Usually they were evenly matched, but Pax was clearly feeling the Force

  today. His attack was long and fluid, a series of feints and cuts that came

  blindingly fast, each disguised as the other, so the real attacks melted in and

  out of the fake ones. Scout parried the first three with increasing difficulty,

  gave ground, felt herself becoming lost in the swirls of humming light, and

  finally broke back in full flight, using her speed to plain run away until she

  could escape the maze of humming green light he had almost trapped her in.

  Another pause.

  They stood five paces apart. Scout was breathing hard. Glancing down, she saw

  a char mark on her tunic where his blade had come too close. The smell of burned

  cloth tickled the back of her throat.

  Pax looked down at his own saber, wide-eyed. "Did you recognize it, Scout?"

  "What?"

  "The Mrlssi half-hitch. The knot you taught me. I was feeling for you with

  the Force, you know, the way they teach us, and suddenly it was like I was

  making the Half-Hitch around you, but all in light."

  Murmurs throughout the room, and scattered clapping.

  So much for trying to beat him straight up, Scout thought grimly. Time for

  Plan B.

  Pax looked up at her in wonder. "I've never done anything like that before,"

  he said, delighted. And he stepped toward her with renewed confidence, eager to

  dissolve once more into the calm fury of the Force.

  Scout dropped her lightsaber on the ground.

  Pax stopped, puzzled. Scout held out her hands, palm up, and bowed.

  Understanding dawned. Pax clipped his lightsaber to his belt and returned her

  bow respectfully. Now that the combat fire was draining from him, Scout could

  tell he was anxious that she not lose face. "Well fought," he said. And then,

  taking a step nearer, he whispered, "This isn't going to mean they send you to

  the corps, is it?"

  Scout tried to smile reassuringly, and held out her hand to shake. "Don't

  worry about me," she said soothingly, as his hand entered hers. "I'll be—"

  In the middle of her sentence, as soon as his grasp was in hers, she flipped

  it over into a wrist lock. Pax blinked in surprise, then went quickly to his

  knees as Scout upped the pressure.

  "Oh, man," he breathed. "You got me." And with his other hand he tapped three

  times on the floor.

  Scout instantly let him out of the wrist lock. "Sorry!" she said.

  Hanna Ding, an Arkanian apprentice Scout's age, shouldered past her to get to

  Pax. "That was ill bred," she said. At the best of times, Hanna had more than

  her share of Arkanian hauteur, and now a single glance with her milky white eyes

  made it clear that, as little as she had ever expected from Scout, she had

  expected more than this.

  Master Iron Hand approached Pax. "Are you all right, Chizzik?"

  "My pride is a little bruised," he said ruefully, shaking the tingles out of

  his right hand, "but otherwise I'm fine."

  "Of course you'll disqualify Enwandung-Esterhazy," Hanna said.

  "With all due respect," Scout ground out, forcing herself to meet Master

  Xan's eye, "the conditions of the match were plainly laid out."

  "Combat to continue until one competitor surrenders, or receives three cuts,"

  Pax said. "It's not Scout's fault I was dumb enough to forget the rules. She

  tricked me fair and square."

  "I see no reason to overturn the result of the match," Master Xan said, and

  she walked back to the center of the room.

  Hanna Ding watched her go. "Well done, Scout. You proved you can beat up

  little boys, as long as you are allowed to cheat." She turned her milky eyes on

  Scout. "How proud you must be."

  Somehow Scout wasn't surprised to find she would be sparring with Hanna in

  the second round. It was so very much the Jedi style to throw the two of them

  together and see who would be able to retain her composure the best. Hanna's

  proud, pale features took on an expression of distinct pleasure when she heard

  Scout's name called after her own. "I am looking forward to this," she said.

  I bet you are, Scout thought grimly. Realistically, Hanna was much the better

  fighter. Physically, Scout gave herself a very slight advantage in speed and

  strength, thanks to her extra training. Technically they were comparable—Hanna

  possibly stronger with the lightsaber, while Scout was definitely ahead in the

  unarmed techniques that Master Iron Hand taught. But when the Force was added

  into the equation, the contest wasn't even close. Hanna was fourteen, and her

  use of the Force was on an entirely different level from Pax Chizzik's:

  polished, strong, and supple. Scout watched her warm up across the chamber,

  leaping ridiculous distances into the air and then drifting down, light as a

  snowflake falling.

  "Good luck," Lena murmured, watching Hanna warm up.

  Scout grunted. "On the bright side, at least I'll be fighting someone I

  really want to hit."

  It was time for their bout. They bowed to Master Xan, presented weapons, got

  them back, bowed to one another. Master Xan said, "Some of the apprentices were

  very vocal in lobbying for a tournament that was `more like real life.' " Was

  Scout imagining it, or did Master Xan look directly at her? "In real life, we

  rarely get optimal combat conditions. One might find oneself attacked in null

  gravity, for instance. Or by surprise, or by a droid or other creature whose

  physiology made certain techniques difficult or impossible. Of course,

  introducing a Gorax into the Temple is not practical. But there are some things

  we can do. For instance, in real life—" Scout would swear the Master's eyes were

  lingering on her again. "—it is often dark."

