HowToWinFriendsAmpBruises[continued from A Pressing Issue] While Cole continued his somewhat adequate impersonation of a stricken albatross plummeting to earth, he had more than enough time to speculate on Master Kel's rather loose interpretation of the word 'sporting.' Apparently, for her, 'sporting free-play' translated roughly into 'beat the living &^%$ out of my students.' At least she strictly enforced the use of foyles—dulled blades with flattened points—and padding. Otherwise, he suspected he'd be bleeding far more profusely by now. Eventually, gravity claimed its prize and he landed on the training mat, taking most of the jarring impact on his left shoulder rather than his head. He lay there briefly, limbs splayed at odd angles, treated to the oh-too-kind laughter of his peers. The beautiful face of his instructor loomed over him, "Absolutely pathetic, Student Perondor. Exactly what did you think you'd accomplish with that maneuver?" Fencing in Amber differed tremendously from Cole's childhood training. He'd been taught the fluidity and finesse of the blade. But here it felt more like a street fight, brutal and unforgiving. Since when was sweeping an opponent's legs out from under them 'legal?' This wasn't exactly the introduction into the university's fencing class he'd expected. "Unh," Cole said, distinctly, trying to decide if he should get up. He shook his head to clear it before answering the question. "I thought I would take advantage of my greater reach to score a touch, Master Kel. It's worked well for me in the past, but that was when I was training in fencing. This sport has the same name, and we were both holding swords, but the similarity seems to end there." He rolled into a sitting position, somewhat awkward in the unfamiliar padding. "Indeed," she said, lip curled with disdain. She waved him out of the circle and began to pace around like a tigress. Cole felt a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Don't worry, mate," a man said. The speaker was a brunette with slightly unkempt hair and a self-satisfied smirk lurking behind his grey eyes. "The more the Colonel pounds on ya, the more she likes ya." "I'm surprised Prince Benedict is still alive," Cole mumbled. The blonde girl beside him snorted, her cheeks turning crimson. A laugh caught in her chest, threatening to come out. But wisely, she pursed her lips and swallowed it back down just in time to avoid Kel's icy gaze. The Cononel had reached the middle of the circle and turned on the assembled students. "Mr. Cole here erroneously refer to this as a sport," she growled. "Is this a sport?" The dozen students replied, 'NO!' Cole's companion rolled his eyes, "Now ya dun it. She's gonna give the 'we are Death' speech." Cole pulled off his mask and tucked it under his arm. "Darn. I wanted to be Desire." This time the girl did laugh, as did Cole's new friend. The young man had enough sense to hide his mirth as a coughing fit. The girl was not so lucky. Kel descended on them like a hurricane. With a flash, she had the blunt end of her foyle beneath the girl's chin. "Do I amuse you Ms. Satonaka? Do I? Do not make me regret allowing you to remain a part of this team." "Nuh-nuh… no, madam," Satonka stuttered. "I'm sorry, Master Kel," Cole spoke up, looking flustered. "My helmet got, erm, stuck while I was removing it, and I gather I looked a bit silly trying to get it off. I didn't mean to be a distraction." Kel stared at Cole for a moment, the blade still hovering under Satonka's throat. With a sharp swish, the instructor returned the foyle to her side, "Very well, Student Perondor. As you two have created a distraction for the remainder of your team mates, you might repay them by cleaning and storing all the equipment. "You may assist them, Student Arkela." The young man beside Cole blustered, "ME?! What did I do?" Kel's gaze silenced him. She turned away, "Class dismissed." The students began unceremoniously dumping their equipment for the trio to handle, some smiling in apology while others snickered cruelly as they did so. Arkela sighed, "Thanks a lot, Green-blood." Satonka blushed, "Yes. Thank you." "Sorry," Cole said, gathering up the equipment. "My mouth always gets me in trouble. One of the reasons I didn't want to be king: I'd start wars with everyone. If you'll help me carry this stuff back to the lockers, I'll do the cleaning. It's only fair. And hey, we didn't get the