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The arms master?s smile was a wonder to see as he crossed his arms on his chest and stared at them; it reminded Rudi of one Sam Aylward had put on when he was fifteen and had done something truly stupid on Dun Juniper?s practice field. The kind that made you feel as if you were six and playing at warriors out behind the stable with a rotten stick for a sword and an old fence board for a shield, rather than training for the real thing. When the older man spoke his voice was like a flaying knife: ?Yah hey, if someone attacks you using different moves, or if they?re a leftie, you?re just going to say you?re taking your bat and ball and going home?cause it ain?t fair? Christ, Weiss, I?ve known you were a dumb little punk for years, but do you have to show it off in front of strangers??
Rudi laughed, in friendly wise.?If you travel, you do meet different ways of fighting, the which can be an unpleasant surprise. Surprises can kill you in this trade, for there?s no time to think things out when men fight to kill. I had the advantage of you, for I?ve trained with Ingolf Vogeler for some time now and know the Readstown style. Here, let me show you what happened. Half speed.?
He ran them through the moves of the fight.?See, when I sidestepped I put you out of line with your shield, and in the way of your friend here so he couldn?t strike while I took you out with a lunging thrust, then rammed him off-balance shield-to-shield on the next step.?
The DI nodded.?I keep telling you, Weiss, you can use the shield to hit with, not just block. So can the guy you?re fighting.? ?Then I backhanded this other fine fellow across the head, turned on my heel, and lunged while your friend there was off-balance, which left me with nothing to do but block your other friend with the black hair so -?
He mimed letting a shete-cut slide off the blade of his longsword. ?-which in turn left me in position for a quick stab to the inside of the thigh, below the armor and cup. It?s a low blow that?s often the most effective. A man who blocks strikes to his face and chest well can often be taken with a blow to the thighs or knees or shins-or even a thrust through his foot pi
Modesty was a vice he left to Christians and there was also no point in denying what they?d seen with their own eyes; and while some of it was just the cradle gifts of the fey, more was honestly earned by long hard effort. ?And being both tall and fast is a fine thing. But also, there?s the matter of the weapons. Your Eastern shete hits hard, I will not dispute, but it recovers slowly even when held by a strong wrist. Good enough for a melee, where you seldom strike for the same man twice and few men see the blow that kills them, but not for the higher art. Here there?s just the four of us, and no interruptions or distractions, of which a battle has more than its share.?
The Readstown instructor held out his hand.?Can I see that? What do you call it?? ?A longsword. To be technical, it?s a hand-and-a-half, or a bastard longsword. Thirty-six inches in the blade, and the hilt long enough for either a single or two-hand grip. Here, try the steel, it?ll give you a better idea than wood.?
He picked up his sheathed sword where it rested with the belt wrapped around the scabbard and tossed it over. The Readstowner drew the great cross-hilted blade. His eyes picked out the spots where nicks had been ground out of the layer-forged steel, and he grunted approval of the state of the edge-knife sharp, but not a vulnerable hair-thin razor edge that would turn on bone, and all the metal covered with a barely perceptible film of neatsfoot oil. He tried it in a few broad sweeping cuts of the type the local blade-style used, feet rustling in the yellow-brown barley stubble, then held the weapon and turned it slowly in a circle from the wrist, and then flicked it back and forth. ?Nice piece of smith work here, you betcha. It?s no lighter than a cavalry shete,? he said.?But the balance is a lot further back. Just forward of the guard.? He tried a thrust.?Bet you could put this right through a mail shirt.? ?Yes, with a solid hit. And enough weight behind it and just a wee bit of luck. The blade tapers to a narrow point, as you see, and the tip of it will get inside the first link. Then the edges cut the rings from the inside. Even good riveted mail is much better protection against cuts than thrusts of that sort.? ?Like a thin-tipped spear?? ?Precisely, though you won?t run a man in a mail hauberk all the way through… but inches are enough in the right place, eh?? ?Yah hey, fighting or fucking,? the man said, to a general laugh.
Then he tossed it up a little, resheathed it and went on shrewdly: ?Bet this thing takes longer to learn well than a shete. Bet you?ve been at it a while; I?d say you?re a Changeling. All the way, too, not just mostly like me.? ?Probably, though a wise man never stops learning his tools,? Rudi acknowledged with respect to the first part of the statement.?And yes, I?ve been at it since I could walk, more or less, and I was born in the first Change Year. War?s my trade, though I?ve put my hand to other things in plenty.? ?Like to fight, do you?? ?No, that I do not,? Rudi replied.?I like the art of the thing, and the mastering of the skill, and the testing of the self. A bladesman?s skill can be as beautiful as any other. Fighting… that you do because it?s needful.? ?You?ve won a lot of fights,? one of the youngsters said brashly, despite a glare from his instructor when he pushed into the conversation.?What?s it like? We?ve had some brushes with outlaws lately but they just run off if they can?t bushwhack you.?
Rudi twitched the wooden sword down until its point rested in the dirt and leaned on the hilt.?You?ve slaughtered beasts, I suppose?? he said calmly.
The teenager nodded; it would be rare for anyone not to have that experience. Anyone except a wealthy dweller in a large city, and such were very rare in the world as it was now. Even a child could help hold the bowl of oatmeal to catch the blood for sausages and black pudding when a carcass was hoisted up to drain. ?Much like that; like butchering a pig, shall we say, they being clever enough to know what you?re about, and to fear their death before it comes. Except that you can generally kill a beast cleanly with one blow, since it?s not trying to stop you with a weapon of its own, the which is unfortunately rare in a fight. In battle you must often disable before you can put an end to the man; which means you can see the knowledge in their eyes as the last blow falls. Or you must cripple a man and go on to the next, there being no time for mercy.?
The instructor nodded vigorously. Rudi continued: ?And animals rarely try to hold the wounds closed, or weep, or scream and call for their mothers because the pain is so bad.? ?Oh,? the young man said; he and his friends winced. ?And that,? the DI said ruthlessly,?would have been you three this time.?
He pointed to each of them in turn.?Weiss, you?d be bleeding out right now, fast,?cause that one he gave you would?ve opened up the big artery inside the crotch. Cartman, you?d be lying flat on your face with blood coming out of your nose and ears waiting for someone to cut your throat. And Andersen, you?d have a four-inch stab wound in your gut and after the fever set in you?d be begging for someone to finish you. So let?s practice some more, hey? Get set, two on one!?
He turned back to Rudi and spoke more quietly as the young men moved off in obedience to his orders: ?They?ll do OK, if I can just keep them alive while they get some of the piss and vinegar whacked out of?em.?