  And the lights went out.

  Oh, great, Scout thought. No problem. I don't need to trust my eyes, after

  all.

  I can trust the Force.

  It was pitch black. In the darkness, Scout could just hear the audience

  breathing, and the sound of her own blood beating in her ears. A soft rustle of

  cloth from the direction Master Xan had been standing in. She would be lifting

  up the red handkerchief—and Scout had no way of telling when she was going to

  let it go.

  Oh, boy.

  She tried to use the Force, tried to let her awareness seep out into the dark

  room. She could feel the presence of the watching acolytes, Master Yoda back in

  the corner, Master Xan. But she couldn't find the little scrap of red cloth. For

  that matter, she had only a vague idea of where Hanna was. It was as if the

  Arkanian were muddying the Force, the way a Quarren might squirt ink into the

  sea.

  Well, there was nothing for it. She couldn't draw before the handkerchief

  touched the ground, and she couldn't tell when that was going to happen. She

  would just have to stay alert, ready to spring backward at the first instant

  Hanna made any move.

  Scout stared into the darkness. Her eyes felt wide as saucers, and she was

  straining to hear every creak and whisper. The little hairs on her arms stood

  up, as if she could listen with her skin.

  And then, a gift from the Force: the sudden electric knowledge that Hanna was

  going to lash out—Now!


  The Force told Scout when the attack was coming; her own hard work told her

  what it would be. Scout had watched Hanna fight many times in the last six

  weeks. She knew Hanna would start with a high, Force-aided leap, to get out of

  Scout's plane of vision, hoping to drop down like a bird of prey from above. The

  Arkanian's blade blazed to life, a stroke of green lightning crackling down from

  directly overhead: but Scout's blade, a wand of cool blue flame, was there to

  meet it. The weapons clashed in a jarring burst of sparks, but Scout had the

  floor to brace against, and the force of her parry sent Hanna tumbling backward

  through the air. The Arkanian twisted into a perfect backflip and landed in a

  balanced fighting stance.

  A scatter of applause drifted around the room.

  Blue and green reflections hissed and spat in the milk-white surface of the

  Arkanian girl's eyes. "Come now, Esterhazy. Aren't you going to try one of your

  dirty tricks on me? You didn't use them all up on poor little Pax, did you?"

  Scout grinned. "Not even close."

  If Hanna had a weakness, it was that she was too in love with her lightsaber.

  There was something in her fastidious nature that made the sweaty grappling of

  hand-to-hand combat distasteful to her; she was really much happier standing two

  paces from her opponent and letting her blade do the fighting for her. "You

  know, Hanna, there's one thing I've always wondered. How exactly do you manage—"

  Scout exploded into a flying fleche in the middle of her sentence, hoping to

  catch the Arkanian off guard. Hanna snapped to parry, Scout disengaged, Hanna

  caught her blade triumphantly and slid it down to the side. Scout's blue

  lightsaber passed harmlessly by as Hanna spun like a matador to let her go by,

  but that was all right, since Scout had only meant the swordplay to be a

  distraction, something for Hanna to feel superior about, right up to the moment

  Scout's body was nearly past, when her whip kick knocked Hanna off her feet.

  They both hit the mat hard.

  Scout tried to push her advantage, but by the time she was back on her feet

  the Arkanian was flashing forward in a lunge of her own. Hanna had a humming,

  buzzing, circular style of swordplay, fast slashes that changed angle

  continuously. Only Scout's little Force talent saved her, subtly prompting her

  to ignore the feints and parry the real blows.

  Remember, you are the weapon, Scout told herself. Don't get caught thinking

  about the lightsaber alone. Be the weapon.

  Slash, parry, slash, parry, slash—and this time instead of making the

  expected parry high, Scout dived in low under the blade, trying to tackle Hanna

  around the knees. The Arkanian flipped up, sending Scout between her legs as she

  somersaulted in the air, twisted, and landed in a fighting stance. Scout tucked,

  turning her dive into a roll, and bounced up. They were both breathing hard now.

  Lightsabers buzzed, blue and green.

  Hanna lunged again, but this time she used the Force as well, dragging on

  Scout's sword arm so her parry came too late and she had to throw herself wildly

  backward out of the center circle of mats to evade the blow. Regaining her

  balance, she skipped in among the surprised spectators, who scrambled out of her

  way.

  "Hey!" Hanna cried. "You can't go in there!" She swung around to face Master

  Xan. "She can't go in there. One of the bystanders could get hurt!"

  Scout edged behind Lena Missa. "Bystanders get hurt sometimes," she said with

  a shrug.

  "Master Xan!"

  Scout rather thought there was something like a smile tugging at the bottom

  of the Jedi Master's mouth. "This is real, Master Xan." Scout tapped Lena

  lightly on the shoulder. "This is the terrain."

  "Perhaps so," Iron Hand said dryly. "But I think we'll try to keep the mayhem

  at least a little contained today, Scout. Fighting in the central circle only."

  She held up her hand even as Hanna's mouth started to open. "That does not

  constitute reason for Enwandung-Esterhazy's disqualification. I have made the

  ruling in flow, and she may recommence inside the boundaries at no penalty. You

  will both be satisfied." It wasn't a question.

