Songs of the Earth (40 page)

He mopped the sweat from his face and chest with a towel and drank a cup of water. This early it was still dark, but he’d strung glims along the edge of the walkway roof and their blue-white light was as bright as noon, though it gave no warmth. If he stood still for too long the blustery wind would steal the heat he’d built up in his muscles over the last hour or so, in which case he might as well give up and go back to bed.

He settled his feet in first position, then brought the sword slowly, carefully, to the salute. He would return to the most basic forms, the ones he knew the way he knew how to breathe, and try to regain his focus from there. Otherwise Haral would send him straight to the novice class tomorrow.

First position. Deep breath. Hold it a beat … and begin
.

No sound but the wind and the scuffle of his feet on the cold earth, the thin hiss of air over blade. Gair kept his breathing slow and regular, and gradually the rhythm came to him.
Smooth, fluid transfer of his weight from foot to foot; balance and counter-balance flowing together
. The faster he moved, the more his thoughts slowed towards that point of perfect glacial clarity where he did not need to think at all. His muscles already knew what to do.

When he reached the end of the yard, he began again from the beginning, stepping through each figure, block-parry-thrust, to the rhythm in his head. Selenas used to clap it out for them, pacing back and forth along the rows of sweating novices. Though the wiry Master of Swords was far away, Gair could still hear the precise beat for each exercise. It ticked along like a heartbeat and his feet followed, dancing him through the forms.

Better. Much better. He might not disgrace himself in Haral’s next class after all. The weapons-master had assigned him a new sparring partner last week, an ox-like Syfrian who looked slow and plodding until he got a weapon in his hands. Gair had found himself duelling a whirlwind with the solidity and strength of a castle wall. He had nearly come unstuck more than once during the session, until he’d got the measure of his opponent. Even so, by the end of the class it had been a real effort to uncurl his fingers from the waster’s grip. He intended to mount a much more accomplished defence next time.

The sun was almost up when he felt someone watching him. His heart sank. He was in no mood to tolerate Arlin and his cronies today. The adulteration of his water-jug had only stopped when someone tried to drop in a raw ladybonnet pepper and discovered the hard way that Gair could weave a trigger-ward that snapped like a gin-trap. He’d felt the ward collapse behind him, but he’d continued with his forms so he hadn’t seen who had broken it. Next day one of Arlin’s friends, Benris, had been sporting two splinted fingers. There matters had remained, in an
ill-tempered draw, but Gair knew without a doubt that the game was by no means over.

He would not let them ruin the concentration he had worked so hard to regain. If they were determined to have their fun, they could damn well wait until he was done. Fighting to retain his focus, he slashed and turned his way towards the end of the form. Ten more steps. Eight. Three. Turn, and
finish
.

The blade flashed blue-white as it caught the glim-light and came to a halt levelled at Sorchal’s throat.

The swarthy Elethrainian perched on the walkway railing threw up his hands in mock alarm. ‘Quarter, sir knight! I yield!’

Breathing hard, Gair put up his sword. ‘Forgive me. I was expecting someone else.’

Black brows rose. ‘Who’s up at this time of the morning?’

‘You are,’ Gair said mildly.

Sorchal’s eyes sparkled. ‘Only because I haven’t been to bed yet.’

‘A good night at the Red Dragon?’

‘You could say that.’ The Elethrainian hopped down from the rail and extended a hand. ‘I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Sorchal din Urse, hedonist and ne’er-do-well.’

Gair wiped his sweaty hands on his whites and returned the clasp. ‘Gair. Excommunicate Leahn bastard.’

Sorchal’s grin was made roguish by a chipped front tooth, and combined with his emerald eyes and dark good looks, Gair began to understand some of the stories he’d heard.

‘I like you already. Ride your own road, only dull people play by the rules.’ He glanced at the eastern wall, where a bright thread of sunrise gleamed above the tiles. ‘Do you always practise this early?’

‘Most days. I like the quiet.’

