Sia held out one hand.
"I want a sword."
Marike looked at her.
"No."
Sia turned.
"No?"
"You evolved recently."
"So did he."
"Three weeks ago."
Sia pointed at Keizeix.
"Exactly. He's had an unfair advantage."
Keizeix raised an eyebrow.
"You being slower isn't unfair."
Black-purple lightning flickered across Sia's shoulder.
Marike's eyes narrowed.
"No lightning."
The electricity vanished.
Keizeix smiled.
Sia noticed.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Looking pleased."
"I am pleased."
"That's the problem."
Shirespoke laughed and walked toward the weapon rack.
"If you're determined to embarrass yourself..."
Sia's eyes narrowed.
"Which one of us?"
"Yes."
He pulled out another wooden training sword and tossed it toward her.
Sia caught it.
Badly.
The hilt struck her palm, bounced against her fingers, and nearly fell.
She snatched it with her other hand.
Keizeix said nothing.
Sia glared at him.
"Say it."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
Keizeix had long since stopped questioning how everyone read expressions from bodies that shouldn't have been remotely expressive.
"I was thinking."
"Violently?"
Marike laughed.
"He's learning."
Sia stepped into the courtyard.
Her new humanoid torso was still unfamiliar, but her control was impressive considering how recently she had evolved.
Keizeix could see little corrections constantly happening through her lower body.
A rear leg shifting.
A front leg widening her stance.
Her torso leaning a fraction too far before she corrected it.
Three weeks ago, he had been much worse.
Unfortunately for Sia, three weeks was a long time.
Marike moved between them.
"Training blades only."
Neither answered.
"No lightning."
Sia frowned.
"No Shadow Mist."
Keizeix nodded.
"No silk."
Both looked offended.
Marike ignored them.
"No attempting to cripple each other."
Sia glanced at Keizeix.
"Define cripple."
"Sia."
"Fine."
Shirespoke leaned against the edge of the training yard.
"This should be entertaining."
Keizeix raised his sword.
Sia copied him.
Incorrectly.
Her grip was too tight.
Shoulders tense.
Sword too far away from her center.
Keizeix recognized nearly every mistake.
Because Shirespoke had beaten them out of him one painful strike at a time.
Sia noticed him studying her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're doing it again."
"Evaluating."
Her eyes narrowed.
Keizeix smiled.
"Ready?"
Sia lowered herself.
"Always."
Marike stepped aside.
"Begin."
Sia attacked immediately.
Of course she did.
She pushed forward with frightening speed.
Even newly evolved, her physical instincts were excellent.
Her sword came down hard.
Keizeix didn't meet strength with strength.
He shifted.
Just enough.
Her blade passed beside his shoulder.
Keizeix's sword tapped her ribs.
Sia froze.
Keizeix backed away.
"One."
Silence.
Marike's eyebrows rose.
Shirespoke smiled.
Sia slowly looked toward the spot he'd touched.
Then at Keizeix.
"Again."
She attacked.
Faster.
Keizeix watched her shoulders.
Too much tension.
Her strike committed early.
He saw where the blade was going before it arrived.
He stepped inside the range.
Deflected.
Turned his wrists.
His wooden blade stopped against the side of her neck.
"Two."
Sia's expression became dangerous.
Keizeix withdrew.
"You're angry."
"No."
"You look angry."
"I'm learning."
"Violently?"
She lunged.
Keizeix barely avoided that one.
"Definitely violently."
---
The next several exchanges changed.
Sia wasn't stupid.
Worse, she was frighteningly adaptive.
After only a handful of failed attacks, she stopped swinging purely to hit him.
She started watching.
Testing.
Her blade flicked forward.
Keizeix moved to parry.
Sia pulled it back.
Feint.
Her spider body shifted sideways.
The second strike came toward his ribs.
Keizeix anchored two legs and rotated backward.
The wooden sword passed inches from him.
He countered.
Sia blocked.
For the first time, wood cracked loudly against wood.
Her eyes brightened.
"There."
Keizeix stepped away.
"There what?"
"You finally had to block."
"I've been blocking."
"Not seriously."
Keizeix smiled.
