Tarashana Rachel Neumeier (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📖

Then I asked, “Has anyone told you about the young man who used to be inTasiyo?”

Iro dropped his gaze, reluctant to show disapproval, but Etta sat up straight. “Yes! Rakasa told us about that when we met him. You do the most surprising things, Ryo! Rakasa told us the story about Tasig inGara and Yaro inTasiyo and our father, but he said you should explain about this young man who used to be inTasiyo. Tell us how it happened!” Everyone else nodded and gestured to show me they were interested.

I hesitated. There were very many things I did not intend to explain. But finally I said, “I would not give the inTasiyo warleader a young dog to train, nor a colt, nor a boy. Some men should leave such tasks to others.”

All around the fire, people sat back, frowning. Etta said more softly, “But this young man has not been altogether ruined by bad teaching, or my brother would not have taken him into his own honor.”

“I think he can learn better. I think he wishes to learn better.”

Iro did not look up, but he said, his tone neutral, “What a boy learns before he becomes a man is important.”

I was surprised. Plainly he was less deferential than he appeared. I said firmly, “What a man learns after his fifteenth winter is also important, or no warrior would ever learn good judgment and we all would be fools for our whole lives.”

My sister and some of the other people at our fire laughed. Iro smiled and made a gesture of agreement, conceding that this was true.

After enough time had passed to let the subject turn, I said to Iro, “Someone probably has practice weapons, and the Moon is bright enough. Would you wish to spar?” I had eaten lightly, knowing I would ask that. So had he, for the same reason. He even had practice blades laid aside, ready for that kind of suggestion.

The Moon was more than bright enough for any kind of contest. The sky was cloudless, and the Moon had turned her round face fully toward the winter country tonight. Her light poured down and reflected off the lake until the world was nearly as bright as though it had been daylight. The stars shone bright as well, as close to the earth as I had ever seen them.

I knew Iro would be well-taught and I assumed we would be closely matched. But I did not doubt that, barring misfortune, I would be victorious.

After the first few exchanges of blows, I discovered, to my surprise, that he might be able to take the victory. He was skilled, and faster than I was, and almost as strong. Rakasa was easy-tempered and friendly, not much concerned with who might win or lose a match. Iro took the matter much less lightly than his brother. It was difficult to get past his guard, and he was quick to take advantage of any carelessness—I took a slashing cut across the forearm that might have made me drop my sword if our weapons had been sharp-edged.

I was embarrassed, but I dropped my blade, caught it in my left hand, and pressed the fight hard. Iro was slower to meet me that time, perhaps surprised because I had chosen to acknowledge the hit, or perhaps a little uncomfortable to face an opponent who was suddenly left-handed. I pressed harder still, taking the advantage he gave me.

Then I discovered his hesitation had been a ruse. I might have lost the match in that instant, except that we were using practice blades. When I could not block his unexpectedly aggressive blow, I seized his sword by the blade and jerked hard. But instead of letting himself be pulled forward, Iro let go of his sword’s hilt and leaped back. I threw both blades aside and tackled him bare-handed, making the match into a different kind of contest. Now the advantage was mine, because my greater strength was more important than his superior speed and because I had been practicing Lau wrestling for a long time and knew some things to do bare-handed that he did not.

Even after he knew I had the advantage, he fought hard. When I pinned him in a way that would have made a Lau yield, Iro twisted around and forced himself up so that I had to either let him go or break his elbow. Of course I let go, scrambling to get enough distance that I might be able to gain my feet before he took the chance for a decisive blow. I was surprised when I made it up—I had expected to take at least one blow—and then more surprised to see Iro holding up his hands in the way a man will when he wants to stop a match or a fight. I knew now that he was not a young man who liked to lose a contest. But I caught myself and answered with the same gesture, agreeing to stop.

He said, “If that had been a real fight, you would have won. I should have yielded the match. I will yield it now.” Then he began to kneel, to acknowledge the defeat.

I stopped him with a gesture. “If our blades had been sharp, you would probably have won,” I told him. “I will say no one won or lost if you will say the same.”

He was not certain he liked that. He thought perhaps I was showing a condescending manner. This was plain in the way he looked at me and in the pause before he answered. But he said at last, “I will say the same.”

I did not say good because I knew now he might take any expression of approval from me as an offense to his pride. I merely nodded and went to collect the practice blades. I was not certain I liked him, certainly