The phrase "eating dirt" had never meant that much to Maranya Valkonan before, except as lines in the case histories of some pregnant women that she had treated in the past, whose pica affliction caused them to eat strange things, including dirt.
Until today.
She shook her head, felt the long braid of dark blond hair switch against her rust suede covered back like the tail of a horse swatting at a fly, and spat out a mouthful of dirt. Her tongue continued to flick out a few times, making her resemble her cat, Zorro, after the finicky feline tasted a mouthful of something she disliked. Unfortunately, not only did the taste of dirt linger, but the shame of why she tasted it did as well.
Ettore D'Agostino, Antonio's sword master, stood beside the prone young woman. His eyes, blue as a summer sky, were narrowed, and cold as the winter air outside the eternally temperate Palazzo grounds. "Up," he commanded. "Up. Up!" Each word was punctuated with an unkind nudge of his scarred brown leather booted toe to her side.
Murmuring a few oaths in her native tongue about the sword master's parentage, specifically, their lack of a proper wedding ceremony before he was birthed, Maranya scrambled away from those prods, and slowly rose to her black leather riding booted feet.
"Yowl all you want, gattina. You need to keep your mind here." Ettore slapped her on the right thigh with the flat of his blade as he strode around her. "And here." Another slap of the blade was given, this time to her backside. "Otherwise, you will end up here." To punctuate his last word, he lunged forward with the blade, the surprise of the action knocking her back to the ground to land on her backside.
Maranya's hazel eyes widened with unspoken fear as the point of the master's sword rested within a hair's breadth away from her rapidly beating heart.
His point made, Ettore stepped back, and allowed her to get back to her feet on her own. "Now, again. Show me that you know which end of the sword to hold, gattina."
Parry, thrust, parry, slash. She repeated the moves over and over, varying the pattern of the moves to keep her attack unpredictable. Until, at last, she was the one standing over her opponent, and he stared at the point of her blade as it hovered over his heart.
"Lesson over for today."
Maranya pulled her blade back, and offered Ettore her gloved left hand to help him to his feet. Once he stood on his own, she yelped in surprise when he slapped her backside with the flat of his blade.
"Never let your guard down, Padrona."
"Da, I will remember, Khozyain." She respectfully bowed to the sword master. Before she headed to the small armory to clean her sword, Maranya shook her head in disbelief when she thought she saw Ettore's stern expression lightened by the barest hint of a smile on his lips.
"Lei impara." He nodded in proud satisfaction as he watched her walk away.
Until today.
She shook her head, felt the long braid of dark blond hair switch against her rust suede covered back like the tail of a horse swatting at a fly, and spat out a mouthful of dirt. Her tongue continued to flick out a few times, making her resemble her cat, Zorro, after the finicky feline tasted a mouthful of something she disliked. Unfortunately, not only did the taste of dirt linger, but the shame of why she tasted it did as well.
Ettore D'Agostino, Antonio's sword master, stood beside the prone young woman. His eyes, blue as a summer sky, were narrowed, and cold as the winter air outside the eternally temperate Palazzo grounds. "Up," he commanded. "Up. Up!" Each word was punctuated with an unkind nudge of his scarred brown leather booted toe to her side.
Murmuring a few oaths in her native tongue about the sword master's parentage, specifically, their lack of a proper wedding ceremony before he was birthed, Maranya scrambled away from those prods, and slowly rose to her black leather riding booted feet.
"Yowl all you want, gattina. You need to keep your mind here." Ettore slapped her on the right thigh with the flat of his blade as he strode around her. "And here." Another slap of the blade was given, this time to her backside. "Otherwise, you will end up here." To punctuate his last word, he lunged forward with the blade, the surprise of the action knocking her back to the ground to land on her backside.
Maranya's hazel eyes widened with unspoken fear as the point of the master's sword rested within a hair's breadth away from her rapidly beating heart.
His point made, Ettore stepped back, and allowed her to get back to her feet on her own. "Now, again. Show me that you know which end of the sword to hold, gattina."
Parry, thrust, parry, slash. She repeated the moves over and over, varying the pattern of the moves to keep her attack unpredictable. Until, at last, she was the one standing over her opponent, and he stared at the point of her blade as it hovered over his heart.
"Lesson over for today."
Maranya pulled her blade back, and offered Ettore her gloved left hand to help him to his feet. Once he stood on his own, she yelped in surprise when he slapped her backside with the flat of his blade.
"Never let your guard down, Padrona."
"Da, I will remember, Khozyain." She respectfully bowed to the sword master. Before she headed to the small armory to clean her sword, Maranya shook her head in disbelief when she thought she saw Ettore's stern expression lightened by the barest hint of a smile on his lips.
"Lei impara." He nodded in proud satisfaction as he watched her walk away.