CHAPTER NINE
Ordinary Swords
The day's classes passed far too slowly, and I learned nothing, drumming my fingers on the wooden tabletops and waiting for a free moment when I could show Mira the rune book. I went to the mead hall with the other students for lunch, and sat beside Mira once I had my plate of food. "How was your morning?" I asked, sitting down at our table. It had a crack down the middle and leaned slightly to one side, so it was probably ours because no one else wanted it.
She chewed on a sprout. "We didn't do much," she said. "Calligraphy just had us practice dipping our pen into the inkwell and writing a single letter. And relics is still having us read about all the problems that happen when they're not used safely."
I sighed. "I know, I know."
Mira held out a hand. "Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that. Believe me, people have had a lot worse things happen when they misused relics."
"Worse than burning up a classroom?"
She glanced away. "It's not that bad. They say we might even be able to go back once they fix the windows." She smiled. "But look on the bright side. At least nobody was hurt."
I took a bite of bread. True, no one had been seriously hurt in the accident. But what about next time? Galen and my mother had made it clear that next time an Angel attacked, I would need the relics simply to stand a chance at fighting them. But how could I be sure that I wouldn't accidentally harm others?
I took out the Judge book and placed it on the table. "Can you read this?" I asked. "Ever since the Angel attack, I've been interested in learning more about them."
Mira turned the book over in her hands, gingerly turning the pages and peering down at them. "It's written in runic short form," she said. "If you know the meanings of runes, you can understand it. I can give you a translation of the first few pages so you can see what it's about. How do you know it has to do with the Angels?"
"It says 'Judge' on it. Does the Book of Visions call the Angels the 'Judges of mankind' or something?"
Mira nodded slowly. "That's a good point. Wow, I wouldn't have caught that." I didn't tell her how I'd learned about the term. She slipped the book into her bag. "I'll try to have the translation ready in a few days."
I glanced up, feeling someone's eyes on me and worrying it was Jans, looking for his missing book. Instead, Danelle was scowling at us, seated with her friends at their table across the room. "I wonder what her problem is," I muttered, looking away. "She's hated me ever since she knew who my mother was. Some sort of noble family rivalry?"
"I think I know why," said a voice behind me.
I paled. "Galen?" He stood there, looking like a painting of a prince with his flawless face, his coppery hair, his pristine surcoat of crimson and black. I suddenly hoped I had remembered to wipe the breadcrumbs from my face.
"Who else?" he said as he sat down between us. He held a tankard of juice with him. I knew it wasn't ale or beer due to my mother's strict policy against drinking in uniform. "But like I was saying, Danelle's opinion of you comes from her family's opinion of Lady Andreya. They think my association with her makes me look bad, and that of course makes Danelle look bad."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Well, we are betrothed."
A lightning bolt seemed to shoot through me. Galen, betrothed to the most vicious, horrible girl in all of Kant Vakt? But he was so nice to me. How could he already be taken? I realized Galen and Mira were staring at me, waiting for me to say something. "Oh. That explains it, then."
Galen nodded, as if nothing unusual had happened. "Anyway, I don't have time to chat today. I just wanted to stop by and remind you about tonight."
Tonight would be our first training session—out in the pouring rain. "I'm overjoyed," I said, rolling my eyes at him. After learning about my powers, it felt like I had been dragged into a spiderweb of secrecy and deceit. He was betrothed, I had to learn how to kill Angels, and my mother was being investigated for heresy and murder—with my help.
He gave me a sympathetic look. "This is really important, Kaybree," he said. He shot Mira a glance, reminding me that he couldn't talk openly when others were around. "As important as any of your classes, if not more. Try to take it seriously."
"Okay." I smiled at him. "I'll do my best."
"Excellent." He picked up his drink and gave polite nods to both of us. "Until next time, then." He strode off in the other direction, not once giving Danelle so much as a glance, which made me smile.
"What was that about?" Mira asked. "Does your mother have you on a special study schedule or something?"
