Harsh Lessons (5 page)

Her balance was beyond exceptional: supernatural.  She had also grasped the key concepts very quickly; like that of the three gates: hand, elbow/forearm, sides; the need to protect her center.  What a difference the change in attitude had wrought.  Before, she had not listened; now, she soaked up all he could show her, like parched soil absorbing rain.  She had instantly grasped the idea of making and keeping contact, forming a bridge to your opponent to feel your enemy's intended moves.

Something about the speed at which she'd learned
that
lesson was faintly disturbing.  She showed an eagerness to touch, to embrace – a hunger to make and keep contact – that was almost sexual. 
Does she desire me?
  He shook his head.  He would deal with that if it arose.

She had made good progress in learning the eight basic moves, and the concept of combination attacks: although as often as not her offensives fell apart just planning two moves ahead while trying to remember the forms and defend herself.  Unlike her glorious performance at the end of their first session, when she had attacked purely instinctively.  He smiled, remembering.

She would be formidable indeed, once her body had learned the patterns.  He felt a frisson of anticipation as he considered their future bouts.  Already, he could see she would make a fearsome opponent, especially for someone who had not fought her. 
Often
.  With her unexpected responses, the speed of her blistering, un-telegraphed attacks, her uncanny intuition….

The lesson had stretched far longer than any he had ever taught before.  They continued now only while he waited for her to ask for it to end.

While she moved on the floor, he massaged his elbow.  It would bruise, he knew.  He was still uncertain how she had landed that blow.  Yet that uncertainty was a delight – something he had not expected to feel again.  Certainly not from a badly-taught child.  By his own dispassionate reckoning, he was one of the top three martial artists alive today.

Her magic still eluded his analysis.  He felt sure she
had
magic; yet equally sure she herself was unaware she used it.

Shaking his head, he focused on the matter at hand.  He had wanted to find her limits, and he had – mostly.  He now knew the limits of her physical attributes – her remarkable strength, speed, and stamina.  He knew how hard to push to make her angry, and from their earlier session he thought he knew the point at which she would lose control of her anger.  But as he watched her drag herself to her feet through pure nervous energy, he realized he had not yet found the limits of her stubbornness.

So there she stood, quietly panting, before once more adopting the defensive posture he had shown her: knees bent, feet turned in, arms held up – barely – and crossed at her center.  But she was clearly exhausted.  Again, he shook his head.  The Department's accountant, or even Nelson, the skinny hacker boy, could take her in the state she was in now. 
Probably
.  Still, her attitude was completely different from the undisciplined chaos of their first meeting.  This had been most rewarding.

'Miss Leeth, you are tired.' 
As am I.

She nodded.

'Miss Leeth, if we continue, you will be unfit for days.  I fear that even now, I may have pressed you too hard.  Tomorrow, you will ache badly.'

She simply shook her head.  He waited for her to speak.  Eventually, she seemed to realize that.

'Sensei.  Did I… did I pass?  Will you teach me?'

The eyes were big, earnest – entreating.  He looked at her in surprise.

'Why yes, Miss Leeth, you performed… well.  I will, I think, be most happy to teach you.'

'Oh!'

Her face lit with joy.  Suddenly, and with more energy than he thought remained to her, she leapt across the short distance separating them, arms spread wide.  For a moment he misread her intent, and barely restrained himself from knocking her down.  Then she was clinging to him, hugging fiercely. 
Desperately
.

He was more than a little nonplussed.  Perhaps she sensed it, for she suddenly released him and stepped back.  And gave a little bow.  'Thank you, Sensei.'

'You have earned it, Miss Leeth.'

A slight frown crossed her face.  'Can I ask a favor, Sensei?'

'You may
ask
,' he responded, warily.

'Could you please not call me "Miss Leeth?"  It makes me feel funny.  Can't you call me by my proper name?'

He frowned at her.  'The rules are strict.  We are to refer to one another by the new names we have taken – never by our real names.' 
Surely the girl knew that?

'But Leeth
is
my real name.  My codename isn't "
Miss
Leeth," so couldn't you leave it off?'

'Very well.  That is the end of today's lesson – Leeth.'

She smiled.

'You will be very sore tomorrow, but do not let the Doctor heal that "injury": it will prevent the building of new muscle.  So I do not expect you for a lesson tomorrow.  You will ache too much.'  As her jaw set in a stubborn line, he added, 'but I will let you be the judge of that.'

She smiled again, and again they exchanged formal bows.  As she was about to push through the doors to the gym, he called after her.

'Leeth?'

She turned.

'I am curious.  Where did you acquire your, ah, style?'

'Mostly from trids.'

He blinked slowly, in disbelief.  'You cannot learn the Art by watching movies!  One must fight!'

She shrugged.  'Well,
mainly
from trids: I'd try out bits of it in the gym back at the
Institute
.  Plus, Uncle took me to a real competition once.  Oh, and when I killed; I fought then.'

He could only stare at her, dumbfounded.  She seemed not to notice: just waited to see if he wanted to say anything else, then ducked her head in a tiny bow and left the room.

The doors swung shut behind her and he stood staring at them unseeingly.  Now he understood why she seemed so badly trained.  The mystery of her appalling teacher had been solved – she'd had none.  That she showed the skill she did was astonishing.

And whatever strange magic she held…. Recalling how he had exploited a sloppy and unbalanced stance, he visualized her recovery, once again feeling she had violated a law of physics.  And that look, at the climax of their first encounter, when he sensed she held something back.

Together, the memories made the skin on the back of his neck prickle, and he smiled.

But the matter of killing.  '
When I killed
,' he muttered under his breath, then pulled himself together.  Once again, it seemed Eagle had good reasons for the role he had chosen for an agent.

