The Broken Eye
Page 105
Commander Ironfist nodded. “Great tourney fencers often kill many and die quickly in battle. Well done, Squad Gimel. You’re dismissed. Squad Beth, tell me something that good or better.”
After they left, a compact young woman named Tensit said, “You set up Tremblefist, didn’t you?”
“How so?”
“You’ve been training Teia with the rope spear. It’s an odd weapon, and she hasn’t practiced in the open. He assumed you’d be out of practice. But what I don’t understand is how you got Teia to choose.”
“I got that,” Cruxer said. “Inductees who use unusual weapons will always choose to see their own weapon demonstrated by a master. So you knew Big Leo would choose heavy chain; you could reject that, and Teia was standing right next to him. You’ve been working with her long enough to know that she’d jump on the chance. So you did set up Tremblefist.”
A sly grin crept onto Ironfist’s broad face. “So sayeth the Tactician, ‘He who knoweth himself and his enemy dreadeth nought.’ Squad Beth, well done, you’re dismissed.”
They bowed low and left.
“Being the best has its perks, Squad Aleph,” Ironfist said. “But it also means you work longer than anyone else. Prove that you’re the best in mind, and not just in arms.”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen Tremblefist smile,” Teia said, musing aloud.
A cloud passed over Ironfist’s face. “True, but what’s the tactical significance of that? Is there any?”
“I don’t … I’m sorry.”
No one else said a word.
Ironfist blew out a breath. “You may know that my brother’s birth name is Hanishu. Mine is Harrdun. I was given my Blackguard name when I punched through a door and subdued a raider holding a hostage on the other side of it.”
“Subdued?” Ferkudi whispered. “I heard he nearly ripped the man’s head off.”
“But Hanishu picked his own name,” Ironfist said, pretending not to hear.
For one moment, Kip was struck by how different this was than learning under Magister Kadah. Where she mocked and belittled and ruled through fear, with Ironfist—a man whom the squad actually should fear—learning was like being yoked together with him. Everyone had to push as hard as they could to keep up with him, but one always felt that he was working, too. In comparison, Magister Kadah put the yoke on you alone, and then criticized how unevenly you pulled it by yourself.
Kip looked at the faces of his squadmates. They were intent, utterly focused, fearful of letting the commander down, but not fearful. He had them heart and soul and strength, not because he gave them a respect they didn’t deserve, but because he expected them to deliver the best they were able to deliver, always, and he thought their best was better than they thought it was.
This was a great man in action. It was a quiet greatness, but Kip wanted to emulate it.
The commander paused, as if he didn’t want to ask the question, but felt he owed it to the squad. “Do you know why Hanishu chose—”
“Better to be called Tremblefist than the Butcher,” Kip said.
An awkward silence reigned. But Commander Ironfist finally said, “Training makes us. War breaks us. Hanishu had something terrible happen to him, and he did terrible things in retribution. He’s never trusted himself since then. Has never wanted to lead. This is a personal matter, and I won’t discuss it further. But that it does happen is not a personal matter. As leaders and as friends, you need to watch each other, and help, and never, never, never give up on each other.
“Now,” he said, putting that aside, “what else did you learn today?”
No one said anything.
Kip moved to speak, but stopped.
Cruxer nodded to him. Go ahead.
“He’s better than you,” Kip said.
Commander Ironfist cocked an eyebrow.
“Breaker,” Big Leo said. “We just saw the commander win. As he won when they fought before.”
“With a trick,” Teia shot back.
“Tricks count,” Ben-hadad said.
“I’m not talking about today,” Kip said. “I’m talking about when you had your big public exhibition. Years ago. That didn’t involve strange weapons; it was straightforward, and Tremblefist was better than you, but you won. You won because he let you.”
“Breaker,” Cruxer said, “there were hundreds of trained fighters at that exhibition. No way someone could throw a match in front of all of them and not be noticed.” Ah, Cruxer, the idealist.
“At this level? What’s a couple points?” Kip asked.
“Why would he do such a thing?” Ironfist asked, low, dangerous.
