“Practice as you mean to fight,” he had told them. No quarter. No sporting gestures. Just a single-minded dedication to winning the bout. Here, losing might mean a painful bruise. In a real battle, the result would be death.
“Come,” Maikeru said to them, pointing to the floor in front of him.
They made their way back from the end of the hall, where Cassandra had driven Dimon, and stood attentively before him. Cassandra wiped perspiration from her forehead with the sleeve of her padded jacket. The jacket was stained and grimy, and Maddie wondered if the armorers ever thought to launder them.
Maikeru frowned, studying the princess for several seconds, then spoke. “Your speed is excellent. You gave your opponent no time to begin his own attack.”
Dimon nodded agreement. “She’s wickedly fast. Several times there, I barely managed to get my sword or shield in position in time.”
Maikeru looked at him, his dark eyes steady and unblinking. “Yet manage you did,” he said simply, and Dimon shrugged. The Swordmaster turned his attention back to Cassandra.
“You see, my lady,” he said, “your speed is your best weapon. But the longer a combat lasts, the more it will be reduced. You become tired. Your arms are heavy. The katana, once so light and easy to wield, begins to weigh down your arms so that the muscles ache.” He paused and raised an interrogative eyebrow at her.
“That’s a pretty good description of the way I feel,” she admitted.
He nodded. “Your speed and agility are not infinite resources,” he said. “They only serve you for a certain time. Then they begin to deteriorate. And then,” he emphasized the word heavily, “your opponent’s greater strength and force become the dominant factors in your fight.”
Cassandra frowned. “But—”
Maikeru held up his hand to stop her. “When you are facing a skilled opponent like Dimon-san, you must find a way to end the bout quickly. Before his advantages—his weight, his strength and his power—become the dominant ones.”
“Well, I was trying to do that,” Cassandra said. Her face was reddening a little, Maddie noticed. Her mother had always had a quick temper, as Maddie knew only too well.
“You were trying the same thing over and over,” Maikeru told her. “If it didn’t work the first time, why should it work on subsequent attempts?”
“But you’ve told me that speed is my best weapon,” Cassandra said, an argumentative tone in her voice.
Maikeru nodded. “But not your only weapon. Dimon-san found a way to counteract your speed, and to make you waste your energy against his defenses, until you became tired and your speed was diminished. When this happens, you must look for something unexpected. Otherwise, as the bout goes on, it becomes more certain that he will be the victor.”
“Unexpected,” Cassandra repeated. “What do you mean by that?”
“Remember your three best allies. Speed. Agility. And surprise. Faced with a foe like this, you have to surprise him, before it’s too late. Your overhand, side cut, and diagonal cuts were not fast enough to break his defense. Look for something else.”
“Such as?” Cassandra asked. Dimon and Maddie watched keenly, sensing that this was a new plateau in the Princess Regent’s swordsmanship.
“One example might be a single-handed thrust,” Maikeru told her quietly.
She opened her mouth to speak, stopped and thought. Then she said slowly, “But you say I must always fight two-handed.”
Before she had finished, Maikeru was shaking his head. “There is no ‘always,’” he told her. “You must be ready to change, to adapt, to try something new and unexpected.”
In a sudden blur of motion, he dropped the wooden rod and drew his own katana from its scabbard. Then he lunged forward, holding it in one hand, the single cutting edge facing upward. The point stopped a bare two centimeters from the startled Cassandra’s face.
Instantly, in a continuation of his first movement, Maikeru withdrew the weapon and re-sheathed it. He bowed an apology to Cassandra. She waved it aside, looking at him with renewed interest.
“By using one hand, you increase your reach by almost half a meter,” he said. “This alone will take your opponent by surprise, as well as the fact that most of your attacks to this moment have been with the edge, not the point.”
He paused, to see if she was following. She nodded.
“It’s a risky move for you because it leaves you open to a counterattack. You must be ready to recover instantly if the thrust doesn’t go home.”
Again Cassandra nodded. Then she gestured at the sword in its scabbard.
“You reversed your wrist so that the cutting edge was uppermost,” she said. “What was the reason for that?”
Maikeru nodded approvingly. “You notice small details,” he said. “That’s good.”
He drew his sword again, more slowly this time, and demonstrated the reversed wrist position, with the cutting edge on top. The katana’s blade had a slight curve, imparting a downward direction to the thrust.
“By reversing my wrist, I make the point of the katana travel slightly downward, because of the curved blade. That means the sharp cutting edge can shear more easily through your opponent’s chain mail. The edge is sharp enough to do that,” he added.
Cassandra nodded, eyes narrowed as she studied the gleaming blade. “I see,” she said slowly.
“Practice it with me,” Maikeru told her. He stood beside her, demonstrating how to progress from an obliquely angled cut into the thrust, releasing the left hand from the grip, turning the wrist and stepping forward, all in one smooth movement. Cassandra copied the sequence several times, gradually moving faster and faster. As her movements became more confident, Maikeru stepped away, re-sheathing his katana and watching her closely. He bent and retrieved his wooden rod and began to tap a tempo on the floor once more. Then, with his free hand, he gestured down the length of the hall.