He wondered, though, whether even Eagle knew what lay beyond the door he had opened, this time.

She
would
be the one
.  He just hoped she would be enough.
 

Chapter 4 

Although the Bureau of Internal Development itself was of reasonable size, the
Accounts Department
– the ultra-secret agency concealed within it – consisted of just ten people.  Of these, only three were on full-time active status – unlike Dojo.  James, the third agent, didn't meet Leeth until the following week.

Emma had helped him complete his recent mission, and both now enjoyed a quiet moment in the rec room.  Gazing through the currently one-way translucent wall, they watched the figure swimming and diving – 
playing
– in the pool beyond.

James and Emma sat together in the wood-paneled room, with its large billiard table and wall of books.  The rich aroma of real coffee hung in the air.

James's eyes kept drifting back to the nymph undulating through the water. 
Men
, thought Emma, shaking her head.  'So, have you met her yet?  What do you think?'

'We have been introduced, yes.'  James's voice was deep, the tones so rich that Emma felt somehow nourished just listening to it.

Emma had both hands round her coffee mug as she held it close to her face, her dark eyes shining mischievously over its rim.  James could sense the dimpled smile concealed behind the mug.  Relaxing back in his chair, he ran his fingers briefly through his short dark-brown hair.  'She arrived last week, didn't she?'

'Mm-hmm,' Emma agreed.

'Before you joined me in Seattle,' he prompted.

'Mm-hmm.'

'So
you've
seen her more than I.'  His eyes drifted back to the girl in the pool.

'Mmm.   Though you seem to be doing your best to reverse the balance.  But I'm asking
you
.'  Emma lowered the mug, flicking the fringe out of her eyes with a short toss of her head.  'So?'

The girl emerged from the water at last.  Something about the movement struck James as odd, but then he saw she was completely naked.  Eyebrows raised, he watched her padding swiftly toward the diving board.

'Ahem.'

He dragged his attention back to Emma, who watched him with a knowing smile.

'Ah.'  James had the grace to look faintly embarrassed.  'Does she know that one can see into the pool from here?'

From up on the diving board, the figure waved to them.

Both stared in surprise, then shared a look, at the odd timing.

'I
think
she does,' said Emma.

Unsettled, they turned back to watch as the girl bounced high off the board, spun twice in a somersault, unfolding just as she met the water.  Emma and James winced in unison at the painful-looking impact.

'Well,' Emma demanded, 'what do you think?'

'Dibs.'

Emma's eyes narrowed.

'Needs more practice?'

Emma pursed her lips, and James wisely relented.  'Well, my first thought was that the Old Man was losing his grip – she's absurdly young.'  He looked over in the direction of the concealed recording device, wondering when or if this conversation would be reviewed.  Not that it worried him.

'It wasn't Father – it was Eagle who had her brought in.'

James looked surprised.  'Really? 
Eagle
found her? 
That's
interesting.  Father also specifically instructed me not to do or say anything that might
"
affect her unusual psychological orientation.
"
  He said you'd fill me in?'

'Father and Mother told
me
not to discuss the ethics of combat, or sexual morals.  Nor offer her any stimsense.'

James frowned while he considered the girl's casual nudity.  She reached the edge of the pool and pulled herself up out of the water, straight to a standing position in a single flowing motion, before padding back to the diving board again.

'And to avoid the use of in-house jargon.'

At that he turned back to Emma, and they exchanged unhappy looks.  'Expendable, then.'

'Have you met "the Doctor"?' Emma asked.

'Her guardian, the mage?  No, not yet.'

Preacher, the oldest of the Department's three agents, stalked in like a dark shadow.  Dressed in his usual black synth-leather gear, he favored them with a brief sneer on his way to the coffee brewing in the corner.  Judging by his self-assured swagger, jacked-in to his neural enhancer chip, James saw.  A shame the skill-set it provided wasn't packaged up with a more pleasant persona.  The dark-haired man filled a mug before moving over to the wall to stare out into the pool area.

All now watched as the girl spun in the air.  Preacher chuckled at her awkward entry into the water.

Not as bad as last time, though,
James thought.

'She's doing a lot of work with Dojo,' Emma continued.  'They had a sort of, um, argument in her first session.  But it was all straightened out the same day.'

She desperately wanted to share her recording of that first, astonishing encounter – but Mother and Father had sealed it.  'She's quite something.'

James looked back at her, picking up the message.  Emma widened her eyes and nodded, once.  James pushed out his lips, and raised his eyebrows.  Emma nodded, again.

'I've got her this afternoon on the weapons range.  Teaching her to shoot,' Preacher offered unexpectedly, not turning around.

'And I'm helping her dress for dinner tomorrow tonight – for a date with you, I believe, James?'  Emma offered.

James frowned slightly.  'Yes.  And I have tickets for the opera, after dinner at the Muses, three weeks from now.  I gather she needs practice, first.'

'Ahh,' Emma nodded.  'Should I be offering to come along too, as a chaperon?'

'I don't think that will be necessary, old girl.  I gather that I, too, am training her.'

Emma arched one eyebrow.

'Slotting typical!' Preacher turned to glare at James.  '
I
teach her to shoot, you teach her to screw.'

James smiled.  'I don't have any
firm
instructions on the subject.'

Preacher scowled, then stalked off.  With something like relief, the other two watched him leave.

Entering the adjacent room, he ordered Leeth from the water.  For a moment it looked like she was going to refuse.

But she got out of the pool with that same fluid movement, and padded over to her towel.  Patting herself dry, she followed Preacher to the door.  Where she stopped, before darting back to the bench to snatch up her clothes.
 

Chapter 5 

That night, Leeth lay on her bed, holding up the smartsheet with her “timetable” before her, trying to work out whether she liked it or not.

It seemed very… organize-y.