Mentats of Dune

The instructor was attracted to her, but she calmly, firmly, put him out of her mind. With the Other Memories awakened inside her, she had more recollections of sexual encounters than she could possibly review.

And she had other priorities.

As dusk settled over the archipelago on Ginaz, she practiced alone on a rocky expanse outside the simple open-air student dormitory with its palm-frond roof. Fighting against imaginary opponents that she saw vividly in her mind, Valya ran through a combination of her Lankiveil sessions with Griffin, the Sisterhood training she had undergone on Rossak, and the skills she had learned at the Swordmaster school.

She drew her short practice sword and attacked with ferocity. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Placido watching. In his arms he carried a long case. He observed her in silence, waiting for her to pause and catch her breath.

He finally asked, “Would you like a real opponent? I could give you a more advanced lesson than you’ve had before.”

During their sparring and instruction, she had noticed Placido observing her techniques, seeing what he could draw from her, because Valya’s fighting methods were quite different from those that the legendary Jool Noret had developed for his Swordmasters. The instructor had given her brief demonstrations with foil, épée, and saber swords, and even once with a stiletto.

At the moment, though, Valya wanted solitude so she could perfect her moves, increasing her speed, angles of attack, and precision. The Swordmaster would only distract her, but he continued to press. Trying to ignore him, Valya centered her concentration, using her skills as a Reverend Mother to control her pulse, her metabolism, her muscular movement … and her temper.

But he was not going to leave. Exasperated, Valya turned toward Master Placido and extended her short sword, then pointed it at a slight angle upward, awaiting his approach.

Gri

She tossed aside her dull practice sword and stepped forward. With a nod, she studied the offered blades, picked each one up for a brief test, and then selected the dueling sword that had the least ornamentation on the hilt, but the best balance.

“Ah, I have won many duels with that fine weapon,” Placido said. “Even killed an intruder with it when he broke into our headquarters on the main island. That was a year ago.” With a confident smile, the teacher selected one of the other swords and swished it through the air with a sharp, whisking sound.

“Shall we don masks and vests?” she asked. “It is tradition.”

“Not tonight.” He swished his sword again. “I am paying you a compliment.”

She understood. “You believe that I can protect myself.”

He smiled. “And I also believe you can restrain yourself from harming me.”

Valya considered her answer. “Perhaps I’ll do so.”

“Your techniques are still rough, and you have a great deal to learn. Becoming a Swordmaster requires years of instruction.”

“And there is a great deal I could teach you.” She gave him a hard stare. “But I don’t have time for that.”

He began the attack, and she countered with an easy defensive move. Aware of her own relative inexperience with these weapons, Valya knew better than to press an attack against a master, so instead she concentrated on a series of parries to stop every blow he made. Placido lunged and thrust, using moves that she had not seen before. Even so, she countered him each time.

From past experience, she knew he would grow increasingly aggressive as the engagement continued, providing her with more difficult challenges. She kept herself calm. Her goal was to hold him off for as long as she could.

“You have excellent natural instincts,” he said with a tight smile, “an ability to adapt to gambits I know you’ve never seen before.” She noticed uncharacteristic perspiration on his forehead. “Tell me truthfully, Valya — were you ever instructed by a Swordmaster before you came here?”

“No, but I observed.” As a Reverend Mother, she carried memories of other women in her past, and some had been skilled fighters. She drew upon their subconscious reflexes as a secret resource. He didn’t need to know about that.

She realized that half a dozen Swordmaster students had emerged from the dormitory and gathered to watch. Valya blocked them out and focused her attention on Master Placido.

He gave her a thin smile. “Now let us see how you react to my next series of moves.”

The teacher barely had the words out when he thrust his blade toward the left side of Valya’s chest and then swooped the point up, just enough to nick her cheek and create a tiny spot of blood. She was amazed at his precision, and just as amazed that he had slipped through her defenses so easily.

She sliced viciously in an attempt to throw him off-balance, but he ducked under her response, then surprised her again by springing into a roll and bounding up with the tip of the blade just under her chin. If he had not exhibited perfect restraint, he could have killed her. Of equal concern, if she had not moved exactly as he expected, he could also have killed her by accident.

Placido filled the brief moment of her realization by switching his sword to the other hand, then followed through with a series of seemingly unrelated moves. She defended herself, using techniques she and Griffin had developed, forcing Placido to react, while she made no attempt to cut him. She used all her concentration, all her focus, and held him at bay with a composite-parry defense that surprised and delighted him.

Valya needed to do something he would not anticipate. She veered to her right and away, opening the distance between them. He began a flèche move, darting toward her with a ru

Though he had surprised her moments ago, she was getting to know his emotions, his mindset. She had not only been studying his fighting methods and sword techniques, she had also been studying him, attempting to take his complete measure so that she could use her developing power of manipulative voice against him. She remembered commanding Sister Olivia and the other women down in the Rossak cenote when they retrieved the hidden computers. Valya called upon that knowledge now, focusing it into a remarkable new weapon. Her voice.

As he charged toward her, Valya stood her ground and said in a compelling, throaty articulation that summoned a core of command, “Halt!”

Master Placido froze as if she had felled him with a club. The tip of his extended blade stopped a hand’s-breadth from her chest. She drew tremendous satisfaction from seeing the gleam in his eyes replaced by shock. He stood there, paralyzed.

Smiling, Valya said with all the force she could put into her voice, “Do not move.” She walked around him, as if he’d become a statue.

His eyes twitched as he tried to follow her movements. She took a step back and moved her blade around his frozen weapon. Her pulse pounded, adrenaline flowed, and a part of her wanted to kill this man. She touched the flecks of blood from the small cuts he had dealt her.

Instead of killing Placido, though, she used the edge of her sword to draw a thin red line across his brow. Not a deep wound, but enough to leave a fine white scar to remind him of his defeat.

The students watching were aghast.

Valya slid her dueling sword back into its scabbard. “During a real fight, even an instant’s hesitation would have proved fatal.”

She could see him struggling, and finally after several seconds he began to fight off the compulsion. He gasped, touched the flow of blood on his forehead. “How did you do that?”

She answered him with no more than a secretive smile. She didn’t fully understand the new technique herself, but it might well be as dangerous a fighting method as the best skill with a sword.