“You quoting scripture at me?” Dajouth asked. “Because, I must say, your voice is as sweet as a lyre. I could listen to you recite the entirety of Treaties on Temperance to me.”
She shook her head then glared at Cerdyn. “And you! Stop caressing me with your eyes.”
He shrugged, an evil grin on his mouth. He was a brute of a man, thick-shouldered and with a ponderous gut that stretched out the padded gambeson he wore. He had a swarthy brow and a thick tangle of dark hair. He looked half-Tethyrian.
“I mean it,” Avena threatened, tapping her binder against her thigh. “I won’t put up with being ogled. Save that for the doxies at whatever pigsty you wallow in to satiate your thirst for alcohol.”
“It’s almost poetic the way those words roll off your mouth, Madam Avena.”
Smiles chuckled while Bran looked at Dajouth in awe. If he starts showering me in compliments, too . . .
“I’d watched out, Cerdyn,” Smiles said, “she’s not afraid to split your head open with that binder.”
Cerdyn grunted and spat to the side.
Avena grimaced. She refused to flee. She was here for her training, to excel so she wouldn’t be a hindrance. The city seethed. The watch marched in patrols despite rotten fruit and excrement hurtled at them from alleys. The riots had raged all day and into the night. The gaols bulged with those arrested while mothers and widows painted their cheeks red in mourning for their slain men.
Ōbhin arrived just then. They were all here save Fingers, who manned the gate. It was midday, but the watch had to be set. Avena hadn’t seen Dualayn since the riots. He was working hard to save the third patient. The other two had left yesterday, healthy enough now, no longer near death. Some good had come of the terrible day.
Two lives saved.
Ōbhin led them through their exercises. Even Cerdyn joined them after facing Ōbhin’s stony glare. The darkness in the Qothian bled from his eyes. Avena could see it in him. He had killed before, and it marked him with the weight of those crimes.
Her heart racing from the exercise, her face flushed, she matched up with Dajouth for sparring. She groaned, wishing to practice with Ōbhin or Bran. Smiles watched, his leg still mending. He’d limped while the others had run, trailing in their wake until they’d lapped him.
Before Dajouth could open his mouth and coat her in more of his flowery compliments, she rushed forward and swung. Her feet danced beneath her. Most of the time, she didn’t have to think about them. They stepped where she needed them. In trousers, she had no heavy skirts and petticoats to drag at her legs and to trip her up.
She could fight with skill.
Dajouth gasped in shock. Binders crashed together. She didn’t have strength, but she had speed and grace. The binder didn’t require brute force. She didn’t need Cerdyn’s brawn to disable an opponent. Her feet flowed. She flicked her rod out, deflecting Dajouth’s attack to plunge past her. She slammed her rod into his chest.
Purple bindings sprang around his body. He gasped and she swung low, striking his legs and throwing up a second binding. He fell on his face before her, wrapped up. He stared up at her, a grin spreading on his lips, blond hair spilling across his forehead.
“When you fight, you show off a different sort of beauty. The fierce falcon swooping down to seize her prey. Merciless and majestic.”
She shook her head. “Don’t claim that my beauty blinded you and rendered you unable to defend yourself.”
“Of course not,” he said. “You’re just better at fighting than me. You moved fast. Like the falcon in the dive, swooping in before your prey can react. Then you carry them off to your bower to devour them.”
She arched an eyebrow. “My bower?”
“Lair or nest or whatever.” He smiled at her. “It’s a metaphor.”
“A bad one if you think I’d carry you to my bower.” She glanced around. Bran lay bound up at Cerdyn’s feet while Aduan fought to stay upright against the bindings about his leg. He’d managed to pin Ōbhin’s left arm to his torso at the cost of taking two or three hits.
Ōbhin pushed his binding rod against Aduan’s chest and thrust him backward. He fell like a stump onto the ground and landed with a thud.
After the bindings wore off, they switched partners. She traded hits with Bran and managed to trip him up and send him down onto his face. However, he’d landed a hit on her legs, tangling her up in the purple energy. She gasped and fell backward onto her backside, grunting at the impact.
She threw herself into training. Ust was out there. If he tried to attack them, she wouldn’t be a liability. She would improve. She traded blows. Aduan bound her up in a heartbeat. Cerdyn almost had her, but the way he stared at her fueled her anger. She’d used it. Ōbhin complimented her.
“Footwork’s improving,” he’d said as she stood before him, arms squeezed tight to her side, her breathing shallow thanks to the binding.
She smiled.
When they finished, the sun working its way to the horizon, elation buzzed through her at her progress. The binder felt natural in her hand. It was a weapon that could protect but didn’t kill. She wouldn’t be stained by inflicting any more harm.
She only had Evane in the shadow of her heart.
“You comin’ with us after dinner?” Smiles asked Ōbhin. “Goin’ to the Plucked Rooster.”
Ōbhin shook his head. “I don’t need to have a headache that bad again.”
“Fun has to be balanced by punishment,” Smiles said.
“Is that something Jilly says?”
Smiles nodded.
Avena imagined Jilly saying those words with some satisfaction over Smiles’s hangover. The woman never said a bad thing about
