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Duke Gareth was already in his preferred training room, and nodded a greeting as Alanna entered. Gary was there too and he and Alanna exchanged a handclasp but none of them spoke. Alanna ran through her own warm-up and then took up her blunted practice sword. The duke waved at her and Gary, and the pair of them saluted before settling into guard.
Gary, as always, brought his full strength to bear in his first strike, hoping to take Alanna out quickly. He’d never beat her speed but he was far stronger. Or he had been. Usually she dodged and weaved away from his heavy blows to find the gaps in his defence, but that was before she’d studied with Liam. Her speed had been no help against the Dragon and she had had no choice but to learn to meet strength with strength.
She used that learning now, meeting Gary’s blade with her own, muscles tensing as she held up against him. Gary’s eyes widened as she wound her blade along his to strike against his gorget. The bout was over in seconds. They reset, Gary narrowing his eyes. This time he held back and she launched her own attack, feinting toward his left side with a speed that drew an automatic block from her large friend – and the momentum from his block let her blade swing back and round, cleaving down on to the right side of his helmet before he could even bring his blade back up.
“Again,” the duke called.
Gary rolled his eyes as he brought his blade back to guard. “Because who doesn’t want to be humiliated before breakfast.”
They sparred a while longer. Before she rode east, Alanna had won the majority of their bouts, but Gary’s strength and sneakiness could get past her guard. No longer. He barely landed a blow.
Eventually the duke called a halt and Alanna took a much needed drink, wiping her face. “Not bad, Gareth,” the duke told his son. “But you need speed, not just strength.” That was close to praise from the duke and Gary took it as such, thanking his father – only mildly sarcastically – and throwing a wave at Alanna as he left the room.
The duke looked over as Alanna. “I take it we have the Dragon to thank for your improvement?” She nodded. “Very well. If you’ve caught your breath, let’s begin.” She picked her sword back up, and barely had time to set herself before he launched his first attack.
…….
“Well done, Trebond.” She stared at him, her eyes wide, heart pounding. “If you don’t mind?” he asked and she scrambled back with an awkward apology, lowering her blade from his throat. He laughed. Duke Gareth laughed. “I don’t think it’s usual practice to apologise for disarming your opponent,” he said as he retrieved his sword from the salle floor.
“But – Sir, I didn’t mean –“
“I don’t know what you think we’re doing here, if you didn’t mean it.”
She snapped her mouth shut. She’d never beaten the duke before. Even landing glancing blows had been rare. She’d just disarmed the leading swordsman in Tortall. He tossed her towel at her and she caught it reflexively, running it over her face and through her sweat-dark hair.
She looked up when Gareth spoke. “I think our work here is done.”
“Sir?”
“It was my job to make a swordsman of you. Swordswoman.” She’d wondered what Gareth made of her real gender, but the word was said with a wry irony, no rancour in it. “Though it turns out, you needed a Shang to finish what I’d started.” He actually grinned at her look of confusion. “There’s nothing more I can teach you. Consider yourself graduated from my classes.”
She wasn’t sure what to think. She’d trained with the duke for half a decade, since he first saw her potential, and now he was cutting her loose. “Don’t look so distraught, my dear,” he said. “You may be done with lessons but you still need to practice – and practice with the best, to keep your edge.” He gathered up his weapons and headed into the hall, Alanna following. “So I am inviting you to join my training group.”
“Sir?” Was she going to say anything else today?
“I run an informal training group. Invitation only, and only the best get an invitation.” Quirking a brow at her – and who had replaced her stern swordmaster with this humorous fellow? – he halted before another training room, this one with two guards outside. They saluted sharply, and one of them opened the door.
Four men milled around, watching a bout taking place in the middle of the room and a murmur of welcome echoed as they rose to greet Alanna. Imrah of Legann was foremost among them, and he smiled at he as clasped her hand in welcome. She couldn’t hold back her own smile in response. “So she bested you, Gareth?” Imrah asked, and the duke nodded. “Admirably.”
Alanna realised with a jolt that the three of them were the only nobles present, and her eyes widened as she recognised the two men sparring as Rahul Al-Amir, head of the king’s personal guard, and Rhendall Ashe, a member of the King’s Own; thought she’d marked his impressive skills before on the training courts so it perhaps wasn’t a surprise to see him here.
“No-one gains admittance through rank or favour,” Gareth told her. “Merit is the only basis for entry.”
“Usually by defeating his grace,” quipped a man she thought was a Guards captain. He shook her hand. “Welcome, young Trebond. I’ll be looking forward to a bout.” She murmured her thanks as the other men said their own greetings.
“We train twice a week, an hour after dawn,” Gareth explained. That meant that for years, he had come here straight from training her. “We’ve around forty members, I’d say, but few are in residence at any one time. Your Coram is one of them.” That was a surprise. “You’re welcome to join us, as your schedule permits.”
