Tarashana by Rachel Neumeier (little red riding hood ebook TXT) 📕

point first, but hit the side of the tent flat-first. That would be one less cut to sew up, but that was not the way to throw a knife. Arayo was trying to explain what Tano was doing wrong, but plainly did not know how to explain or correct the problem. I began to get up, to show them both how to do better, but to my surprise, Elaro turned his head and said politely, “Your grip is not bad, young warrior, but your wrist should be more relaxed when you begin your throw.” Drawing his own knife, he demonstrated the proper method. He did not throw his blade, but demonstrated the relaxed flick of the wrist while first Tano and then Arayo closed his eyes and rested his fingertips on Elaro’s wrist to feel the way the bones and muscles shifted.

Tano still missed the target after that, but his knife went into the wall of the tent with a satisfying thwick, making the cloth ripple. He had been trying not to look at me—this had been plain—but now he looked my way, flinching just a little, not certain whether I would approve his throw or deplore his aim.

“That was better,” I told him. “Now learn to hit the target. Elaro, under what circumstances would you throw a knife in a real fight?”

“When I had two knives,” he answered promptly. “And probably only if I also had two opponents.”

“That is a good time to throw a knife,” I agreed. “Where would you aim?”

“For the belly. My aim is not good enough to try for the throat.”

“In a real fight, no one’s aim is good enough to try for the throat.”

He said easily, “Yes, Ryo, I think that is probably so.”

He was not smiling—he had guessed, or been warned, that he should not take a familiar tone with me. But his manner was not unfriendly. Even though I had no right to question him, he plainly had better sense than to object to being asked questions that would teach younger men what they should do. Even though he was not a warrior, his answers were good. I said to Raga, “You see, a poet can learn these useful things.”

“Yes, Ryo,” he said earnestly. “But you know I am hopeless with a knife.”

“I know someone should teach you to do better. Perhaps Elaro could do that, if you will not listen to a brother who is a warrior.”

“A poet should learn enough that he does not need to say he cannot use a knife,” Elaro said to Raga. He stood up, went to stand facing the target, and threw his knife. It snapped hard into the cowhide, a fingerbreadth from the center.

Darra was watching us. Her expression was calm, and she was pretending to study the sestaket board, but I felt her attention.

“Now you, Ryo!” Raga said, probably so that no one would make him try it. But I did not mind the request.

Getting up, I drew my knife and came to face the target. It was not far away. One does not generally throw a knife at a distant target. “Fingers, so,” I said. “Thumb, so. Wrist relaxed, as Elaro told you.” I threw the knife, which went, gratifyingly, through the exact center of the cowhide target.

“You should learn that,” Elaro told Raga.

“I will learn that,” Tano said to me. “I will challenge Raga every day until he learns it too.”

That was clever. That would make my younger brother practice properly. I smiled at Tano. “Good.”

He bowed, happy to have pleased me. Then he said more tentatively, “I have practice swords here, Ryo. I was going to spar with Arayo, but if you do not have anything more important to do, would you spar with us?”

“I would be pleased to do so,” I said. Then I said to Elaro. “Perhaps you can fight with a sword as well as you throw a knife.” I did not permit myself to speak in an unfriendly way, but I met his eyes directly so that he could not mistake that this was a challenge and that I would think less of him if he refused.

“Not as well as a warrior,” he answered. But he stood up readily enough, and we all went out of the tent.

I sparred Tano first. He tried the trick I had shown him, but he did not do it exactly correctly. I showed him why that throw is not good against an opponent unless it is done exactly right. Then I let him up and showed him his mistake. “Try again, against Arayo,” I suggested. “Show Raga, if you have not done so before. Suyet will show you if you make any mistakes.”

“No blades, two falls out of three?” Suyet said to the young men. He was smiling, cheerful. “Learn this, and then I will show you another trick that might work better next time you spar Ryo.”

I laughed and gave a gesture of assent. Then I watched them for a short time, pretending not to be aware of Elaro, also watching. Darra and Lalani has set aside their game and come out of the tent to watch as well. I pretended not to notice them.

“So,” Elaro said to me at last. He picked up both practice swords, left to the side, and offered me one. I took it.

Almost at once, we both knew he could not possibly win the match. He was older than I, heavier, and not slow. But he did not have the deeply ingrained skill of a warrior his age, or the aggression of a warrior of any age. Arayo could have beaten him. Even Tano might have beaten him. He was better defending than attacking, but not good enough to prevent me from striking past his guard. I gave him a blow that, in a real fight, would have cut