Flecks of Gold (24 page)

“Do you know the lacing for your writing?” I asked.

“Yes, I can show you if you wish.” He began constructing the lacing strand by strand in the air, each string a swirl of golden brown light. Though he did one piece at a time, he built the pattern quickly so that the lacing formed in a matter of seconds. “This is the thread you must change,” he pointed. I studied it carefully for a moment and then performed the lacing. Instantly the words on the paper made sense. My eyes skimmed the flowery language until Breeohan’s name popped out at me.

“We congratulate Zefan Breeohan on his recent attainment of Master’s class, and await Iberloah’s request of Tisimony’s presence to impart of our esteem personally,” I read aloud. “Who’s Tisimony, a person or a country?”

“A country bordering ours. What that statement is really saying is that they wish to send some of their suitable young ladies in hopes that they can negotiate a marriage.”

“Would you do it? Doesn’t Breeohan have any say in the matter?” I massaged a sudden cramp in my stomach. The king’s eyes dropped to my hands, and my palms stilled.

“I will not pretend that an alliance would not be unwelcome, but I have already told Breeohan that he may marry whomever he wishes. I will not force him. Shall we begin today’s lesson?” He stood, dropping his papers onto the chair. His hand was warm and firm in mine as he guided me to the middle of the floor.

He took me through the steps we had learned yesterday as a review, then began to elaborate on those steps as well as teaching me the beginning steps of a new dance style that was much more flowing. It was harder to do, considering that much of it was done without touching the other person. I had to learn the steps thoroughly since the absence of a lead increased the probability that I might turn the wrong way.

We finally halted. I worried that I wouldn’t remember it all for the ball, especially if I had to learn more. I mean, how much can you really learn in five days? I expressed this concern to the king.

“There isn’t too much more to learn, and Sogran, Breeohan, and I will make sure that you are otherwise occupied during any dances you do not know.”

That was a relief, though I thought the attentions of the king, the heir, and the training general might be in demand, which would make keeping an eye on me much more difficult.

There was silence for a moment, and I shifted nervously. “Have you found out anything about my mother or Kelson yet?” I asked in a rush.

The king looked me in the eye. “I am sorry, but we have found nothing yet. You must admit that there is little information to help us in locating this Kelson.”

I looked away to the marbled floor. “I know.” What was I doing here anyway? How was staying at the palace going to help find Mom? No one but me knew what to look for. I felt a great yearning to just leave the palace and search for Mom on my own, but I knew that would be fruitless. It was a big country, and I had no idea which direction to look.

I glanced up again and found the king watching me intently. “I promise you I am doing all that is within my power to find your mother.”

“Thank you.”

I was tired and starving, not a good combination for exuding pep. I got lost once on the way to my room, but found my wrong turn almost immediately and was grateful to see Sentai had lain out a meal. I tucked into the food, hardly noticing what it tasted like. As I started to get a little fuller, I realized this probably was a good thing. It was one of the stranger Iberoahan dishes that, once my hunger lessened, my stomach had trouble handling. I stopped eating before I was full just to make sure I wouldn’t throw everything back up again and then went to lie down on the bed.

The next thing I knew, I was being gently shaken awake. The morning sun streamed through the window in brilliant orange rays, though the air from the open shutters was still cool. I groaned and tried to shrug off the hand disturbing my slumber.

“I am sorry to wake you, but if you sleep any longer you will be late for your lessons with the training general,” Sentai said.

That brought me up with a start. “What time is it?” I grabbed the clothes Sentai held out for me and stuffed myself in them at sonic speed.

“It is nearly the third portion, Princess.”

“Holy cow, Sogran is going to kill me.” I grabbed a piece of bread from the table and dashed out the door, flying through hallways. I got to the training room breathing hard, but still before the third portion gong, my piece of bread mashed in my hand.

Sogran walked in the instant after I did. He regarded me with raised eyebrows.

“I assume that you haven’t yet eaten.” He looked pointedly at my hand. “It will be much harder to train winded and on an empty stomach.”

I nodded to save breath, my hopes that he would let me eat the bread plummeting.

“Well, sit down and eat while you recover from your harrowing journey here,” he said, surprising me.

My bottom hit the floor, and I tore into the soft bread in case he decided to change his mind. After I finished, I stood slowly.

“Thank you.” I wondered if he was having a good day to be so lenient.

“I am not a monster, Mary.”

I felt my face go hot. “Why did you and the king go to Earth?” I asked in a fit of daring.

Sogran stood looking at the weapons along the wall for so long, his granite face especially unreadable, that I thought maybe he wasn’t going to answer.
Great job, Mary. Make him mad so he can kill you off in practice, why don’t you?

“Verone and I both had our reasons for wanting to leave Iberloah. When Verone discovered the lacing to travel across great distances, we both decided to test the untried lacing and see where it would take us, knowing we could explode just as easily as travel anywhere. I went first to make sure that wouldn’t happen to Verone, and ended up in a farther, stranger land than I had ever imagined the lacing would take me—America.”

I opened my mouth to ask more, but Sogran stopped anything from getting out. “Since you have already warmed up, we will go straight into man-to-man weapons practice. Get the staff.” He turned away and got a staff of his own, then came to the middle of the floor, waiting.

I sulked over to the rack and retrieved my staff slowly. Why was it like pulling teeth to get any information out of the king and the training general? Why would they both want to leave Iberloah in the first place? Granted, Iberloah couldn’t be very appealing to the lower classes, but both the king and training general were pretty high up on the Iberloahan food chain.

I was so involved with my thoughts that I didn’t notice I had reached the middle of the floor until I felt a whop strike my stick and send it clattering to the ground.

