The Death of Chaos by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Read Free Book Online Page B

the damned chair spokes. “All right. A short sparring session, but not for blood.”
    “So get out that old staff.” Tamra drained the last of her mug and wiped her mouth.
    “It’s new. The old one got broken, remember?”
    “I don’t remember, thank the darkness. Let’s get on with it. I’m supposed to work with the trainees later.”
    “You like getting pummeled?”
    “They have to hit me first. Or don’t you remember?”
    “That was a while ago, and it only happened once.” Once had been enough. Back in Recluce, the first time I’d sparred with Tamra she’d beaten me black and blue, and knocked me out—with a padded staff yet. I’d gotten a lot better since then, but I wasn’t that enthused about sparring with her.
    After rinsing the mugs and setting them in the rack, I led her out, stopping by the shop to reclaim my new staff.
    We squared off in the center of the yard. A light breeze blew out of the west, bringing the acrid scent of graying leaves and a hint of chill all the way from the Westhorns.
    “I hope you’re better with it than with the old one.”
    “We’ll see.”
    “So we will.” Tamra circled left.
    I turned with her, but kept my feet balanced, knowing she was quicker.
    Flickkk… Her staff flashed, but I slid it off to the right.
    Thwack! No finesse there, as that slight form shifted her weight to focus it all on the staff. My fingers were numb from the blow to my staff, and I backed up, trying to flex them while not letting go of the staff itself.
    Thwackkk! Thwack!
    Sweat was already popping out on my forehead, and Tamra looked cold, almost dispassionate, like some ancient Westwind guard must have.
    I feinted, then dropped, and came up under her guard. She parried but not before I cracked her on the thigh, not hard. I couldn’t do that, not in sparring.
    “Think you’re good?” She grunted, and her staff turned into a blur.
    At that point, I had to surrender to my own sense of order and let my body respond.
    The whole thing became a blur. I got in some blows, and she got in some. I got in more, but hers were harder. She didn’t have the restraints I did, which is why she got in trouble with Antonin, but why it took more work for me to hold her off with the staff.
    “All right!” I finally puffed, backing up, and sweating like a roasted hog. “You’re doing this every day. I only do it occasionally.”
    She put down her staff, looking only a bit warmer than before we started. Her red hair was slightly disarrayed. “When do you leave?”
    “Leave?”
    “About half the Finest know you’re headed somewhere, and Ferrel hasn’t come back, and Krystal’s taken over the Finest. And you’re asking about Justen.” Tamra snorted. “It doesn’t take much in the way of brains.”
    “Soon.” I bowed to the inevitable. “Since you know so much, what else can you tell me?”
    Tamra brushed her hair back off her forehead. “I can’t tell you that much. I can tell you that if Justen were here, he’d be telling you to take your book —The Basis of Order . Read it. You won’t survive forever on dumb luck and your staff work, even if it is getting better.”
    “Thank you.” I bowed, and my ribs ached, reminding me that I wouldn’t survive long at all on staff work by itself. “You’re also improving.”
    “I’ve been practicing against the Finest. You have to get faster when you’re working against blades. Krystal’s a good instructor. Has she been working with you?”
    “Only a little.”
    “It shows. You ought to do it more often.”
    “When?”
    Tamra gave me a quick smile. “I know how you two spend your free time.”
    “There hasn’t been that much.”
    Her smile got wider, and I wanted to crack her, but I walked across the yard and set the staff in the rack inside the shop door.
    In the end, after Tamra rode off, pleased with herself, I did have to go back to the chairs. With the break, the work seemed easier, and I even got the fifth chair back bent and