perfect agreement, of course—but then, I’m no match for the general, so my opinion is rather worthless, don’t you agree?”
You could’ve cut the tension in the air with one slash of Jiro’s sword. Josette was giving Caius a look that I recognized all too well—it was the look I always gave Caius—so it seemed we’d figured everything out at about the same time, namely why Caius had been talking to her about my practicing and why Lord Temur had just happened to be close enough to overhear him while he was discussing it. The whole thing had been orchestrated like we were all puppets on a single string, one that was wrapped around Caius’s crooked little finger.
For someone who hadn’t been a soldier himself, Caius Greylace sure knew how to manipulate them. Then again, he probably knew how to manipulate anyone, but this was something real special. This was something else.
At the same time, from the look in his eye, I didn’t think the whole thing had been the result of an impulse that was purely selfish. In his own way, I realized, Caius thought he was doing it for me as some kind of a present or favor. I’d complained about having no room and no one to spar with, so he’d given me a better place to practice and someone to practice with.
The only variable in question was Lord Temur. What kind of pride did the Ke-Han have? And just how rash could they be when that pride was aroused?
Lord Temur was a soldier, and so was I. Caius had set things up pretty as a picture.
“General,” Lord Temur said at last; I could hear Josette’s breath leave her in a short, excited burst. “It would do me a great honor if you would deign to practice awhile with me.” And he bowed deeply.
I couldn’t see how there was any way to refuse, since we’d come that far. Josette would probably call it a setback as far as diplomacy was concerned, and Caius would sulk for days if I ruined all his best-laid plans, so I bowed to Lord Temur, just as low as was courteous, and not an inch below that.
“The honor’s all mine,” I said, thinking that if I was going to do this, I might as well do it right.
As it turned out, the sword Lord Temur wore at his waist was another practice one, made of dark, polished wood and about as lethal as the footstools in my room. I guessed looks were more important than function when it came to the Ke-Han way of things. Besides, there was that rule we all had to follow—no weapons carried by the diplomats, and even the warlords had to abide by that. That was probably why Lord Jiro didn’t miss his sword too much by letting me borrow it, if he knew I had it. Knowing Caius, that didn’t seem like a foregone conclusion.
But a wooden sword was better than no sword at all, I decided, if you came right down to it.
The gravel didn’t crunch as loudly under Lord Temur’s feet as he settled into a ready stance across from me. Being light on his feet that way meant he was going to be fast, but I felt the weight of the practice sword in my hand like some kind of reassurance against what was coming. I didn’t know how Ke-Han warlords fought in one-on-one combat, but I had a sword that suited me, and I was about to find out.
Lord Temur swung high first, the movement startling me so that I only just managed to bring up my sword to block it. It was that expressionless face that made it a surprise. The lords of the Ke-Han were normally so quiet and still, I hadn’t expected such a swift and sudden movement from him. It was a stupid mistake, and one I wouldn’t be making again.
He swung his sword next to the side and I parried it more easily, feeling the gravel shift and give way beneath my boots as I stepped back. Whoever kept the garden so neat and tidy was going to have their work cut out for them when we were through, I thought, and brought my sword around to swing at Temur’s ribs. He stopped me before I could get there, the sharp smack of lacquered wood against lacquered wood ringing out through the courtyard. I thought I almost saw a faint smile flicker across his face—and that was one