speech." Arkela and Satonaka laughed as they helped him. As one they recited, "Any fool can wield a blade. Any blackguard can deliver a killing stroke through luck and brutishness. But only the true warrior understands the blade and what it means to wield it. Only the true warrior can provide Death's Blessing. That is our gift. That is our curse. We are Death and must forever recognize the responsibility that comes with our station. We must always treat our opponent with respect, even if they do not understand the blessing we bestow upon them." "Ah," Cole replied, eyebrows raised. "Charming." Arkela laughed again, "Yeah, that's Kel for you. She's a laugh riot at funerals too." "Well, just because we're Death doesn't mean we have to be all serious about it." Arkela shrugged, struggling with a handful of masks, "Just don't let her hear you say that. She takes this stuff to heart. Then again, she did diddle Mr. Death himself, so who can blame her." Satonka grinned over her shoulder, "You're a king, Cole?" Arkela burst out laughing again; the sound turning Satonka's face bright red, her nose crinkled with anger. "Sounds like a nursery rhyme, doesn't it?" Cole said, smiling. "I don't know what Mom was thinking. Maybe she was hoping I'd grow old, but I'm more interested in the merry part." "In answer to your question, and in gratitude to all the gods, Miss Satonaka, no. I am a bastard, but my younger half-brother Deric was legitimate, so the curse will fall upon him, bless him." He paused, examining the jacket he'd been scrubbing. "As long as it's not that peculiar blessing bestowed by the Faiella University Fencing Team." Satonaka paused for a moment, worrying her lip. And then, she stepped closer and touched his arm. "That's not fair," she said. "I think you'd make a great king." Arkela rolled his eyes, "You must forgive our resident romantic, Cole. Satonoka also has a deep adoration for the underdog. I believe your bastard status falls under that category, so be prepared for hero-worship." "If the main qualification for being king was not wanting to be king, I'd be the best king ever. But thanks for your support. Tell you both what, after I get this mess cleaned up, let's go someplace more festive, let me buy you a round or two. Least I can do for bringing Lady Death's wrath down on us." Satonaka blushed happily, "I'd like that very much, Cole." Arkela grinned, "A few pints of bitter for carrying some equipment? Aye, that is a proclamation I can support, my King." Cole grumbled about keeping his mouth shut and avoiding new nicknames. "Can we have steak?" Satonaka ventured, inviting further annoyance from Arkela. "I'll do you a favor and not get you food. Where we're going, you won't want the food." "You and your bloody steak! I swear, this love affair you have with croquettes is positively lewd." Satonaka swung at him ineffectually and then stalked off to the equipment room. Arkela shrugged with the height of innocence, "Women!" "Yeah," Cole grinned, "aren't they great?" Night had fallen by the time the trio had stowed the gear and hiked off campus. Cole picked up dinner for them from a street vendor along the way—some sort of kebab thing with roasted fruit and beef—and they stood under the hanging sign outside the tavern as they finished it off. The fact that they were rather blocking the entrance was apparently lost on Cole, as were the dirty looks that patrons provided as they squeezed past. "Welcome to the Phoenix, friends," Cole said, after licking the last bits of grease off his fingers. "I know the sign doesn't particularly look like a phoenix, but, well, Rita's a better barmaid than she is a painter." He glanced up at the sign. "A much better barmaid." Satonaka, a half-eaten kebab in each hand, looked around wide-eyed. "The Phoenix," she repeated reverently. "Two years in Amber and I never knew this place was just around the corner from my dorm room." "You probably never heard it called by that name," Cole said. "Most of the patrons call it the Flaming Duck." He pointed at the sign. Satonaka followed his gesture and squinted. A quirky grin formed on her lips, followed but a shy laugh. "Oh dear." Fortunately, another bite of mystery meat healed her wounded artistic sensibilities. Even Arkela's curmudgeonly attitude had faded, although his attention focused more on the female patrons than Rita's artwork. "Cole," he said, slapping his new friend on the back. "I've