‘And it keeps you out of Arlin’s way,’ Sorchal said. ‘I suppose I ought to thank you, Leahn. It’s past time someone put that
arrogant heathercock on his arse. I just wish I had the skill to have done it myself.’

‘I’ve seen you in Haral’s class. You’re good.’

The Elethrainian demurred, pulling a face. ‘The longsword’s not really my weapon. I’m better suited to the rapier. Easier to snip the ribbon from a girl’s hair.’ He made a deft flick with an imaginary sword. ‘If I tried it with that cleaver of yours, I’d probably part her head from her shoulders, and then where would I get my kisses?’

‘Her grieving mother, perhaps?’

‘A vile calumny!’ Sorchal declared. ‘It was a wedding, not a funeral, and the lady in question was the mother of the bride, not of the deceased.’ His affronted expression became another dazzling grin. ‘Although your version does add a certain spice to my reputation as a scapegrace of the first water, you have to admit.’

Gair picked up his towel and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to stop if he was going to have a bath and something to eat before his tutorial with Coran.

‘From what I’ve heard, it’s a wonder you haven’t been run through by an outraged husband already.’

‘The trick, my friend, is not to be caught. Besides, I’m surprised you don’t have your own flock of turtledoves, all this exercising with your shirt off. Married or maiden, women love to watch a man sweat.’ Sorchal winked, then laughed when Gair ducked his head to hide a flush.

‘Forgive me, I shouldn’t tease,’ he said, trying hard to look contrite. ‘Now I’ve kept you long enough, and my bed is calling me. If you happen by the Dragon one evening, I’d be honoured to stand you a glass of whatever best pleases your throat just for the expression you put on Arlin’s face.’

With that he swung his coat over his shoulders and ambled off across the yard, whistling. When he reached the door, he paused.
‘By the way,’ he called, ‘I have five Imperials on you to win. Don’t let me down!’

Gair bent down to pick up his belongings. Sorchal’s conquests were the stuff of legend in the dormitory – he made Darin seem positively chaste – but he was so affable he was difficult to dislike. Even his towering arrogance was leavened with enough humour that it was charismatic instead of offensive.

After bathing and changing his clothes, Gair walked back to his room to drop off his sword. Opening the door, he found Tanith at his desk, flipping through one of the books he’d borrowed from the library.

‘
Prince Corum and the Forty Knights
,’ she said, holding it up. ‘One of my favourites too. Just don’t believe what the author says about Astolans. I don’t think he had ever met one.’

‘The ears?’

‘Completely unpointed, as you can see.’ She closed the book and returned it to the pile. ‘I thought you might like to know that your friend Darin is awake and thriving. Saaron says that thanks to you, he should make a full recovery.’

‘That’s excellent news!’ Gair’s tiredness fell away. ‘Can I see him?’

‘Of course. I’ll walk you down there. Is he always so energetic? We’re having a hard time keeping him in bed.’

Outside in the dormitory court the wind still roared. Dead leaves whirled around their feet and the flagstones and rooftops gleamed like pewter under a louring sky.

‘Forgive me if I’m being rude,’ Tanith asked as they walked, ‘but have you been graded yet? You’re the only person around here apart from the staff and the children who doesn’t have a mantle or a tunic.’

Gair thought of the carefully folded blue wool at the back of his closet. ‘No one’s said anything yet,’ he told her, which was truthful enough. ‘I suppose they haven’t made their minds up.’

‘But you’ve been here how long – three months? I’ve never known the Council take so long.’

‘Maybe they just don’t know what to do with me.’

She looked at him curiously. ‘I remember when you were caught up in my healing – from what I saw then you seemed very strong, stronger than anyone I’ve come across in my time here except some of the Masters. What are you studying?’

‘Everything, I think. I have weapons-practice twice a week with Master Haral, Master Coran for wards, Barin, Eavin, Esther and Godril for the four elements, and anyone else who feels like it for whatever they want me to try whenever I’m not doing anything else.’

