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Squinting against late afternoon sun in a row of students who'd assembled to practice Ji-Sho-Te, Taz felt distinctly out of place. They'd offered him the pale gray tunic and loose leggings that the other students wore but he'd stuck with his khaki spacer's pants and he'd stripped down to his sleeveless charcoal undershirt. He'd also kept his boots on, unlike the other students who were bare-footed on the grass. His unorthodox outfit drew plenty of stares and not a few whispered comments.
Each of the two dozen students held a practice sword made of some kind of springy brown wood with a very smooth grain. The weight, balance, and overall shape mimicked the swept-bladed jiden-sho swords that Taz had seen tied into into the security troops' sashes. He noticed they were just about as long as an ignited lightsaber and they were wielded in both hands, just as his lightsaber was. The balance of the practice swords was different than Aurora Ascendant, though.
Wonder if that'll cause any problems?
Two instructors led the class, members of the clan's security staff. The exercises started with footwork; how to advance and retreat, change facing, side-step, and the like. Then they progressed to bladework. Simple overhead strikes evolved into side and diagonal cuts, slices, thrusts, deflections, and blocks. As Taz went through the forms, the class repeated each one two hundred times before moving to the next. They cycled through the skills three times over a couple of hours.
Shin sat cross-legged beside two aged ankriti men on cushions where they could observe the session. They wore more elaborate versions of the practice clothing, with blue and black tunics and dark blousy trousers. From time to time one of them would summon an instructor with a barely perceptible motion of a hand or a soft word, after which corrections would be made. Sometimes they called on a student to demonstrate a certain move or strike. The student invariably did so with the utmost reverence and solemnity and the instructor who had singled out the student would offer feedback. Very occasionally, one of them would stand to demonstrate the correct way to execute the lesson. The instructors welcomed these corrections and everyone in attendance paid deep deference to the instructors and the three masters, even the younger Tavit-dar and the Nimors in attendance.
Most of the students were men but there were two women in the group as well who looked roughly Taz's age. After the rote lessons, the students were allowed a brief rest period, then they paired off for sparring practice with the instructors walking them through sequences of footwork and sword moves. The lessons began slowly and over scores of repetitions they became faster, more fluid, until the students were executing them smoothly.
Taz's partner was one of the young women. She had the same brown skin as Lyra, perhaps a few shades deeper. Her face looked a little like Lyra's too except for her darker eyes, smaller mouth, and a rounder chin. She wore a light blue sash tied over her tunic and she didn't return his smile. A few others had the same color sash, leading Taz to guess that they were more advanced.
He settled for a short bow. "Taz," he said, tapping his chest.
"Eshna."
He began clumsily, missing different elements of the sequences for the first few repetitions. Eshna frowned, making Taz smile; she looked even more like Lyra when she did that. Soon enough he had the order of the moves memorized and the next sequences came faster to him. By the end of the hour's structured sparring, he wasn't too far behind the others.
The instructors signaled another rest period. Taz bowed to his partner, sweat dripping from his face. She returned the gesture with casual disregard and joined a knot of students who peppered her with questions in quiet voices.
Taz had no illusions about his outsider status— apparently the word was videjin or something like that, judging by how often the clique's members muttered it while they glanced his way. He ignored them; life as a spacer had exposed him to all manner of societies where cultural isolation was the norm, and it was a given that most people preferred their own kind.
He drank some water and felt the tender skin on his hands from gripping the jiduk practice sword for nearly three hours. One more session. Taz was tired and every part of his body ached, but the in-person instruction was invaluable. He drew a few breaths deep into his lungs, took another drink, and walked back to the practice field.
The last exercise of the day was free-form sparring where the students could put their lessons to practical use. The instructors began with a short demonstration to illustrate how the attack and defense sequences they'd learned could be used in combination. Eshna had a smug look on her face as they squared off.
The instructors gave the start signal. He raised his arms, taking an attack stance and launched an overhead strike using one of the sequences they'd practiced earlier. The woman blocked with ease and her counter stroke caught him in the ribs. Taz grunted and parried clumsily, his footwork completely forgotten as she assaulted him with thrusts and cuts to his shoulders, arms, and legs. After a few seconds of the punishment she relented, stepping lightly back and letting him recover.
Taz shook his head and sucked in a pain-filled breath. His partner snickered.
