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“GOOD EVENING,” ISEN offered, approaching from the rooftop stairs.
Luca glanced up from his book. “Good evening! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you coming. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed from your library.”
“I told you to make yourself at home. What did you choose—a military history?”
“A hobby.”
“Only a hobby? You were fighting with the staff, I hear.”
“What?”
“Marla told me you have been practicing here.”
Luca’s cheeks warmed. “Yes, sometimes.”
“You have been a soldier?”
“Oh, no.” Luca would be ashamed to let a wounded soldier think he was something of the same.
“A bandit, then?” Isen grinned.
“No, I had a friend who was teaching me, that is all.” His fingers twitched. “I was only practicing what he’d shown me.”
“Had you trained long?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t have time to go far in my training. I would have liked to progress, I think, but it wasn’t to be.”
Isen considered this, nodding. “Your friend was a soldier?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
A moment passed before Luca understood. But Shianan hadn’t died—he had only sent Luca with his brother. “Oh, he—”
“Let’s go a few rounds, then.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My physician has always advised me to exercise. If I don’t exert myself, he says, I might find myself a cripple. Today I used a litter, and if I do not take some exercise tonight, I will need Marla’s help to rise in the morning. More, my physician has been chiding me that merely walking is not enough, that this is the reason I have been pained.” He grimaced. “I don’t know that I agree—it’s not as if it doesn’t hurt when I do exert myself—but for what I pay the man, I should at least consider his advice. And it would be good to have someone to train against.”
Luca did not know how to respond. “I don’t think...”
“Oh, come, Nerrin. You’re a young man. Humor me.”
Luca hesitated. “My lord, I’m not sure...”
But Isen was already retrieving the two staves from the edge of the rooftop terrace. “Didn’t your soldier friend engage you in some friendly sparring?”
“No,” Luca answered honestly. “The difference between us was too great.”
“He was that good, was he?” Isen chuckled. “Or you were that bad?”
“Both, I think,” conceded Luca.
“Then we won’t spar yet,” Isen allowed. “But you will run through some drills, won’t you? It would help me.”
Luca could not refuse his host, as he knew his host knew. He exhaled and took the staff Isen extended to him. “If I may be of use, my lord. But I know little enough.”
“We’ll see.” Isen spun the staff in his hand. “Will a slow drill do? You may lead, if you like.”
Luca could not move. How could he strike, even in slow practice, such a man? A respected merchant, an injured soldier, his host, a freeman?
“Come on, then,” Isen prompted. “I’d like to work through it before supper.”
Luca lifted his chin. It was not Falten Isen standing before him, but Shianan Becknam. As you like. I am going to swing at you; you may block or not as it pleases you. Luca shifted his grip and lifted the staff.
Isen met his slow attack without hesitation, moving without speed but smoothly and powerfully. He did not seem to use much strength, but the weight of his body was behind each movement. Shianan would have approved. Luca responded as best he could, struggling to match Isen’s movements. Minutes passed as they moved about each other in a slow rhythm of patterned combat.
And then Isen paused, tipping his staff upward. He was breathing hard and a sheen of sweat covered his face. “Flames, I am not fit for this.” He laughed, panting. “I may not be able to call that physician a fool to his face after all.”
Luca smiled. “Are we finished, then?”
“Not yet, if you please. I only want a breather.” Isen leaned on his staff. “After this I’ll need Marla to piece me together again.”
Luca glanced away.
Isen scratched at his chin, thoughtful. “Fine woman, Marla. I hope she kept you well during your stay?”
“Of course.” Luca examined the grain of his staff, wondering if he dared ask the questions in his mind.
“You’re in merchanting, aren’t you?” Isen moved stiffly to the bench and faced Luca as he sat.
Luca’s resolve stiffened. He could not give up such an opening. “Actually, I know the man in Alham who signed the contract with Jarrick Roald.”
“Do you?”
“I was thinking of going to Alham myself, finding a place there in business,” Luca said, hoping he did not sound nearly so awkward as he felt. “I thought—I wondered if you might need an assistant, maybe just to start, when you go.”
Isen did not seem offended at the question. “Well, if you already know the city and the man I must work with, that would be a help.”
“I know Commander Becknam, but I suspect you’ll be doing most of your trade with someone else. He was only the man to sign the new contract—but he’s a fighter, not a bean-counter.”