never loved a man as much as I love you at this moment. It pains me admit this adoration, true. But I'm sure a pint will cure my suffering. Three pints, most certainly." "One or two was the agreement," Cole said, looking at the dark sky. "I don't think I have time for three. Follow me." "Time? What is time when inebriation is involved?" Arkela balked, following Cole's lead; Sakonaka a few steps behind. Cole opened the door and threaded his way to his waiting table. Cole was careful to sit with Arkela between himself and Satanaka: no sense giving Silk an excuse to act jealous. The classmates grudgingly sat side-by-side, Satonaka enjoyment of the ambiance deafening her to Arkela's griping. Cole's instincts paid off, as a moment later he felt the familiar tickle of Silk's tail against his neck. "Well, well," she purred, falling into his lap. "Long time, no see, String-Bean. Who are the jahori?" She wore an apron that added little to her ragged appearance; work not suiting her well. Both of his new friends marveled at the katayan, each in their own way. "Friends," Cole replied, "Friends that I got in trouble, so I owe them a couple of rounds. And how are you? You look—" He stopped himself from saying something dangerous, by some miracle, then corrected, "It looks busy here tonight. Is someone performing this evening?" Silk rolled her eyes, "The Hutong Hoomei. Some folk band Rita heard on her last trip to the homelands. When she saw the crowds, she roped me into serving. Must have caught me during a moment of temporary insanity, because I said 'yes.'" "Poor kitty," Cole murmured, scratching behind Silk's ear. "Don't mock me," Silk purred, melting into his touch. "I'm quite verklempt." She kissed Cole on the nose and stood up, tapping her foot in annoyance. "So, I'm expecting a big tip tonight, Post. Three pints of wheat or did you want something darker? We just got a barrel of Talenta Fire-Mead too. Expensive, but it'll put some hair on your sacks." She gave the trio an appraising look, before smirking. "Three meads, it is then?" "Three fire-meads," Cole agreed. "If I remember right, after that, it doesn't matter much what the second round is. And you know I'm good for the tip, Silk. Just make sure I don't stay past the usual time. Cut me off at 11, if you have to." Silk wrinkled her nose, resigning herself to the gross injustice of menial work. "Three meads and then my prerogative. Got it." She wandered off toward the bar, pushing patrons out of the way and cursing them as she went. Satonaka managed a smile, "Umm. She seems. Friendly." Arkela snorted, "Yeah, that's a politically sound way of putting it. Nice tail though." "Careful," Cole warned Arkela. "The first time we met Silk informed me that she needs to collect a few husbands before returning home from her studies. You might get more friendliness than you want. My arrangement with her works out okay, but I make a point to not bring any dates in here." "Well, my father expects me to be working on my first ex-wife this semester. I could get an early start," Arkela said, his grin quickly erased by a stomach punch from Satonaka. The young woman leaned forward to look around her gasping classmate. "It is traditional for katayan females to have a harem of eligible males with good breeding potential. So, I guess that leaves Arkela out. But if she wanted you, it's an honor, Cole. They're usually quite finicky." "Eh," Cole said. "The potential for wealth lowers people's standards for good looks and charm, so I rarely get an objective assessment on my own merits. She does like that I'm tall, though." "I can see why," Satonaka with a shy smile. Beside her, Arkela silently gagged. Cole raised an eyebrow and grinned, but said nothing. She leaned her face on her hands and smiled wistfully. "Katayans also travel through Shadow when they're older. They're so lucky. I haven't seen Rebma for Unicorn's sake." "I've been over it, but not in it. At least I was told I was over it: it was daytime, so all I saw was sunlight on the waves. I'm assured that sailing over it at night is spectacular, with all the lights coming up from under the sea. We should rent a boat some weekend, check it out." "Really?" both classmates chimed. Arkela grinned, "I love Rebman girls. Those webbed hands are amazing when they're wrapped around your… GAH!" His whimpering head sank to the table as Satonaka's non-webbed fist struck the unmentioned location. "You're