She's not wrong; I'm a mess. He took up a defensive pose; her turn to attack had come.
She didn't make him wait. He deflected Eshna's first blow but most of the rest in her combination landed to one extent or another. He barely yanked his head back in time to avoid a sweeping stroke she aimed at his temple. Taz gave her a dark glare. They were supposed to be practicing but it sure seemed like she'd intended to hurt him.
He reset, wincing with every inhaled breath. His ribs were bruised on both sides and it was only then that he noticed that the other students' outfits weren't just simple tunics and trousers. The clothing ballooned where they were struck, absorbing much of the force of the blow. He cocked a rueful smile. That's what you get for being an idiot, Taz.
He raised his arms for another attack but the rest of the class had stopped what they were doing. Raga left his cushion and trod toward them with purpose. He spoke a few words to Eshna in Inusago. She lifted her practice sword in both hands and made a deep obeisance. The older man accepted it with a reciprocal bow.
Stepping close to Taz, Raga's face was stern. "Will you protect Lady Lyra so poorly indeed?" He didn't bother with his normal polite address.
Taz screwed up his mouth. "I've never faced a live opponent." That wasn't quite true; he'd used his lightsaber in desperation against stormtroopers and Tillisk Tafo on Beta Fonidian II.
"Will excuses keep Lady Lyra safe?" The man's eyes were unyielding.
"No, Senguru," Taz admitted, uttering the word he'd heard the others use when referring to the three older men. He felt frustrated and defeated but Raga had a point. No one was going to wait for him to learn. He needed to do better.
"You carry a lightsaber, the weapon of one who can call upon the Force."
Taz's eyes widened. He'd been so focused on the details of the lesson that he'd disregarded why he was there. Jedi don't just fight with their lightsabers, they fight with the Force. He gave Raga a nod. "I understand, Senguru."
"Indeed," Shin acknowledged, stepping back. "Prepare yourself."
Taz nodded again and took up a defensive stance. He slipped into the Force, feeling its gauzy presence all around him. Shin was there, a focus of determined, calm energy, tightly coiled and ready to strike. The others were dim existences; Taz ignored them and willed himself toward the same calmness he felt from Raga. His eyes were half-closed; he could see Shin standing before him, but his sense of the man in the Force was more immediate and impactful.
Raga's attack was swift. Despite his age the jiduk flashed through the air, sweeping up at a diagonal toward Taz's neck. Within the gray haze of the Force, he saw not just the movement of the blade but its path through the air. He was amazed to realize that the Force was showing him not only where the blade had been, but where it would be. For the barest instant he wanted to tense, but he relaxed his hold on the physical, letting the Force permeate him and guide his body.
The next few seconds were a kinetic blur. He felt his limbs move, felt the twisting of his torso, the reverberation through his arms as his jiduk blocked Shin's blow. He felt his wrists flipping the practice sword in the space between them, deflecting and catching, pushing Raga's thrusts aside.
It seemed to Taz that the swordmaster's moves were stamped into the fabric of the Force. He could see the patterns as they formed ahead of Shin's actual motions and Taz's body moved to counter them. His parries were simple, even crude, but they succeeded nearly every time. When Raga burst forward with a low cut below Taz's defense, he felt himself suddenly rotating, sailing backward through the air, then a jarring shock as his feet returned to the ground.
Surprised gasps and exclamations broke him out of the trance. He blinked his way to normal sight. Taz was crouched near the ground in a three-point stance, balanced like a predator, his jiduk stretched behind him. Shin was six or seven meters away, an impressed look on his lined face. The students and instructors stood silently rooted and astonished. Taz drew in deep, wheezing breaths, his wounded ribs protesting every movement.
Shin returned to a defensive pose with his jiduk pointed toward the ground before him. Across the distance, he said simply, "Attack."
Taz swore under his breath, gulped more air, and tried to ignore the pain. He took up the Force again, letting the physical world slip away. He sprung, his body flowing through space to close the gap. He was only partially aware of commanding his limbs. In his mind he fixed his desire to sweep Raga aside. The lessons were there in the back of his consciousness, combining with the Force to guide his blows. His arms thrusted and swung clumsily, but with speed. His legs pushed, jumped, slid; his torso leaned, twisted, flexed. Raga blocked, dodged, and deflected with expertise and grace, then sprung a counterstrike at the same time Taz launched a swift thrust.