"Something like that," I said. "Sorry, I'm not supposed to talk about it."
"No, I understand," she said. "Each House has its secrets. It's just that they usually have servants or guards doing the teaching. Having Galen Valkegaard drop by to give you a message is like using a relic to cook dinner."
Valkegaard. When I'd first heard Galen's surname, I'd been preoccupied with surviving the Angel's attack. But now I remembered where I'd heard the name before: at my last sagekeep. "House Valkegaard," I said, mostly to myself. "Isn't his family pretty high up in the capital?"
Mira gave me an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? They're third in line for the throne. If Galen weren't the youngest son, they'd never let him join the Vormund Order. He'd have all sorts of responsibilities in the capital."
"Then why do they let him?" I asked, picking at my bread.
"You should ask," Mira said. "I'm sure he'd tell you. He seems like he's really comfortable around you. I'll bet he'd even tell you why he's still betrothed to Danelle."
"Maybe," I said. I made a note to remember that when he was swinging a wooden staff at my head. Somehow I didn't see Galen answering any sensitive or complicated questions during our training sessions. We needed to spend all our time, according to him, preparing my skills for the next attack.
A group of students started applauding, and we turned toward the doorway to follow the crowd's attention. One of the boys, a little older than me, stood on a table and started singing. The others clapped along to the song:
Oh, I see a place
Out far by the bay
Through vision's all-seeking eye
And I know a song
That flies with the wind
And soars until the daybreak is nigh
So follow my tracks
Throw fear to the wind
Come search for the music we gave
Shout with me, my friends
Ale's great battle cry
We'll sing 'til we're dust in the grave
Come on!
When he was finished, the students clapped again, and he took a bow. I joined them; it must have taken quite a bit of courage to stand up and sing in front of the whole sagekeep. He grinned and made a sweeping gesture. "If you like to sing, or just like to listen, then come visit the Bard Song tomorrow night for our first show of the winter. The winter troupes are starting to come in, and we have an excellent lineup for you this year, including Snorri the First and Three Eyeless Hags."
A few students made sharp gestures toward the other doorway. Several sages strode into the room, scowls on their faces. The singer stepped down from the table and started for the other exit. "Price is one silver penny at the door. Hope to see you there!" We applauded him again as he left, only stopping when the sages shouted us to a pious silence.
When we began to trickle into our next classes, a low buzz of conversation began, and all of it was about the upcoming show. "It's like this every year," Mira said. "One of the local taverns has someone come in here and sing for us, and then the sages chase him out." She grinned in excitement. "You want to go? I'm sure they'd love to meet the daughter of Lady Staalvoss. A lot of them have their own issues with the sages, so you'll fit right in."
"Sure," I said. I'd never been allowed to go to taverns before. I had been mostly confined to the sagekeps where I was studying. My guardians had been appointed by my mother, which meant they shared her disciplinaria
n manner. "Can I meet you here? I still don't know the city very well."
"Of course." She pointed down a hallway. "Well, my class is down there. See you tomorrow in history, all right?"
After classes had finished for the day, I headed to the courtyard for my training session with Galen. A light rain was falling along with some snowflakes, making the ground soft and muddy. The sun started warming up the frosty ground as I stood beside the frozen fountain. Galen arrived a few minutes later, wearing a brimmed hat and carrying a sack that clanged with every step. I'd forgotten that hats were in fashion in the rainier port cities. "Ready for your first day?"
"If I'm not, does that mean we don't have to do it?"
"Nice try." He waved me over around the back. "Come with me."
We headed to a hidden courtyard behind the sagekeep. We had to vault a crumbling wall and traverse an overgrown path to find it, but by the time we arrived, the world around us was silent. A secluded location with Galen would have been an exciting prospect yesterday, but now that I knew he was betrothed—and to Danelle—it only made things awkward.
