"No one!" the young men said in unison.
"So do yourselves a favour. Sharpen your steel sword, cut down your opponents, and keep your eyes sharp, for one day you might be facing someone with an enchanted blade." He gazed around him. "I see close to fifty of you here. No more than three of you will become bladesingers. Some will become soldiers in our army. Some are here to learn the military arts and prepare for a political career. But some will become cripples, here in the Pens, and some will die. That is all."
Blademaster Rogan strode away, leaving the young men standing pensively, uncertain for a moment.
Saporo came over with two of his friends. "That was a dirty piece of work. Rimor was going to a pageant tonight and you broke his nose. I know you, Miro. I know you’re good enough that you didn’t have to."
Miro frowned. Saporo wasn’t that close to Rimor and he didn’t need another enemy. Saporo probably didn’t know about the ambush on the Tenbridge two nights ago.
"Leave him," said another of the youths. "He’s got no father so he never learned any manners."
Some of the regular trouble-makers gathered. Miro knew he could never take them all. And if he drew his sword, outside of the arena and unsupervised, he would get kicked out of the Pens altogether. It was the first rule they were taught, and rigidly enforced.
"Maybe his father was a pig, and his mother was a goat, and he’s what you get when you breed the two," one of the youths, a lord’s son, said. It was a feeble joke but it still raised a few laughs.
Miro had nothing to say. He’d never had the courage to ask Brandon about his parents. They were dead; he knew that much. What if there was some dirty secret? Perhaps he’d be better off not knowing.
"Maybe his mother couldn’t bear the thought of looking at Miro all day so she left. I know I would!"
"Maybe she was a whore!" said the lord’s son.
Flushing, Miro turned away. If he provoked them he’d get more than bruises. He could sense that after the thrashing he gave Rimor they were looking for vengeance.
Miro walked away with his head down, his eyes burning.
The taunting stopped. "Who’s that?" one of the youths said.
Miro looked up and saw Ella. She stood transfixed, staring at him with a strange expression on her face. He realised she must have been there for some time, long enough to hear at least. His sister looked clean and sweet in her green woollen dress, the garb of a student at the Academy. Ella was already a year into her studies, but Miro still felt proud every time he saw her in green.
"That’s Miro’s sister. Lord of the Sky, how did such an ugly sod end up with a sister like that!"
The youths laughed.
"I wouldn’t mind slicing off that dress and seeing what’s underneath."
"Let another part of your body do the talking," said the lord’s son. "You’d probably slip and cut something off."
Miro didn’t consciously move. In the blink of an eye his sword had slipped out of the leather scabbard at his side and he had lunged forward. Fast. The point of his sword was suddenly pressed up against the youth’s throat. The lord’s son gulped. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down from the tip of the razor sharp steel. Miro’s muscles bulged, tensed to breaking point with the effort of restraining himself.
"Miro, please. Don’t kill me."
"Miro?" It was Ella’s voice. "Stop it, please."
Ever so slowly Miro removed the sword, his eyes never leaving the youth’s. Finally he turned. The shame he felt at seeing Ella’s desolate expression was painful. He wished she never saw this side of him. They had goaded him, he realised suddenly, they knew the rules as well as he did, and as soon as he left they would be speaking with the Blademaster.
Miro threw his sword on the ground and walked away from the crowd, leaving Ella staring after her brother and the marks his boots left in the dust.
~
"EXCUSE me. I’m sorry to bother you," Ella said.
"Yes?" the Blademaster turned, and instantly Ella realised that Miro’s teacher and her benefactor were one and the same. His eyes went wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Tall and lithe, Blademaster Rogan cut an imposing figure. Ella wondered how old he really was; it was hard to tell.
Ella was nervous. Rogan Jarvish definitely did not seem pleased to see her. "When I met you I didn’t realise you were one of my brother’s teachers. I’m sorry. I don’t want to trouble you."
"Something tells me that’s exactly what you’re going to do," Rogan said. "I heard about what Miro did."
"They made him do it. The other boys. He drew his sword, but it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I wanted to tell you…."
Rogan stood up from his desk, towering over her. "He’s just lucky no one was hurt. Just exactly what happened?"
Ella looked down at the floor, uncertain what to say. She blushed. "I came to see Miro fight. The other boys saw me. They said some things."