"You're improving."
"Don't sound surprised."
"I'm devastated."
She attacked again.
Now Keizeix had to work.
Sia lacked technique.
But she possessed speed.
Instinct.
Coordination.
And the irritating ability to learn from pain almost immediately.
She copied pieces of his stance.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
She noticed when he controlled distance.
So she began trying to destroy that distance.
Keizeix gave ground.
Sia followed.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Her confidence returned.
That was what Keizeix wanted.
He retreated farther.
Sia pressed.
Marike watched closely.
Shirespoke's smile widened.
Sia swung.
Keizeix moved backward.
Again.
She advanced.
Again.
Keizeix felt the boundary between them.
*Maai.*
The invisible space that determined who could attack.
Who couldn't.
Who thought they could.
Sia stepped into his.
Keizeix stopped retreating.
Four spider legs anchored.
His upper body remained relaxed.
Sia's sword came forward.
Keizeix struck first.
Not hard.
Fast.
Straight.
His training blade cracked against hers near the guard.
Her sword was knocked outward.
Before she could recover, Keizeix rotated around his anchored lower body.
His blade stopped against the center of her chest.
Sia froze.
Both were breathing harder now.
Keizeix lowered the sword.
"Three."
Sia stared.
She had expected competition.
She had not expected this.
"What..."
Keizeix waited.
"...was that?"
He shrugged.
"Training."
Her glare sharpened.
"Again."
Marike glanced at Shirespoke.
Shirespoke looked ridiculously proud.
---
Sia came at him with everything she could safely use.
No lightning.
No silk.
Just movement and the wooden sword.
She improved every minute.
That impressed Keizeix more than he intended to admit.
Twice she almost tagged his shoulder.
Once she forced him into an awkward retreat.
Then she finally caught him.
Her sword struck his upper arm.
Sia jumped backward.
"Ha!"
Keizeix rubbed the spot.
"Congratulations."
Her expression brightened.
"That's one."
"Against three."
The brightness disappeared.
"I hate you."
"No you don't."
Her response came too slowly.
"Yes, I do."
Keizeix paused.
Sia realized she'd hesitated.
Her face hardened.
"Again."
Interesting.
He wisely didn't mention it.
They continued.
Sia's breathing grew heavier.
Her new torso wasn't conditioned for extended sword work.
Neither were her hands.
She was learning exactly what Keizeix had learned three weeks earlier.
Humanoid muscles tired differently.
Arms became heavy.
Grip weakened.
Shoulders burned.
But pride kept her moving.
She attacked.
Keizeix parried.
Again.
Again.
Her next swing slowed slightly.
That was enough.
Keizeix deflected it.
Stepped into her range.
Turned his blade.
The wooden sword flew from Sia's hand.
It struck the ground several feet away.
Before she could react, Keizeix's sword stopped a finger's width from her throat.
Silence.
Sia stood completely still.
Breath rising and falling rapidly through her chest.
A strand of silver-gold hair had fallen across her face.
Keizeix withdrew the blade.
"Dead."
Shirespoke nearly choked laughing.
Keizeix looked toward him.
"I've always wanted to say that."
"I noticed."
Sia remained motionless.
Then she slowly turned toward her sword.
Walked over.
Picked it up.
And returned it to the rack with considerably more force than necessary.
Marike approached.
"You did well."
Sia's breathing was still heavy.
"He had three weeks."
Keizeix nodded solemnly.
"An eternity."
Sia turned toward him.
"I wasn't talking to you."
"You usually are."
"I was not."
"You were thinking about me."
Her eyes widened.
Then narrowed.
"Unfortunately."
Marike put a hand on Sia's shoulder.
"Come on."
Sia looked toward Keizeix one last time.
Frustration was obvious.
But there was something else underneath it.
Respect.
Maybe pride.
She looked almost annoyed by that part most of all.
"You won't have that advantage forever."
Keizeix rested the training sword across his shoulder.
"I'd be disappointed if I did."
Sia blinked.
That wasn't the answer she'd expected.
For half a second the anger disappeared.
Then she looked away.
"Idiot."
She left beside Marike.