“For the same reason he chose Tremblefist as his name. He didn’t want to lead, didn’t trust himself, but he trusted you. By taking a name that automatically made people think of you, any excellence he showed would make people think even more of you. ‘If Tremblefist is this good, how good must Ironfist be?’ He killed his own prospects for advancement to help yours. When you fought in that exhibition, it had to be close. It had to be incredible. But in the end, you had to win. He smiled because today, he could try to win. Because today, the match wouldn’t matter. Anyone can get lucky, and now it wouldn’t hurt your reputation.”
“Very good, Aleph Squad,” Ironfist said, his voice raspy. “Dismissed. Now.”
The squad moved out quickly. Kip went with them, but when they reached the elevator, he finally stumbled upon the obvious.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He walked quickly back down the hall and opened the door, but the words dried on his lips. Commander Ironfist was on his knees, face buried in his hands, weeping.
Ironfist hadn’t known. All these years, he had thought his brother had merely had an off day when they fought that exhibition. All these years, he thought his brother had chosen to be called Tremblefist because of his own brokenness. All these years, and he hadn’t known what his brother had sacrificed for him, how Tremblefist loved him.
Kip stepped out silently—and found himself face-to-face with Tremblefist. Kip swallowed, looking up at the giant, but the big man merely put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it briefly, and went inside. Kip closed the door behind him.
They never heard what was said between the brothers, but after that day, Tremblefist seemed to emerge from the shadows. He took over the training of Squad Aleph, and from time to time, he smiled.
Chapter 52
It took all of Karris’s courage to open the door to her own room. There was no escape from this. If Marissia weren’t waiting in the room now, she’d be there later, at some time when Karris wasn’t ready. In fact, the more she’d thought about it, the more certain she’d become that Marissia knew that she knew: of course a new handler in charge of gathering information would immediately ask who the old handler had been.
Thus, in surrendering Teia to be handled by Karris, Marissia had knowingly surrendered herself.
Karris opened the door. Marissia was seated at her desk off to the side of the room, her quill scratching quietly. She looked up, and put the quill in its stand. She was perfectly calm. A perfect lady, despite her clipped ears. Irritatingly beautiful. A winter storm was raging outside, sheets of rain cascading past the windows, thunder rattling the tower.
After they left, a compact young woman named Tensit said, “You set up Tremblefist, didn’t you?”
“How so?”
“You’ve been training Teia with the rope spear. It’s an odd weapon, and she hasn’t practiced in the open. He assumed you’d be out of practice. But what I don’t understand is how you got Teia to choose.”
“I got that,” Cruxer said. “Inductees who use unusual weapons will always choose to see their own weapon demonstrated by a master. So you knew Big Leo would choose heavy chain; you could reject that, and Teia was standing right next to him. You’ve been working with her long enough to know that she’d jump on the chance. So you did set up Tremblefist.”
A sly grin crept onto Ironfist’s broad face. “So sayeth the Tactician, ‘He who knoweth himself and his enemy dreadeth nought.’ Squad Beth, well done, you’re dismissed.”
They bowed low and left.
“Being the best has its perks, Squad Aleph,” Ironfist said. “But it also means you work longer than anyone else. Prove that you’re the best in mind, and not just in arms.”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen Tremblefist smile,” Teia said, musing aloud.
A cloud passed over Ironfist’s face. “True, but what’s the tactical significance of that? Is there any?”
“I don’t … I’m sorry.”
No one else said a word.
Ironfist blew out a breath. “You may know that my brother’s birth name is Hanishu. Mine is Harrdun. I was given my Blackguard name when I punched through a door and subdued a raider holding a hostage on the other side of it.”
“Subdued?” Ferkudi whispered. “I heard he nearly ripped the man’s head off.”
“But Hanishu picked his own name,” Ironfist said, pretending not to hear.
For one moment, Kip was struck by how different this was than learning under Magister Kadah. Where she mocked and belittled and ruled through fear, with Ironfist—a man whom the squad actually should fear—learning was like being yoked together with him. Everyone had to push as hard as they could to keep up with him, but one always felt that he was working, too. In comparison, Magister Kadah put the yoke on you alone, and then criticized how unevenly you pulled it by yourself.
