The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [138]
Under the old man’s guidance, Cazio practiced the motion a few times.
“Better,” z’Acatto said. “But the leap should be more forward—you shouldn’t leave the ground so far behind. The more you go up, the slower it is, and above all this must be quick.”
“What is my target, on an armored man?” Cazio inquired.
“The gorget was a fair choice. If the arm is lifted, that’s good, too, right in the pit of it. If you’re behind, up under the helm. The back of the knee. The eye-slits, if you can hit them.”
Cazio grinned. “Didn’t you once teach me that one doesn’t fight a knight?” Cazio asked.
“One doesn’t fence with them,” Cazio replied. “That doesn’t mean you can’t kill them.”
“Except, apparently, in the case of our present enemies,” Cazio reminded him.
“Most of them are flesh and blood,” z’Acatto scoffed. “The others we merely need to decapitate. We know it can be done.”
He raised his rapier and held it above his head, hilt up and the tip pointed more or less at Cazio’s face. “If the broadsword is held like this, and he thrusts, don’t parry. Counterattack along his blade and void to the side. Never meet a broadsword with a simple parry. Use your feet—wait for the cut, then thrust, watch for the backswing.”
For the next two hours, by firelight, they played at rapier and broadsword, and for the first time in a long time, Cazio felt a return of the sheer joy of dessrata, of learning and practicing with his mestro.
Finally, panting, the old man retired his weapon to its scabbard. “Enough,” he sighed. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“A few more?” Cazio begged. “What if the blow comes from beneath, but—?”
“No, no. Tomorrow.” z’Acatto sagged down onto a rock, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.
“When did you fight knights, z’Acatto?” Cazio asked.
Z’Acatto just grunted and looked at the fire.
“Ospero called you Emrature. What did he mean by that?”
“That was a long time ago,” z’Acatto murmured. “Times I don’t like thinking of when I don’t have to.”
“You’ve never said anything about being a commander.”
Z’Acatto shook his head. “I just said I don’t like to talk about it, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Well.” He got up, stretched out on his blanket, and closed his eyes.
Cazio watched him for a long while. The girls were already asleep. It looked like he had the watch.
The next day was cool and clear. The fields continued, and after a bell of traveling, they saw a castle on a distant hill. Cazio could make out the white walls and yellow roofs of a small town that lay beneath it.
Presently they reached a fork in the road. One path led toward the castle; the other continued straight.
“Straight on is our direction,” Cazio said.
“You’re awfully cheerful this morning,” Austra noticed. The two of them and the ass were somewhat ahead of the others. Anne was lagging back a bit, and seemed deep in thought. Z’Acatto was limping.
“I suppose I am,” Cazio replied. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m in the company of a beautiful casnara, the sun is shining, and we’ve escaped danger, at least for the moment. Best of all, we’re not on a ship.”
“There is that,” Austra said.
“And all of this,” Cazio said, waving his arm about. “It’s a change. It’s certainly not Vitellio. Is Crotheny like this?”
Austra shook her head. “This is more like Vitellio, really,” she said. “Crotheny is wetter. There are more trees and the fields are greener, even this time of year. It’s colder there, too.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it. You must be. You must be ready to go home.”
Austra lifted her shoulders diffidently. “I’m not sure what home is now,” she said. “Everything’s changed. I don’t know if there will be a place for me anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t know if Anne will still want me as her maid.”
“Maid?”
She looked surprised. “Didn’t you know?”
“I didn’t. I thought you were cousins or friends.”
“Well, we were friends.”
He glanced back at Anne and lowered his voice. “I’ve noticed you two haven’t been very friendly lately.”
“We had a fight on the ship,” Austra admitted.