Part 20 (2/2)
Pavek's days had a.s.sumed a different routine while Akas.h.i.+a was gone. He still went to Telhami's grove every other day-they scrupulously avoided certain subjects of conversation: zarneeka, Urik, Laq, and Akas.h.i.+a, herself. But on the day between, he carried a hoe into the fields and worked with the farmers. The back-breaking work gave him time to think about the lessons Telhami gave him, and the subjects they did not discuss. Thinking was good for his incipient druidry: he could wring water out of the air now, on demand and without a headache, but as the empty days of Akas.h.i.+a's absence began outnumber his fingers, his mood darkened.
He hoed his rows in the fields alone and kept to himself the rest of the time, even taking his roll of blankets from the bachelor's hut to the fields, where he slept under starlight: a remarkable change of habit, he knew, for a man who, at the start of Descending Sun, had been unable to imagine himself beyond walls.
Aside from Telhami, only one person intruded on his enforced solitude: Ruari.
They had not become fast-friends after they returned from the youth's grove, although Pavek had stood firm, in his brawly templar way, for the half-elf's right to rejoin the community then and there. Remembering himself at Ruari's I age, Pavek reckoned that he'd saddled the boy with too great a debt and was content to let him keep his distance. Besides, the half-witted sc.u.m was was a whiner, and a complainer; and Pavek, veteran of the orphanage and the civil bureau, had no patience for either trait. a whiner, and a complainer; and Pavek, veteran of the orphanage and the civil bureau, had no patience for either trait.
He looked up from his hoeing and saw Ruari waiting for him at the end of the row-the row he'd intended as his last row of the day, unless he showed Ruari his back now and kept working until the sc.u.m gave up and left. But he'd let Ruari catch his eye, which was all the invitation Ruari required.
”Go away, sc.u.m,” he said when a long, lean shadow touched his feet. It was a polite, even friendly, greeting among templars.
”You beat me up bad. I couldn't fight you off. I want to learn how.”
”Keep your mouth shut.” He offered the advice he'd heard and ignored many times before. ”That way you won't start so many fights you can't finish.”
”I don't start fights,” Ruari snapped, giving the lie to his words with the tone of his voice. ”They just happen. Maybe if I won once in a while, I wouldn't have so many.”
A vagrant laugh slipped into Pavek's mouth. He clamped a hand over his chin to contain it.
”Wind and fire! Why're you laughing? What's so funny?”
Ruari took a swing at him, which Pavek blocked with his forearm. The hoe slid off his shoulder and landed in the dirt. The sc.u.m was quick; Pavek would grant him that Too quick. Once he was riled, Ruari whipped up the air with his fists, landing blows that were little more than love-taps, and leaving himself vulnerable to the powerful punch of an admittedly slower, far-more-ma.s.sive opponent. But instead of a punch, Pavek reached through Ruari's guard, grabbed s.h.i.+rt and skin, and lifted him off the ground.
”You've got two arms, sc.u.m. Two fists. Keep one of 'em at home for yourself.”
”That's what Yohan always says.”
”Listen to him.” Pavek let go, and Ruari landed lightly and easily on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. ”He's a good teacher.”
”He's not here-”
”Just go away, sc.u.m.”
”I want to learn from you. Aren't you impressed? Flattered?” The whine was back in Ruari's voice; it grated in Pavek's ears, ”I think you're better than the old dwarf. Me-the half-wit sc.u.m who hates all rotted, yellow-robe templars, and tried to poison you-I want you to teach me how to fight.”
There was a fading bruise on Ruari's chin, another on his arm, and a third, larger, one across his chest, visible through the open neck of his s.h.i.+rt, all souvenirs of their last encounter. Pavek picked up the hoe with a display of hostility that made Ruari dance back a pace or two and hoist his fists again. But he was only teasing, not taking bait. He dug into the dirt where Ruari had been standing.
The boy realized he'd been gulled. ”Pavek-?”
He broke up a clod of dirt with the blade of the hoe and threw a handful of weeds over his shoulder onto the barren ground beyond the irrigated fields. Ruari's shadow didn't move, and neither did his mouth, for a pleasant change. Another long, silent moment pa.s.sed. Pavek kicked the blade into the ground, then he headed out of the field. With a wave of his fingers, he invited Ruari to join him.
”Show me what you've got,” he said, and the half-elf bobbed on his toes, with his slender arms and fists in front of him.
Swearing under his breath, Pavek shook his head and turned away. ”You'll never be a brawler, Ru.” He retrieved his hoe. ”Now try it,” he said, tossing the bone-shafted tool at the youth, who caught it deftly.
