“You look fit enough,” she said, almost to herself. “Can you tumble?”
“I’m not sure. I—”
Sanne cut her off with a brief wave of her hand. “Try this,” she ordered, setting the leather satchel she wore over her right shoulder on the floor.
Without any further preparation, she took three quick paces and, on the third, sprang high in the air and spun in a forward somersault, landing on both feet with barely any sound of impact and in perfect balance.
Maddie noted that the soles of her red boots were soft leather, which accounted in part for the noiseless landing. She took a deep breath, composed herself, then sprang forward, throwing herself high in the air and tucking her head under as she rolled into a somersault.
She completed the movement well enough, although she was much closer to the floor than Sanne had been and her fingers brushed the floorboards.
But, as she landed, her weak hip gave way slightly and she stumbled, taking three small paces to recover. Sanne frowned. Maddie cursed under her breath. She had hoped her hip might stand up to the strain. She tapped it now.
“I’ve got a stiff hip,” she explained. “I was hit by a javelin several years ago and it never healed properly.”
Sanne chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Hmmmm. So I see. It’ll definitely be a problem for tumbling. Given time, we could probably cure it. But it’d be painful. Are you up for that?”
“I’m not worried about pain,” Maddie said. “But time is the problem. We only have a few weeks. Maybe after that I could work on freeing up the hip.”
“Well, a few weeks won’t do it,” Sanne told her. “We’d better look for something else. Can you juggle at all?”
“Two balls,” Maddie said. “No more than that.”
Sanne said nothing. Stooping to the satchel she had set on the floor, she took out two soft juggling balls and tossed them to Maddie, nodding in approval as the young Ranger deftly caught both of them.
“So far so good,” she said. “Now let’s see how good you are.”
Maddie set herself, a ball in either hand, then began. She tossed the ball in her left hand in the air, tossed the ball in her right hand laterally to her left, then caught the first ball in her right hand. She continued, sending the two balls around in a loop.
After half a dozen of these sequences, Sanne held up a hand for her to stop.
“All right. That’s enough.”
Maddie caught the last ball and waited for Sanne’s verdict. She thought she’d done reasonably well. Two balls only, perhaps, but not at all bad.
“So what was that?” Sanne asked.
Maddie looked surprised. “I was juggling,” she said.
But Sanne shook her head. “No. You were just throwing one up and passing the other across to your empty hand. That’s what most people think is juggling. This is juggling.”
And, without any apparent effort, Sanne set the two balls flying in opposing loops in the air, tossing the left-hand ball so that it flew in a circle over to her right hand, then the right-hand ball so it intersected the path of its partner, landing in her left hand. And as soon as she caught each ball, she launched it again to maintain the pattern in a one-two-three-four rhythm, with each ball flying high in the air and crossing over her body as it did so.
After a few rounds, she stopped and cocked her head at Maddie.
“Let’s see if we can get you doing it like that,” she said.
11
“All right,” Sanne said, “there are a few things to remember.” She reached out and put her hands on Maddie’s shoulders, squaring them off. She moved Maddie so that she was directly in front of her.
“Stay nice and balanced, with your legs slightly bent and both feet evenly on the ground. Now take a ball in each hand.”
Maddie did as she was instructed, watching Sanne expectantly.
“Relax,” Sanne told her. “You’re tensing up. Now bring your elbows in close to your body, with your forearms out at ninety degrees.” She waited until Maddie was positioned properly. “Now toss the ball in your right hand up and across your body, and catch it in the left hand.”
Maddie obeyed. The ball smacked into her left palm. She glanced at Sanne, who nodded approval.
“Good. Now toss it back to the right hand.”
Maddie tossed the ball up again, but this time had to reach out to catch it, as it descended some thirty centimeters in front of her. Sanne held up a hand for her to stop.
“See that?” she said. “You had to reach out for the ball to catch it. That means you threw it too far out in front. The balls have to stay in the same plane, just going up and down so they land in your hand without you having to snatch at them. Try it again.”
Maddie did, frowning in concentration, making sure the ball flew up vertically when she released it. It plopped easily into her catching hand this time.
“Better. Do it again.”
Toss, fly, plop. Once more the ball landed smoothly in her hand. She tossed it again, back the other way.
“Good,” said Sanne. “Keep that up. One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.”
She stopped counting the rhythm but Maddie continued to toss and catch the ball, counting to herself under her breath.
“You can count out loud if you like,” Sanne told her.
The seventh time Maddie launched the ball in the air, she tossed it too far to the front again and snatched at it, missing it and knocking it to the floor. She swore quietly.
Sanne retrieved the ball and tossed it back to her. She grinned sympathetically. “That’s the biggest problem to overcome,” she said. “But you’ve just about got it.”
Maddie began the sequence again, muttering between clenched teeth. “I can see why you don’t use balls that will bounce.” The balls were made of leather and filled with what felt like grain of some kind.
