The First Blade of Ostia by Duncan M. Hamilton Read Free Book Online

the meagre funds that would be needed. His planning was brought to a halt by the sound of footsteps that were not an echo of his own.
    ‘Can I help you?’ a voice said.
    Foreign. Estranzan perhaps?
    ‘Yes,’ Bryn said, as he turned to face the direction of the voice. It belonged to a man of average build and cropped salt-and-pepper hair. He had a thick moustache that had been left much to its own devices, contrasting strongly with Bryn’s own finely sculpted effort. He was standing at the doorway to another small room at the back. ‘I was told that there’s a fencing salon here.’
    ‘You have been informed correctly,’ the man said.
    Bryn didn’t speak for a moment, expecting something more in the way of information but it didn’t appear to be forthcoming. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find the salon’s master.’
    The man’s clothes had seen better days; they weren’t rags, but they were shabby which gave Bryn to presume that he was merely a caretaker.
    ‘I am the master,’ he said. ‘This is my salon. Banneret of the Starry Field Baltasar Bautisto at your service.’
    An Estranzan then. Bryn’s initial guess had been correct.
    ‘I’m Banneret of the Blue Bryn Pendollo. I’m looking for somewhere to train. I thought I’d come to have a look at your salon.’
    Bautista eyed him suspiciously. ‘What is the nature of your training?’
    ‘I’m planning on competing in the arena. I’m looking for a basic salon where there will be few distractions. Coaching also.’
    ‘This isn’t the most well-appointed salon that you will find.’ Bautisto walked forward from the doorway and gestured to the open space of the room with both hands. ‘I dare say it might be the worst. But it is clean and dry, and there are no distractions to be had other than the whores who ply their trade on the street outside after dark.’
    It was hardly the most compelling sales pitch. ‘Thank you for your time, Maestro Bautista. I’ll give it consideration. I’ve viewed several salons today and will need time to make my decision,’ Bryn said. He felt uncomfortable being the only other person there, and a sense of something akin to pity for a Maestro with no students. Despite the emptiness of his salon, Bautisto didn’t seem particularly motivated to entice one.
    ‘You would consider a salon without testing it?’ Bautisto said, cocking his head inquiringly.
    ‘Well, I suppose not.’ It struck Bryn that he had been slipshod in his approach thus far. He knew what he was looking for in terms of facilities by sight, but the only way to truly gauge a salon’s worth was to train in it.
    Bautisto ducked into the back room without another word and re-emerged a moment later carrying a rapier and matching parrying dagger. Neither were particularly ornate, ‘tools rather than jewels’ as Dornish would have called them.
    ‘The arena is generally fought with both sword and dagger, I suggest that is what we use now. I have practice blades if you would prefer…’
    An unusual approach, but Bryn was willing to play along. ‘Live steel will be fine,’ he said.
    He undid the fastening of his cloak and allowed it to drop from his shoulders to the ground. He unsheathed his rapier and dagger and dropped his sword belt on the cloak.
    ‘Shall we begin?’ Bautisto said.
    Bryn nodded and dropped into a low, wide stance, flexed at his knees with his body leaning forward. He held his dagger out in front of him at waist level, his rapier farther forward and a little higher. It was a neutral posture, that of a man not sure what to expect.
    ‘Fine form,’ Bautisto said, before launching into an attack of a precision and speed that surprised Bryn. It was a little more enthusiastic than he would have expected of a friendly spar with sharp blades, but nothing he couldn’t cope with.
    Bryn parried with both sword and dagger, stepping back with each attack to invite Bautisto to overreach himself. He was not to be easily