Isen laughed. “Good to know. I hear you can’t pull anything over on him, though.”
Luca smiled despite himself.
“I don’t know that there would be enough work to require a partner—”
“Assistant.”
“—at least at first. But I see no reason we couldn’t travel together, and you could introduce me in Alham.”
Luca’s stomach sank. He could not introduce Isen in Alham, not to anyone who mattered.
“And we could see what might work out, as far as working together goes.” Isen smiled.
Luca tried to return the smile, but it felt weak on his face. He should not have asked, should not have pretended to be more than he was. Now Isen would expect more, now Luca would be humiliated when they got to Alham, now Luca must find an excuse to retract his words.
Isen moved the staff in his fingers, watching it. “Let’s spar, something nearer a real fight.”
Luca’s heart quickened, and he waved away the words with a false grin. “Oh, no.”
“I’m in earnest. It would be good for both of us.”
It would be good for neither of them. “But I may not fight you, my lord.”
“Certainly you may. Half-cripple against half-trained; it’s a fitting match. Do you agree?”
Every law of hospitality compelled him to agree. Luca resigned himself to a quick loss. “Just one round, my lord.”
“Good enough.” Isen stood slowly, his weight on his staff. “Are you ready?”
Luca lifted his staff so that it paralleled the tile floor, one end tipped toward Isen. “I’m ready.”
Isen’s staff whipped from its place as his crutch and spun into Luca’s, jarring it loose in Luca’s grasp. Luca recoiled, clenching his staff and jerking it to vertical to block Isen’s backswing as he backed away.
His knees had been unprotected when Isen attacked—the man had chosen to surprise Luca into movement without striking him.
Luca retreated across the roof, blocking Isen’s blows and acutely aware that he was not fast enough, that his opponent was deliberately pulling his attacks to allow Luca time to respond. Luca’s mind was empty, he could think of no action to oppose or counter the onslaught. He could only react, and too slowly.
And then Isen whirled his staff overhead and swept it downward toward Luca’s head with a sharp angry shout. Terror took Luca. His legs folded and he dropped to the tile, cringing. Air brushed his ducked face as the staff hissed past. Isen reversed the staff and brought it against Luca’s naked neck, arresting its movement so that it just rested there.
Luca could not move. He could not make himself move. He could feel the staff against his neck, but he dared not shift, dared not—
“Oh sweet fate,” Isen murmured. He withdrew the staff and stepped closer to Luca, extending a hand. “Here, son.”
Luca stared numbly at the open hand.
“Here, come on, then.” Isen flexed his fingers and nodded. “Up.”
Luca reached obediently for the hand and stood stiffly, muscles cracking with the movement.
“Breathe, son,” Isen prompted, his hands on Luca’s shoulders. “Breathe.”
Luca stared at Isen. “I—I...”
“Sweet fate, I didn’t know it would be like that. Here, walk a bit.”
Luca pulled away, hot with shame. He had collapsed and cowered, nothing more than a slave to be beaten.
Isen sighed and started forward, leading Luca about the roof. “I thought—but I did not think it would be—I’m sorry, son. I am.”
Luca tried to swallow, but his dry throat constricted.
Isen leaned on his staff. “Who gave you your training?”
Why did he ask?
“You had a good instructor, for what you had. Your defense is not fluent, but it is accurate enough, if slow. I wondered who it was who taught you.”
Luca took a steadying breath. “Commander Shianan Becknam, in Alham. He is also called the Count of Bailaha.”
“Becknam?” Isen moved deliberately away and sat on the bench, giving Luca space. “I thought the man who trained you had died.”
“No,” Luca said quickly. “He hasn’t died. I only left Alham.”
“And the man who signed the Roalds’ contract is the man who trained you. That’s how you know him.”
Luca nodded.
“Well, that makes sense. But I thought you had been in the east? Or was that after you left Alham?” Isen’s voice suggested that he already knew the answer.
“I was not in the east,” admitted Luca.
“I see.” Isen sat back on the bench. “You were not a soldier under Becknam.”
It was not a question. Luca shook his head unhappily.
“If you were not a soldier, why was he teaching you to fight?”
He knew. Surely he knew. “I—I don’t know, my lord.”
“He did not give you a reason?”
