Young Rissa (24 page)

Abruptly, he laughed. “Not make sense? Sure it does.” He laughed again, more quietly. “How do you think I got to his throat so fast?”
 

She checked the centering of her controls for level flight, then turned to look at him. “The extra adrenaline does not go away immediately, does it?”
 

“It sure doesn't. I — ”
 

“Ernol. This, now — it is much like yesterday, after we fought. Is it not?” She did not wait for answer; looking ahead and down she said, “I see a clearing where we might land. Do you mind if our lunch at the Lodge is somewhat delayed?”
 

 

Airborne again, now approaching the Lodge, Ernol said, “I see what you meant. You made it great for me — better than anybody — but I couldn't for you, could I?”
 

“It is my own lack, Ernol — no one has done better. And I enjoyed very much the pleasure I could give you.” She sighed. “Let us drop the matter — except to keep good memories of each other.”
 

“Not again, then?”
 

“I would not think so. Unless, if ever we practice-fight again . . .”
 

“Yes, maybe. But it doesn't matter — I'll fight for you anytime — against anybody.”
 

“Of course. And I for you — as we did today.” They smiled together.
 

 

When she landed, Ernol said, “I'll see you tomorrow, then,” and started toward the rear entrance.
 

“No — come with me. We have a report to make.” He turned and followed her inside. It was past lunch time, but they found Liesel and Sparline still in the dining room, lingering over coffee.
 

Liesel looked up. “Took you long enough. Anything special happen?”
 

“A few things. We are hungry. May Ernol, who has fought for me today, eat with me also, while we tell you?”
 

Liesel grinned. “Sure — our protocol's not
that
strict.” She rang for service.
 

A boy entered and Rissa chose her meal. Ernol said nothing; she looked to him. “Would you like the same?” He nodded. “Two orders, then, but add extra helpings to his, please.”
 

Rissa began her account, occasionally checking details with Ernol. The food came, and for once she talked while eating. Meal and story ended at about the same time; the serving-boy removed the dishes and poured more coffee. When he had gone, Liesel asked, “You think Bleeker wanted Tendal to kill you, and protested only so Ernol could witness for him?”
 

“I do not know. Perhaps Bleeker himself does not. He is not, I think, very intelligent. Cunning, yes — but shortsighted.”
 

“How do you mean?” Sparline said.
 

“The tool he chose — Blaise Tendal. Hawkman was right; the man is not sane — nor reliable. He tried for Ernol first — and with his witness dead, how would Bleeker stand?”
 

Liesel nodded. “And more than that — probably Tendal would've made a clean sweep,
including
Bleeker. His record isn't one of moderation.”
 

For the first time, except to answer, Ernol spoke. “How many kills does he have?”
 

Sparline said, “I'm not sure. More than twenty, though.”
 

Ernol's fist tapped the table. “That's too many.”
 

“You think to challenge him?” Sparline shook her head. “You've never killed, have you, Ernol? No — I know you haven't. But you can't do it, anyway — his dal Nardo marriage puts him out of status range.”
 

“That's a mock marriage! Everybody knows it!”
 

“Yes,” said Liesel. “But binding, all the same.”
 

“If the dal Nardos can do it — “ He looked to Sparline. “You're not married. No disrespect — I wouldn't presume — afterward you'd annul it and I'd leave so things wouldn't be awkward. But — ”
 

Sparline patted his hand. “Ernol, you're a dear young man — I'm fond of you, and I expect you'd be a lovely romp. And I'm
most
pleased with what you did today. But no marriage of mine will be a mock one. And besides, I'm
too
fond of you to help you go up against a twenty-plus killer.”
 

He pulled his hand away. “If I've offended — ”
 

Liesel made a brief snort of laughter. “Offended? Peace, no! Initiative never offends me — unless it's irresponsible, and yours isn't. You want to know the truth, I'm
touched
— and that's rare.”
 

She scowled at nothing. “Tomorrow morning, Ernol — no, the next day, after this mess is settled — come to my office. All right?”
 

“Yes, of course. But — ”
 

“You're wondering why? You can handle more responsibility than you've had. We'll discuss your new promotion, is all.”
 

He looked down at his hands. “Thank you. Maybe I should go now. Work to do.”
 

“You've
done
a good day's work,” said Liesel, “but all right.”
 

He rose and walked toward the kitchen. Rissa called after him, “My thanks again, Ernol. I will see you tomorrow morning — and well rested, I hope.” He nodded but did not turn.
 

 

Liesel shook her head. “All this young talent, and I never have time to keep tabs on who deserves a better job. Rissa, I'm glad you spotted this one for me before he got totally stuck in the servant mentality.”
 

“He's not stuck in anything,” said Sparline. “He follows status rules, is all. Raise his status, and he'll adjust like a shot.”
 

“Rissa, what do you think?”
 

“Your status system, Liesel, is not clear to me. But about Ernol, Sparline is right. He has great potential.”
 

“Well. Good.” Liesel stood. “Back to work for me, too. Still no word from Hawkman; maybe I'll find his call on record.” She walked away, into the hall and then out of sight.
 

Rissa's coffee was cold, and she wanted no more. She felt drained, unready for the exercising she had planned. She sat, aware of Sparline's gaze but saying nothing.
 

Finally the other spoke. “The times don't fit.”
 

“Pardon?”
 

“You met Bleeker, this and that happened — not to slight what
did
happen — you came out, and that's all. Took you a long time to get home, I think. How'd you go — via the Slab Jumbles?”
 

“No.” Sparline's concerned expression belied her flippant words. “We stopped on the way — there was a clearing. I rectified my omission of yesterday. And I am glad I did.”
 