such a pig!" she said. "I'm sorry Cole. You deserve to be associating with much more civilized people. But. . . I'd love to see Rebma, if you'll take us." She smirked. "We can bring a heavy rock and chain for Arkela." Arkela was too busy examining the table's interesting wood-grain to comment beyond a moan. "Sure, let's plan on it this Saturday," Cole said with a big grin, "We can pack a dinner, sail out before sunset, watch while it gets dark, and be back at dock before 11:30. I'll make the arrangements, chains and all." He clapped Arkela on the shoulder. "That is, if you really want those webbed hands on you. I hear there are some stairs down from the beach, but the direct route would be much faster." Arkela didn't raise his head in response. Instead, he instructed Cole to engage in a carnal act that would have been physically impossible without the proper usage of shapeshifting. Satonka clapped her hands excitedly, "A real sailing trip. Oh wow. That'd be so wonderful. Thank you, Cole. I love sunsets. But I've never see one from a boat before. And watching Arkela drown to boot. How can I resist?" Three tankards came crashing down on the table, startling Arkela out of his malingering. Silk stared at Cole, ears back and tail slashing. "You've never taken me sailing before!" "You never asked," Cole replied calmly. "There were always other things you wanted to do instead. And besides, in my admittedly limited experience, cats don't care for water, and sailors don't care for cats." Musingly, he added, "I never understood why sailors don't like cats. You'd think they'd want them to keep the inevitable rats under control." He reached for his tankard. Silk put her hands on her hips, irritation radiating off her like a kiln. "I'm a woman and you're a man. It's your duty to know what I want!Besides, those myths entirely depend on the sailors you talk to," she said. "Some think us felines to be very good luck. And that the ship will even sink if a cat is thrown overboard." Arkela grabbed his tankard and muttered, "If said cat is as cranky as her, I'd take the risk." Silk pretended not to have heard him, "So. I have the day off. I'm coming too. Right, Beanpole?" "Of course you are coming." Cole sipped his mead. "Ah, that's good stuff. And for the record, I do know what you want. But if I just give it to you before you think to ask, then you won't have the pleasure of anticipating it, and therefore not enjoy it so much. Neither of us would want that." Silk wrinkled her nose at this, rubbing her tapered ear with some vigor. "Okay," she said. "That's some sort of weird, male logic thing that I can't find fault with, but don't know why. So, I'll just keep my eye on you for the time being." She gave a load hurrumph and stalked away to harass other customers. Arkela downed some liquid fire from his mug and chortled. "Some girlfriend you got there, Cole." Satonaka looked into the amber liquid of her mug, "She isn't his girlfriend. Right, Cole?" Her voice held a desperate hope in it. "She's a girl, and she's a friend, and our friendship includes some aspects that will make it difficult for me to have someone else as a girlfriend. I expect that will become a problem soon." He sighed and took another pull from his mug. "That's a talk that will need to be handled delicately. I'd be disappointed if it became unpleasant to visit the Duck. Maybe I'll have to find someone else for her to become interested in," he mused, looking at Arkela. "Don't be too hard on her, though. She's pretty harried tonight, and you're seeing her at her worst." Arkela sipped his mead and shrugged, "I never disagree with neither man nor woman pouring me drinks. So, consider me her greatest advocate." Satonaka began to quietly nurse her drink, allowing a silence to fall between them. Fortunately, a moment later, the band emerged onto the stage, igniting an excited roar from the crowd. The five dark-skinned and colorfully dressed men briefly acknowledged the audience before setting themselves to playing. The music washed over the trio, drowning out any hope for conversation from that point forward. The night drew out with regrettable alacrity and before Cole knew it his new friends were making their goodbyes. They both left him with contact information; both quartered in the House Deneith dormitories. Unknowingly, they provided him plenty of time to retreat to his own apartment before midnight arrived. |
