Conspiracies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,82
before this. As Mr. Ovcharenko explained it, it was all about controlling the joints of the opponent, since this was where you got the most gain for the least force. He talked for about ten minutes, then said abruptly: “Bah! Enough of talking. Now we spar.”
And instead of exercises or kata, that was exactly what they did. He broke them into teams of two—and he seemed to have a pretty good idea of who the bullies in the class were, because he paired them off against each other and the glint in his eye said that this wasn’t an accident. After he’d let the pairs match off against each other for a while, he stopped them, and demonstrated some moves, drilled them, then set them to sparring again. But he wasn’t looking for “the right counter.” In fact, when Dylan repeated the same strike three times, he interrupted, shouting “Nyet! Svinya! This is not tournament! Systema is to be flexible, reactive, and never, never to set up pattern! Now, again! This time being to think!”
Up close, he was a surprise. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty; very blond with brilliant blue eyes, almost too handsome to be real. But he had very cold eyes, and Spirit got the feeling that almost everything he did was a carefully calculated act—a Systema of behavior, designed to fool everyone around him until he decided to take out a weak spot.
* * *
All through dinner, all that Muirin could talk about was Madison Lane-Rider, and it was driving Spirit crazy. It was as if Muirin had discovered a long-lost older sister. Not that Spirit was jealous—but because her instincts were screaming at her not to trust the woman.
“Muirin,” she finally snapped, “you’re acting like you and this woman you didn’t even know existed two days ago are BFFs! I mean, we don’t know anything about these people, and she could be one of the Shadow Knights for all we know!”
Muirin looked offended. “I’m not stupid! All I’m trying to do is get information out of her! Can I help it if she’s the first person I’ve ever met here who knows the difference between Donatella Versace and her brother? It’s the first time in months that I’ve had an intelligent conversation that wasn’t about conspiracies, disappearances, or people trying to kill us!” Her voice took on the tiniest edge of something like hysteria. “I just want to have a normal conversation like a normal person and enjoy some normal things in this lunatic farm!”
“Whoa, Murr-cat,” Burke said soothingly. “Spirit didn’t mean you were being stupid. Did you, Spirit?”
Spirit shook her head, although she was pretty sure that Muirin was lying. These people were exactly the sort that Muirin wanted to be around and be like—rich, connected, and fashionable. Muirin might not betray their secrets consciously, but subconsciously she was likely to give a lot more away than she realized.
“Anyway, I did find out something and I was getting to that,” Muirin continued resentfully. “You know how I said there’s some kind of Skull and Bones thing going on here? Well, I got Madison to admit to being one!” She tossed her head with a look of triumph. “She told me that the strength of your magic isn’t the only way you can stand out here. She said there’s what she called an ‘inner circle’ of exceptional students. She said the Gatekeepers pick these people because they’ve ‘embraced their potential to accomplish great things.’”
“And I’m the Keymaster,” Addie drawled, which made Loch crack up while Spirit and Burke were completely lost. “Never mind. So, what else did she tell you? Secret handshake? Password? Do they all have little tramp-stamp tattoos? This isn’t quite on the same level as Elizabeth’s Sekrit K-niggits of Arthur, but she could just be feeding you a line, Murr-cat.”
“Ha! That’s where you’re wrong, and I can prove it!” Muirin retorted triumphantly. “They all wear badges. It’s the Oakhurst coat of arms, and they do it as a pin or a tie tack or cuff links—”
“Muirin, we all get those pins in the second year,” Burke interrupted.
“We get a pin; it’s not the same,” she replied. “The regular pins, the snake is gold. The Gatekeepers, the snake is black.” She settled back to finish off the last bites of her dessert with a satisfied air.
“Huh…,” Loch said thoughtfully. “Madison Lane-Rider was wearing one of those and I thought it was kind of strange because, well, think about it, I’ve never