Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [108]
“Fencing skipped Arelon, where the Elantrians frowned upon anything resembling combat, but was very well received in Teod—with one notable change. It became a woman’s sport. The Teoish men prefer more physical contests, such as jousting or broadsword fencing. For a woman, however, the syre is perfect. The light blade allows us to make full use of our dexterity and,” she added, eyeing Lukel with a smile, “allows us to capitalize on our superior intelligence.”
With that, Sarene whipped out her second blade and tossed it to the young Torena, who stood at the front of the group. The reddish-gold-haired girl caught the sword with a confused look.
“Defend yourself,” Sarene warned, raising her blade and falling into an attack stance.
Torena brought up the syre clumsily, trying to imitate Sarene’s posture. As soon as Sarene attacked, Torena abandoned the stance with a yelp of surprise, swinging her syre in wild two-handed sweeps. Sarene easily batted the girl’s sword away and placed a thrust directly between her breasts.
“You’re dead,” Sarene informed her. “Fencing does not depend on strength; it requires skill and precision. Only use one hand—you’ll have better control and reach that way. Turn your body a little to the side. It allows for a greater lunging distance and makes you more difficult to hit.”
As she spoke, Sarene brought out a bundle of thin sticks she’d had made earlier. They were, of course, poor substitutes for a real sword, but they would do until the armorer finished the practice syres. After each woman received a weapon, Sarene began to teach them how to lunge.
It was difficult work—much more difficult than Sarene had expected. She considered herself a decent fencer, but it had never occurred to her that having knowledge was entirely different from explaining that knowledge to others. The women seemed to find ways to hold their weapons that Sarene would have thought physically impossible. They thrust wildly, were frightened of oncoming blades, and tripped over their dresses.
Eventually Sarene left them to practice their thrusts—she wouldn’t trust them to spar with one another until they had proper face masks and clothing—and seated herself beside Lukel with a sigh.
“Exhausting work, Cousin?” he asked, obviously enjoying the sight of his mother trying to wield a sword in a dress.
“You have no idea,” Sarene said, wiping her brow. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it a try?”
Lukel raised his hands. “I may be flamboyant at times, Cousin, but I’m not stupid. King Iadon would blacklist any man who took part in such a supposedly demeaning activity. Being on the king’s bad side is fine if you happen to be Eondel, but I’m just a simple merchant. I can’t afford royal displeasure.”
“I’m sure,” Sarene said, watching the women trying to master their lunges. “I don’t think I taught them very well.”
“Better than I could have done,” Lukel said with a shrug.
“I could have done better,” Kaise informed from her seat. The little girl was obviously growing bored with the repetitious fighting.
“Oh really?” Lukel asked dryly.
“Of course. She didn’t teach them about riposting or Proper Form, and she didn’t even bother with tournament rules.”
Sarene raised an eyebrow. “You know about fencing?”
“I read a book on it,” Kaise said airily. Then she reached over to slap away Daorn’s hand, which was poking her with a stick he had taken from Sarene’s pile.
“The sad thing is she probably did,” Lukel said with a sigh. “Just so she could try and impress you.”
“I think Kaise must be the most intelligent little girl I’ve ever met,” Sarene confessed.
Lukel shrugged. “She’s smart, but don’t let