by Guy Antibes
Kelch looked at the other constable who said he recognized the thief. “Is this the man you recognized?”
The guard looked away. “I thought it might be him.”
“Idiot,” the other guard said. “Even I can tell he isn’t the same person who throttled the both of us.”
“Release him,” an exasperated Lieutenant Kelch said. He looked at the prisoner. “I’m sorry there has been a misunderstanding.”
“What is this all about?” the prisoner said. “Are you playing games?” He looked at Sam, who had bought books from the prisoner enough times.
Sam had brought his textbook out to show the thief that he held evidence, but he guessed he could expose his little trick. If the prisoner was in league with the thief, it might stop, or at least reduce, the thefts.
“The person who should have been arrested was holding this textbook. I wrote my name on the first page and then had it covered with a pollen patch. The man we apprehended earlier this afternoon was in possession of this, and I scratched the patch off to show my name in front of him,” Sam said.
The man leaned over. “Mechanical Science?” He didn’t say a word while the manacles were removed. “There is a woman who sells us used books all the time. The last few of those texts were new, or as good as.” He looked at the guards. “I’m not one for selling stolen goods,” he said.
His words didn’t convince Sam, but perhaps the arrest would lead to another lead. Such things happened often enough in Baskin.
“Can we talk to the woman?” the lieutenant asked.
“If she hasn’t been told I’ve been hauled away by guards, I guess you can. I have her address and the latest book that she sold to me yesterday.”
Sam looked at Lieutenant Kelch. “Lead on,” Kelch said. “I’ll make the false arrest up to you, somehow.”
The man dubiously looked at the lieutenant. “I’ll hold you to that,” the bookseller said.
Sam took that to mean that the man might be implicated in the operation, but it wasn’t his responsibility. He joined the lieutenant and the guard who wasn’t involved in the arrest on their walk to the used bookshop. Another five guards had joined them by the time they arrived at the bookshop, but it had already closed for the day. However, a light burned within.
“The owner always stays late to finish recording the day’s transactions,” the man said, while he took a key out and unlocked the front door.
Three people were in the owner’s office. A woman, the thief, and the owner sat behind his desk counting out money.
The owner stood when he saw Lieutenant Kelch. “What is the meaning of this?” he said.
“That is the man,” the guard said, and Sam nodded, as well.
Sam closed the door to the office and stood, pulling out his wand to use as a weapon against whatever the three thieves did.
“We arrested the wrong man this afternoon,” Kelch said.
“You did not!” The owner was turning red in the face.
“We made a deal, lieutenant,” the bookshop clerk said.
“I will take into account your cooperation,” Kelch said.
Sam lifted his chin to get a better look at the coins on the desk. “I think we interrupted a final payoff before the two thieves took a break,” he said.
“That’s not my money,” the woman said. “I came here on a social call.”
“You did not!” the owner said again.
“What is the real story?” Kelch said.
The office exploded with words thrown by the four perpetrators accusing the other three as a ring of thieves, when it was obvious that they were all in on it. Sam slipped out the door and called the other guards in who re-secured the clerk and led all four out of the bookshop. Kelch locked it up and dismissed Sam.
“We can take it from here, Smith. All this was being done under my nose. I can’t say I’m not embarrassed about it, because I am. I’ll be in touch. You can keep your whistle and your authorization letter. I might want to use you another time, since your letters didn’t lie. You did a good job.”
Sam nodded. “I just hope we have stopped the thefts,” he said before he headed back to his dorm with a smile on his face.
~
After training with his favorite dueling sword from Grott’s collection, Sam brought out his Lashak to practice with Nakara. The Lashakan had told him that he and Banna were leaving Tolloy right after the next dueling tournament in five days.
Sam closed his eyes as he waited for Nakara to show up. Grott and Nakara had both worked on Sam’s mental approach to dueling. For Grott, it was all about the split-second evaluations of the flow of the match. Nakara, on the other hand, urged Sam to let his actions and reactions come from deep within him. At first, when he tried to combine both techniques, they fought with each other in his mind, but in the last week, he had learned to combine the focus.
Nakara claimed the Lashak blade that Sam hadn’t practiced with since the last tournament would be suited to his new approach. Sam didn’t think of it as a style, but as a state of mind, and Nakara agreed, although Sam never mentioned that to Professor Grott, since the professor would have likely disagreed.
“Are you ready?” Professor Drak said, rubbing his hands as he walked into the practice hall.
Sam nodded and lifted his Lashak sword. “I’m going to try using this again. I wasn’t happy with the last time, so I’d like to use it, so I can put that behind me.”
Drak nodded. “We haven’t talked for a while about your studies…”
“I am up or ahead in all my classes,” Sam said. “I need to be for the upcoming tournament.”
Drak smiled. “Good. Your first term is almost complete. Once the dueling is over, you have your final examinations and projects to complete.”
Sam nodded. “Thank you for reminding me, but I think I will be just fine.”
The professor patted Sam on the shoulder and walked off to talk to other students in the process of warming up.
Nakara finally walked across the practice hall with two swords in his hands. One was his Lashak weapon. “Are you ready?’ he said.