Keizeix watched them disappear beneath the archway.
Shirespoke spoke from behind him.
"You're staring."
Keizeix immediately turned.
"No."
Shirespoke raised an eyebrow.
Keizeix pointed his sword toward him.
"Training."
"Excellent idea."
---
The satisfaction lasted approximately twelve seconds.
Shirespoke attacked.
Keizeix blocked once.
Twice.
Then received a wooden sword directly across the ribs.
"Dead."
Keizeix staggered.
"Couldn't let me enjoy that?"
"No."
Again.
Keizeix raised his sword.
---
The following days became harder.
Shirespoke stopped treating him like a complete beginner.
That turned out to be significantly more painful.
Keizeix learned combinations that punished hesitation.
He practiced recovering his guard after failed attacks.
Shirespoke made him fight from bad angles.
Against walls.
On narrow walkways.
On loose gravel.
Once, inexplicably, on a wet stone floor.
Keizeix slipped.
Shirespoke hit him.
"Dead."
"That was unfair."
"Rain exists."
Keizeix hated reasonable answers.
His kendo memories continued returning in fragments.
Not as perfect techniques.
Principles.
Control the center.
Read intent through posture.
Don't waste movement.
Commit when attacking.
Recover immediately afterward.
Never assume one successful strike ends the fight.
Shirespoke added the realities of this world.
Opponents with tails.
Four arms.
Six arms.
Wings.
Magic.
Weapons that changed shape.
Creatures with no recognizable humanoid anatomy at all.
"Your old habits—whatever they are—won't always save you," Shirespoke said one afternoon.
Keizeix nearly reacted to the wording.
But Shirespoke continued.
"Instinct becomes dangerous when you mistake it for certainty."
Keizeix nodded.
That lesson he understood.
Shirespoke attacked.
Keizeix blocked.
Pivoted.
Countered.
Shirespoke caught the blade.
Keizeix released pressure instead of fighting it.
Changed angle.
Thrust.
Shirespoke stepped back.
"Better."
Keizeix smiled.
Shirespoke immediately added:
"Still ugly."
"You're emotionally incapable of praise."
"I praised you last week."
"Once."
"It should last a month."
---
By the end of the next six days, Keizeix was no master.
Not close.
Shirespoke could still dismantle him whenever he became serious.
But Keizeix was no longer simply a beginner with good instincts.
His movements had structure.
His guard returned automatically.
He understood his reach.
His strange eight-legged stance was becoming something uniquely his.
Where humanoid swordsmen needed footwork to change angles, Keizeix could anchor, rotate and redirect without surrendering ground.
Where another fighter might step backward to avoid a strike, Keizeix could shift his entire body sideways while keeping his torso facing forward.
Shirespoke began forcing him to build around those differences rather than imitate humanoid swordsmanship.
"Again."
Keizeix attacked.
Shirespoke parried.
Keizeix rotated.
Second cut.
Blocked.
Third.
Shirespoke moved.
Keizeix stopped the attack halfway.
Changed direction.
Thrust.
Shirespoke knocked it aside.
But Keizeix recovered immediately.
For nearly a minute, neither landed a clean strike.
Then Shirespoke's sword tapped Keizeix's shoulder.
Keizeix clicked his tongue.
"So close."
"Closer."
Keizeix lowered his blade.
That was praise.
He'd learned not to point it out.
A servant entered the training courtyard.
Not running.
But moving quickly.
Too quickly for routine business.
The servant bowed.
"Master Shirespoke."
Shirespoke turned.
"A sealed message arrived from the northeastern command."
Keizeix's amusement vanished.
The servant held out a dark container wrapped with military thread.
Shirespoke took it.
His eyes moved across the seal.
Vaelcor's.
He opened it.
Read.
The change in his face was immediate.
Keizeix tightened his grip around the wooden sword.
"What happened?"
Shirespoke folded the message.
"The King wants us in the war chamber."
Keizeix stared.
"Us?"
"Both of us."
Shirespoke started toward the courtyard exit.
Then stopped.
Looked back.
Whatever humor had been there during training was gone.
"Now, Keizeix."
Keizeix set the practice sword down.
And followed.