I leaned against the wall in the long hall, watching the few remaining students dart off. Most probably to some sort of social engagement, this being the last class period of the last day of the week.
Something seemed to have cooled with… why was I thinking about her? I had a hard enough time reading human women, so whatever I thought I…
The last rays of sunshine filtered through milk glass panes along the tops of the various doorways, casting the eggshell plaster walls in a dim but pleasantly warm light. My footfalls echoed lightly through the space, overshadowed by the clunk of a door somewhere in the distance. It was nice not to rush.
I glanced out the hall window at the street below,where a coach drawn by a pair of two-legged reptilian ospherants sat at one of the side entrances.
It wouldn’t be for Sephimara, would it?
Halamar had a clean, efficient streetcar system, so I’d always assumed she used that.
Thatisher.
I paused.
A driver held the coach door open, but she didn’t step in, instead speaking to someone inside.
Why was I watching? It’s her business.
Her gestures and pose stiffened. She argued with someone in the coach.
Did she need help? I clenched a fist. Once again, I had only my dagger with me. I could dash to my dormitory room to grab my scythe-axe, but maybe I should just—
She stepped into the coach, which drove off.
Were there some repercussions of the clipper incident I didn’t know about? Or just typical noble issues?
Which I also had no clue about.
I harrumphed and strode off.
The physical training hall was as empty as the classroom halls, though I did spot Brenda in the archery area practicing with a light crossbow.
“What kind of range doesn’t allow firearms?” Her tone may have been that of an under-your-breath grumble, but her volume boomed. Her uniform’s jacket draped over a weapons stand, vest unbuttoned, thesleeves of a cream-colored shirt rolled to the elbow, revealing forearms thicker and more muscular than my own. And I wasn’t exactly out of shape.
I grinned. “I thought the whole idea of a shotgun was that you don’tneedto be much of a marksman.”
“What ya training with? Something wimpy and effete no doubt?”
“My preferred weapon is the scythe-axe, if you must know.”
She arched her neck. “Serious?”
“I’m from Thorncove, remember?”
She spun half a turn in a violent burst of motion, extending the light crossbow one-handed, and loosed a shot at the nearest target.
It chunked into a lindworm-shaped mannequin one ring out from the bullseye.
“What was that about shotguns and marksmanship?” she said.
I grabbed a shortbow from the rack and strung it.
Nocking an arrow, I aimed at a conventional circular target and loosed it.
“Not bad.” She nodded approvingly. “But a real adventurer would use a longbow. Better hitting power.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you use the A word.” I winked. “I can use a longbow. But I’m more accurate with this. Besides, one bulky and impractical weapon is enough to carry.”