Tanith’s eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘You’re strong in all four elements?’

‘I seem to be. There’s nothing I’ve tried yet that I haven’t been able to grasp eventually.’

The Astolan Healer stared at him and then breathed a word in her own language that had the rhythm of something most unlady-like. She held out her hands towards his face. ‘May I?’

He shied back. ‘Depends on what you’re going to do.’

‘It won’t hurt.’

‘That’s what Master Brendan said when he wanted to find out why I found illusions so easy. He left me with a headache so bad I was seeing double.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I only want to look at you.’

Her hands came to rest on either side of his face and she closed her eyes. Her mind stroked over the surface of his thoughts like a feather, not unpleasant but a little ticklish.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Shush. I need to concentrate.’

Warmth and light flushed into him so abruptly it made him flinch. The delving washed through him from crown to toes and back again, making his nerves tingle and his skin sensitive. He became conscious of prickly wool trousers, chill stone striking up
through his boots, his hair on the back of his neck, all the thousand and one everyday sensations that his mind usually screened out.

Tanith opened her eyes and as she took her hands away, the sensations faded. Her eyes had a curious, appraising quality that made him think of a jeweller assaying a gem.

‘Without further testing I couldn’t say what your full potential would be,’ she said slowly. ‘A full assay would take two Healers and probably half a dozen Masters, given what I’ve seen so far, and it would be far more exhaustive than your initial testing. It’s not often done, you see, only in special cases.’

‘And?’

‘Well, I’d say you’re probably a special case. I’ll ask Saaron to put it to the Council next week, and then we’ll see. At least you’ll know your grade, one way or the other.’

At the infirmary Gair swung the door open for her and followed her through the waiting room to the ward. There were few patients, so most of the beds were empty. Tanith paused at the desk to exchange a few words with the Healer on duty, then pointed along the ward.

‘There he is, right at the end,’ she said.

Darin certainly looked better. His colour was good, although he had such dark shadows under his eyes that it looked like he should be sporting a broken nose. He was sipping a glass of cordial when he heard their footsteps and looked up.

‘Gair!’ he exclaimed, putting the glass on his side-table. A huge grin split his face. ‘How’ve you been?’

‘Tired, mostly.’ Gair found himself a stool and sat down. ‘What about you? Quite a few people are asking after you.’

‘Oh, I’m fine. Another day, then Saaron says I can leave.’

‘That’s good to hear. You scared me half to death when I found you lying there unconscious.’

‘I hardly remember anything about it,’ Darin told him, pulling a face. ‘One minute I’m making a regular dog’s breakfast out of my
essay for Donata, the next I’m flat on my back being spoon-fed honey by a gorgeous redhead.’

‘Not a bad exchange.’ Gair smiled.

‘It’s almost a shame to be spoken for. That Tanith is incredibly beautiful.’

Gair glanced along the ward, but the Astolan had gone. ‘Master Donata told me to say she hoped you would be feeling better soon and you’ve got an extension until the end of next week on that essay.’

Darin’s grin widened. ‘More than enough time for you to write it for me, then. Promise you’ll help me?’ he pleaded. ‘I always get better marks when you do.’

‘Maybe you need to spend more time studying and less mooning over Renna.’

‘I do not moon!’

Laughing, Gair tilted the stool onto two feet so he could lean more comfortably against the wall. ‘If I get the time, I’ll go over your assignment with you and help you work out the kinks, I promise, but the Masters keep me pretty busy. Do this, show me that, do it again, practice, practice, practice – it’s all I can do to get them to give me time to sleep at nights. They still haven’t made up their minds about grading me, either.’

‘Haven’t they?’

Gair shook his head. ‘Even Tanith remarked on it. Is it rare? For them to take so long to decide, I mean?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Darin said. ‘I’ve only been here two years, and everyone I know was graded almost immediately. Maybe the Council is having to make up a new category for you. You’re easily the strongest of us, especially with the—’ He gave a meaningful tilt of his head and lowered his voice. ‘—you know.’