weapon--the epee--through the air with a hissing sound. "Your funeral, dude."
Oliver bared his teeth in a grim smile and put on his helmet. "I doubt it," he said.
Eve put on her helmet, too, and stepped into the narrow path marked on the floor. Claire moved back to stand by Amelie, who watched with an intense, focused expression on her pale face. As Eve and Oliver raised their swords in salute, she nodded and said, "Go."
It was literally over in seconds. Claire was used to the kind of fighting from the movies--long, clanging duels with lots of moving around and occasional cape swirling. This was fast and incredibly deadly. She didn't even see what happened, only that there was a blur of motion, some metallic clangs that came too fast to register, and suddenly Eve was standing there with Oliver's sword tip tenting the fabric of her pirate-skull emblem, right over her heart. "Well, crap," Eve said, and took a step back. "No fair using vampy speed."
"I'm not," he said. "I don't need to. Fencing was a survival skill in my day. Again?"
"Sure." Eve backed up to the far end of the marked-off strip--the piste?--and settled into a low crouch that somehow didn't look at all awkward.
"Go," Amelie said, and there was another blur of motion. This time, Claire made out a couple of things--one, that Eve seemed to lunge for Oliver's chest and then dropped way down, and her point took him in the lunging leg. His slid over her shoulder. Eve hit the ground and rolled up to her feet, raising her epee in triumph.
"Dude,gotcha !" she said. "Mortal wound, right there. Femoral artery. You are sodead ."
He didn't respond at all, just walked back to his spot on the other side of the strip.
"Seriously? You can't walk away with a tie?" Eve asked. She'd pulled off her helmet, and her black eyes were wicked bright. "Can't we all just get along?"
"Fence," he barked. "Don't talk."
Eve popped her helmet back on and took her place on the strip. Amelie drew in a breath, and instead of giving the signal, said, "Oliver, perhaps you should let it go."
His helmeted face turned toward her, as if he couldn't believe she'd said it, and then focused back on Eve, who was taking the en garde stance. "Start us," he said. "Two out of three."
"He doesn't like to lose," Amelie said to Claire, and shrugged. "Very well. Go!"
Claire focused, and managed to see exactly what happened this time. Oliver lunged. Eve parried, but he was ready for it, and got his blade back in line by knocking hers out of line. She tried for another thigh wound, but that didn't work this time.
Oliver slammed the point of his epee into her chest so powerfully, it drove her back a step and made her drop her sword.
"Oliver!" Amelie snapped, and he backed off. Eve staggered backward, lost her footing, and fell on her butt. Her epee clattered away across the floor as she put both hands to her chest, then reached up to rip
her helmet off. Her face had gone chalk white, and her eyes were huge.
"Ow," she said. "Damn. That's going to leave a mark."
Oliver walked away, circling restlessly, turning his epee around and around in his gloved hand. "You asked for it," he said. "Now get off the piste if you're going to complain about a bruise."
Eve slowly rolled up to her knees, collected her helmet and sword, and stood up. She didn't seem too steady.
"Help her out," Amelie said. "Make sure she's not broken a rib. Oliver, that was unnecessary."
"What wasunnecessary was her gloating," he replied. "I didn't come here to fight children, and she needs to learn the same harsh lesson I did: taunting those who are stronger has consequences."
"The stronger have a responsibility to the weaker," Amelie said. "As you very well know."
"I've had quite enough responsibility. And I thought we came here to fight, woman. If all you want is to hold philosophical discussions while attractively dressed, surely we can do that elsewhere."
Eve looked better now, with the color coming back to her face--coming back too fast for Claire's comfort, because there was an angry, frightened glitter in her eyes. "Bully," she muttered.
Oliver took off his helmet and stared at her. He looked as solid as bone, and like someone nobody wanted to mess with. "I don't allow people to mock me," he said. "And the next time you presume to call me by a pet name, I'll do worse than crack a rib for you on the piste. Now get out of the way. The adults require space."
Amelie cocked her head to one side, studying him, and said, "I'm bored with all these rules. Shall we dispense with the conventions, then?"
"By all means," Oliver said, and tossed his helmet into the corner. She put hers safely out of the way. "Weapons?"
"I prefer the epee," she said. "Two of them."