  "Of course," Scout said immediately, with a low bow. "Of course," Hanna

  grated out.

  Hanna stood aside. With all the composure she could muster, Scout walked back

  into the circle of mats. "Begin."

  Hanna's sword point dropped and she leapt forward, slashing for Scout's head.

  And Scout ran behind Master Xan.

  Hanna's lightsaber blade got to within a hand span of the Jedi Master's face,

  froze, and snapped back like a child's finger from a hot stove.

  "Whoa there," Scout said. "You nearly hurt an innocent bystander."

  Hanna's mouth opened in something like a snarl. She lunged behind Iron Hand.

  Scout scurried out in front.

  "Stop!" Master Xan said.

  "It's not my fault," Scout said. "You're in the terrain."

  Hanna made furious gurgling noises.

  Iron Hand was definitely trying not to smile. "True, Scout." She walked to

  the edge of the circle of mats, with Scout and Hanna in orbit around her like

  two eccentric moons. "But sometimes, the terrain changes."

  "I was afraid you'd say that," Scout sighed, leaping backward to avoid a

  slash as Master Xan left the ring.

  Hanna stalked after her. "Any more cute ideas?"

  "I'm working on it."

  At least she had the Arkanian mad enough that she wasn't bringing the Force

  to bear with quite as much finesse as she had at the beginning of the bout. On

  the downside, she was running out of tricks to deal with Hanna.

  The other apprentice knew it, too. Once more she attacked, methodically this

  time, step after step, driving Scout toward the edge of the ring. Can't let it

  go like this, Scout thought. She couldn't let herself get trapped purely on the

  defensive. She fell back, parried a slash and whipped her wrist around to bind

  their blades, then leaned as if she was going to charge forward as she had with

  Pax. This rime she reached up with her left hand and made a jabbing two-finger

  pop to the pressure point under Hanna's left elbow.

  It was perfect. As the Arkanian's forearm went temporarily numb, her

  nerveless fingers opened just as Scout kicked up at her hand as hard as she

  could, sending Hanna's lightsaber spinning through the air. With a snarl of

  triumph Scout charged forward with a roundhouse slash . . .

  . . . and impossibly Hanna jumped over her blade. Scout pitched forward

  through the space where Hanna ought to have been, stumbled, got her balance, and

  turned just in time to see Hanna, her mouth set in a grim line, use the Force to

  grab her lightsaber out of midair. It smacked back into the Arkanian's hand with

  a sharp thud.

  Hanna came forward again, relentless. "That was your last chance." She fell

  on Scout like a storm, her limbs flashing like whirlwinds, her long, humming

  blade falling like green forked lightning.

  Slowly, irresistibly, Scout was being overwhelmed. She could see the attacks

  coming, she knew which ones were real and which were feints, but now Hanna was

  bending all her will to Scout's sword hand, using the For
ce to slow it down

  until it felt as if Scout had to drag it through water, or mud. Feint, slash,

  feint, cut, cut, and then a hard blow, a dipping slash to the leg that cut

  through the cloth of Scout's robes and left a red welt across her thigh.

  The pain dropped her to the floor. She rolled sideways and came up parrying,

  stopping Hanna's blade a finger width from her face. The lightsaber hissed like

  a furious serpent, spitting green light in her eyes. With a grunt Scout spun

  sideways again and tried to make a cut, but Hanna was inside her blade, slamming

  it flat to the floor, so hard Scout's fingers loosened for just an instant.

  Hanna used the Force to grab her lightsaber, that line of blue heart's fire.

  Then she ripped it from Scout's grasp, and flung it to the far side of the room.

  Grab me, Scout prayed. If Hanna would just grapple, there was still a chance.

  If she would just try a joint lock, an arm bar, anything...

  The Arkanian stood up.

  As soon as the weight left her hand Scout rolled over on her back, lashing

  out with her legs, but Hanna was already out of range, cool and composed,

  holding her lightsaber so the green tip hummed and buzzed a hand width above

  Scout's heart. The Arkanian looked down on Scout from what seemed like a vast

  height, an impossible height. The distance from a farmer's field to the stars.

  "Yield," she said.

  Scout lay under her blade, gasping for breath. Her leg burned and throbbed.

  Hanna looked at her impatiently. "Yield!"

  "No."

  The Arkanian blinked. "What?"

  "No." Scout coughed and spat. "I said no. I'm not giving up."

  Hanna looked at her, genuinely baffled. "But . . . I won. Now you yield."

  Scout shook her head. "Don't think so." She thought about trying to use the

  Force to drag her lightsaber back while Hanna wasn't paying attention, but the

  pain in her head made it hard to concentrate. And she was tired. So tired. "I'm

  not ready to give up yet."

  "But why?"

  Scout shrugged. "Doesn't hurt enough yet."

  Hanna shook her head in disbelief. "You're crazy. What am I supposed to do?

  Just cut you while you lie there?" Her lightsaber buzzed and sputtered in

  frustration: and right then Scout saw how she was going to win this fight.

  She smiled. "We go until one of us surrenders or takes three burns. You got