*
“Eleanor!”
She was on her way in from her regular evening run, and she hadn’t noticed as she passed that Ivan’s door was open. She turned back to see what he wanted.
He got to his feet and walked across to lean on the doorframe. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”
“Oh?”
“Have you got a moment?”
“Of course.” She pushed open her own door. “Come in.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I get you a drink? Tea?”
“No, I’m fine.” He settled into a chair by her fireplace and stoked the embers. “I was wondering, now you’ve recovered from your little adventure in the drylands – how d’you fancy teaching for a spell?”
“Teaching what?” she asked, although it was fairly obvious. “Projectiles?”
“You’re more than qualified.”
“But that’s your class. Are you giving up?”
“You might’ve heard about this mountain expedition? I’d like to go – it’s been too long since I got my hands dirty – but I want to make sure my students don’t lose out. I can’t just abandon them to the vagaries of whoever the council happens to choose.”
“Why me?”
“You’re the obvious choice. Natural skill at the subject, boundless enthusiasm, and – well, you’re not spectacularly impatient, are you? Plus you’ve just got back from a long trip, so you deserve a rest.”
Eleanor hesitated, twisting a loose strand of hair between her fingers.
“It’s only one day in eight,” Ivan continued. “You’ll have plenty of time off, and you can use my armoury if there’s anything you need. You know it makes sense.”
“I know I could do it,” she said slowly. “But I need time to think.”
“What’s troubling you?”
“I’d be teaching Raf.” It sounded silly to say it, and as soon as the words were out she wished she’d kept her reservations to herself.
“You’ve taught him before.”
“And he’s taught me plenty of things in return, but this is different. Official.”
“He won’t mind. He’ll see what I see – that you’re the best person for the job.”
“I know. But if it was me I’d like to be asked, so let me talk to him before I say yes.”
Ivan got to his feet. “Come and see me once you’re happy, and I’ll talk you through where everyone’s up to.”
Eleanor hadn’t even taken off her boots, so she picked up a cloak and followed him to the door. It would be better to get an answer quickly.
“Raf!” He was outside despite the frost, doing backflips on the icy beams of the practice frame. His feet skidded under him as he landed, but he kept his balance.
“Hey Ellie.” He dropped to the ground and came across to meet her. “How’s things?”
“I think I’m settling, slowly. You?”
“Same as ever.” He shrugged. “Getting ready for the contest, I guess.”
“I know you’ll wipe the floor with them.”
“We’ll see.”
“Listen, Ivan asked me... He wants me to teach his classes for a few months while he goes on this mountain expedition.”
“Oh, excellent.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Why not?”
“I’d be teaching you.”
“Did you think I’d have a problem with that? You’ll be a great teacher.”
“But I’ve only just graduated myself. Won’t it be a bit strange?”
“Not for me. Are you carrying any stars?”
“Of course.” She pulled a couple from her belt. He took one of them and flicked it hard through the air, until it caught in the wood of the nearest practice beam. The force of the hit made the beam spin on its axis.
“I bet you can hit the same spot with your eyes closed, even while it’s spinning,” Raf said.
Eleanor watched it for one more rotation until the pattern of movement was locked in her mind, then closed her eyes and counted to three before releasing the second star. She heard the clink of metal on metal and opened her eyes to see the second star lodged neatly alongside the first.
“See?” Raf said, retrieving both stars with a triumphant expression. “You’ve got nothing to fear from a bunch of academy kids.”
“So where’s your class up to? I can see you’ve improved since last time we played with stars together.”
“We’ve been practising, yeah – stars and spikes, against a moving target or from a moving platform. It’s still hard.”
“It’s supposed to be.” She took the stars from his hand and tucked them back into their slots. “So you’re definitely happy with this?”
“Definitely.”
“In which case, I’ll see you in class.”
She sprinted across the frosty grass and back to Ivan’s room. He looked up in surprise when she let herself in and flung herself onto his sofa.
“Did you talk to Raf?”
She nodded, breathless from the run.
“And? What did he say?”
“Just what you predicted. He thinks it’s fine.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Of course. But you’d better tell me what I need to teach them.”
“Let me get you a drink, and we can talk it all through.” He already had a half-finished glass of apple wine at his side, and quickly furnished her with a glass of her own.
“Thanks.”
“You’ll have the second years in the morning, and the first years the same afternoon. They’re both good groups, on the whole, but nothing special. Competent but dull.”
Eleanor nodded, and tried to suppress a laugh. Trust Ivan to worry about style.
“The first years are just getting started with pipes,” he went on. “You’ll need to take them through a lot of target practice, different heights and distances and angles. Then take them outside on a windy day, that should sort the men from the boys.”
“And the second years?”
“They should be thinking ahead to the spring contest. The projectiles theme won’t be much different to last year – there’ll be a number of different targets, timing is as important as accuracy, and they’ll need to be ready to take a number of shots without pausing for breath. That’s if any of them care enough about projectiles to actually choose those tasks.”
“They’re not keen?”
“They’re certainly not at your standard. But then, you’re the only student I ever thought might have got through the seventh level.”
“You’re never going to forgive me for that, are you?”
“You won – I can hardly complain about that. But if you’d had confidence in your strengths, maybe you wouldn’t have needed to take such a controversial path to victory.”
Eleanor finished her wine in a couple of gulps and set her glass down amongst the clutter on the tabletop. “So how soon do I start?”
“Well, if you’re keen you could start tomorrow. I could do with the extra time to pack.”
Revolution (Chronicles of Charanthe #2) Page 19