“Yes, you’d be scrambling all over the room retrieving them if they did,” Sanne said. She watched Maddie throw the ball a few more times, then held up a hand for her to stop. “Fine. Your throwing is pretty consistent, although it’s a little high. Try to toss it just above head height.”
She handed Maddie a second ball. “All right, let’s try two. Toss the ball in your right hand and, when it reaches head height, toss the ball in your left hand to pass inside it. And toss both the same height in the air.”
Maddie settled herself, preparing for this new challenge.
“Don’t tense up,” Sanne told her. “The secret to juggling isn’t the catching. It’s the tossing. If you toss them correctly, staying in the same plane, they should land naturally in your catching hand. Ready?”
“Ready,” said Maddie tersely, her eyes focused on the space in front of her.
“And remember, if you toss it correctly, you don’t have to look at it. Just let it float out there in front of you. Now, one, two, three, go.”
Toss, toss, catch, catch.
“Excellent! Do it again.”
One. Two. Three. Four.
Maddie grinned triumphantly as the second ball plopped back into her right hand, finishing the sequence.
Sanne nodded approvingly. “Good. Now toss the left-hand ball first.”
For a moment, Maddie hesitated, adjusting her thinking to the reversal of the action. Then she complied.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The final ball fell into her left hand, and she nearly dropped it.
“Do it that way again,” Sanne told her. This time, she completed the sequence without nearly spilling the ball. She tried again, then again. The third time, the final ball flew too far in front of her. She snatched it out of the air but her rhythm was spoiled and she stopped. She bit her lip in annoyance.
“Stay calm,” Sanne instructed. “You’re doing well.”
“Except I think I
’ve got it right and then I throw too far out to the front,” Maddie replied.
“Try practicing standing close to a wall,” Sanne told her. “That might help.”
Maddie thought about the instruction and nodded. “You’re right. That might do it. What’s next?”
Sanne smiled at her. “Next, I’m going to take it easy for a couple of days while you practice until you’ve got it right. Then we’ll add a third ball into the mix.”
“Couldn’t we do that now?” Maddie asked. “I think I’ve almost got the two balls worked out.”
“Almost isn’t good enough,” Sanne replied. “You need to be completely comfortable with the two balls, so you can do it automatically, before we move on.”
“But—” Maddie began. She was impatient to improve.
Sanne held up a hand to stop her. “Gilan told me you Rangers have a saying about practice,” she said. “What is it?”
“Most people practice till they get it right. A Ranger practices until he doesn’t get it wrong.”
“Or she, in this case,” Sanne told her. “Jugglers have the same rule. Keep practicing and I’ll see you in two days.”
“Oh, all right,” Maddie said. She began another sequence but, inevitably, on the third passage, she snatched at one of the balls and dropped it. She swore quietly.
Sanne grinned. “See what I mean?” she said. She headed for the stairway, leaving Maddie tossing and catching, tossing and catching, her tongue protruding from her teeth.
* * *
• • •
“Are you planning on poking your tongue out at the audience?” Will asked her the next day as she practiced her toss-toss-catch-catch routine in the sitting room of their suite of rooms.
“What?” she asked distractedly.
He shrugged. “It’s just, some people might take offense. And it’s never a good idea to offend those who are paying you.”
Maddie nodded and withdrew her tongue inside her lips. But after a couple of tosses and catches, it slipped out again, unnoticed. Unnoticed by her, that is. Will noticed immediately.
“You’re doing it again,” he said cheerfully.
She swore under her breath. Her tongue went back in and instantly she missed the next catch, so that the ball hit the floor and rolled under the settee.
“Blast it,” she said bitterly, stooping to retrieve the ball. She began the pattern again. This time she managed eight or nine sequences before one ball flew erratically and she dropped it again. This one rolled under an armchair and, once more, she went down on one knee to retrieve it. Will watched with some interest.
“If you practiced in front of the table or the bed, you wouldn’t have to crawl around the floor to retrieve them,” he pointed out.
“Shut up,” Maddie said tersely, her eyes flicking back and forth to follow the flight of the balls. This time, she completed over a dozen sequences before she snatched at a ball and dropped it, sending it rolling across the floor. Sighing, she retrieved it and moved to the dining table to practice. This time, she completed fifteen patterns before dropping a ball. But this time, the ball landed on the table, rolled once and came to a halt. She retrieved it easily.
“Told you so,” Will said. She drew in breath to make a pithy reply, then realized he had been right and said nothing.
Toss, toss, catch, catch, she continued. Will watched for a while, then realized there was no further need for comment. Her tongue was withdrawn and she kept the balls rotating evenly, without dropping any.
He went back to reading a report about pirate activities on Araluen’s northwest coast.
12
Sanne reviewed Maddie’s progress the following morning and nodded approvingly.
“Good work,” she said. “Let’s add the third ball and we’re under way.”
She handed Maddie another ball, placing it in Maddie’s right hand, so that she held two balls there and one in her left.
“Okay, here’s the sequence: Toss with your right hand. Toss with your left hand. Catch with your left hand. Toss with your right hand. Catch with your left hand.”
