Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar

But now Dromis and his students concerned me more. “Help me,” I said, “and I’ll lift the ban. You can watch everything but the private lessons.” Those were where I passed along my own “secret” techniques, inadequate as they had begun to seem.

“How generous. What sort of help do you require?”

“Nothing difficult. I’m sure you’ve watched many of the duels Dromis’s students have fought. I want you to describe them.”

He laughed, startling the mourners and offending against the solemnity of the occasion. “Trying to figure out what makes Dromis’ protégés so deadly? Maybe you should have done that before you sent poor little Falnac out to fight one of them.”

Once again, I clamped down on my anger. “Will you do it?”

“Oh, why not? After all, there isn’t much I enjoy more than chatting about swordplay.”

To give him his due, the descriptions were clear and detailed. He was observant and understood dueling as well as a man born with a useless leg ever could. After he finished, I said, “So it’s mostly dodging, stop thrusts, and counterattacks. Aggressive responses to the other man’s attempt to score. They seldom take the initiative, give ground, or parry.”

“Exactly.”

“Damn it!” I said. “Only a truly accomplished swordsman can hope to fight that way and get away with it, and even he, only when facing an inferior opponent.”

“Yet Dromis’ pupils invariably win. Even the novices typically fell their opponents at the end of the first exchange.” He smirked as though enjoying my mystification.

“Their success aside,” I asked, “do they look like prodigies?”

“No. They display the same defects of stance, balance, guard, and what have you as other students.”

“Then ...” I groped for a sensible follow-up question. “What about when they brawl in the cockpits and brothels?” Olissimal frequented such places for the same reason he haunted the dueling grounds: he hoped to see men who could walk unaided cut one another to pieces. “Are they similarly successful?”

Olissimal frowned, his pale eyes narrowing. “Now that you mention it, it’s a strange thing. Unlike many other young blades, they rarely brawl, even though they’re as pugnacious a lot as you’ll find in the city. Whenever they give or take offense, they try to steer the dispute in the direction of a formal challenge.”

“And what happens when the other fellow insists on drawing on the spot?”

“They don’t display their accustomed superiority. Not consistently, at any rate.” He cocked his head. “Curious. What do you suppose it means?”

“I don’t know yet.” I turned and left him to play the vulture.

Clad in the nondescript garments he’d borrowed from a servant, the brim of his hat pulled down to shadow his sharp-nosed face, Tregan Keenspur smiled and looked with interest at the bustling life of the street. I realized he was enjoying walking incognito among the common herd like some eccentric prince in a ballad.

That was just as well since I needed him disguised. Dressed in his normal rich attire with lackeys in attendance, a prominent noble and wizard of House Keenspur couldn’t go anywhere and do anything without attracting attention. And I didn’t want Dromis to learn I was making a study of him.

“That’s the school up ahead,” I said. “The dark green building with the rust-colored door and shutters.”

Tregan cast about. “I need a place to work. I can’t cast spells in the middle of the lane without somebody noticing.”

“How about there?” I indicated the narrow, shaded gap between two houses. The space was a stride or two removed from the traffic, yet still afforded a view of the fencing academy.

“That should do,” the sorcerer said, so that was where we went.

I kept watch and did my best to shield Tregan’s activities from view as he whispered incantations and crooked his fingers into arcane signs. The mystical force accumulating in the air made me feel feverish and sick to my stomach. Then it discharged itself with a soft sound like the pattering of rain.

Tregan put his hand on my shoulder and shifted me aside to get a little closer to Dromis’ establishment. The wizard’s eyes now glowed with their own inner radiance, but the effect was subtle. No one could have seen it from any distance, not in the daylight, anyway.

He peered for a time, and then said, “The top floor.”

“There’s something magical there?”

“Yes.”

“Is it Dark Magic?” If so, then Dromis’ possession of it was a crime in and of itself, and my aristocratic companion was just the man to call him to account for it.

“No. I sense that the enchantment may have served a violent purpose, but it isn’t Dark as the law defines the term.”

I sighed. “Of course not. When were my problems ever solved as easily as that? What is it, then, exactly?”

“I can’t say. Not at such a distance, with at least one wall in the way. I’m sorry, Selden. We Keenspurs owe you a considerable debt, and I fear I haven’t done all that much to repay it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Not out loud, anyway. “At least I know more than I did before.”