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Magic’s Price
by
Mercedes Lackey
Last Herald Mage 3
To
Russell Galen
Judith Louvis and Sally Paduch
and everyone who dreams of wearing Whites
One
Sweat ran down Herald Vanyels back, and his ankle hurt a little - he hadnt twisted it, quite, when hed slipped on the wooden floor of the salle back at the beginning of this bout, but it was still bothering him five exchanges later.
A point of weakness, and one hed better be aware of, because his opponent was watching for such signs of weakness, sure as the sun rose.
He watched his adversarys eyes within the shadows of his helm. Watch the eyes, he remembered Jervis saying, over and over. The eyes will tell you what the hands wont. So he studied those half-hidden eyes, and tried to hide his entire body behind the quillons of his blade.
The eyes warned him, narrowing and glancing to the left just before Tantras moved. Vanyel was ready for him.
Experience told him, just before their blades touched, that this would be the last exchange. He lunged toward Tantras instead of retreating as Tran was obviously expecting, engaged and bound the others blade, and disarmed him, all in the space of a breath.
The practice blade clattered onto the floor as Tantras shook his now-empty hand, swearing.
“Stung, did it?” Vanyel said. He straightened, and pulled at the tie holding his hair out of his eyes, letting it fall loose in damp strands. “Sorry. Didnt mean to get quite so vigorous. But you are out of shape, Tran.”
“I dont suppose youd accept getting old as an excuse?” Tantras asked hopefully, as he took off his gloves and examined the abused ringers.
Vanyel snorted. “Not a chance. Bard Breda is old enough to be my mother, and she regularly runs me around the salle. You are woefully out of condition.”
The other Herald pulled off his helm, and laughed ruefully. “Youre right. Being Seneschals Herald may be high in status, but its low in exercise.”
“Spar with my nephew Medren,” Vanyel replied. “If you think Im fast, you should see him. Thatl
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