They fought in the largest of the circles, the one Radimar called the Student’s Circle. “All students start here and stay here for the longest time,” he said. “As you learn and improve, you move to the next smaller circle.” He tracked Jahna and Sodrin as they sparred with each other within the Student circle.
Sodrin glanced at him. “How long did it take you to reach the Master’s Circle?” He yelped at the hard swat Radimar laid against the back of his legs with the flat of his waster. The move made him jerk forward, allowing Jahna what would have been a lethal stab to his gut had she been fighting him in true combat.
“And you’re dead,” Radimar snapped. “Don’t take your eyes off your opponent. You don’t need to look at me to hear me. Resume your stance.” Jahna and the flinching Sodrin jumped to do his bidding. “Bout.”
The measured whack of wood on wood sounded through the solar. Radimar answered Sodrin’s question, peppering his answers with commands to “Bend your knees. You’re standing too tall,” and “Slower, Jahna. You’re holding a sword, not wielding a whip.”
“I reached the Master’s Circle when I was eighteen, a year older than you are now, Sodrin.”
Jahna gasped. So young! She’d been surprised to learn Radimar was only five years older than Sodrin and seven years older than her. He seemed so much older, so much wiser than either of them. Lord Uhlfrida’s concern over the unprecedented youth of Sodrin’s teacher faded away once he observed a few lessons. Young he might be, but Radimar Velus lived up to the reputation of the Ilinfan swordmasters who trained him.
She countered one of Sodrin’s attacks. He moved slower, distracted by Radimar’s comments. “Then it won’t take me long to reach the Master’s Circle.”
A short chuckle from Radimar revealed he thought Sodrin’s statement as ridiculous as Jahna did. “I started training when I was five years old. I might have attained the Master’s Circle at eighteen, Sodrin. You won’t, even with my training. That isn’t realistic.”
They fought several more bouts before Radimar called a halt to eat breakfast before returning to the lesson. Sweaty, breathless, and certain her arm was about to fall off, Jahna thanked the gods her participation in the swordmaster’s lessons were done for the day. He’d been correct when he said participating instead of just observing would serve her better when she went to record the details of a lesson given by an Ilinfan teacher. Hopefully, after clutching a waster for so long, her sore hand would allow her to hold a quill.
The three made their leisurely way downstairs to the kitchens where one of the cooks had set aside a pot of porridge and slices of pork to warm on a sheet of metal set over hot coals. The first time they ate breakfast together, Radimar had surprised Sodrin and earned the eternal devotion of the kitchen staff when he made his two students serve themselves.
It wasn’t a first for Jahna. She often sneaked into the kitchens and helped herself to a slice of bread and honey or a wedge of cheese drizzled with blackberry syrup while she harassed the cooks for stories of their lives before they came to Hollowfell. Some were born and raised in neighboring villages, others had come from farther away, where Belawat shared a border with the Kai of Bast-Haradis and the wild hinterlands were controlled by the margrave of High Salure.
Sodrin, indulged only son and heir of the master of Hollowfell, had balked at first over the idea of waiting on himself. Radimar’s unflinching gaze and the unspoken threat behind it convinced him avoiding such labor wasn’t worth a thrashing in the Student’s Circle.
They sat down together with their plates and bowls at one of the work tables the head cook reserved for their use. Jahna sat beside Sodrin, with Radimar across from them. Her stomach gurgled the moment hot steam, scented with butter and salt, reached her nostrils. She was starving and dug into her porridge with gusto. The two men with her did the same, and the table was quiet for several minutes while they ate. Sodrin rose to refill his bowl, offering to do the same for Jahna. She declined and watched as her brother made his way to the hearth.
“You were right,” she told Radimar. “I can describe better and recount the details more clearly if I actually go through the lessons.”
A pleased smile softened his hard face. “There’s much more to learn, and it will be good for you both to train together at first.”
Sodrin returned to his seat and dug into his second steaming bowl of porridge. “It still seems wrong to fight a woman, even my sister.”
Radimar rested his elbows on the table and pointed his spoon at Sodrin. “That thinking will get you killed. The greatest swordmaster ever to come out of Ilinfan was a woman.”
Jahna’s writing hand itched. She sensed a wonderful story ripe for the telling. “I’ve read of Beotra. She was legendary. Some books say she wasn’t even real.”
“She was both.” Radimar’s mouth twitched at Jahna’s enthusiasm, and even Sodrin paused in eating to listen. “Her students were Andalin Helparn, Marius Godok, and a Kai warrior named Senakhte.”
Sodrin swallowed a spoonful of porridge before speaking. “Everyone knows of Helparn and Godok. They’re famous. I’ve never heard of Senakhte.”
Jahna gave an indignant huff. “Of course they’re famous. They’re men. I’d wager Senakhte was a woman.”
Radimar nodded. “You’d win that wager.”
After breakfast, they returned to the solar, Sodrin to continue his training with Radimar, Jahna to gather up her unmarked parchment, quills and ink. She could just as easily write about today’s lesson in her chamber and not distract her brother by watching him.
“You won’t miss anything,” Radimar assured her. “It’s more of the same for the rest of the day. If we do something different, I’ll tell you tonight at supper and demonstrate it tomorrow so you can record it.”
He had already been extraordinarily accommodating to her requests for observing his training, and she hesitated for a moment in asking him for more, but her curiosity would eat her alive if she didn’t.
“When you have time, could you tell me more about Beotra and Senakhte?”
He considered her for a moment. “This evening, after supper,” he said. “With your father’s permission of course.”
She clapped her ink well against her ink bottle and grinned. “I’ll talk to him right away!” She sped off, turning once to wave. He watched her leave, lifting a hand in farewell.
Supper that night lasted forever, and Jahna thought it couldn’t be over soon enough for her liking. She fidgeted in her chair and tried not hurry her father along with speaking looks. Had he always stirred his soup that many times before swallowing a spoonful? And did the meal have to consist of six courses?
She forced herself not to wolf her food or yank Sir Radimar from his chair when he pushed aside his plate, signaling he was done. No one left the table until Lord Uhlfrida was finished. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the arm of her chair while he, Sodrin and the swordmaster chatted about various topics, only half listening as she counted the seconds under her breath.