“So I guessed right about him!”
 

“A lovely romp, you said? Very much so — or he would be, if — you see, my body has never responded fully to any man.”
 

“Rissa, I — I mean — ”
 

“Nor to any woman, for that matter. But my gladness — that is for Ernol's pleasure in our coupling.”
 

Sparline's laugh was shaky. “I didn't know — I'm sorry. But as long as you didn't feel you were being
used
— ”
 

“I have been used before; perhaps I will be again. But it is
not
mere use when it is of my own choice.”
 

“No — I suppose not. Well — as Ernol said, and Liesel — there's work to do. Excuse me?” Rissa looked after her, wondering if she had said too much. Finally she shrugged — did it matter?
 

 

In her room she dressed for exercise. Outdoors, she deliberately ran herself out of breath — then, panting, she practiced the most demanding of her skills. She leaped and dove, fell and landed rolling; she swung her legs in kicks that stretched tendons near to pain. Against a thick tree trunk she made the high kick that somersaulted her backward to land crouched, facing the tree to kick again or change attack if need be. Never did she pause to catch breath, but soon her lungs caught up to her pace and she knew she would not lose to fatigue.
 

She ran again — not sprinting now but moving easily — bobbing and turning, stretching herself free of tensions, breathing long and deeply to fill her lungs with the moist, clear air. When she had enough and turned for a final run back to the Lodge, she could not feel a stiff or sore muscle. Aside from a few bruises, she realized, she had not felt so fit since her training days at Erika's.
 

Back in her room, she bathed — but in water not much more than tepid, rather than the heat of the day before. She was on a fine edge now; too deep a relaxation might lose it. There was a balance, she had learned — now was the time to keep it, very carefully.
 

Emotionally that balance was precarious; she decided not to risk it. She sent word to Liesel that she would take dinner and next morning's breakfast alone in her room. And she placed her orders for those meals — what she would have, and when.
 

The rest of the evening, except for eating dinner, she spent in meditation. And now, rather than shutting her anxieties away, she was able to dissolve them. An early hour found her ready for sleep.
 

 

Rissa woke slowly, stretched and yawned. She rolled over to doze longer; then the thought stabbed her:
It's today!
She spread her limbs, muscles flaccid, until the premature adrenaline subsided. Then she rose and began to prepare.
 

Her nails were shorter than she wished; she filed those of thumbs and middle fingers to the best points she could manage, and cut the rest short.
 

Her breakfast, a light meal but sustaining, came on schedule. She had a free hour before departure time; she used it leisurely, and when she went downstairs, found herself untroubled by the thought that she might never see that room again.
 

She listened, heard voices from the dining room and smiled. Of course — where else would they be?
 

Five awaited her; she felt disappointment that none was Hawkman. Liesel, Sparline, Ernol, and two strangers. The large one, built like a bear — that would be Splieg, who poleaxed bushstompers with his bare fist. The smaller, thin-faced with a crooked nose, must be Lebeter the knifester.
 

Before any could greet her, she raised a hand. “Good morning, and let me say something quickly. For what is to come, the mental state — the concentration — is most important. So with no thought of discourtesy, may I ask that none speak to me until we are in the arena, and then only of the combat itself?”
 

One by one they nodded. Low-voiced, Liesel said to the others, “She's right. I've heard of this — never saw it before, though. All right, I'll say no more.”
 

She led the way outside and to an aircar larger than the ones Rissa had seen here before. “You're familiar with this model, Lebeter?” The man nodded. Liesel put a hand to Rissa's shoulder, squeezed once, then turned and walked away.
 

Lebeter took the pilot's chair; Splieg sat beside him, leaving the broad rear seat for Rissa to sit between Ernol and Sparline.
 

The sun was bright, the clouds few as Lebeter took them through the gap and turned toward One Point One. Rissa felt the weight of the silence she had imposed; in her peripheral vision she saw Sparline and Ernol watching her. Unable to be comfortable, she wriggled. Finally she took Sparline's hand on one side and Ernol's on the other. After a few moments she noticed that all three were breathing deeply and in unison. For the rest of the ride she relaxed with closed eyes.
 

The aircar landed; they approached the arena, a fenced enclosure with guarded gate. Sparline looked in first, turned and said, “Hawkman's inside. I'm afraid we brought you to no purpose, Lebeter — sorry. Roam as you will, but stay fairly near the aircar — we may be leaving in more hurry than we expect.” The man waved a hand in half-salute and walked to sit beside the car, his back against a landing wheel.
 

“Formation,” said Sparline. Rissa found herself surrounded as they walked forward and through the gate — Sparline and Ernol in front and Splieg behind.
 

Inside, as she strove to make a pattern, to identify those present, there was no help to relaxation. She first saw — and heard — dal Nardo; at the far side he shouted at a black-robed figure flanked by two in gray. Sparline muttered, “Harassing the referee already, is he?”
 

Alongside dal Nardo, Rissa saw two men and a woman, none familiar to her. And half-hidden, behind a hulking shape entirely cloaked in robe and hood, stood Blaise Tendal. She blinked and saw Hawkman Moray approaching, followed by a tallish, slim man wearing a mask-hood. Hawkman and Sparline clasped hands, and he said, “We'd better do it. You tell her.” Rissa could not hear her reply.
 

She looked further. The other two — the woman in white was, of course, the doctor, and beside her Rissa saw a girl with short tousled fair hair. The girl turned and she recognized her briefly-met friend, Felcie Parager. Felcie's eyes went wide.
 

“Oh, Tari! I was afraid it might be you — but I hoped it wasn't!”
 

“Breach of terms!” Dal Nardo roared it. “Officials supposed to be neutral! I claim foul!”