Kip looked at the faces of his squadmates. They were intent, utterly focused, fearful of letting the commander down, but not fearful. He had them heart and soul and strength, not because he gave them a respect they didn’t deserve, but because he expected them to deliver the best they were able to deliver, always, and he thought their best was better than they thought it was.
This was a great man in action. It was a quiet greatness, but Kip wanted to emulate it.
The commander paused, as if he didn’t want to ask the question, but felt he owed it to the squad. “Do you know why Hanishu chose—”
“Better to be called Tremblefist than the Butcher,” Kip said.
An awkward silence reigned. But Commander Ironfist finally said, “Training makes us. War breaks us. Hanishu had something terrible happen to him, and he did terrible things in retribution. He’s never trusted himself since then. Has never wanted to lead. This is a personal matter, and I won’t discuss it further. But that it does happen is not a personal matter. As leaders and as friends, you need to watch each other, and help, and never, never, never give up on each other.
“Now,” he said, putting that aside, “what else did you learn today?”
No one said anything.
Kip moved to speak, but stopped.
Cruxer nodded to him. Go ahead.
“He’s better than you,” Kip said.
Commander Ironfist cocked an eyebrow.
“Breaker,” Big Leo said. “We just saw the commander win. As he won when they fought before.”
“With a trick,” Teia shot back.
“Tricks count,” Ben-hadad said.
“I’m not talking about today,” Kip said. “I’m talking about when you had your big public exhibition. Years ago. That didn’t involve strange weapons; it was straightforward, and Tremblefist was better than you, but you won. You won because he let you.”
“Breaker,” Cruxer said, “there were hundreds of trained fighters at that exhibition. No way someone could throw a match in front of all of them and not be noticed.” Ah, Cruxer, the idealist.
“At this level? What’s a couple points?” Kip asked.
“Why would he do such a thing?” Ironfist asked, low, dangerous.
“For the same reason he chose Tremblefist as his name. He didn’t want to lead, didn’t trust himself, but he trusted you. By taking a name that automatically made people think of you, any excellence he showed would make people think even more of you. ‘If Tremblefist is this good, how good must Ironfist be?’ He killed his own prospects for advancement to help yours. When you fought in that exhibition, it had to be close. It had to be incredible. But in the end, you had to win. He smiled because today, he could try to win. Because today, the match wouldn’t matter. Anyone can get lucky, and now it wouldn’t hurt your reputation.”
“Very good, Aleph Squad,” Ironfist said, his voice raspy. “Dismissed. Now.”
The squad moved out quickly. Kip went with them, but when they reached the elevator, he finally stumbled upon the obvious.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He walked quickly back down the hall and opened the door, but the words dried on his lips. Commander Ironfist was on his knees, face buried in his hands, weeping.
Ironfist hadn’t known. All these years, he had thought his brother had merely had an off day when they fought that exhibition. All these years, he thought his brother had chosen to be called Tremblefist because of his own brokenness. All these years, and he hadn’t known what his brother had sacrificed for him, how Tremblefist loved him.
Kip stepped out silently—and found himself face-to-face with Tremblefist. Kip swallowed, looking up at the giant, but the big man merely put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it briefly, and went inside. Kip closed the door behind him.
They never heard what was said between the brothers, but after that day, Tremblefist seemed to emerge from the shadows. He took over the training of Squad Aleph, and from time to time, he smiled.
Chapter 52
It took all of Karris’s courage to open the door to her own room. There was no escape from this. If Marissia weren’t waiting in the room now, she’d be there later, at some time when Karris wasn’t ready. In fact, the more she’d thought about it, the more certain she’d become that Marissia knew that she knew: of course a new handler in charge of gathering information would immediately ask who the old handler had been.
Thus, in surrendering Teia to be handled by Karris, Marissia had knowingly surrendered herself.
Karris opened the door. Marissia was seated at her desk off to the side of the room, her quill scratching quietly. She looked up, and put the quill in its stand. She was perfectly calm. A perfect lady, despite her clipped ears. Irritatingly beautiful. A winter storm was raging outside, sheets of rain cascading past the windows, thunder rattling the tower.