I shouldn't have worried; from the moment we arrived, he went straight to business. "All right, Kaybree, let's begin." He removed his coat and hat and set them on a stone ledge. Under his coat, he was dressed in an elegant black vest and collared shirt, with trousers and laced boots. It was an emerging courtly style, but certainly not what one would wear to training. If it was, then I had seriously underdressed.
"Are you sure you want to wear that out here?" I asked.
He smirked. "I think I'll be all right." He set down the sack and started pulling items out: two wooden swords, a heavy pad with dents in it, and a battered helmet. "Pick up one of the swords and I'll teach you some basic self-defense."
I picked up the wooden sword. It was lighter than I expected. "What kind of relic is this?"
He grabbed the other sword and began weaving a practice form in the air before him, the wood whooshing at his movements. "These aren't relics. They're ordinary practice swords."
"Oh," I said, disappointed. "I didn't know wooden swords worked against Angels."
Galen stepped forward and rapped against my shoulder with his sword. I jumped back, startled, and grabbed my newly throbbing shoulder. "First, you must master the basics of self-defense. If you can't fight with a sword, how do you expect to wield the most powerful weapons the human race has ever created?"
We had created the Weapons? As far as I knew, the Angels had forged all of the relics during the era of the Nordgard Empire. Perhaps Galen and my mother knew things the sages had forgotten. I held out the sword in front of me, skeptical. "And swinging around pieces of wood is supposed to help me?"
He adjusted my hands so they gripped the sword the right way. I took a little longer to fix my grip so his hands would stay there. "We can't have you carry around any Weapons on a regular basis yet. It would be dangerous if someone discovered that you had one—and worse if they found out you were our Witch." He took a position opposite me. "All right, aim the point of your sword at my throat. This is your ready stance."
"Ready for what?" I asked.
He stepped forward and whipped his sword around, knocking mine aside. His sword flew in a swift arc and ended up against my neck. "For that. Try it on me." I got back into ready stance and tried the same strike. But I didn't throw enough force into it, and our swords just cracked against each other. "Faster next time," he said. He frowned. "Oh, another reason why you can't carry Weapons around: you never know when they might shoot off sparks or flames for no reason."
I winced. "You heard about that?"
"Kaybree, everybody's heard about that."
I slashed at him again. This time he sidestepped and brought his sword down against my neck. He pulled the blow so it wouldn't injure me, but it was still frustrating. "I can't do anything if you keep changing up your attack pattern."
He arched an eyebrow. "And you think an Angel will just give you a predictable pattern to figure out? You need to learn to think like a fighter. Controlling the Weapons alone isn't enough."
I sighed. "Is that what your books tell you?"
"No. That's just common sense."
We sparred for the next couple of hours. We started with wooden swords, transitioning later to techniques involving fists and feet. He stifled a laugh when I hurt my wrist on my first punch. Once he'd shown me the correct technique, it didn't hurt so much. He taught me a maneuver to throw someone to the ground who rushed me as well. I would have enjoyed it more if it didn't involve me crashing to the ground each time and bumping my head on a rock.
After a grueling two hours of training, I was drenched in sweat and my muscles ached. The frigid air also made my fingers and toes numb. Galen dismissed me for the day, but instructed me to return the following day to continue. True to his confidence, not a spot of mud or dirt marred his clothes. While I assured him I would turn into a fireball and char the next Angel to smoldering bits, he warned me that the next ones wouldn't attack so directly, now that they knew I was here.
"Your power puts you on equal footing with them," he'd told me. "But each one of them has hundreds, maybe thousands of years of experience using their powers. You need training to beat them, and you need to outsmart them; otherwise you'll have no chance at all."
He promised me that tomorrow's task would be less physically taxing, like learning to ride a rangir, though from his urgent tone in discussing the Angels, I highly doubted that. Of course, in all his and my mother's talking about fighting the Angels, they had never mentioned being able to see them. Did they know that Witches could receive visions? Could they help me interpret what I was seeing?