Sam gave him a weak smile after he stood. “We shall see.”
They walked to an empty corner. “First, your Lashak to my conventional weapon.”
Sam nodded. They had worked together enough to know each other’s practice forms.
The sparring might appear the same to casual observers, but Sam could feel the difference. As Nakara pressed him, Sam no longer retreated to his old style to defend himself but was able to maintain his concentration as they fought. Neither kept score, but Nakara finally raised his hand and grinned.
“Much improved. The weeks of mental training has paid off. Now show me something that will surprise me.”
Sam smiled. He had anticipated this from Nakara and stood straighter as he concentrated his mind on the dueling style that Captain Darter had taught. He could easily defeat Level Threes and do well against Level Twos with Darter’s Carolank method when he had started, but he found that when he fought other Level Ones, the Carolank style broke down as easily as the Lashakan did. Nakara had to have observed this before on board The Twisted Wind as they sailed from Wollia to Tolloy months ago. The Lashakan was in for a surprise.
When they did a little warming up between the first session and this one, Sam adopted the looser wrist that Captain Darter had used. He could do that with the Lashakan sword, but not with the heavier Vaarek dueling blades. Carolankian dueling swords were thinner and lighter.
Nakara smiled. “Carolankian?”
Sam nodded, only turning up one corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes one more time to get into the mood, as he thought of it, to fight.
The session was much different from the first. Sam initially found lots of touch opportunities, using the more fluid style, until Nakara began bludgeoning Sam with his conventional sword. Sam struggled to maintain concentration, and he achieved it, but not before nearly losing his composure.
“Th
ought I would be an easy win?” Nakara said. “Well, I was a tough win. I tried to get you frazzled, but you got through it. Let’s try Lashak to Lashak.”
Sam nodded and would start out with the Carolankian method before turning to the Lashak style he expected of Nakara.
The third session was ‘lively,’ Sam surmised as he struggled to maintain his line of thought. The Lashak was like an extension of Nakara’s arm, but Sam finally reached a milestone when he visualized cutting off his opponent’s hand. They continued until Sam thought it time to adopt his own improved version of Lashak sword fighting.
Nakara had looked very confident fighting Sam with the Carolankian method, using his natural style, but his confidence appeared to be shaken when Sam resisted onslaught after onslaught from Nakara. Their last session only lasted a few minutes, but Nakara finally raised his hand.
“Enough. I don’t want either of us injured,” he said.
“Neither do I,” Professor Grott said, walking up to them. “It is apparent that your mind wasn’t prepared to fight at the last tournament. Mito has worked that out of you.”
Sam shook his head. “Both of you have. It took all this time to combine both your suggestions, so I could progress. I feel more confident, not that I will win the tournament, but I won’t break down at the end.”
Grott nodded. “I think one more tournament at the third bracket. The competition in this tournament will be at a much higher level. You will see. Don’t get over-confident. You are not first bracket material yet. Perhaps you won’t be for two years. Mito was able to get past you when he applied his full strength.”
Chapter Ten
~
S am walked into Plantian Plunk’s house, hearing an argument between Banna and her father. He was about to withdraw when Plantian called out. “Who is there? Desmon?”
Sam entered the kitchen where the two Plunks stood glaring at each other. It was the first time Sam had been in the same room with Banna since the tournament when they hadn’t been within speaking distance. He could see a trace of panic in Banna’s face.
“I didn’t mean to barge in,” Sam said. “I won’t be able to visit Plantian and Emmy until after the dueling tournament, so…”
“How have you been?” Banna struggled to say, her anger subsiding.
“I have learned a lot, once the classwork advanced past what I had learned in compulsory school in Toraltia. That was expected, but I always disliked the thought of dueling, and now I am on the university’s team. That was unexpected.”
She nodded knowingly. Sam imagined that Mito Nakara had kept her informed.
“I did a little snooping, catching a book thief. It turned out to be the used bookseller stealing books, so he could resell them to students and other institutions. I was told they used pollen patches to cover student names,” Sam said.
“You have grown in other ways, as well,” she said, looking up at him.
Sam glanced at Plantian, who looked surprised by the turn in the conversation. He had never told him about Banna’s farewell letter.
“I have to go,” Banna said. She looked at her father. “We can take this up when I return to Tolloy, but I don’t know when that will be.”
Plantian sighed. “At least I have been able to see you from time to time lately. Take care of yourself. I would love to say keep out of trouble, but that is not going to happen.”
“No, it won’t. I never was as forgiving as you, Father,” she said. Banna put a hand on Sam’s shoulder as she grabbed her bag and left the house. “Take care, both of you.”
Sam looked at Plantian. “Were you trying to stop her?”
Plunk shook his head as he lowered it. “She will die an early death,” he said. “There is nothing I can do about it. I can give up on the thought of grandchildren.”
Banna was nearly too old for childbearing in Sam’s estimation. He didn’t think Banna would have made a good mother, at least the Banna Plunk he knew.
“Did she get a chance to see Emmy?” Sam asked.
