It was the use of the derisory little deer, which no one but Tamsyn ever called her, that goaded Kyra to action. She did not draw her blade; to do so would have been to fall into the trap that Akassa had sprung, and she wasn’t that foolish.
Your blade is but an extension of yourself, Chintil had told them. Your hands are but an extension of your blade. Armed or unarmed, it is all the same.
Kyra crossed her palms in front of her face and slipped into the dance of Empty Hands—the art of bare-handed defense—without pausing to think.
Akassa blinked in surprise and stepped back, whether from the silence and swiftness of the attack or because her opponent had not drawn her katari, Kyra did not know and did not care. The moment’s advantage was enough; she swung around with a side kick that caught Akassa on the chest, and the girl gasped and stumbled back farther. A little more, thought Kyra.
Akassa’s blade flashed in the darkness, a streak of deadly blue light that took every ounce of Kyra’s skill to deflect. Akassa did not mean to kill her, or she would already be dead. But the blade grazed the side of her face, and she cried out with pain and anger.
Akassa laughed. In the blue light of her blade she looked quite demented. “How did you like that, little deer?” she sneered.
Without bothering to reply, Kyra closed the gap between them and Divided the Wind, a risky maneuver that opened you up to attack, but could break the arms or hands of a foe. She swept up her forearms to knock Akassa’s hands aside, and then brought the sides of her palms down hard on both of the other girl’s wrists. Akassa cried out with pain and dropped her blade. Kyra seized hold of Akassa’s neck, spun her around, and hurled her into the cold black waters of the rivulet. Elena gave a small shriek, then covered her mouth with her hands.
Akassa emerged a few moments later, gasping and sputtering, hair clinging to her face. In the moonlight, it looked as if a rather bedraggled river nymph was rising from the swirling water.
“I hope you haven’t mislaid your katari,” said Kyra, hardening her heart against the girl. “I can’t even imagine the penalty for losing it.”
A look of fear crossed Akassa’s face and she dove back under the black surface. She was gone for two whole minutes. When she came up for air, her hands were still empty, and her expression had gone from merely fearful to wild with panic.
Elena came to stand beside Kyra at the bank. “When are you going to tell her that you have her katari in your hand?” she whispered.
“Oh, maybe an hour or four from now?” Kyra laughed at her expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her when she next comes up for air. I don’t want the entire village watching an apprentice of Kali make a fool of herself.” She examined the slender blue blade in her hand. She was uncomfortable holding it. She did not like Akassa and the weapon was hers; an alien hostility emanated from it.
“Kyra, your face—you’re bleeding!” Elena cried.
Kyra reached up to touch the side of her face; it was slick with blood and throbbing with pain. The katari pulsed in her hand, and she fought down fear.
No. I will not be afraid. I bested your mistress fair and square. She glared at the weapon as Elena swabbed away the blood from her face and tied the green scarf around her neck to hide the wound.
Akassa emerged from the water again, panting and shuddering. “Help me,” she called out in a thin voice. “I can’t find my katari.”
“I have your katari,” said Kyra. “You can come out now.”
Akassa dragged herself out of the water, ignoring Elena’s outstretched hand. She stumbled toward Kyra, snatched the katari from her hand, and kissed the blade, weeping soundlessly.
“Let’s get you dry,” said Elena. But Akassa brushed past them and ran toward the sheltering darkness of the trees.
“Let her go.” Kyra caught hold of Elena’s arm as she made to follow the weeping girl. “She’ll be all right.”
In truth, Kyra was ashamed of herself. Yes, Akassa had attacked her, but hadn’t she goaded her into it? She should have ignored the girl’s insults and walked away. Shirin Mam would be most disappointed in her.
At the thought of Shirin Mam, the feeling of not-rightness returned with such force that Kyra had difficulty controlling her breath.
“What’s the matter?” Elena’s eyes were large with concern as she took in the expression on Kyra’s face.
“I don’t know,” Kyra whispered. “Don’t you feel it?”
Before Elena could answer, sounds of laughter and excited voices broke the silence. Little flames of light came bobbing through the wood. Behind them glowed the faces of young girls holding their offerings—lotus-shaped containers filled with flowers, incense sticks, a candle, perhaps a bronze coin or two. In a minute the place would be packed with people and Kyra and Elena would not be able to move, even if they wanted to.
“Should we go look for Nineth?” said Elena, anxious now.
“Yes. Something is wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it,” said Kyra. She had lost all interest in watching the rite of flowers.
They slipped out between the trees, past the line of girls and the groups of young men who were cheering them on.
Elena grabbed her sleeve. “Look, there she is!”
They hurried out of the wood into the open field. The crowd had thinned and some of the peddlers were already packing up for the night, although there were still enough lamps to see by.
Nineth sauntered toward them, her brown hair even more ruffled than usual, a little frown marring her normally cheerful face. Kyra felt a rush of relief. It was not Nineth who was in trouble after all. And it couldn’t be Akassa, because the feeling of something not-right had come upon her before the apprentice ran away.
“What took you so long?” Elena demanded as soon as they were in earshot.
“We had visions of Hattur Nisalki carrying you off,” added Kyra teasingly, although her heart was not in it.
“Oh, that almost did happen,” said Nineth. “But I gave him a black eye and he changed his mind.”
“Nineth,” exclaimed Elena. “You hit him?”
“Once,” said Nineth. “I didn’t show him my katari or anything stupid like that, but he grabbed me and I didn’t know what else to do. Besides, he’d already shown me the tent and it wasn’t much—a bearded lady, a dwarf, a poor little wildcat in a cage, and a magic show with funny instruments called scopes. I’m glad we didn’t waste any money to see it.”
Despite her mounting worry, Kyra snorted with laughter. She couldn’t help it. “Poor Hattur didn’t get his kiss after all?”
Nineth flushed. “I’d rather kiss a horse.” She looked around. “Where’s dear Akassa? Don’t tell me you’ve managed to lose her.”
“She and Kyra had a fight,” said Elena. “Kyra threw her into the river.”
“What?” Nineth looked dumbfounded. “Kyra, how could you?”
“I know, I shouldn’t have.” Kyra hung her head, chastened.
“I mean, how could you have not waited for me?” said Nineth. “I always miss the fun! Wait, she’s not still in the river, is she? We might have some explaining to do to Shirin Mam if she is.”