“Move,” he instructed her. “And change to the thrust every three strokes. Vary the sequence so you become used to thrusting after any other stroke.”
She shuffled down the hall, her light slippers whispering on the boards. Then, with every third stroke, she stamped her right foot forward and lunged, point down and cutting edge uppermost. Maikeru let her reach the far end of the hall before he called out.
“Now back again.”
The tapping of the rod on the boards became more rapid and Cassandra moved toward them, the katana like a striking snake. Cut, cut, slash, thrust! Cut, cut, sweep, thrust. She stopped in front of him and he nodded approvingly.
“Now try it with Dimon-san.”
Dimon held out a hand, protesting. “But I’ll know she’s going to do it every third stroke.”
Maikeru smiled grimly. “But only she will know when those three strokes begin,” he said. Dimon nodded his understanding.
They assumed their ready positions, and Maikeru once more called for them to begin. This time, Dimon struck first, aiming an overhead blow at Cassandra. Her wooden blade flickered out and she deflected his stroke so that the practice sword rebounded from the floorboards, throwing him slightly off balance.
Seizing her opportunity, Cassandra delivered a barrage of cuts, slashes and sweeps. Then, after six of these, she suddenly lunged one-handed. Dimon only just managed to recoil away from the tip of her blade, stumbling slightly but bringing his shield up to block the thrust.
Once more, she began to cut and slash at him. This time, she waited four strokes, then lunged. But he was ready. His shield caught her sword and deflected it away from him. Then, as she was still leaning forward, unbalanced and open to his reply, his sword flashed forward and struck her on the outer thigh.
They stepped back. It had been a winning blow. In a real fight, it would not have killed her outright. But even if it hadn’t severed any of the major blood vessels in her leg, it would have taken her rig
ht leg out from under her and left her at his mercy.
“Again,” Maikeru said quietly, and once more the hall resounded with the rapid impacts of wood on wood. Then, Cassandra essayed another thrust—with the same result. Dimon’s shield blocked her katana. His sword whipped out and caught her on the hip.
Cassandra stepped back, her cheeks flaming with effort and frustration. She rubbed her left hand against her hip. There would be a bruise there tonight, she realized.
“This is hopeless!” she said angrily.
Maikeru regarded her with a half smile. “You think so?”
“I know so!” she replied, still angry. “The thrust leaves me open to a reply, as you said. And Dimon has no trouble avoiding it. Why bother with such a useless tactic?”
Maikeru turned his impassive gaze to Dimon. “You noticed?” When the young captain nodded, Maikeru indicated Cassandra. “Tell her.”
“You’re signaling the thrust,” Dimon said apologetically. “I know when you’re going to try it.” He paused, then elaborated. “Actually, I didn’t know the first time, but after that it was obvious.”
“What was so blasted obvious?” Cassandra knew it wasn’t fair to vent her anger on a subordinate like Dimon. He couldn’t respond in kind. Nonetheless, her quick temper overcame her sense of fairness.
“Before you thrust, you raise your chin slightly,” Dimon told her.
She drew breath for a heated reply, then realized he might be right. She looked at Maikeru for confirmation, and the gray-haired Swordmaster nodded.
“Every time,” he said. “It’s a habit you’ll have to break. Otherwise it could cost you your life.”
Cassandra considered his words, glanced at Dimon and nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll have to work on that.”
12
The days passed and time began to hang heavy on Maddie’s hands. She went hunting with Dimon, which was a welcome diversion. The young captain offered her the use of a bow but she declined. It wasn’t a good idea to let anyone, even a captain of the castle guard, know about her skill with a bow. Most young women of her age and social station could shoot, but her ability was far beyond what might be expected, and that could lead to questions. It was vital that she protect her secret life as an apprentice Ranger, so she thought it best not to show any skill with the bow at all. And since she wasn’t sure that she could fake being less of an archer than she was, the best way was to use her sling exclusively. At least that wasn’t known as a weapon of choice for Rangers.
Dimon was a capable shot, but she could see that she was far better, and she was glad of her decision. She bagged two large hares with her sling, and he shot a young deer, bringing it down after stalking it for half an hour. The deer would go to the castle kitchens, as would the two hares, and would provide meat for the main dining hall. Maddie was glad he elected to end the hunt then, rather than continue on, killing for the sake of killing. Dimon hunted only for the table, not for sport or for trophies. She liked that in him. Additionally, she enjoyed his cheerful company, and they spent three pleasant hours together while they hunted.
But with Horace and Gilan absent, and more than half of the castle garrison with them, Dimon’s free time was limited. He was in command of the remaining troops, and he took his responsibility seriously. Maddie regretted that they had little time to spend together, but appreciated that he attended so conscientiously to his duties.
Her mother, too, was busy. Horace’s absence meant that a lot of the administrative work he usually undertook now fell to her. Maddie regretted that they had no time for more practice bouts with Dimon and Maikeru, although she knew her mother did manage to fit in several sessions with the Swordmaster.
