Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

attack troops on Unseeli. Brett knew how to defend himself—you couldn't grow up in the Rookery without acquiring a working knowledge of most weapons—but he was no fighter, and would be the first to admit it. Too softhearted, he would have said, with a smile and a shrug. Brett firmly believed that there wasn't a problem in the world or off it that couldn't best be solved by running away from it. He also believed in letting other people do the fighting whenever possible, while he hung innocently round the edges, keeping an eye out for any tasty items that were just asking to be picked up and pocketed by a nimble-fingered fellow. Brett was a thief, a con man, and a devout coward, and he figured that was enough professions for any one man.
    But Rose was having none of that. She still wasn't sure how she felt about Brett, but she definitely didn't want him getting himself killed before she made up her mind. So she took it upon herself to teach Brett everything she knew about how to handle a sword, and she knew a hell of a lot. Brett, not for the first time, didn't get a say in the matter.
    So the two of them spent most of their trip to the old leper planet of Lachrymae Christi dueling ferociously on the Hereward's bridge. Brett picked it up extremely quickly—not least because Rose was
    quite willing to cut him a good one if he didn't pay attention— and it wasn't long before the two of them were almost equally matched. No one else could have mastered Rose's many skills so quickly, but the telepathic bond forged between Brett and Rose when he first took the damned esper drug was still operating, on deep, dark, and unexpected levels. Rose had to show him something only once, and it was as though he'd always known it. The sword seemed alive in his hand, responsive as a lover, and the more he learned the more easily it all came. All he needed now was practice, to hone his reflexes and build muscle tone, and Rose sharpened his skills in the only way she knew how: by doing her level best to kill him every time they dueled. Brett did his best to kill her too; it was only polite. And so they stamped and lunged and parried, putting everything they had into every blow, dueling on long after anyone else would have had to stop.
    But finally the timer they'd set in the bridge's comm panels went off, and they disengaged and stepped cautiously back from each other, breathing harshly as they slowly lowered their swords. They'd learned the hard way that they had to have a timer. Because sometimes the intensity of their dueling took them to another place—where nothing mattered but the clash of steel on steel and the search for heart's blood, where they would have dueled each other to exhaustion before either would give up. They put away their swords and nodded respectfully to each other, struggling to get their breath back under control. Brett produced a handkerchief with someone else's monogram on it, and wiped his face. Rose looked at him almost fondly.
    "You make a good pupil, Brett. There's not much left I can teach you. But you'll never be able to beat me. Not until you develop the killer's instinct."
    "I'll never beat you," said Brett, "because you're a homicidal bloody psychopath."
    Rose shrugged. "It's a gift. I can't take any credit for it."
    They stared at each other for a while, their breathing slowing, and then Rose moved slowly over to stand before Brett. She studied his face intently.
    "This is all new to me, Brett. I never had a pupil before. Never had a partner, or a friend…"
    She stopped, considering the matter thoughtfully. Brett stood very still. Rose was never more dangerous than when she was thinking. Besides, he didn't understand their relationship either, and he was curious to hear what she would come up with.
    "I never needed anyone else in my life," said Rose. "Never wanted anyone, except to kill. As long as I had the Arena, and the blood and the suffering, I was content. Murder was sex, the killing stroke my orgasm. And I was happy. Then our minds touched, and in that moment I saw things… emotions, feelings, possibilities I'd never considered before. Sex was different for you; a joining, sharing thing. It was so much… more. I want to feel those things, even if I'm not sure why. I like teaching you… I like seeing you become more like me. But there are things only you can teach me."
    "Oh, yes?" said Brett.
    She moved another step closer. Brett stood his ground. It was like having a wild animal come