Taz barked a loud cry as Shin's jiduk crashed against his ribcage. His own stabbing stroke had fallen short by a few centimeters. The students' exclamations filled the evening air. Taz was panting hard, barely managing not to howl with every indrawn breath. He ached right down to his marrow from the force of his exertions and the beating he'd received. Moving stiffly, he stood up straight. Something told him that the day's lesson had ended. That was good; he could barely stand any longer, much less fight.
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Raga held the jiduk at his side. "Satisfactory indeed, for your first lesson, honored guest Oktos." He wore a subtle grin.
Taz imitated his posture. "Thank you for your instruction, Senguru." They bowed to each other, then all of the students bowed to the instructors and finally to the masters. Taz's hands shook from weariness and he palpated his ribs as much as he dared, sucking in painful gasps as he checked for fractures. Miraculously he found none, and he replaced his jiduk on the storage rack.
A few students regarded him with amazed looks, though when he turned their way only impassive faces stared back. Eshna put her practice sword on the rack. She gave him a nod, perhaps with the slightest hint of respect, then hurried to her companions who chattered as they left.
Moving gingerly, Taz put on his shirt and trudged back toward the manor house, groaning with every step. He flexed his hand and yelped a sharp curse; His sparring partner had landed a blow there and it stung mercilessly. He tried shaking it but that only made it worse. He needed to spend some time in the healing trance. But first he needed some rest and something to eat.
Lights shined on another practice field full of students engaged in hand-to-hand melee. He couldn't help smiling when he spied one among them with a shock of red hair. Sera's probably showing them moves they've never seen before. He watched the grappling as Sera broke her opponent's stranglehold and sent the bigger man tumbling onto the soft ground. Smiling, he continued his painful march to the house.
Taz limped through the corridors until he found his room. Neela was there. Taz didn't bother wondering why; the Nimor clan's servants had an uncanny habit of addressing their guests' needs well ahead of time. She'd already unrolled the sujon and appointed it with bedsheets. The long black braid swung at her back as she turned.
Still on her knees she bowed, then rose smoothly and took one of the plain silk sayaka robes from the closet. "May I help you to undress, honored Mr. Taz?"
"What?!" he sputtered.
"You may leave, Neela."
Taz jumped, surprised to see Lyra at the door, wearing a serene smile.
The girl bowed, crossing her arms over her chest. "As you command, my lady." She gave Taz a nod and left without a word.
Lyra smiled after her. When they were alone she stepped into the room and looked him up and down. "You're a mess, Oktos."
"I know," he groaned, sounding as weary as he felt. She took off his shirt and then tugged off his undershirt. She wasn't particularly sympathetic when he grimaced in pain but her impassive look faltered when she saw the marks the jiduk had left on his torso.
She put a hand to his injured ribs. "You're supposed to wear the giyaka for protection."
"Yeah," he said, wincing. "I figured that out too late."
"She touched his bruised shoulder, his battered arm, and the hand that was already swelling from the blow he'd taken. "Oh, Taz," she whispered, her copper eyes limpid.
"It's alright, Lyra," he soothed, though he cringed when he moved.
She took the robe from the bed. "Get out of those clothes." When he hesitated she fixed him with a more characteristic look, though her voice was gentler than normal. "Just do it, Oktos."
He moved with deliberation, kicking off his boots slowly and stepping out of his pants. All the while, Taz was keenly aware that the door to his room was wide open.
Lyra helped him into the robe and tied the thin sash into a neat bow. She stood back. "It suits you."
"Um, thanks."
She held out her hand. "Come with me."
Her fingers were soft and warm as he grasped them. "Where are we going?" He tried to keep the pain out of his voice.
Lyra led him through the corridors deep into the house, until they emerged into an enclosed courtyard, different than the one he'd visited on their arrival. There was a small pool surrounded by smooth, dark rocks. Cylindrical lanterns hung from poles, lending a halcyon glow to the place. They stepped off the veranda and trod on worn stones to a pool that gurgled and splashed quietly where water flowed from some unseen source. Warm mist rose in the cool air, swirling on gentle currents as the evening deepened.
"Remember the mineral springs I told you about?"
"Sure," answered Taz, sounding excited despite his weariness.
