Free Warlock's Shadow by Stephen Deas Page B

snorted. ‘That’s a hard claim to credit.’
    The elder dragon took a step to the side, beckoning the thief-taker to cross the ring in the sand. ‘You may see for yourself if you like.’
    For a long time, Master Sy didn’t move. Tasahre watched him, muscles tense like a coiled snake waiting to strike.
    ‘The boy is yours, after all. It is right and proper that you should test his teacher.’
    ‘Oh, I’m quite sure it’s not your little sword-monk who’s being tested.’ Master Sy stared back at Tasahre. The elder dragon smiled blandly.
    ‘It will also be useful to Tasahre to see the style of her pupil’s previous teacher. This way she will see the flaws that have been brought to his training and she will know what corrections must first be made before any bad ways become habit. Assuming it is not all too late for that. As you observed, they are almost the same age. In many ways, your boy is far too old to learn.’ Berren’s stomach tightened. His heart beat faster. He was going to show her! It wasn’t as though Master Sy hadn’t taught him anything at all!
    ‘I’ve always been told there’s not much point in teaching a man what to do with a sword until he’s at least strong enough to hold it properly.’
    ‘Interesting.’ For the first time, the elder dragon allowed some emotion to show: he looked very slightly intrigued. ‘Your own teacher came from Caladir or Brons then?’
    ‘Kalda, actually.’ Master Sy sounded annoyed. ‘You won’t have heard of it. Small school on the fringes of the Dominion. They took their instructors from the sun-king’s court where they could. Oh, and she did a lot of real fighting. On battlefields, you understand. Killing people. We used to have a lot of that.’
    ‘Ah.’ The elder dragon nodded solemnly as if that explained everything. Then he beckoned again. In the background, the doors to the temple were swinging open. Midday prayers were over. Finally Master Sy nodded. He took back his sword and crossed the line in the sand, walking slowly, keeping his back to the sword-monks with his blade in his hand. Tasahre didn’t move, although her eyes left Berren and followed the thief-taker instead. The novices were coming out of the temple. They weren’t allowed to run, and the sight of them walking as fast as they possibly could would have made Berren laugh, except … Except something was in the air, some sense of expectation and it made him uneasy. Master Sy was twirling his sword, loosening his arm. They weren’t using practise weapons either and Berren knew exactly how sharp Master Sy kept his steel.
    The thief-taker turned around and drew up into a neutral guard. Tasahre didn’t move. More and more priests and novices were streaming out of the temple now. They sat at the edge of the ring in the sand, watching, full of anticipation. Berren stared too.
    Tasahre turned to face Master Sy with slow precision. She had her back to Berren now. She half-crouched. For a moment everything was still; then she sprang and Berren had never seen anything like it. Some twenty feet separated her from the thief-taker and she covered nearly all of it in a single leap. She landed in front of him, both swords out, one blade sweeping through the air where Master Sy’s head should have been. Berren gasped. She didn’t even try to pull the attack! The thief-taker shimmied sideways at the last possible instant. He ducked the sword coming at his head and his own flicked towards the girl’s kidneys, so fast that Berren barely even saw it. The sword-monk did, though. She twisted aside, parried with her second blade and swung again. She was fast, cat-quick and every bit as agile.
    ‘Stop!’ called the older monk. Immediately, Tasahre jumped away from Master Sy. She held her swords in guard and didn’t move. The thief-taker watched her, wary.
    The elder dragon walked across the sand. He prised first one sword and then the other out of Tasahre’s fingers and replaced them with a single