Young Rissa (21 page)

“I am glad that status does not intrude here. Now — my question?”
 

“Unarmed, you say? There's several good ones, but — remember Ernol? The dark one? I'd say he's the best, all around. But can I ask — why? I mean — excuse me if I misjudge you, but you must know you can't use a substitute in a duel.”
 

Mouth full, unable to speak, she gestured. Then; “Of course not — what I need is someone to practice with. I have been shadowfighting, but that is only part of training and preparation.”
 

“Ernol's your man, then. And don't worry — he'll take it easy; he won't hurt you.”
 

Again, to swallow, she had to pause. “If he does not try his utmost, he will be no use to me. Will dal Nardo take it easy?”
 

“But — ”
 

“Oh, we will — assuming Ernol is willing to help me — use practice rules. No deliberate disabling or mutilation, and so forth. But if he can throw me, I expect to land hard — if I do not, I shall be disappointed in him.”
 

Castel grinned. “If Ernol throws you, not holding back, I guarantee you'll land hard enough to suit you!”
 

She had eaten rapidly; she mopped up the last of the egg, then filled her coffee cup again and rereplenished his half-full one. “That is good. Will you see Ernol, do you think, in the next hour or so?”
 

“I can, easy enough.”
 

“Will you ask him if it is feasible — I do not know his duties — to practice with me this morning?” Castel nodded. “Then I will expect him — or word that he cannot meet me — at my door, in an hour or a little more.”
 

“He'll be there. Oh — what type of combat suit should he bring?”
 

“Dal Nardo and I are to fight nude.” She paused. “If Ernol does not wish to practice that way, he can wear briefs of the kind that are smooth and give no handhold — and I will, also, if he prefers.” Another pause. “Oh, yes — ask him to bring wrestling-grease.” Castel stared at her. “For my hair. No matter how I bound it, dal Nardo could dig in and find a grip. I cannot afford that.”
 

“You could cut it.”
 

“But I will not. And the grease has other advantages.”
 

He shrugged. “It's your fight. All right — I'll have Ernol report as soon as he can.”
 

“Thank you, Castel.” She rose and would have picked up her dishes, but the young man took them himself, carrying them to a stacked counter. He waved a hand and left.
 

She paused to thank the cook, then went out. Sparline Moray sat alone in the dining room, drinking coffee; the remains of her breakfast had not yet been removed.
 

“Well, Rissa — where have you been? Liesel went into town first thing — said she'd eat when she got there — and Hawkman's still not come back. So, as you see, I had to eat alone.”
 

“I am sorry, but I was up early. No one was here. I was very hungry, so I ate in the kitchen.”
 

“I do that myself, sometimes. Learn anything interesting?”
 

“I have arranged, I think, for a partner to practice unarmed combat. I have been shadow-fighting, of course, but it is not the same as a real workout.”
 

“Whom have you picked?”
 

“The dark one called Ernol.”
 

Sparline thought, then nodded. “Oh, yes — he's very good. Sometimes we have contests — like tournaments — among our own people or with other houses. Ernol hasn't lost at his own weight or near it since — oh, maybe two years ago. You — are you sure he's the one you want?
I'd
be very cautious against him, even at my best — and I've had training he hasn't, yet.”
 

“The best is what I want. But — you know things Ernol does not? Would you, perhaps, work with me also, a time or two?”
 

Sparline shook her head. “I'm too rusty — out of shape — I haven't kept at it lately. A demonstration, maybe, if you like . . .”
 

“All right; we will see. I must go upstairs now and prepare.”
 

In her room she rummaged and found briefs and a halter; she put them in a carrying bag in case Ernol wished them worn. As an afterthought, she added a pair of thin plastic gloves. Then she lay on the bed, relaxing and waiting. The knock caught her dozing.
 

She came awake at once, rose and opened the door. “You are prompt, Ernol. Shall we go?” He nodded; she picked up the bag and they walked downstairs and out of the Lodge.
 

The few times he had escorted her on walks, Ernol had been pleasant but not talkative. Now he said nothing. She looked up to his face — he was taller by nearly a head — and said, “I hope you do not mind working with me. I need to practice with someone, and both Sparline and Castel say you are the best here.”
 

“I don't mind; I like to practice. I like to fight, too — but of course
now
— ”
 

“Ernol — if Castel did not tell you, I want your full efforts, no holding back — as though practicing against your most skilled rival. You would not use maiming tactics, of course — and we will not, here. But otherwise — well, if you do not do your best, you will be of little help to me.”
 

He looked at her. “I hope you know what you're asking. Well, we'll see.”
 

“Yes. We will. Oh — is nude combat acceptable?”
 

“Well — I'm not used to it, with a woman. How to guard the crotch when the risk's all one way — the idea sets me off balance a little. But as long as it's just practice . . .”
 

“Are you sure? You will not be
entirely
safe there; that would not be realistic. You must be on guard.”
 

“Same as with a man, yes. All right.” He took her arm. “Over here's where we practice without clothes. Leave the gate shut, and nobody comes in.”
 

With the gate closed behind them, they followed a path that wound through undergrowth and reached a clearing — round, level, its soil hard-packed. Ernol stripped without comment; Rissa did also. When she was done, she looked at him.
 

Clothed, he had looked slim, not especially powerful. Now she saw the width of shoulders compared to waist, the sleek muscles and flat belly. She nodded. “Certainly, Ernol, you have the physique to be great in combat.”
 

“So do you. And if — if it weren't for status, I'd say more.”
 

“I assume you mean a compliment; if so, I accept it. But we are here for practice.” “I know.” His breathing was rapid. “I wish we weren't, though.” “You would be disappointed. I am not a responsive woman.” “Oh. Anyway, I guess I should apologize.” His shoulders slumped.
 