Lyra untied his robe and slipped it off his shoulders, then took hers off, as naked as he was beneath it. "Sit," she commanded, pointing at a bench made of bamboo slats.
"We're not getting in the pool?"
"Oh no." She wagged her finger in time with the shaking of her head. "You never go into the pool until you've washed. Very bad." She took a hand shower from its receptacle, grabbed a sponge, and gently scrubbed away the dirt and sweat.
The soap had a pleasant floral scent with a touch of sweetness. "We're supposed to do this for each other but I showered earlier, so I'll give you a pass just for tonight." She put down the sponge and sprayed warm water all over him. Then she took him by the hand and led him into the pool.
Taz glanced all around. "We're out in the open, Lyra. Naked," he whispered urgently, waggling the robes he'd grabbed.
Her eyes held a hint of mischief as she took the sayakas from him and laid them atop an intricately carved wooden cabinet coated in shiny black lacquer. "No one will come."
The water was hotter than the shower. It lapped against him and Taz uttered a sigh. His aching body began to relax almost immediately. He walked down the stepping stones until he was submerged up to his stomach. Lyra directed him to a reclining bench that had been cut into the stone and he settled onto it.
Taz felt the sting and stiffness draining away. Even his swollen hand, which should have gotten worse with heat, felt less stiff and sore. The water had a vaguely earthy odor, full of herbal scents wafting on the quiet breeze.
Lyra dripped water over his chest from her cupped hands. "It's a mineral bath. It'll refresh you." She touched his chest, then traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip.
He closed his eyes, letting the currents and her caresses soothe him. "That feels nice," he murmured.
Lyra smiled. "I was watching you," she admitted, pouring warm water over his scalp. She massaged with her fingers, eliciting pleasant sounds from him. "Uncle Shin put you through it, didn't he?"
"He wants to be sure I can protect you."
Lyra made a defiant noise with her tongue. "I can protect myself."
Taz let a hand settle on the curve of her hip. "I know you can but I want the same thing." He opened his eyes. "That's okay, isn't it?"
She gave him a little nod. "You keep getting hurt because of me. I don't want that."
"I don't know. If it gets me this kind of treatment..."
Lyra scowled and cuffed his shoulder, drawing a wincing groan from him.
"Hey, you're supposed to be helping!"
She chuckled, letting her hands roam over his torso. The two fell silent and he closed his eyes again. After a moment she began gently massaging his arms and shoulders. "What you did out there was incredible."
"I don't actually know what that was," he murmured in a languid voice. "I just... let the Force take over, I guess. It was almost like my body moved on its own."
"The Force controlled you?" She sounded alarmed.
"No, no. It... guided me. I knew that I wanted to defend or attack and it... helped." He made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a cough. "That's not a good explanation, though."
"Well, it was incredible," she repeated. "When Uncle Shin attacked, you started to block his strikes and then..." she thought through the recollection. "He pressed in and you made this impossible backflip through the air." Her voice was full of wonder. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Oh. That explains why everyone sounded so surprised, I guess."
"Then when you attacked, you moved so fast I couldn't follow. I don't know how Uncle Shin kept you from hitting him."
"He's very skilled," Taz offered immediately. "I wonder if even a trained Jedi could beat him."
Lyra wore a wry grin. "Of the clan's three battlemasters it's said that Uncle Shin is the least skilled."
Taz let out an astounded whistle.
Lyra was quiet for a time. "You don't have to do this just for me, you know."
"I want to, Lyra. For you of course, but for me too." He curled his fingers as though he was grasping Aurora Ascendant. "Since that night at the Dai Bendu temple, I've wanted to be... worthy of her. Of Sha'ila Kal'ii and her lightsaber, I mean."
He fixed Lyra with an impassioned gaze. "I want to be worthy of you, too." She opened her mouth but he brushed her cheek with his thumb and went on before she could protest. "I'd give my life for you in a heartbeat, Lyra Nimor." A smile lit his face. "But if I have to, I don't want it to be because I didn't know how to fight. Do you understand?"
Lyra shivered. His blue eyes were so clear, so determined and fervid. "Taz," she managed a whisper before he pulled her into a long kiss. She drew away after a minute, her heart pounding. She started to speak but something stopped her, a tiny nugget of fear deep in her stomach.
