I don’t have to tell you that the heir to a Domain is expected to set an example, do I?”
“No, Captain, you don’t have to tell me that.” Regis had had his nose rubbed in that all his life and he supposed Dyan had too.
Dyan’s eyes met his again, amused, sympathetic. “It’s unfair, isn’t it, kinsman? Not allowed to claim any Comyn privileges, but still expected to set an example because of what we are.” With another swift change of mood, he was back to the remote officer, “In general, keep out of the Terran Zone for your – amusements.”
Regis was thinking of the young Terran officer who, before they parted, had again offered to show him more of the spaceport whenever he wished. “Is it forbidden to go into the Terran Zone at all?”
“By no means. The prohibition doesn’t apply to sightseeing, shopping or eating there if you have a taste for exotic foods. But Terran customs differ enough from ours that getting entangled with Terran prostitutes, or making any sexual advances to them, is likely to be a risky business. So keep out of trouble. To put it bluntly—you’re supposed to be grown up now—if you have a taste for such adventures, find them on the Darkovan side of the line. Zandru’s hells, my boy, aren’t you too old to blush? Or hasn’t the monastery worn off you yet?” He laughed. “I suppose, brought up at Nevarsin, you don’t know a damn thing about arms, either?”
Regis welcomed the change of subject this time. He said he had had lessons, and Dyan’s nostrils flared in contempt. “Some broken-down old soldier earning a few coins teaching the basic positions?”
“Kennard Alton taught me when I was a child, sir.” “Well, we’ll see.” He motioned to one of the junior officers. “Hjalmar, give him a practice sword.”
Hjalmar handed Regis one of the wood and leather swords used for training. Regis balanced it in his hand. “Sir, I’m very badly out of practice.”
“Never mind,” Hjalmar said, bored. “We’ll see what kind of training you’e had.”
Regis raised his sword in salute. He saw Hjalmar lift an eyebrow as he dropped into the defensive stance Kennard had taught him years ago. The moment Hjalmar lowered his weapon Regis noted the weak point in his defense; he feinted, sidestepped and touched Hjalmar almost instantly on the thigh. They reengaged. For a moment there was no sound but the scuffle of feet as they circled one another, then Hjalmar made a swift pass which Regis parried. He disengaged and touched him on the shoulder.
“Enough.” Dyan threw off his vest, standing in shirtsleeves. “Give me the sword, Hjalmar.”
Regis knew, as soon as Dyan raised the wooden blade, that this was no amateur. Hjalmar, evidently, was used for testing cadets who were shy or completely unskilled, perhaps handling weapons for the first time. Dyan was another matter. Regis felt a tightness in his throat, recalling the gossip of the cadets: Dyan liked to see people get rattled and do something stupid.
He managed to counter the first stroke and the second, but on the third his parry slid awkwardly along Dyan’s casually turned blade and he felt the wooden tip thump his ribs hard. Dyan nodded to him to go on, then beat him back step by step, finally touched him again, again, three times in rapid succession. Regis flushed and lowered his sword.
Then he felt the older man’s hand gripping his shoulder hard. “So you’re out of practice?”
“Very badly, Captain.”
“Stop bragging, chiyu. You made me sweat, and not even the arms-master can always do that. Kennard taught you well. I’d halfway expected, with that pretty face of yours, you’d have learned nothing but courtly dances. Well, lad, you can be excused from regular lessons, but you’d better turn out for practice every day. If, that is, we can find anyone to match you. If not, I’ll have to work out with you myself.”
“I would be honored, Captain,” Regis said, but hoped Dyan would not hold him to this. Something about the older man’s intense stare and teasing compliments made him feel awkward and very young. Dyan’s hand on his shoulder was hard, almost a painful grip. He turned Regis gently around to look at him. He said, “Since you already have some skill at swordplay, kinsman, perhaps, if you like the idea, I could ask to have you assigned as my aide. Among other things, it would mean you need not sleep in the barracks.”