She rode out to Warwick and Lou’s farm several times, switching over to Bumper to patrol the area. Warwick reported that there had been no sign of lights in the old abbey since she had been there last. She rode up to inspect the building once, but aside from the cold ashes of an old fire, doubtless left by travelers, there was no sign that anybody had been there in recent days.
The fact was, Araluen was a far more peaceful fief than Redmont. This was in part because of the relatively large garrison at Castle Araluen and that the area around it had been settled for many years. Redmont, by comparison, was on the outer fringe of the kingdom, closer to the Hibernian sea with its pirates and smugglers, and the border with Celtica. There was far more going on in Redmont Fief—more action, more activity. There was more to keep a Ranger and his apprentice occupied and on the alert.
Araluen Fief was boring by comparison—especially for an adventurous young woman like Maddie. The result was that after a few more days, she became restive and unsettled, and was looking for something to occupy her mind.
The answer came in a conversation with her grandfather, whom she visited most days—sometimes for an hour or so, at other times, if he was tired, for a few minutes.
“Have you explored the castle?” he asked her one day after she complained of being bored by the enforced inactivity.
She shrugged. “I grew up here,” she reminded him. “I think I’ve seen everything there is to see.”
He smiled and tapped his finger against the side of his nose. “Ah, but what about what isn’t to be seen?”
She frowned. “What isn’t to be seen?” she repeated, not understanding.
“It’s rumored there are lots of secret places within these walls—some inside the walls themselves.”
“Secret places? You mean tunnels?” she asked, her interest sparked.
“Tunnels, yes. And stairways. It’s rumored that my grandfather had a secret way out of the castle—a tunnel that led under the moat.” Duncan smiled. “Seems he had a girlfriend in the village and he liked being able to sneak out to see her.”
“Gilan said something about that. Where is it?” Maddie asked.
He shook his head. “I never had time to look for it when I was younger,” he said. “But it strikes me that it might be useful to know about such things. I imagine it would begin somewhere in the cellars. But where?”
“You said secret stairways as well?” Maddie prompted him.
“Most of these old castles had secret ways to access the towers. Usually by a narrow stairway built inside the walls. Can’t see why Araluen would be any different. They must be here somewhere.” He looked around the room, indicating the thick stone walls.
Maddie rose and prowled around the room, stopping to tap on the walls every few meters or so. They sounded disappointingly solid, she thought.
“How would one go about finding such things?” she mused, half to herself.
Duncan shrugged, the movement causing him a slight twinge of pain in his injured leg. “The castle library might be a place to start,” he said. “Ask for old plans and sketches of the castle. Look for anomalies.”
“Such as?”
He rubbed his stubbly chin. His servant hadn’t shaved him so far this morning. “Well, look for rooms that should be the same dimensions but aren’t. Walls that are shorter than the rooms above and below them, or adjoining them. Look for variations in their measurements. Sometimes that will indicate the presence of a hidden chamber.”
“And in the cellars and lower levels of the castle,” she said.
Duncan nodded. “That’s where I’d start.”
She stayed with him for another half hour. The conversation turned to other matters, but she was distracted by the idea of secret stairways and tunnels continuing to pop into her mind. Finally, she rose and took her leave. She kissed him gently on the forehead and moved to the door. As she laid her hand on the latch, he stopped her.
“Give my regards to Master Uldred,” he said.
She looked back at him, her head cocked to one side. “Uldred?”
“The head librarian. Been here for years. He should know where to lay his hands on the old charts and plans of the ca
stle.”
* * *
• • •
The library was on the first floor of the keep, in a large, well-ventilated annex set on the western side. High-level windows admitted the sun, letting it shine down on the stacks of books and scrolls that were packed into shelves twice the height of a man.
Uldred was a thin wisp of a man, with long, unkempt gray hair, cut short in the front but hanging halfway down his back. He was dressed in a monklike scholar’s robe, with a long hood hanging at the back and a belt made of silken cord. It occurred to Maddie that most scholarly types were small in build. Heavier-set or taller men tended to become warriors.
When Maddie entered, Uldred was presiding over the library from a mezzanine balcony that overlooked the rows of shelves, sitting at a large table that had several volumes and scrolls stacked neatly on one side.
“Your Highness,” he said, smiling a welcome, “what brings you to my domain?”
“Please, call me Maddie,” she said, smiling in reply. “‘Your Highness’ is far too formal.”
He inclined his head, pleased by her friendly and informal approach. “Maddie it is then,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“The King said you might be able to show me the original plans and sketches of the castle,” she said.
He regarded her with a knowing look. “Looking for secret tunnels, perhaps?”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Yes. How did you know that?”
Uldred sighed. “It’s why most people want to study the plans. So far, nobody’s found anything,” he told her. “Not that too many of them kept at it for long. They become bored and skip through the plans quickly. Never find anything that way.”
“Well, I’ll try to stay focused. Can you show them to me?”
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