The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [65]
‘Wish me luck, my lovely,’ she whispered, quietly slipping out the door.
By noon, the sweat was pouring down her back, her cheeks were flushed and her mouth dry. How silly it was to have worried about impressing An’ Lawrence. The man was nowhere in sight. Even if he had been around, she’d not have made much of a mark on his memory. All her attention was directed towards staying on her feet and avoiding blows from her relentless opponent and his wooden practice sword.
He was a fourth-year apprentice, strong, supple and lightning fast, nicknamed Zero, which seemed to equate with the number of times she could actually strike him back. Offence was completely out of the question now. It was all she could do to keep him from cracking her ribs, snapping her arms and sweeping her off her feet. This wasn’t training. It was an exercise in sheer survival. It might have been better if she hadn’t said, with a boast, that she knew her way around the sword and staff. Zero seemed bent on proving otherwise.
Dozens of students had gathered to watch. Didn’t they have something better to do with their time? What could possibly be so interesting about a young woman being repeatedly thrashed by a superior opponent?
‘Break for lunch, Rosette?’ Zero suggested as their practice swords thudded together in a rare draw. ‘You’ve earned it.’
The jarring motion reverberated down her aching arm. She looked up at him, squinting to blink the perspiration out of her eyes. ‘Have I?’
‘Sure. No-one’s ever lasted this long on their first day.’ He had barely worked up a sweat. His breath was only a little uneven, though his smile remained broad. If nothing else, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
‘Lunch would be welcome.’ Rosette gasped for air as her chest rose and fell. She was beyond trying to conceal her exhaustion and frustration. Thank the goddess it was noon. If she hit the ground once more, she wouldn’t bother getting up.
They walked together to the canal that skirted the training grounds on its way to the crops and orchards. The fresh water coursed along to all the complexes at Treeon through an ancient system of aqueducts. Some drove a series of waterwheels and paddles that generated power, but mostly they were for bathing, heating and irrigation. Zero nodded for her to drink first.
Dropping to her knees, Rosette took a few tentative sips from the clear mountain water then immersed her entire head in the rapid stream. She kept it under as long as she could, drowning out the sound of laughter around her. The other students had followed them, unwilling to disperse.
Lifting her head, hands braced against the smooth granite sides of the trough, she wasn’t sure if the last of her breakfast would stay down. Inhaling deeply, she dunked her head again before flinging it up, spray flying through the air from her hair. A mix of sweat and dirt dripped from her shoulders and down her back, making tiny rain-dot patterns in the powdery dust. In this state, she cupped her hands delicately in the stream and drank her fill.
‘You seem a little ragged, Rosette de Santo.’
She spun around. What great timing for the Sword Master to appear. Her knees, which had barely kept her upright, were trembling. She swayed briefly when she stood.
He smiled. ‘It’s all right, Rosette. Everyone goes through this at the start. You’ll find yourself fit and strong in no time, though I did think you would have had more stamina.’
There it was again—criticism. Or was it a goad? She wondered how long he had been there—how long he had watched. She wanted to disappear, to vanish on the spot. Perhaps she could learn to weave a spell for such a thing.
I’ll bet Mistress Mara could have taught me that.
Too late. She had to face the Sword Master, and she planned to do it with grace and whatever dignity she could gather.
‘Master An’ Lawrence, I assure you I have more stamina than you can imagine.’ She had wanted to say just the right words, but these came out before she could bite them back. Not exactly the line she had hoped to deliver. What possessed