“Pay attention. You’re fortunate I decided to hit your stick instead of you.”

I picked up my staff more warily and blocked his immediate thrust just in time. He kept a running commentary of what I should correct, or when I blocked well, but I had no breath or free brain space for any replies.

We switched staff for sword after about an hour. The next hour I was far more stressed, consumed in focusing on every move Sogran made. A slice from a sword would be much more painful than a whack from a staff. I was doing pretty well until he got past my guard and nicked me under the arm. Pain lanced through my body, jolting my mind off my counter-strike.

Sogran pulled back millimeters before touching my abdomen. “You must learn to block out the pain and keep fighting. If you lose your concentration, you will be dead.”

“Why? Why do I have to fight at all? I should be at home with my mother.” I sank to my knees, the words coming out in great gasps as I struggled and failed to hold back the sobbing. “I shouldn’t have to fight and if I ever have to kill someone, I’ll have that on my conscience forever. I shouldn’t be here. Mom and I,
we
shouldn’t be here. Our biggest worry should be getting the bills paid on time, not death from barbaric weapons.” It was funny how being out of breath combined with a bloody slash on my arm knocked out the flood gates of my suppressed emotions.

I was looking at the floor, vision blurry from the copious tears springing from my eyes when I felt a hand press my shoulder. I waited for the reprimand. None came. Sogran stood silently next to me while I cried.

When I got myself under control enough to breathe properly, I sucked in the air deeply. Next, I fixed my arm with a lacing. The absence of pain helped me stop crying all together. Still, I slumped in embarrassment. Sogran removed his hand and sat next to me in one fluid movement. His poise made me more aware of my bad posture, so I straightened and looked at him.

“You are right that things here are much less safe than your home on Earth in some ways, and that Iberloah might require of you things that you would never have had to face there. But know this, Mary, if you are trying to do what is right, you will never be given more than what you can handle. I believe you are here now for a reason and that you are meant to be here. You are needed, Mary.”

It was strange to hear Sogran waxing motivational on me. He hadn’t really struck me as the encouragement-speaker type, but his words did something to me, loosened something I’d been holding back. I no longer clung to the bare hope I’d hidden deep down that being in Iberloah was all a dream or that I would wake to find myself strapped to some new state-of-the-art virtual reality simulator.

I stood up. “Okay, I’m ready to spar again.”

Sogran nodded. He stood waiting across from me. And this time I struck first.

I
left the training
room more tired than yesterday. I’d put new energy into my attacking and blocking. Knowing that my life could depend on my skill or lack thereof spurred me on when I felt ready to drop.

Sogran nodded approvingly at the end of practice. “All you needed was a little nick in the arm to get you to concentrate more fully. If I would have known that, I would have done it the first day.” At my look, granite man actually chuckled. “You can’t deny that you focus better once you have been hurt. Baro is a good example of that. You didn’t put your whole attention into fighting him until he had hit you in the stomach.”

“You mean I didn’t go berserker until then,” I said.

“No, it wasn’t a lack of control that I saw. You transformed into another fighter altogether—one who saw more quickly what strikes were coming and blocked them before the strike had full power, giving you time to counter. Did you notice how many more times you were able to move offensively rather than defensively after you were hurt? The difference was significant.” He must have read my look for he added, “I was not going easy on you. What you need to discover is how to tap into that focus before you are injured.”

“I can see your point, but
doing
is harder than
saying
.”

“That is why we train. I will see you tomorrow,” he said. Then he walked through the door into the larger training ground. I hobbled slowly outside, feeling the blast of the sun’s heat as a throbbing in my skull. A lacing fixed my headache, but I felt a different kind of pain as I saw Zefa Avana heading toward the training grounds in a pair of elaborate green pants and a shirt. They looked new and expensive. I wondered why she was coming this way.

“It seems we are developing a habit of running into each other, Princess.” She elongated the word “princess” so it sounded like a joke rather than a title.

“It does seem that way.” I stretched my lips into a smile and bowed only after she bowed to me.

“Dear me, what has happened? You look as if you’ve been set upon by thieves.” Her eyes projected concern while the quirk at her mouth spoke more loudly of scorn.

I looked myself over nonchalantly, taking in the torn and blood-stained sleeve of my shirt, and the sweaty wetness of my clothes. I shrugged. “I’ve been working hard.”

“The servants must have mistaken you for a peasant worker. How unfortunate, but what can you expect in such attire?”

“You’ll have to ask the training general, though I wouldn’t mention the part about thinking of him as a servant. I don’t think he’d like that.” I’d stumped her for the moment, so I pressed my advantage. “I see you are heading to the training grounds yourself. Are you going to practice for a jova court match?”

Avana jerked straighter. “I am a lady of noble blood, not some wench to be seen sweating, dirty, and bleeding like . . .” She looked at me disdainfully.

“Like me perhaps? But you forget, Zefa Avana, I was challenged. You could be challenged as well.”

“You told us you compete, so of course you can be challenged. I, however, don’t compete. I would never so disgrace myself.”

“And yet you were begging Breeohan to get back in the game. It didn’t seem so loathsome to you to insist the heir fight in the jova courts.”

“
Zefan
Breeohan is a man.” She accented the “Zefan” as if to further emphasize my unworthiness to call Breeohan by his name only.

“How observant,” I said sarcastically, gesturing over her shoulder to Breeohan approaching.

Avana’s manner changed instantly to sweet gooeyness. She turned a brilliant smile toward Breeohan. “Breeohan, it is so good to see you here. I was just taking a stroll and found Princess Kasala on her way back to the palace.” She turned to me. “It was so nice to talk with you again. I find our encounters quite charming.”