“He said once that he did not want someone helpless at his back, that it was no protection. But I do not know...”
“That was a generous offer, from a military man.” Isen held Luca’s eyes.
Luca slumped. “And one who was at Furmelle.” There was little left to hide, it seemed.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Luca’s breathing slowed, and his legs seemed more stable, but the humiliation threatened to smother him.
At last Isen broke the quiet. “When you left Alham and ended your training—did you come with Jarrick Roald?”
“Yes.”
The next words were gentler in tone. “Did you know that Jarrick Roald had a younger brother?”
Luca swallowed. “Yes.”
Isen’s expression softened. “Is your name truly Dom Nerrin, son?”
Luca shook his head.
Isen sighed. “I’m glad for Jarrick. He’s hidden it well, but he’s worried over you since—you left. Welcome home, I should say.”
“Home is not welcoming,” Luca muttered.
“I see. I am most sorry for that.” Isen sighed again. “Marla knows.”
“She told you?”
“No, she didn’t. But her certainty of your character made me wonder about you. Your covering yourself, your deference—you do say ‘my lord’ when you’re unprepared, are you aware? I’m only a merchant, you know, as are you.
“And then I thought of Jarrick’s brother. I only guessed this hour. I saw that faint band yet marking your wrists. It’s nearly gone, so I could have been mistaken. But then in our match...” He shook his head. “Flames, I’m sorry. I did not mean—I would not have—I’m sorry.”
Luca closed his eyes, his face burning with shame. “I’m not much of a fighter, you see.”
“To the contrary, your commander did a splendid job. I meant what I said about your defense. But you did not spar with him, and you did not learn how to face down intimidation.” He smiled. “But you did remember to shield yourself with your staff as you—fell. And your defense never collapsed into flailing. In what capacity were you with Commander Becknam?”
“I was his personal servant.”
“How did you find him?”
“My lord?”
“Hear yourself? But I meant to ask, what kind of man is he? I have heard many stories.”
Luca straightened. “He is a good man, a very fair man. He deserves better than what he has. He is an excellent soldier by others’ accounts, but I am no judge of that.”
Isen smiled. “A hero off the field as well, eh?”
“I’m going back to Alham,” Luca said suddenly. “He is my friend—my only friend, it seems. Now that I have no obligations here or elsewhere, I will go to my friend.”
Isen looked at him. “May I speak bluntly?”
Luca smiled bitterly and gave an exaggerated shrug. “I think it’s clear I have no pride to protect.”
“Well, then, if you have been a slave in Alham, why would you return there?”
Luca drew a slow breath. “I have been a slave in Alham and in Furmelle, in Davan, across the Faln Plateau, and here on the Wakari Coast. It is not my place on the map which concerns me, but my place in this world.”
“And you feel that is in a foreign land.”
“I feel I am a stranger here in my homeland.”
“I see.” Isen offered neither criticism nor pity. “I hope, then, that your commander will recognize and welcome you, though he knew you only as a slave.”
“He will know me,” Luca answered confidently. “I only worry that he will be angry at my return. It was he who sent me from Alham.”
“And yet you want to rejoin him?”
“He knew I could be freed beyond the border. It is illegal to free a slave there, since the rebellions.”
“I see.” Isen regarded Luca. “Then I hope to one day give Commander Becknam my regards. I never met him in our joint efforts against the Ryuven, though I heard much of him. And I will tell him, if you like, that I think he is an excellent instructor as well.”
Luca gave a sardonic smile. “Even though I clearly failed in our match?”
“It was an unfair match, son. Your instructor may have been a commander, but you yourself are no soldier, and your opponent was once a captain.” He smiled gently. “That move is intended to disrupt and intimidate.”
Luca glanced down, humiliated. “As it did.”
Isen shook his head. “Don’t feel too bad, son. It sounds as though you’ve had a steep week. And if I may say for myself, facing Captain Isen, even as a cripple, is no simple task.”
Cole appeared at the steps. “Your supper is ready, my lords.”
“Thank you,” Isen said after a moment. Luca realized dully that he should have been the one to respond, as Cole’s duty was to him, but he had unthinkingly waited for Isen. He clenched his fists, disgusted with himself.
Isen rose, leaning on his staff. “Thank you for helping me to exercise. Come, let’s go down and dine.”