You still can't say it, stupid girl? She settled for a smile and brushed his lips with her fingers. "I understand," she said finally, raging inside at her reticence.
Taz pushed himself upright. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
"Stop apologizing, Oktos." Then in a softer voice: "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who—"
There was a quiet shuffling sound nearby. Lyra looked behind her in time to see one of the panels on the house sliding shut. A low table and two trays had appeared on the veranda amid a surfeit of cushions and pillows. She turned back, a bright look on her face. "Feeling better?"
"Hmm," he affirmed with a grin. He still ached, but a good deal of the pain had dulled and he felt less lethargic. "This water is incredible. You are, too, Lyra. Thanks."
Lyra looked pleased. "How about some food?" She led him from the pool. They took rolled towels from the cabinet and dried each other. Lyra grabbed a fresh robe for him, then started toward the portico. Taz picked up his discarded sayaka but she waved a hand. "Leave that for the servants."
He twitched a nervous smile. "I'm not used to being waited on. It feels strange."
"I know, but let them do their jobs. They'll be insulted if you don't."
"Alright," he assented, but he folded the robe before putting it on a stone beside the pool.
Lyra rolled her eyes and led the way back to the porch. From somewhere, plucked strings and a reedy, breathy woodwind drifted on the evening air.
Taz looked both amused and curious while Lyra rearranged the cushions and sat beside him. "You planned this?"
"Mm-hmm," she hummed. They ate from a platter of finger foods that were by turns spicy, pungent, sweet, and herbaceous. They washed their hands with an ewer of warm water, fragrant with some kind of citrus, and dried them on soft napkins. She poured sakoola blossom wine into shallow cups of hammered silver. They savored the music and the food and the solitude.
After they'd finished, Lyra rang a tiny bell. Neela appeared almost instantly from behind the sliding panel along with two male servants about her age who Taz hadn't seen before. They took the table and food away with practiced efficiency, leaving only the pitcher of wine and their cups on a round tray of black wood.
Kneeling beside the opening in the wall, Neela and the other servants bowed, then the two young men left. "Will you be retiring within, my lady?"
"We'll stay here awhile, Neela. Did you bring what I asked for?"
The girl's expression approximated a frown as she shuffled inside, moving deftly on her knees. She emerged seconds later with a thermogenerator, then ducked back in and returned with folded blankets. She placed them beside the door, gave Lyra another sober look, then disappeared into the house, sliding the panel shut behind her.
Lyra poured more wine into their cups. She leaned against Taz, sipped her wine, then settled her head on his shoulder. The sky was nearly black now and the first stars appeared. Among wisps of clouds shown the sliver of a crescent from Amsu, Inusagi's bigger satellite. Its much smaller partner, Daroga, was a bright blob just visible above the manor's roofline.
"When we were girls, Allegra and I would sneak out here with our blankets and watch the stars. Sometimes we'd get caught and have to go back in, but sometimes," she glanced up at him, wearing a sweet smile, "we'd get to stay out all night, and we'd wake up the next morning covered in dew."
Taz put down his cup and slipped his fingers in her hair. She made a pleasant noise and nuzzled his neck in response. "Neela looked... disappointed."
"She thinks you're not good enough for me," Lyra said absently while she reached for one of the blankets.
"Am I? Good enough for you, I mean."
In a very soft voice, Lyra said, "You shouldn't have to ask that question, Taz." He wouldn't have to if you told him how you really feel, idiot.
"I know. I'm just teasing you." His voice didn't sound like it, though.
"Hey, leave the teasing to me," she protested while she spread the blanket over her lap and smoothed the folds. "When we'd sneak out here my aunt would chastise us for 'living below our station'. She blamed our father. He was from a Tavit-wey clan and you saw what they think of people like him marrying into a Sajoku clan."
Taz knit his brows. "I get that, but I don't understand what's wrong with sleeping outdoors."
"They think it's something poor people do." Lyra shook her head, banishing thoughts of her aunt. She wasn't going to let that woman's small-mindedness ruin tonight.
"I see. Does that mean we're going to sleep outside?"
"Sleep?" Lyra pushed him down onto the cushions. She untied his robe, then let hers slip from her shoulders as she hovered over him, fiery desire igniting her eyes. "Not right away, no," she whispered and covered his mouth with hers.