“That is what brings her to my house. I’m sure she has visited a few days a week while I am out, disguised I’m sure. Today, she didn’t bother, and I was in, for once. It wasn’t pretty, but she changed when you walked into the room. What was that all about?”
Sam grabbed an apple and began to munch on it. “I’m afraid she grew a little attached to me during the voyage.”
“Banna?”
Sam pulled out his pocket watch and showed it to Plantian. “She gave me this,” he said, handing it to the professor.
“She even had it inscribed,” Plantian said. “That is a first for her, as far as I know.”
Sam nodded. “I don’t share her feelings, if that is what you wanted to know.”
“I didn’t want to know anything, Sam.”
“We have an uneasy relationship.”
“Don’t we all,” Plantian said. “If it is any consolation, you walked in on a conflict that was about to escalate. Thank you for stopping our conversation. I don’t like her leaving in anger, and that was where our conversation was headed. She thinks that anything is fair game in fighting Viktar Kreb.”
“Did she mention green pollen?”
Plantian nodded his head. “Unfortunately, that was the comment that set everything off. Using such a thing to fight in the field is highly unethical. I assume you agree?”
“I do. It is an easy fix. I’ve done some thinking on the subject while I’ve been attending my history classes. I agree it goes against my own morals, as rudimentary as they might be, to force people to do anything.”
“Some of that is unavoidable in our world,” the professor said with a sigh. “I understand that, but…”
Sam had the same problem with his own thoughts that the professor had. “I guess I’ll see Emmy and then come back in to say goodbye until after the dueling tournament in a few days.”
“Emmy is out the back. You never have to doubt where she stands.”
“Banna and I are in complete agreement with each other about the dog.”
~
Desmon sat with Banna and Nakara up in the last row inside the now-filled tournament stadium. The sun shone through the skylights directly above the dueling circles. Sam looked up at the trio as he warmed up and waved to them.
He noted that the Writer’s Guild competitor that beat him in the last tournament sat with first bracket competitors. For these tournaments, Professor Grott could only sign up a few duelists in each bracket. Norna stayed in bracket two and Sam warmed up with the level three bracket. This tournament would take just as long, if not longer, with all the Tolloyan dueling clubs participating. Still, the university had fielded more swordsmen at the tournament than any other organization.
Sam fought in the first set of duelists for the tournament. He sat while others did additional warmups going over forms in his head and finding the right mental tone. Banna and Mito Nakara watching him added a bit more pressure, but he would have to shake it off.
A whistle brought applause as the first round took their places in the dueling circles. Sam nodded to his competitor, a sturdy girl, as he swished around Professor Grott’s dueling sword. He would save his Lashak blade for later stages. She didn’t remind him of Norna at all, but Sam had sparred with his friend enough not to be intimidated by fighting a swordsman of the opposite sex.
Another whistle, and a judge approached them. Sam took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the man as his hand rose. When the hand fell, the girl let out a battle cry of some kind. Sam shrugged as he fended off her aggressive attack. She had shown plenty of openings in the flurry of strokes. Sam let her get some fighting time in and the first touch before he stopped her with five straight scores.
He went back to his seat, surrounded by the select Level Ones at the university. The third bracket filled up three sets of circles.
His second match was with a taller swordsman, who had exhibited superior reach. Sam had to remind himself that everyone in the tournament fought
at Level One when he watched the mistakes his opponent made while warming up. He suspected a ruse, and when the judge’s arm dropped, he was correct. The jerky moves had smoothed out, and the tall young man was much better. The match was more of a challenge for Sam, and a few times he had to fight to maintain his concentration when the longer reach of his foe got through to score, drawing blood each time, but Sam scored right along with the youngish man and emerged victorious, five to three.
Norna threw him a wet towel when he reached the seats. “I’ll patch you up,” she said.
Sam smiled. “If my wounds don’t need stitches, don’t bother.” He wiped the blood off to see if his wounds had already started to heal. They hadn’t, but the bleeding had stopped.
He finally made the finals in bracket three again. His body was tired, but then so was his opponent’s, an older youth from the Tolloyan Intelligence Agency. Sam glanced at their group of duelists and saw the man who had interrogated him months ago, Captain Gortak, acting as if he were one of the coaches. There were four other men in the same group, making their team have as many coaches as contestants.
The judge raised his hand. Sam looked at the young man in front of him. He was probably in his early twenties. Professor Grott had told him that the goal of many of the clubs was to rise through the club ranks, so they could compete in the open tournaments that would start after the middle-club tournament. Sam wondered how ambitious his opponent might be to score a big victory.
Sam switched to the Lashak sword while wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and then re-gripping. He closed his eyes to concentrate one last time before the hand rose and then dropped to start the match.
The young man attacked with a series of thrusts, pushing Sam back to the edge of the circle. Sam had seen the success of that strategy, but he didn’t mind it, because he stepped to the side during the last thrust and slid his sword along the side of the man’s torso.
His opponent was so surprised by the speed and fluidity of Sam’s attack that he stepped forward as he clutched his wound and took one stride too far out of the ring and lost two points instead of one.