The Sunset Warrior - 01 by Eric Van Lustbader Page B

garbed in cloth of jet and crimson. How much was muscle, he wondered. And what of his reflexes? His weight must be enormous. Still, he was the Sensii. The Master of Combat.
    Korlik growled at him. ‘He is coming this way. Chill take you, have you heard what I said?—unhg! Put on a good show, Ronin, I’m warning you—uhnn!’
    The two figures were almost abreast of them as Ronin turned his full attention to the Combat. ‘Show?’ he said. ‘There will be no show. Not for you, not for the Salamander.’
    Cursing, Korlik bore down upon him and, seeing the Salamander and the Instructor reach them, began to hammer Ronin with blows.
    ‘Now this one, Sensii,’ said the Instructor obsequiously, ‘is Korlik. Big and strong and he shows fine potential. Unfortunately, he is paired this practice with an inferior Stu—’
    ‘Pray cease,’ said the Salamander, lifting a jewelled hand, ‘your useless chatter. Do not presume to make judgements for me.’ Ronin was pleased to see the Instructor’s eyes bulge in his narrow face and his tongue working in his open mouth as he fought to control himself.
    During this time Korlik had not lessened his attack upon Ronin, who neither put up a concerted defence in any of the prescribed ways nor counterattacked. He preferred to move, using his own blade only when absolutely necessary to turn aside his opponent’s sword.
    The Instructor, seeing potential disaster for himself in Ronin’s refusal to conform to the lessons, made noises for the Salamander to move on. But the Sensii graced him with a momentary glance, frosty and disdainful, and he was silenced.
    ‘Boys,’ the Salamander said, ‘desist for the moment.’ Korlik, sweat rolling down his arms, soaking his shirt, dropped his sword with great reluctance and glowered at Ronin.
    The Salamander stroked the end of his long nose between thumb and forefinger, his dark eyes fixed on Ronin. ‘And what is your name, dear boy?’
    ‘Ronin.’
    ‘Ronin, sir ,’ corrected the Instructor.
    The Salamander’s eyes rolled up briefly towards the ceiling. ‘Kindly be good enough to take your person across the Hall so that I will not be obliged to suffer your presence.’ He said it with a sighing exhalation of breath, not at all forcefully, Ronin thought. Nevertheless, the Instructor stalked off without another word, the muscles at the sides of his jaw working spasmodically.
    Around them, the din of practice continued unabated, crashing off the walls and echoing back upon the ear. The acrid stench of sweat and fear hung in the vast Hall, staining the air.
    ‘Sensii,’ said Korlik. ‘I have waited for this time, working long and hard in the hope that I would please you. It is my greatest wish to be taught by you.’
    The eyes of the Salamander, black and hard as chips of stone, turned upon Korlik. ‘My boy,’ he drawled, ‘only the most special Students, those who exhibit extraordinary merit, work with me.’ The eyes flicked up and down his body. ‘Rest assured that you are not one of those. Now pray be still.’ Korlik strangled a gasp and ground his teeth in fury, but he remained silent.
    The Salamander turned to Ronin and said as if they were in a room alone, ‘Tell me why you do Combat in such a manner.’
    He wondered what the Salamander wanted; wondered what sort of answer would be best to give. In the end, he told the truth. ‘Combat bores me,’ he said evenly.
    ‘Then why do you bother with it?’
    ‘I do it because I have to.’
    The Salamander rubbed his nose again, the rings on his fingers catching the light. ‘Hmm, yes, I suppose you do.’ Abruptly he said: ‘You think of other matters.’
    ‘Sir?’ He was startled.
    ‘When you do Combat,’ the Salamander expounded patiently, as if explaining an obvious fact to a child, ‘your mind is thinking of other things.’
    ‘Why, yes,’ he replied, somewhat surprised. ‘Yes, my mind is often elsewhere when I fight.’
    ‘Please.’ A pained expression muddied his