“I never realised,” she said, and Rhendall laughed as he came up, done with his bout against Rahul. “The first rule of sword club – we don’t talk about sword club. Welcome, Trebond.”
Duke Gareth frowned. “We don’t talk about sword club, Ashe, because that is not what it is called.” He turned back to Alanna. “We refer to it as sparring practice, if we refer to it at all.” His quelling look, so terrifying to his students, had no apparent effect on Rhendall and the duke continued. “There are plenty of people who would expect membership. It is easier to keep its existence to ourselves.” Her minded flitted to Roger – once one of the best fencers at court. Before his death. And yet she doubted he had ever been a member here. Not just merit, then – you also needed the Duke of Naxen’s approval.
“Well, Lioness – what do you say to a bout?” Rhendall’s eyes were challenging and she grinned. “I’d be delighted.” She’d never fought him – hadn’t really spoken to him before, but she could learn a lot about a man from his fighting style.
Rhendall proved an excellent swordsman. Of course he was; he wouldn’t be here otherwise. But he was also a considerate one, as suited a friendly spar, however competitive. She beat him on points though he held his own well enough. “I start to understand the reputation,” he remarked after they finished, and she laughed. “If I’d known what you could do, I’d have asked for a bout long before.”
She bowed out after that but stayed to watch. Rahul came up to stand beside her as she watched a lightning fast bout between the duke and Imrah. She knew Rahul, a little; since her appointment as Champion and in preparation for the upcoming Coronation, she’d been working closely with the King’s Guard, Jonathan’s well-being once again her responsibility just as it had been when she was his squire.
“It’s good to see you here, Alanna.” It seemed Gareth had been serious about the lack of formality in this coterie; he was the only one accorded a title. Imrah was also only addressed by his name, here; she found it refreshing. “Young blood is good for us.” She noticed that the men in the room were all at least ten years older than her. Even Rhendall was over thirty, she judged. Rahul must have seen her glance around as he added, “Only the best are invited. Few make the standard until they’ve been practicing for many years. But it is good for us to shake that up.”
She’d known this must be an exclusive group. The duke was famed as much for his exacting standards as for his own skill but she still had not realised quite how exclusive until Rahul quietly said, “You are our first new member in two years, and the youngest since Rhendall. The Duke was waiting for you to be ready.”
“And the king?” she asked. Rahul shook his head. “His majesty is a fine fencer. He is not the best.”
“Does he even know about this?”
“I think not. He is not a member, so there is no need for him to know.”
“And if he asked you?”
Rahul gave her a look that must work wonders keeping his men in line. “Of course if he asked I would say. He is the king. But he will not ask, for he does not know.” His look, as well as telling her she was foolish, made clear she would do well not to volunteer the information either. Instead she asked, “Surely Gary?” He was the best of her generation, other than herself.
Gareth, joining them having finished his bout, snorted. “Did you not just thrash him?” She thought thrash was a little harsh – but then she had won every point. The duke continued, “I expect Gareth to join us eventually. He has the aptitude. He lacks the application.”
The assessment was blunt but fair, and it was only hearing it that made her realise: she had applied herself every minute she could find, at first to prove herself, then to protect herself and Jon; and then because she loved the sword, the same way the duke did. He smiled. “You, my dear, have more than earnt your place here.”
……
Gary caught her after the council meeting later that day, dragging her into an empty office. “So?” he demanded, eyes alight. “So what?” she retorted, and Gary sighed dramatically. “Did he invite you to join his club?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gary folded his arms. So did she and he grinned. “Well, I’m taking that as a yes. My illustrious sire invited you to his secret-to-everyone-except-his-clever-son sword club. Well done!” He gave her a friendly punch on the shoulder that only slightly rocked her.
“Ow!” She glared at him but couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “You’re not annoyed?”
“Why would I be annoyed? You’ve been better than me for ages anyhow and whatever magic beans they gave you out east have made you a master. Mistress. Mastress?”
“You can be a right idiot at times, Naxen. Does he know that you know?”
“Probably, but on the list of my filial disappointments it’s small beer and he’s prepared to ignore it.”
“You could be in, if you just try.”
His brown eyes turned serious. “Did he say that?” Gary had a complicated relationship with his father. The duke loved his only son. He also found him exasperating, feckless and sarcastic – though Alanna knew full well most of that was an act. Gary was bright and if there was nothing to hold his attention, he made his own entertainment. Which was usually dangerous or disruptive, and often both. It was probably just as well the Duke was handing over his ministerial duties, if only to keep Gary out of trouble.
“Yes, he did say that.” Gary shrugged. He didn’t fool Alanna for a second. “Could be fun,” he murmured.
“Will be fun,” she said firmly. “So damn well make it happen.”