Maddie frowned. “Say that again,” she requested, and Sanne repeated the sequence.
“Like this,” she said, and demonstrated. With the extra ball in play, the sequence now became toss-catch-toss-catch-toss-catch. Maddie tried it and instantly felt as if she was back to square one. The smooth rhythm she had built up with two balls deserted her and balls flew erratically, causing her to snatch at them and drop them.
“I’ll never get this,” she said bitterly.
Sanne smiled at her. “Of course you will. It just needs practice. Start again.”
Maddie did so and, after a few muffed sequences, the pattern clicked and she had the balls rotating smoothly. She smiled in triumph and promptly dropped one.
Sanne stooped and retrieved it for her, handing it back to her. “See? I told you,” she said.
Maddie scowled. “Yes, but I dropped one that last time.”
Her instructor shrugged. “Maybe. But you didn’t drop one the previous four times. That’s progress.”
“If you say.”
“I do. All you have to do now is practice that three-ball sequence for a couple of days and you’ll have it. But for now, let’s try something different.”
“Gladly,” Maddie said. She put the balls away in her jerkin pocket and followed Sanne to the end of the practice hall. For the first time, she noticed that there was a head-high object there, covered with a thick linen cloth. Sanne pulled the cloth away and revealed a large round board, shaped in a circle and with twelve numbered segments marked on it. It looked like a giant version of the target boards Maddie had seen the castle garrison throwing small darts at when they were relaxing.
From her ever-present satchel, Sanne produced a canvas tool wrap. Unrolling it on a side table, she revealed five identical knives. Simple in design, each one consisted of a wooden handle riveted to a straight steel blade that tapered to a double-edged point. There were no crosspieces and no fancy decoration on the hilts. She passed one to Maddie, who tested its weight and balance. In spite of the simple, almost primitive design, she found the knife was perfectly balanced and weighted.
Transferring the knife to her left hand, she reached for another and tested it. It felt identical to the first. She raised her eyebrows.
“These are good,” she said, passing them back and forth from right hand to left, testing them further.
Sanne smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I made them myself.”
“They’re almost identical,” Maddie said, studying the two simple blades, holding them alongside each other to measure each against its companion.
“Not almost,” Sanne corrected her. “They are identical. Weight and balance for each one is exactly the same as the other.” She indicated the round target, nearly six meters away. “Try one,” she said.
Maddie paused, testing the heft and balance of the knife for a second, then threw with a deceptively casual action. The knife caught the early morning sun streaming through the tall windows as it spun across the room, then thunked solidly into the target a few centimeters to the left of the junction point of the twelve numbered segments. The knife had spun past the central point on its final spin and the hilt was angled at about twenty degrees higher than the blade. Sanne looked at her, a small moue of surprise on her features.
“Pretty good,” she said. “Try another one.” But before Maddie could comply, she held out a hand to stop her. “Aim for a different part of the board,” she said. “If you hit that first knife, and there’s every chance you might, you could split some of the wood off the hilt. Then I’ll have to rebalance it.”
Maddie nodded and spun the second knife into the widest part of the number one segment, at the top of the target. Another solid thunk and the knife was quivering in the wood. Without commenti
ng, Sanne handed her a third knife. This one Maddie placed in the number nine segment.
“Can you throw underarm?” Sanne asked, handing her a fourth knife.
Without replying, Maddie spun the knife underarm into the number three segment, opposite her previous throw.
“And round arm?” Sanne said, passing across the final knife. Maddie hurled it in a sideways throw, placing it a centimeter from the first knife in the center of the board.
Sanne frowned. “I told you not to throw near the other knife,” she said.
Maddie shrugged and grinned. “I’ve got the feel for them now,” she said. “I knew I wouldn’t hit it.”
Sanne went to reply, then looked at the neat placement of the five knives in the target and realized Maddie wasn’t boasting, but speaking the truth. Well, perhaps she was boasting just a little, but she obviously knew what she was doing when it came to throwing knives.
“So you say,” Sanne said eventually, then moved forward to retrieve the knives from the board.
“Well,” she continued, “I can see that I don’t need to teach you how to throw a knife. But I can teach you a little show business to go along with it.”
“Show business?” Maddie asked. For the past three and a half years, knife throwing had been a serious business for her, with no room for fancy throwing and showing off.
Sanne nodded. “Throwing a knife well is good,” she said. “But the audience has to see some element of risk in it if they’re going to be entertained.”
“Risk is entertaining?” Maddie asked.
The performer smiled indulgently. “Of course it is. People love to be frightened,” she said.
She moved up to the target and wheeled a new apparatus from behind it. It was a pulley wheel and crank handle, with a leather belt running from the pulley. She looped the belt over a matching pulley at the back of the target board, flicked off a retaining strap and pulled the cranking apparatus until the leather belt was taut. She gave a few experimental tugs on the crank handle and the target board turned slowly in time with the crank. The two pulleys were different sizes, so that the wheel turned at twice the speed as the pulley Sanne was cranking.
The Royal Ranger: The Missing Prince Page 7