“You heard what happened to him?” Cevet said, stifling a laugh.
“No,” Relam said quickly, looking around. “I’ve been a little occupied with other things.”
“Oh, well, you remember how you sort of started a contest to see who could train with Oreius?”
“I forgot about it honestly,” Relam admitted.
“Well, anyway,” Cevet continued, “The other lordlings put it off till the last minute. Some tried last week, some this week. Sebast was the first, and Oreius pitched him headfirst into the river!”
Relam howled with laughter, and Tar smiled thinly, picturing the sight. “Did he fish him back out or leave him?” the sword master asked.
“He floundered downstream some ways,” Cevet said. “Washed up in his own backyard. Lord and Lady Garenes were none too pleased. Delan tried next. He barely got through the gate before Oreius threw him in his compost pile.”
“Any others?” Relam asked eagerly.
“Surprisingly, Knet managed to summon enough courage to try, just two days ago,” Cevet continued. “Oreius actually heard him out, then asked to fight him, see what he was made of. The first time Oreius attacked, Knet lost his nerve and dropped his sword. Oreius grabbed him by the collar and thrashed him with the flat of the blade something terrible. He’ll be walking strangely for a while, I think.”
“And Jatt?”
“Couldn’t find the house,” Cevet replied with obvious contempt. “Of course, D’Arnlo has taken on every single one of them. They start training in two weeks, at the Citadel itself.”
“What about you?” Relam asked. “Planning to try Oreius?”
“No,” Cevet said, shrugging. “My father got me in with D’Arnlo. Not my first choice, but it will do.”
“You may as well ask, Cevet,” Tar urged. “I’d recommend you to Oreius.”
“I appreciate it, Tar,” Cevet said, smiling. “But I think I’d better stay with D’Arnlo. Besides, the river isn’t that much cleaner than it used to be. I have no desire to go for a swim.”
The sword master snorted. “He wouldn’t throw you in the river. Maybe the fountain though,” he added as an afterthought. “The river is reserved for special cases.”
“So I hear,” Relam said with a grin. “I’m glad Sebast got that treatment.”
“Me too,” Cevet said. “It hasn’t helped his temperament any, but I hear he’s afraid to walk past Oreius’ house now.”
“He should be,” Tar said gravely. “I don’t suppose young Garenes told you what he said to Oreius?”
“No,” Cevet said, shaking his head.
“Oreius told me,” Tar said, shaking his head. “The boy demanded that Oreius train him, said any fool that agrees to train Relam should train him as well, since he is a better fighter. Oreius told him to beat it and Sebast got nasty, threatened Oreius in fact. Told Oreius that his father was extremely influential and that he had better watch himself when he was dealing with future great lords.”
Relam winced. “I can see why he got thrown in the river,” he observed drily.
“Yes,” Tar agreed grimly. “Oreius has no regrets about doing it. He was actually smiling when he told me that part of the story, and he rarely smiles anymore. But I have never seen him angrier than when he was telling me what the Garenes boy had said,” the sword master continued. “When I saw his expression, I remembered what a dangerous man he was.”
The prince nodded soberly. “I’ll bear that in mind. I mean, I knew he was skilled but-”
“He is the best,” Tar said immediately, cutting Relam off. “Forgive me for interrupting, your highness, but I want to be absolutely clear about that. If Oreius and I fought a hundred bouts, he would win every single one.”
Cevet whistled appreciatively. “That’s impressive.”
“Yes,” Tar agreed. “Do not take him for a fool, Relam. And do not antagonize him. He is a good friend, but a terrible enemy if you get on his wrong side.”
“I’ll remember,” Relam promised.
“Make sure you do,” Tar said, nodding. “Now,” he said, raising his voice. “I have to get back to my class. Pair these ones up and see what they have. I hope they don’t hurt each other trying to be heroes.”
“There’s always one,” Relam said, grinning.
“Yes, there is,” Tar said grimly. “I’ll see the two of you around, I’m sure. Good luck with your studies.”
“Thanks, Tar,” Cevet and Relam chorused. As the sword master returned to his excited students and started to restore order, Relam lifted his sword so that it rested on his shoulder, pointing backwards.
“Another bout?” he asked innocently.
Cevet shook his head. “Not today. That was brutal. Besides, we’ve already been here longer than usual. I should be getting back.”
Relam shrugged. “If you insist. Good luck with D’Arnlo.”
“Thanks. Don’t let Oreius throw you in the river.”
“I won’t.”
Cevet flashed a grin and stowed his practice sword. Then he jogged out through the main gate, on his way home. Relam sighed and sank onto a nearby bench to rest. As he did, the younger cadets were beginning to pair up, selecting their partners for their first practice bouts. Some looked nervous, but most were eager to test themselves against their peers.
When Agath gave the signal to begin, the result was predictable. A half-dozen individual fights broke out in a flurry of movement. The cadets flailed wildly, forgetting everything Tar had ever taught them, cracking each other across knees, elbows, and wrists. Three of the bouts were ended in seconds, with both boys dropping their drill swords and clutching bruises. Another dissolved into a punching, kicking brawl. The other two fights lasted
