the war that I’d forgotten what being a good soldier meant.
I began with the easiest steps, while out of the corner of my eye I saw Caius step back toward the wall—nowhere to perch and watch me here, just wide open space and the bleached white gravel beneath my boots. After that, I forgot all about Caius Greylace being there, and the possibility of Lord Temur stepping in to size me up. If I let anything distract me, then I’d let myself down, and that was that.
The gravel crunched loudly beneath my boots with each step, but at least there weren’t any stools around me to break; Caius was right about that being helpful. And, that way, I could swing a sword freely without worrying about getting it stuck in the beams above my head or the wall or something like that. Breaking a stool was one thing; cutting up the fancy room that the Ke-Han’d given me was another, a less pardonable offense, considering how prim and proper they were and how meticulously they’d decorated it with furniture meant for tiny children.
It felt good to be out in the fresh air, and it was early enough yet that it wasn’t humid. Still and all, I’d worked up a considerable sweat by the time Josette and Lord Temur did arrive, their footsteps on the gravel alerting me to their presence before I could pause in my routine to look up.
“That is Lord Jiro’s sword,” Lord Temur said, once I stepped out of the old motions, pausing to wipe the sweat out of my eyes and acknowledge my new visitors with a nod. Caius clapped happily and offered me a sip of water—he really had thought of everything. I accepted.
“Suppose it is,” I agreed.
“It is different from a Volstov blade,” Lord Temur added thoughtfully. “It cannot possibly suit you.”
“I’m learning it, anyway,” I managed.
“We hear you’re very diligent,” Josette said, looking composed and wide-awake, despite how early it was compared to the diplomatic mission’s usual waking hour. “Caius has been telling us all about it.”
“Has he,” I said. “How… gratifying.”
“We’ve been keeping tally on how many stools you’ve broken so far,” Josette added, for all the world like a schoolgirl teasing a poor country boy. In a way, maybe she was. It was just a different face from the one I was used to seeing her with, her politician’s face, gracious but humorless.
“I believe it was two at last count,” Lord Temur said. “If I recall the right number.”
“The general doesn’t think that the second chair counts,” Caius reasoned, almost as if he were taking my side in the matter but still managing to drive me crazy by insisting on calling me by my title. “But that’s neither here nor there, really; stools are replaceable, and we’ve distracted the good general long enough.”
Lord Temur bowed his head in brisk acknowledgment, and Josette went to stand by Caius’s side, next to the high white wall.
“Of course,” Lord Temur said. There was no hint of mischief at all, either in his voice or on his face, when he added, “I merely thought that a practice sword might be of some use to him. They are, after all, slightly heavier.” And, like he was saying, “And I just so happen to have brought one with me—what a fantastic coincidence,” he produced one from behind his back: a heavy-looking wooden thing that’d been polished to within an inch of its life, except at the hilt, where it was rough enough that it wouldn’t slip right through your fingers. Maybe the polish was useful for practicing, though, since if you could hold on to something so shiny and slippery as that, you could probably keep proper hold of your sword in the midst of a battle, when everything, especially your hands, was slick and wet with blood.
“Delightful!” Caius said. “He’s been complaining about the weight all this time—haven’t you, my dear?—and I’m sure he’d be ever so grateful. Aren’t you, General?”
I gave him a look, even though I was beginning to realize the futility of it, and allowed myself to accept the offering from Lord Temur with grudging thanks. I had to admit, it would be helpful. He was a man who understood what it meant to be a soldier, at least, and I had to respect that.
“And,” Caius went on slyly, like the little snake he was, “he is often complaining of how it isn’t proper at all to spar without an opponent. I’m in