Luck in the Shadows

like to give my young apprentice a few lessons in swordsmanship? He'll benefit from learning your methods as well as my own."
    Micum winked at Alec. "What he means is that my ways aren't as dainty as his, but I manage to make my way well enough."
    "Come on now, old friend," Seregil demurred, "I'd be hard pressed if I had to face you in a fight."
    "That's true—but it would be the time I wasn't facing you that I'd worry about! Come on, Alec, I'll show you daylight methods."
    Micum began with the basics, teaching Alec how to grip the weapon so that it balanced to his advantage, what stances presented the smallest target to an opponent, and simple slash and parry maneuvers. Seregil finished his tuning and lazily plucked out a tune, pausing occasionally to offer advice or argue points of style.
    As Alec moved slowly through Micum's drills, he began to suspect that he was learning from two masters of uncommon ability. His arm was soon aching as he tried to deflect Micum's mock attacks. Though Micum's blade was of a heavier make than his own, the man flashed it about as if it weighed no more than a glove.
    "I'm sorry," Alec said at last, slicking sweat from his forehead. "It's hard, moving so slow."
    Micum flexed his shoulders. "It is, but you have to learn to control the movements and direct the blade, not just wave it about until it hits something. Come on, Seregil, let's show him how it's done."
    "I'm busy," replied Seregil, working on a tricky bit of fingering.
    Moving to stand over him, Micum growled, "Put away that twopenny toy, you tit-sucking coistril, and show me the length of your blade!"
    Seregil laid his harp aside with a sigh. "Dear me, that sounds rather like a challenge-" Lunging swiftly past Micum, he sprang to his feet and drew his sword, then swung a flat-bladed attack at Micum's sword arm.
    Micum blocked and countered. Grinning fiercely and showering each other with blistering insults, they battled around the confines of the cave, leaping over the fire pit and threatening to trample Alec underfoot until he wisely retreated to the narrow crevice at the back. From there he watched with delighted admiration as the two of them moved over the uneven floor, graceful as acrobats or dancers.
    At first it seemed to him that Seregil spent more time avoiding attacks then returning them—his movements seemingly effortless as he sprang here and there, his sword flashing up to block a blow, then dodging away, making Micum change his stance to follow him.
    But Micum was no clumsy bear, either. There was a powerful grace to his motions, a steady, implacable rhythm as he pressed his attacks. Soon Alec couldn't have said if Micum was driving or chasing, if Seregil was leading or being driven.
    The mock battle ended in a draw of sorts; choosing his moment, Micum side-stepped an attack, slapped Seregil's blade away, and skewered a loose fold of his tunic.
    At the same moment, however, the wickedly slender poniard appeared somehow in Seregil's left hand, its tip pricking through Micum's jerkin just below his heart. They stood frozen for an instant, then broke away laughing.
    "So arm in arm we tumble down to Bilairy's gate!" Micum said, sheathing his sword. "You marred my jerkin, I see."
    "And you ventilated my new tunic."
    "By Sakor, it serves you right for pulling that rat-sticker in the middle of a proper sword fight, you sneaky bastard!"
    "Isn't that cheating?" Alec inquired, emerging from his crevice.
    Seregil gave the boy a wink and a crooked grin.
    "Of course!"
    "It's no wonder you swear by Illior's Hands,"
    Micum growled in mock exasperation. "I always have to keep an eye on both of yours."
    "Illior and Sakor." Alec shook his head. "You say they're like my gods, but that they've been forgotten in the north."
    "That's right," said Seregil. "Dalna, Astellus, Sakor, and Illior; all part of the Sacred Four. You'll need to know more of them, down in Skala."
    Micum rolled his eyes. "We could be here the rest of the week now. He's worse than a priest on such things!"
    Seregil ignored the protest. "Each one of them rules a different part of life," he explained.
    "And they possess the sacred duality."
    "You mean like how Astellus helps with birth and guides the dead?" asked Alec.
    "Exactly."
    "But what about the others?"
    "Sakor guards the hearth and directs the sun,"
    Micum told him. "He's the soldier's friend, but he also inflames the mind of your enemy and brings on storms and drought."
    Alec turned back to Seregil. "And