Sebek’s mouth grinned while his eyes laughed. “Yes, you did.”
Despite Tesh’s success, the other trainees avoided Sebek, which was likely his intent. With no students, he spent his days drinking in the sun and shouting curses at the pitiful performance of the sword-fighting hopefuls. The insults started in Rhunic, but as he got drunk, Sebek slipped into Fhrey. By the end of the day, he routinely threw things.
Sebek was also undeniably the best living warrior. Having trained with all the Galantians, Tesh knew this to be true. Eres had no match with a spear. Tekchin remained peerless with a thin, long blade. They all had specialties, but everyone knew that if the whole of the world fought, Sebek would be the last one standing. He was more than a pair of short blades, more than lean muscle, more than finely honed technique. Sebek was a killer. He enjoyed the sight of blood. Even the other Galantians didn’t challenge him.
Tesh made a habit of it.
He relentlessly dogged Sebek. At first, the Fhrey laughed at the stupid kid with the death wish. When Tesh refused to let up, Sebek taught him a lesson. Tesh had bled, but he’d also learned. Sebek hadn’t believed it when Tesh came back for more. After a few additional short-lived instructions in humiliation, Sebek became intrigued at the suicidal toddler who learned from his mistakes. When Tesh deflected an attack with a bare palm, Sebek stopped calling him stupid. He even stopped calling him kid. Tesh’s new name was Techylor—swifthand. He was pretty sure Sebek never knew his real name—positive the Fhrey didn’t care. Tesh didn’t care, either. All he wanted was to learn what Sebek could teach. All Tesh desired was to be the best.
“He’s just trying to scare you, Techylor,” Eres said.
The Galantian reclined on the grass of the courtyard, his hands behind his head, his chest bare to the sun. They were all there—all except Nyphron. The Galantians found the matches between Sebek and Tesh as entertaining as the trainees did. Sebek liked the attention and usually put out the word that he’d be teaching Techylor again, which brought the rest running.
“He should be scared.” Sebek returned his blades to their scabbards.
“Give him a break,” Grygor said. He was sitting by the barracks wall, struggling to repair a tear in the sleeve of his shirt. “The kid is out here every day and most of the night.”
“If we had a hundred like him,” Sikar said, “we could invade Erivan and be done with it.”
“He’s not that good,” Sebek said.
“He’s the best Rhune I’ve ever seen,” Sikar put in.
Sebek gave Sikar a dismissive glance. “I’m not interested in the best Rhune. What good is that?”
Sikar got up and dusted grass off his legs. “Just saying—he’s practically an infant, and been training with us for less than a year, and already he’s dangerous. Just imagine if he had been in Nadak or Dureya when they were burned.” Sikar paused and looked at Tesh. “Oh, wait, you’re Dureyan, aren’t you? Thought I heard someone saying that. Where were you when the attacks came? Out hunting or something?”
Tesh didn’t answer. He’d spotted Brin sitting in the grass across the courtyard. He pointed at her and smiled. “Sorry, can’t talk. More important matters to attend to.” He followed this with a wicked grin and trotted away.
Brin was leaning against the lamppost in front of the smithy with that same satchel in her lap. He grabbed his shirt and crossed the yard. Tesh expected Sebek to make a comment about the pitfalls of women, an insult at the very least. He didn’t. The only sounds were the light-hearted taunts of the boys and men in his squad, none of which he bothered addressing.
* * *
—
Tesh thought Brin was the best-looking girl in Alon Rhist. An argument could be made that this wasn’t such a big deal since there were little more than fifty Rhune females within a day’s walk, and most of them were old or married. Still, some were worth looking at, like the archery instructor, but he didn’t dare look at her. She scared him even more than Sebek.
Besides Brin, the only other girl his age was Nixie, who lived with her mother down by the goat pens. She was all right. He’d tried to speak to her once, but her mother was quick to shoo him away. “You shouldn’t talk to that Dureyan boy,” he heard her say. The mother’s tone made Dureyan sound like a disease. Brin was better looking than Nixie, nicer, and she didn’t have a mother. She didn’t have a father, either. This was something they shared, and Tesh imagined it connected them in some way, or perhaps it was a sign from the gods—a big eternal hand pointing at her and whispering this one! Tesh had noticed Brin when he had lived under the wool with Malcolm and Raithe in Tirre. There had been more girls there, pretty ones, too, but Tirre ladies were a different breed, wearing sandals and dresses of dyed linen.