Legacies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,28

dress-code perfectly—if they didn’t come up to mid-thigh.

“You look like an escapee from an animé,” Spirit told her, “one that ends up with things with tentacles in it.”

Muirin dropped into a mocking curtsy.

“What are you doing here?” Spirit added. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I lead such a busy social life,” Muirin said ironically. “Come on. I decided to take a mental health day.”

“Yours or your teacher’s?” Spirit asked. Muirin only snorted.

Aren’t you blowing off your practice hours?” Spirit asked as they walked down the hall. Everybody was leaving their classrooms at the same time, but the halls weren’t crowded; there were only about a hundred students at Oakhurst right now, though the school was obviously built to accommodate at least twice that many.

“You’re obviously forgetting I’m precocious,” Muirin said pertly. “Besides, it’s not like I’m ever going to blow something up with an illusion. I can practice anywhere.” She glanced at Spirit speculatively. “So I usually like to hit the gym right after class.”

“Oh my God, don’t start,” Spirit groaned. Muirin was on the fencing team, and she’d been bugging Spirit since Day One to pick a sport—or several—to get involved with.

“Why not?” Muirin asked. “We start the first round of competitions in October. If you don’t want to join the fencing team, there’s lacrosse, basketball, swimming, track, gymnastics, boxing—”

“Oh, like I want someone to punch me in the head!” Spirit replied.

“I’ve heard the idea is to not get punched in the head,” Muirin said drily. “Camilla’s pretty good at it—but I think I’d rather leave boxing and football to the guys.”

“I have a sport. I ride,” Spirit said. She’d signed up for the stables within a few days of arriving and was taking lessons three times a week.

“Doesn’t count. Isn’t competitive,” Muirin answered. “At least come over to the gym with me and watch Burke hit things. It’ll be fun.”

Spirit wasn’t sure about how much fun it would be, but she was already sure that when Muirin got an idea in her head, it was less trouble to go along with it than to try to talk her out of it.

Spirit had actually been in the Oakhurst Gymnasium several times already: sports might be optional, but calisthenics weren’t, and Addie had insisted they all come to a basketball game last week because a friend of hers, Cadence Morgan—Spirit had winced in sympathy, knowing what it was like to grow up with an “exotic” name—was playing, and Addie had wanted to go and cheer her on. The gym was huge; Muirin said it was tournament-sized. And today one end of the enormous gym was set up as a dojo with heavy padded mats on the floor, and about a dozen kids in karate gi and different-colored belts were practicing.

Burke was easy to spot; he was about twice the size of the other boys here. He was facing off against a blond man in a black gi who almost made him look small. They circled each other for a moment, watching intently, then there was a flurry of blows—all blocked—then they stepped back and bowed. But to Spirit’s shock, even as Burke bowed, the instructor aimed another blow at him. Burke straightened up—not seeming to hurry—and blocked it easily.

“That’s cheating!” Spirit said, outraged. The noise of the basketball players masked the sound of her voice.

“That’s Brett Wallis,” Muirin replied, as if that was any kind of explanation. “He coaches karate and kendo. Mr. Gail coaches everything else but the fencing; and that’s Ms. Groves, so trust me: Mr. Wallis is the nicest, the youngest, and the cutest of the sports coaches. I’m thinking about taking kendo in the spring, because you actually get to hit something sometimes.”

Now Mr. Wallis was moving around the other students, correcting a stance here, offering encouragement there, demonstrating a move in the third place. Burke had picked up a long wooden rod and begun performing a slow precise series of movements with it. He saw them and smiled, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

Even in those few moments with Mr. Wallis, Spirit had been able to see how good Burke was, and it was obvious, when she looked at the other kids, that he was much better at this than they were. Combat magic, she thought. “Can’t he ever just turn it off?” she asked Muirin. She didn’t have to say who she meant; they were both watching Burke.

Muirin snorted. “It’s painfully obvious you haven’t figured out your magic yet or you wouldn’t ask