Venzene Duchy of Kovalun
County Jižní Pochod
Barony of Hartscross–Jižní Lov
٤ Korunasykli: ٢١ Days after the Red Storm at Westsong
Vlk had needed to fight not to laugh as he crossed the encampment with Andrej. He knew he’d have to find some way to thank Lady Kastan for her kindness, but he had no idea how to go about it.
His father, Liška, had caught him on his way out to meet Andrej. Caught him—as if he’d been doing something wrong, but never mind. The stablemaster, Milan Němá-noha, had been his only salvation.
Liška had been a hair’s breadth away from striking Vlk for lying—lying, of all things—about being asked to report to the Lady Kastan’s encampment after his morning work was done when Milan’s short, sharp voice came booming toward them.
“What in hells ya think yer doing, man?!” This was followed by the fastest limp Vlk had ever seen. Milan had a heavily lacquered Ashwood prosthetic where the lower half of his left leg had once been. His left side was his dim one, hence the name Němá-noha, which meant Dumb-foot.
“Nothing ta vorry you, Milan. Just teaching Vlk about responsibility… making sure me son do his vork properly.”
Milan finished closing the distance and smacked Vlk’s father with something that jingled. “If ya don’t let go of him and let him be on his way, you’ll wind up with less coin in yer pocket at day’s end. The boy’s done his work for the morning. If you don’t let him be, he’ll be late getting to the rest of the day’s work.”
Liška kept his glower focused on Vlk, but spoke over his shoulder to the aged stable master. “No fear, Milan. I von’t let him drag through the rest of his day.”
“Then let him go, Liška. And Vlk, don’t dare dally as ya make yer way, or one of us’ll smart for it.” His father obeyed, at last releasing his grip on Vlk’s shoulder. Milan’s final word caused a look of embarrassed shock to rush onto Liška’s normally dour face. “Tell her Ladyship that I’m happy to make you available to her whenever she likes.”
“I vill tell her vhen I first see her. Můj vdek.” Before his father had time to do more than glare, he’d taken off at a run. Andrej was waiting near the turnoff for Vlk’s house.
“I’ll just run home and grab my svord,” he said. Andrej stopped him with a hand to the shoulder and a shake of the head. “…Vhat?”
“You won’t need your sword today. Besides, if I’m wrong, we have more than you have fingers.”
“Vhy do you have so many vooden svords? Are they for the children back at Lady Kastan’s home? The children of her guards, I mean.” He shrugged and fell into step beside Andrej. He could listen and walk at the same time.
“They’re for practice. Train with the wooden sword to hone skill and form, practice with the metal one to hold on to skill and form.” Vlk must have worn his confusion on his face, for Andrej grinned, albeit kindly, and said a little more. “Ever light a fire?”
Vlk nodded. “’Course. My father taught me vhen ve rode vith Lord Alojz last year. Ve vent along to Hartscross vith him to tend to his horses. My father vanted a fire and didn’t vant to have to be bothered lighting it himself every night, so he taught me. Vhy?”
Andrej had nodded at that, looking wistful. “I’ve never seen Hartscross. I hear it’s big enough to get lost in.” He shook his head. “You… When you make a fire, you need kindling, right?” Vlk nodded. “When you just want to keep a fire going, though, you use actual logs or thick branches.” Again, Vlk nodded. “The work before you fight’s like fires. The wooden sword’s kindling. It gets your fire going, gets your arm and head to do what you want.”
Vlk’s eyes had grown wide, his smile broad. “Ahhh, Pravda!” (True!) “The logs are metal svords—real ones. They keep the fire going… keep the training fresh in your head so your arms don’t forget it… That makes sense.” He elbowed Andrej in the ribs. “See? I vas right!”
Andrej had blinked at that. “About what?”
“You are a kouzelník!” With that, Vlk took off at a dead run. Andrej was close behind, laughing, mock-growling.
They were still laughing as they skidded to a halt before an amused Kastan and half a dozen servant women.