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"-had a minister named Li Ssu. Now, Li Ssu was big into punishment. He had a saying: If light offenses carry heavy punishments, one can imagine what will be done against a serious offense. Thus the people will not dare to break the laws. So he had pretty well only one punishment for anything-death."
"Okay," Harold said. "Yeah, I see… but where's the catch, Father?"
Walker laughed. "When this emperor's dynasty was overthrown, it started like this. One day, some farmers who'd been called up for military service were sitting in the mud. Rainy season, you see."
His hands sculpted the air, and Harold was bobbing up and down and gri
"So one farmer says to the others: 'What's the punishment for being late?' and the others all answer: 'Death.'
"Then he says, 'What's the punishment for rebellion?' and the others all answer 'Death.'
"Then he stands up and says: 'Well, brothers, I got news for you-we're late.''
"Oh," Harold said. Then he laughed himself: "You mean, if they think you're going to kill them anyway, or might over some small thing, then they might as well rebel-they don't lose anything by it."
"Exactly, kid. The other reason for listening to the generals is that sometimes, they're right." He gripped the boy by the back of the neck and shook him a little. "I'm not always right. Neither will you be. If nobody tells you when they think you're wrong, you'll make more mistakes-it's like blinding yourself. Now run along; you've got some studying to do."
He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head, scowling himself, looking at the map. The temptation to try to smash them just one more time, and then they'd truly run… No. He might have been able to take Hattusas, but that would have been one bridge too far. Napoleon had taken Moscow, and look how much good it had done him.
After a moment the flap opened, and Hong came in. "You sent for me, Will?"
"Yeah," he said.
He stood and swung his arm. The open palm caught her across the face and knocked her down with a flat heavy smack sound and a thump as she hit the ground without any of her usual grace.
For a moment her face was fluid with surprise; then she smiled as her tongue came out and touched the blood at the corner of her mouth, then slowly wet her lips.
"Oh, you have some frustrations to work off, do you, Will? I like that. It's been too long."
"Maybe you won't like it this time," he said, kneeling.
His left hand picked up a pillow and pushed it over her face with relentless strength, while his right tore her clothing open. Not until she stopped arching her body into the smothering weight and panicked, tearing at his hand and thrashing to escape, did he release the grip… and thrust into her in the same instant. The slight woman gasped and bucked under two hundred pounds of weight, unable to draw a complete breath into air-starved lungs.
"Bet I can make you scream," he said, drawing back a little.
Hong laughed and wrapped her legs around him. "Bet you can't," she gasped, deliberately hyperventilating; the dark flush of her face faded a little.
"And maybe I'll forget and really kill you one of these days," he said, grabbing her legs and pushing them roughly back until her knees were by her ears, rising and slamming down on her while only her shoulders and neck touched the ground.
"Oh, yeah, I know, and I like knowing that, too."
He set the pillow over her face again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
December, 10 A.E,-Cadiz Base, southern Iberia
December, 10 A.E.-Near Hattusas, Kingdom of Hani-land
December, 10 A.E.-Walkeropolis and Rivendell, Kingdom of Great Achaea
December, 10 A.E.-Cadiz Base, southern Iberia
December, 10 A.E.-Black Mountains, south-central Iberia
Clack. The bokken cracked together, slid free, whirled, struck. The world shrank to a strip of brightness under the helmet, cut by the bars of the face guard under it. Swindapa circled, then halted with the oak practice sword in chudan, the middle position, held out below the breastbone, angled up with the point at her opponent's throat level. She was motionless but not stiff; every muscle relaxed into a state where action could come immediately, weight borne by the bones rather than flesh, balance slightly forward on the balls of her feet but kept centered by the low stance.
Rigidity means a dead hand, flexibility means a living hand. One must understand this fully.
That was from the book that Marian liked so well. Very true, like most of it… although there was something repellent about that Miyamoto Musashi, an unhuma
But he saw that one thing very clearly…
Marian's bokken came up to jodan no kame, over the head with hilt forward. Her hands stood wide-spaced on the long hilt, gripping lightly with thumb and forefinger, more firmly with ring and little fingers, delicate as a surgeon's hold on a scalpel. Swindapa moved forward from bent knees, both feet pushing at once as the sword came up, twisting her wrists as she thrust for the face. That put the cutting edge uppermost, a strike at the vulnerable tendons of the i
The other's head turned, just enough to let the point of the bokken slide over the enameled metal of the flared helmet. The sword came down one-handed, the fisted right hand snapping aside to put it out of danger for an instant. Then both slapped onto the hilt and she cut from the side, looping up to slice at the younger woman's armpit. Swindapa bounced backward, in again; Marian was using minimal movements and counterattack against her partner's youthful speed and endurance. The Fiernan felt herself gri
There was a final clatter and crash of wood on wood, on steel armor, oak blurring in fast hard whipping arcs. Marian relaxed one leg, pivoted as she fell-stepped aside and snap-kicked the other on the back of a knee. That was hard to counter, wearing the weight of the armor; Swindapa went crashing on her back. Winded, she brought the sword up just a fractional second too late. Marian's came down in a flashing overarm stroke, left hand sliding down the back of the blade for an instant to add force, then clamping on to the hilt as the bokken came to rest across Swindapa's throat, motionless. Swindapa rolled her eyes to the side and met her partner's, grave and dark as she kept the crouched bent-legged posture for a further instant.
"I think that's pretty unambiguous," the Fiernan said.
"Sometimes I think you let me win, these days," Marian grumbled.
"Oh, I would, except that you might get hurt in a real fight if I did that," Swindapa said, gri
They knelt facing each other, laid down the blades and bent their foreheads to the ground between their hands, then sat back on their heels and emptied their minds, letting their breath go slow and deep. Marian said she used the image of a still pond to quiet her inwardness. That was hard for the Eagle People; they were always… busy… inside.