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___Soldiers lounged around at rest, as Seifas passed through Gaekwar’s side of camp.
___Two of them were sparring using practice sticks. Their lanky commander lay nearby, apparently bored, oiling and cleaning his touted toy, a weapon he called a ‘disker’.
___Seifas stopped to watch the practice-duelists. This woman and man were the least of the soldiers of Gaekwar’s company. Seifas knew the woman had been training hard, for nearly a year.
___She still hadn’t come very far.
___Her sparring partner, previously part of Gemalfan’s brigade, possessed more skill, somewhat—and much more confidence. Instead of training, he was merely performing.
___The sweating woman, already bruised from previous passes, set herself on guard again, as her opponent swaggered into position.
___“I promise,” he drawled, “I’m going to make this very easy. All you have to do, is stop me from clipping you. Here I come…!”
___With this facetious announcement, the man began advancing, steadily stabbing his longer practice-stick, in a looping overhand arc, right-to-left, high-to-low.
___“Watch it…watch it…You couldn’t stop it last time…Isn’t it hard to parry a stab like this?”
___The woman’s eyes and guard locked onto that scorpion-gait.
___“Can you count the timing right to parry it? Can you? Can you…?”
___The woman twisted her face in thought; she tried to gauge the attack, tried to figure the timing, tried to decide what parry would work—almost upon her…only another stroke or two…
___His left hand looped around and tagged her head, striking with the shorter stick that doubled for his parrying-dagger.
___The woman fell roughly.
___“Too bad,” the man guffawed, and stabbed her side with the longer stick. She didn’t groan. “You really should learn how to watch two directions at once, you know!”
___“That’s a pretty good trick, Carl,” drifted an even more languorous drawl from nearby. “Mind if you show it to me?”
___Carl froze. A bead of sweat trickled down his face. “Errr…yeah, sure…Commander…”
___Gaekwar stood, sleepily blinking away the afternoon sun. He left behind his short, blunt leafcutter-axe, and didn’t even unstrap the disker from his forearm. Stifling a yawn, he sauntered to the woman.
___“Stick,” he said.
___She handed it over; and crawled away to the side.
___Gaekwar gave the stick a glance. “A little longer than what I’m used to, but it’ll do for the moment, I reckon. That maneuver looks tough to parry, Carl. Mind if I give it a try?”
___Carl swallowed. “Not a problem, Commander. But—no hard feelings, right?” A grin.
___“Hmph…” Gaekwar tipped the stick some various parrying angles, deep in thought. “Right,” he absently answered. “Go ahead when you’re ready, don’t mind me…” he faded off, squinting at the stick.
___Carl nodded, grinned at the soldiers around them—none of whom grinned back—and then with only a brief hesitation, began his looping attacking advance.
___Gaekwar looked away from his stick, to Carl’s progressive attack, then back again. He pursed his lips, subtly turning the stick.
___Seifas wondered whether Carl would have the nerve to blindside Gaekwar, too.
___He needn’t have wondered.
___A rapid-cycle whishhing—a faint explosive puff—
___Carl pitched forward and to the right, gasping…
___…then screaming in a muted whine between clenched lips.
___Gaekwar had shot him with the disker.
___He lowered the stick he had never used. His left arm, with the long contraption buckled between his wrist and elbow, still remained pointed at Carl. Gaekwar had smoothly brought it up to fire, not even trying to hide the movement, as normal as resting his hand on his belt, for no particular reason.
___It had been casual.
___The thin commander ambled over to his writhing soldier.
___“Great move, Carl. But, y’know,” he said, “you really should learn how to watch even one direction at once. Before you think of yourself as awesome, that is. Oh, wait.” He knelt and pulled a metal disc the size of his palm, out from under the wounded knee, wiping it on the trousers of the other man. “I don’t believe you’ll ever be awesome. Mostly you’ll be hobbling around for the rest of your natural life. You’re dismissed from the company, Carl. Go and try to find a vendor to be impressed with you.” He turned to walk away, sliding the disc through a slot in the spring-loaded cylinder, mounted on the shooting mechanism.
___“Oh, and Carl…” Gaekwar stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “No hard feelings. Right?”
___Carl didn’t answer.
___“Right?” the commander asked again. The disker pointed steadily at the wounded man—and not at his other knee.
___“r…right…” Carl gritted out.
___“Good,” Gaekwar nodded. “There had better not be.”
___Carl resumed his moaning.
___“Better move on along,” Gaekwar advised as he ambled away. “Seifas over there just doesn’t like to hear tedious droning.” And he winked in the juacuar’s direction.
___“Decent practice, Meg,” he added to the woman. “Thanks for the stick.” He tossed it lightly in her direction; she caught it in midair, unsure if she should smile or not.
___Gaekwar had already shifted direction: downhill toward the subcommanders’ meeting place. “Get cleaned up, get some food, get some rest,” he added over his shoulder as he left the area.
___Carl shrank away from Seifas, as the juacuar resumed his march to the meeting place. The soldiers were quietly laughing, as they dispersed for dinner.
___The longer stride of the juacuar easily caught and paralleled the angular subcommander. The slightly shorter man glanced up from under his free-floating shards of hair.
___“Moooooo-ooo,” Gaekwar said sardonically; with his fingers he mimed a scattering herd. Seifas knew his peer was fond of implying that people were cattle who wandered through life in response to whatever was prodding them.
___“You left behind your leafcutter.”
___“Ohhhh,” the ‘cowherd’ lazily mused, “I doubt anyone will want to take it. Don’t you?”
___And he smiled his lopsided smile again, while his fingers tapped a random beat upon the frame of the disker.
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