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astonishing, which made
honoring the prohibition against talking to him very difficult.
She'd come to weapons practice every day since in the hopes of at
least seeing him, but so far had always left disappointed.
    As the small group of Daughters came around a
bend in the corridor, Jain scanned the clumps of trainees and
candidates, feeling her heart sink until suddenly she caught sight
of Va'del. Fi'lin was working with him, probably trying to figure
out just how rusty he'd gotten over the last month.
    Jain found a place on the wall that was far
enough away from the other girls that she wouldn't have to pretend
to participate in the conversation they were pretending to include
her in, and then leaned back and watched Va'del. He was going
through one of the complex forms that Fi'lin, the seemingly
emotionless weapons master, believed turned novices into master
swordsmen.
    Va'del had always been one
of the best students, but now he moved with a painful slowness.
Jain felt her face redden in embarrassment as she realized just how
badly he'd been treated while imprisoned. How could I have missed that? It
seemed impossible that Va'del could really continue to love someone
who was so thoughtless. He'd nearly died in that cold, dark cell,
and rather than making sure he'd been okay, the first thing out of
her mouth had been to tell him that they couldn't talk
anymore.
    For all that he was obviously weaker than
normal, Va'del was still more graceful than any of the trainees,
the equal of almost any of the candidates. Jain felt her worry slip
away for the first time in days as she lost herself in the simple
joy of watching his fluid motions.
    Nearly half a color cycle passed before
Fi'lin nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing. The
older man gave Va'del a few more instructions that were too quiet
for Jain to hear and then walked over to a pair of candidates who
were sparring.
    Jain watched as Va'del continued with his
forms, using techniques that ranged from broad, powerful slashes
with his heavy practice sword, to quick, subtle stabs with the
dagger in his offhand. Jain wasn't skilled enough to follow most of
them, let alone properly appreciate his ability.
    Another half color cycle passed before
Be'ter's despicable, but elegant, figure lazily strolled over to
Va'del. In a departure from his normal practice, Se'ath didn't
follow, but the way he looked at his friend with an unwholesome
anticipation made Jain's stomach twist into a dozen knots.
    Again, the conversation was too quiet to be
heard from Jain's position, but she knew she'd been right to worry
as she saw Va'del's face move from the guarded caution that was his
usual way of dealing with the world at large, to the stony mask he
assumed whenever he felt really threatened.
    Jain felt her insides tighten up as she hoped
against hope that she was mistaken. Only Be'ter would wait until
someone was exhausted before challenging them. It was like he had
an innate instinct about how to milk the most personal advantage
out of any given situation without regard to what was proper.
    Va'del nodded in response to whatever Be'ter
said, and then walked over to the wall where he'd left the light
padding the students all used for sparring practice, and Jain felt
a pulse of relief as she realized that the pair was just going to
practice rather than actively trying to kill or cripple each
other.
    The Daughter's relief lasted only a few
seconds, and then each young man saluted the other with a raised
weapon, and they began the bout in earnest.
    Be'ter was old enough that he was already as
tall, and nearly as strong, as any of the guardsmen who were doing
their best to watch the match without appearing to stop their own
practice. Va'del was still a year or two from his full growth, but
his lowland mother had gifted him with her uncommon height, and
Jasmin had done something to increase his strength before she died.
The pair quickly moved onto blows that, even with practice weapons,
were