“For what? You said nothing wrong. Now let us get on with it. First, will you rub the grease you brought into my hair so you can get no grip on it? Here — these gloves will keep your hands dry.”
 

The grease felt clammy on her scalp, and on her back when he let her hair drop against it. “Make certain there are no twists or knots that fingers can catch in. That is the point of this tactic.” He reassured her and stripped off the gloves; they stood and faced each other, about three paces apart. “Thank you, Ernol. We may begin —
now!
” But she did not move.
 

Nor did he; both waited. Well, if he would not start it, she would. She moved in short, slow steps — toward him, to one side, then the other, now back a step and —
 

Without warning his foot shot out; as she dropped to one side and rolled, the heel grazed her ear. She thought,
good! — he is really going to push me as hard as he can.
She barely escaped his following lunge — he
was
fast — and as he went past her, caught him under the ribs with a hand chop. He wheeled; again they faced, and he was smiling. “You
do
know what you're doing! I'm glad.”
 

Then he rushed her, veiling intent with feints before his hand scythed at her neck. Her hunched shoulder caught the blow; she dodged away. Her heel caught his kneecap a token gouge as she flatcartwheeled to come facing him, on hands and feet a moment before she sprang upright and circled to his left. “They told me truth, Ernol. You are very good indeed!”
 

Through the next passage, and another and another, they learned each other's ways. Panting more than he, from her disadvantage in size and reach, Rissa considered what she knew.
 

She ducked under his lunge, braced hands on the ground to one side, and plunged a foot at his moving body. He overbalanced and fell heavily, up again before she could follow her advantage — but she had made the first throw. Now, perhaps the spice of anger . . .
 

But he smiled again. “That move — I hadn't known it. You'll teach me later?” She nodded, and at that moment the pattern became clear to her.
 

Now she concentrated on learning what Ernol used, of the tactics she knew, and what he did not. She was sweating freely, breathing hard — her blood pumped hot and strong as she moved and countermoved, took blows and gave them. Pain came and went; she threw it off until later. But one thing was clear . . .
 

As she wove and dodged, struck and retreated, she knew her advantage over Ernol — he was very good at what he knew, but as she had predicted to Hawkman, she knew things he could not know.
 

Nor — she exulted — could dal Nardo!
 

Now she tried moves she knew to be recent developments on Earth at the time she had left it. Neither knowing nor expecting them, Ernol was vulnerable and could not counter, so she used only token force. After a time, both of them slowed by fatigue, he spread both hands wide and said, “I'm thirsty. And I caught your hair by mistake and can't hold on with this hand. Take a break?”
 

She panted; the last exchanges had been strenuous. “Yes, of course.” At the edge of the clearing, while Ernol wiped his hand, she looked at her watch. “Ernol! I would not have believed it. Do you know we have been working for nearly an hour?”
 

She drank from their canteen, then waited while he took a few swallows. He said, “It didn't seem that long, but sure feels like it. You know something?”
 

“Possibly — but what you wish to tell me, I do not know.”
 

“I didn't think you could stay with me this long. Nobody has, lately, my size or even a little bigger. You sure know stuff that I don't.” He shook his head. “Maybe I'm not as good as I thought.”
 

She touched his shoulder. “In the techniques you know, Ernol, you are superb. It is only that I come recently from Earth and have learned others.” She laughed. “In fact, you used one new to me — and nearly took my head off!”
 

She saw him relax. “Then I don't have to feel ashamed, to be stopped all the time by a little runt like you.” His eyes widened. “Oh, hey — I'm sorry, Ms. Obrigo — I didn't mean — ”
 

She laughed. “There is no offense — it is a fact that compared to you I am short in height. But I have had training that is not available to you on this planet.”
 

“You said — you'll teach me?”
 

“Gladly.” She moved her shoulders and winced. “I do not know about you, Ernol, but I think I have had enough for today. My muscles complain.”
 

She saw him looking at the bruise on her rib cage and the lower part of her left breast. “Hey,” he said, “I didn't mean to get you on the tit that way. But you jumped, you see, and I — ”
 

She shook her head. “No apologies, Ernol. We stayed with practice rules and still had a good hard session of it, so we bear the marks. But neither of us is truly injured. It was a good workout, and I thank you. Has your nose finished bleeding from when I had to butt in order to break free?”
 

“Just about.”
 

“Good.” She started to gather her clothing. “We had better get back to the Lodge and wash ourselves.”
 

“There's a stream a little further along. It's chilly, but that's good after a workout like this.”
 

She had pictured soaking in a hot tub, but . . . “All right.”
 

He led the way; soon the path reached a mossy stream bank. “It is wide enough for swimming,” she said. “How deep?”
 

“To my waist. The current's fairly strong — but steady, not tricky. And a sandy bottom here — good footing.” Suddenly he shouted, “Last one in's a frunk!”
 

She had no chance — with the first word he leaped, a flat dive, and then a sharp turn to avoid the opposite bank. He stood and splashed up at her; laughing, she took a step and jumped, feet first, pulling up her knees to land spraddled and make a huge splash. She went under, rolled and put her feet down to come up standing, braced against the current and facing him. She shook her head to free her eyes of water. “Chilly, did you say? I think you would have to warm it to freeze it!” She lay forward and swam a few strokes upstream, working hard but barely making headway.
 

She stood again, panting now, waded to the bank and squatted beside Ernol in the shallower water. As he was doing, she began rubbing herself with the fine bottom-sand — first arms and legs, then her body. Several places, when she touched them, caused her to wince. Before she was finished, the chill had her teeth chattering.