t believe in herself.” Her gaze turned to Alena. “Learn or leave. Tonight.”
Sooni walked off then without another word.
Alena gritted her teeth, holding back a soft growl of frustration. There was much she admired about the Etari, but sometimes their belief in self-reliance went too far. If they were so convinced she had an affinity, she needed a teacher who wasn’t a young boy, but a master. She didn’t need another test, an ultimatum to prove herself to her adopted family.
Azaleth helped her put the bracer over her wrist, tying it tightly. She rubbed at it. “There’s a part that’s digging into my skin.”
Azaleth gave her an affirmative hand sign. “It’s normal.”
Then he frowned, again looking as though he needed to solve a puzzle. Alena’s heart sank when his eyes lit up. It made her think of Jace, when he had one of