Everyone in the Tablelands had to know enough about fighting to defend him-or herself. Gender didn't matter much, either in the cities or the wastelands: if you didn't look like you could fight back, the full run of predators and scavengers took note. Quraite was protected land, but common sense said the guardian would better protect those who showed the inclination to protect themselves. Pavek had watched the Quraiters, farmers and druids alike, training one day in ten with bows and ordinary tools like the hoe Ruari held in front of him, one hand circling the shaft in a sun-wise direction, the other going the counter-way.
Pavek a.s.sessed the youth quickly and coldly, the way he himself had been taught. Then, instead of exploiting the weaknesses he saw-of which there were remarkably few (Yohan was was a good trainer, Ruari's failings were rooted in his personality, not his technique)-he tried to correct them. a good trainer, Ruari's failings were rooted in his personality, not his technique)-he tried to correct them.
They went at it through the dying light of another arid afternoon, swapping the hoe and the attack. One of two things usually happened when a man tried to teach another the finer aspects of fighting: one man got angry, the lesson ended, and a serious brawl erupted, or they found a common rhythm and the seeds of equal friends.h.i.+p were planted.
With the bloated sun in his eyes and the hoe in his hands, Pavek feinted to his right side, drawing Ruari's attack. Then he swung the hoe low above the ground, letting the sweat-polished shaft slide through his fingers until the angled blade was smack against his wrists. The tactic was designed to strike an enemy's s.h.i.+ns and sweep him off his feet; the minimal countermeasure was a leap into the air to avoid the swinging shaft. Gladiators executed the technique with a variety of weapons. Pavek had learned it in the orphanage.
He wasn't wasn't trying to seriously injure anyone; he expected Ruari to know the countermeasure. The half-wit trying to seriously injure anyone; he expected Ruari to know the countermeasure. The half-wit should should have known it, either from Yohan or from those interminable skirmishes with his elven cousins, but he leapt much too late. The shaft caught him just above the ankles, and he tumbled forward with a howl of pain. Pavek centered himself over his feet, prepared for an explosion of rage. have known it, either from Yohan or from those interminable skirmishes with his elven cousins, but he leapt much too late. The shaft caught him just above the ankles, and he tumbled forward with a howl of pain. Pavek centered himself over his feet, prepared for an explosion of rage.
”You're supposed to jump, jump, not trip over your own big, baazrag feet,” he said, trying to make light of what he knew-from personal experience-was a very painful moment, and hoping, as the moments lengthened, that the silent, huddled-up youth wasn't nursing broken bones. not trip over your own big, baazrag feet,” he said, trying to make light of what he knew-from personal experience-was a very painful moment, and hoping, as the moments lengthened, that the silent, huddled-up youth wasn't nursing broken bones.
”Now you tell me,” Ruari finally replied in a choked, quavery voice. His face was pale when he looked up, but he did a hero's work trying to laugh. ”You're supposed to be my teacher.” you tell me,” Ruari finally replied in a choked, quavery voice. His face was pale when he looked up, but he did a hero's work trying to laugh. ”You're supposed to be my teacher.”
Pavek lowered the hoe and extended a hand. ”Sorry, sc.u.m-didn't think you were that stupid. Can you stand?”
Ruari nodded, but took the help that was offered. He held onto Pavek's wrist an extra moment while he took a few hobbling steps.
”Men,” a woman grumbled from not too far away. ”Never too old for child's play.”
They both turned toward the sound. Ruari gasped: ”Grandmother,” and dropped Pavek's wrist as though it were ringed with fire. There was no guessing how long she'd been watching them, no reading her purpose through her hat's gauzy veil.
”Yohan's coming back. He's on the Sun's Fist.”
”Alone?” Pavek snaked an arm around Ruari's shoulder before Telhami answered, ready to restrain the boy, if the answer was what he suddenly feared it would be.
”Alone,” she admitted, and for a heartbeat that broad-brimmed hat seemed to shake and shrink.
Ruari surged on wobbly ankles. Pavek caught him before he shamed himself with a fall.
”Easy. If he's on the salt, we've got time, don't we?” He imagined meeting the eyes behind the veil and making them blink. ”You don't already know what went wrong?”
”No,” her voice was barely audible. ”I know that he's alone, nothing more. I've come to you, before the others. You've a right.”
She turned away and, gripping her staff in a white-knuckled fist, began the long walk to the village and her hut. Pavek almost felt sorry for her, except: ”You sent them! You wouldn't listen, not to me, not to your guardian. You thought your zarneeka was more important, and that you were so much smarter, wiser. d.a.m.n you, Telhami, this falls on you!”
Telhami's form s.h.i.+mmered and vanished.
”You shouldn't've said that, Pavek.”
”It's the truth. Somebody's got to say it.”
”Not you. You should've kept your mouth shut.”
”Good advice, sc.u.m-but I don't listen to good advice.” He picked up the hoe, tried to break the shaft over his thigh, and when that failed hurled the tool at the half-round disk of the setting sun. ”d.a.m.n!-”
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