Markswoman (Asiana #1)(59)
Chintil’s stentorian voice broke into her thoughts:
“Sheathe your blades and fall into pairs for Empty Hands practice. You may choose whatever stance and technique you wish. Your goal will be to throw your opponent, nothing more.”
There was a general stirring and to Nineth’s dismay, she found herself paired off with the loathsome Akassa.
Akassa dropped into the Elephant pose, a basic defense posture. Nineth eyed her warily before moving into Charging Boar, a simple yet effective hand-and-foot combination that could destabilize any opponent.
But Nineth stumbled in mid-kick and cried out with pain. Something had slashed her left shin. She saw the telltale glimpse of a bright blade before it disappeared up Akassa’s sleeve. She hadn’t sheathed her blade. The cheat! Nineth felt a surge of anger and, ignoring the pain in her left leg, stepped forward with her right foot, pivoted, and grabbed Akassa’s back under the arms.
The smug look disappeared from Akassa’s face as she tried and failed to counter the unexpected rear throw. Nineth flung her flat on the ground and rose, dusting her hands.
“Well done, Nineth,” commented Chintil as she passed the pair.
Tamsyn pursed her lips in a thin line. “But not to be tried except as a last resort. Such a move is easily countered. Akassa, next time step to the side and answer with a reverse hip throw. Perhaps we elders can demonstrate, Chintil?”
“What?” said Chintil, clearly thrown off-balance. She stared at Tamysn for a moment, pursing her lips. “Well, all right.”
Tamsyn stepped forward. “Please make the move that Nineth did.”
A look passed over Chintil’s face, there and gone in an instant. But it twisted something inside Nineth. She hoped Chintil wouldn’t get hurt; what she really wanted was for the Hatha-kala Mistress to teach Tamsyn a lesson. But that, she knew, was too much to expect.
Chintil stepped forward, pivoted, and grabbed Tamsyn under the arms. Tamsyn slid sideways with a single step, smooth as a snake. She dropped her hips, grabbed Chintil by the waist, and fell backward, throwing Chintil sideways. Chintil landed with a thud that made Nineth wince. Everyone was perfectly still.
Tamsyn rose, graceful as ever. “See, children? I hope you have all learned something.” She turned to Chintil and said in a concerned tone of voice, “I hope you are not hurt, Elder?”
“Not at all,” said Chintil calmly, getting up. “Thank you for the demonstration. Now, if you will excuse us, I should get on with the class.”
Tamsyn’s teeth flashed. “Certainly. Please meet me in my chamber afterward.”
She left, and Chintil continued with the class, but Nineth could tell that her heart wasn’t quite in it.
*
“I don’t see why we have to lift a finger to help the Order of Valavan.” Tamsyn sounded bored as she gazed at the four elders standing in front of her. She had not invited them to sit—indeed, there was no place for them to sit in the Mahimata’s cell except the floor. Tamsyn herself was behind her desk, playing with a linen-wrapped package—the same package she had dangled in front of Navroz, claiming that it was from Shirin Mam. Three scented candles burned at the desk, casting their yellow, uncertain light on the Mahimata’s masklike face.
“It’s not about helping the Order of Valavan,” said Navroz. “It’s a matter of responsibility. Shirin Mam gave the order to execute Kai’s eldest son. Now he is amassing an army and using the dark weapons to kill innocent people. Perhaps the death of his son unhinged him, or perhaps he is taking revenge. He must be stopped before more people die. The Orders—all of them—must put away their differences to deal with this menace.”
“I hope you are not referring to the Order of Khur,” drawled Tamsyn. “They’re nothing but a band of outlaws. Mere men, aspiring to our position.”
Mumuksu frowned. “They exist, whether we wish it or not. It would be better to work with them in this case, as Kai was one of theirs.”
Tamsyn leaned back and gave a humorless smile. “My point exactly,” she said. “The Marksmen are unstable and dangerous and cannot be trusted. A man bonded to a blade is a perversion against the natural order of things. Besides, we don’t need them. And we don’t need the Order of Valavan. We can destroy the outlaws by ourselves on the condition that the Thar is recognized as ours.”
The four elders stared at her, dumbfounded.
“That would be madness. Suicidal!” said Chintil. Navroz tried to catch her gaze. It was better not to display overt opposition to the new Mahimata; they would have to be more subtle if they were to have any say in the direction their Order took now. But Chintil would not look at her; her face had gone red, as if she suppressed great emotion.
“We cannot face the dark weapons on our own,” said Mumuksu. “They would destroy us before we even came close to them.”
“Who wants the Thar? Backward little desert full of bandits and outlaws.” That last was from Felda.
Navroz groaned inwardly. She had spent hours talking with the others before they could agree on how to present a calm and united front to the Mahimata, but Tamsyn was not making it easy for them.
Aloud she said, “There is no question of taking over any part of Valavian territory, Tamsyn. Faran Lashail would never stand for it, not if we cleaned the Deccan of every single outlaw that infests it. And what makes you think we can do this on our own? Kai is known to possess at least twelve kalashiks, and he must have amassed hundreds of more primitive weapons as well.”