The Tijervyn Chronicles
Chapter Ten

story by
Richard Fife

art by
April Herron

Chapter Ten: “The High Meister”

“Okay, good, now give it a quarter-turn clockwise.”

Jasyn watched and smiled as Torbit did as he was instructed. The boy could follow orders, and when he was not letting himself be caught up in thinking about it, he could be rather smart, too.

“Good,” Jasyn said. “Now just pull that gear out by the mandrel.”

Torbit did, and the generator spun down, despite that the waterwheel driving it still turned. True, in a smaller system, it would have been easier to just stop the wheel, but Tesma’s millhouse was anything but small. And of course, the problems the devices suffered scaled proportionally as well, and this generator had been giving odd levels lately.

“Good, good,” Jasyn said. “Now get out of there and let’s go look at the coils.”

Torbit crawled out of the service pit and onto the walkway. “Thanks for letting me help out, Meister Hares.”

Jasyn sighed at the title. Torbit was a good lad, but ever since his brother Lector had left the Guild, he had gotten far too hung up on propriety. It was hard enough to get the boy to use Jasyn’s first name in his own lab. Jasyn had long ago given up trying to get him to relax in the millhouse.

“It’s good to do some old fashioned maintenance,” Jasyn said. “A meister cannot live by invention alone.”

They walked a short way to where the generator was, but Jasyn had to stop Torbit before he hopped down into the service pit. Yes, the generator was off, but it would take a few minutes to cool down. By the sudden blush on Torbit’s face, he remembered now, too.

Jasyn crossed his arms while he waited. “Say, I never got to ask you: how’d your meeting with Meister Barak go?”

“I, well, I don’t really know,” Torbit said. “She didn’t really ask me all that much about my projects, and she barely looked over my report. She kept asking questions about Gavrial and Kira and the other fellow they had with them, really.”

“Markus,” Jasyn said. “I wondered what that was about. And now that I think of it, I haven’t seen them around lately. Have you?”

Torbit shook his head. “No, and after how Meister Barak drilled me, I kind of don’t want to. She was asking all sorts of things I didn’t understand.”

“The ways of higher meisters are strange,” Jasyn said. “There is a reason I stopped trying to advance.”

“You could be High Meister if you wanted,” Torbit said. “I don’t see why you don’t keep advancing.”

“I’m happy fixing things,” Jasyn said. “Speaking of which, the generator is safe now.”

Torbit did not move, and Jasyn looked at him and saw that his attention was further down the catwalk, back towards the complex. Jasyn turned and followed his gaze then swore under his breath.

“Speak of Praedin.”

Qristina marched down the catwalk like a queen in her castle, a folio in the crook of her arm and a sneer on her lips. Her eyes were on Torbit, and when she reached them, she acted as if Jasyn was not even there.

“Meister Cennet, we need to talk.”

Torbit glanced to Jasyn and swallowed hard. “Um, I, uh . . . .”

“Qristina,” Jasyn said. “Why are you in my millhouse?”

Qristina finally looked at Jasyn with narrowed eyes, but a mask of civility quickly replaced it. She knew the bylaws of the guild, and that Tesma had appointed Jasyn as the Master Meister of the Millhouse, making him Qristina’s equal, at least around the giant waterwheels. Outside of the millhouse was a different story, but they were inside now.

“Espionage has been committed against the Guild, Jasyn,” she said. “I am trying to assess the damage, and I need to speak with Meister Cennet to that affect.”

“Are you trying to say Torbit was involved?” Jasyn said. “Because I can vouch for him this entire past week. He’s been with me, and we’ve been rather busy. Besides, you know he doesn’t talk to Lector.”

“I never said it was Lector, Meister Hares,” Qristina said.

“Why else would you need to speak to a junior meister about something he wasn’t involved in?” Jasyn said. “But, I’m curious, what exactly was this espionage?”

“Documents from a meister dispatched to Adervyn to study those abominations,” she said. “They were stolen in a rather spectacular fashion.”

“Then you should be talking to Sunset House,” Jasyn said.

“The proper reports have been made,” Qristina said. “What I am curious about is how the thieves—or should I say Lector, who no doubt hired them—knew about the documents in the first place. They were being transported in secret.”

“So you are accusing a junior meister, who wouldn’t have even known about it, of telling Lector?” Jasyn shook his head. “Qristina, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Now, if you don’t mind, we have work to do, and if you insist on holding us up, I’m not taking the heat for it when Tesma gets worked up over the power levels again.”

Qristina looked like she wanted to snap Jasyn’s head off, but held back whatever she was going to say when a junior meister came running down the catwalk.

“Meister Barak,” the woman said. “The High Meister requests your presence immediately. There is a noble from the castle.”

Qristina’s face became even more of a storm cloud. “Really? Tell him I’ll be there shortly. Run along, now.”

“Walk,” Jasyn said. “At least while you’re in here. I don’t want you tripping and falling into a turbine.”

Qristina scowled at Jasyn, but nodded to the junior meister, who started back to the complex at a fast pace half between walking and running.

“This isn’t over, Jasyn,” Qristina said. “Torbit, my office, first thing tomorrow morning, and I think I’ll be wanting to talk to you, too, Jasyn.”

“When my schedule permits it,” Jasyn said. “I’m rather busy during the workday, especially with the new standards Tesma has demanded, and the two new waterwheels we’re putting in. I’ll let you know when is convenient for me. Best be on your way, though. Don’t want to make him wait.”

Qristina nearly shivered with contained rage, but she turned on her heel and strode back down the catwalk. Jasyn turned back around, crossed his arms, and looked Torbit over.

“You don’t have anything to do with this, do you?”

Torbit shook his head. “No, Meister Hares. Was that wise, antagonizing the Master Meister like that?”

“She’ll keep,” he said. “This generator won’t. Now get down in there.”

Torbit squeaked and scurried into the pit, and Jasyn followed him. Oh, he would pay for antagonizing Qristina, but he could take it. He had so few chances to tweak her nose that could not pass it up. Besides, he knew Torbit was innocent; the boy would not know how to betray the guild if someone gave him an outlined schematic. But then, everyone had their faults. Jasyn put it out of mind and focused on repairing the generator.

* * *

Qristina walked into her father’s office without knocking. It was not really an office, but instead some sort of conglomeration of office, throne room, and lab, but an office was what it was supposed to be.

Tesma sat on his throne, wearing his coat and hat as if they were royal raiment. His fingers were steepled in front of him, and his eyes only flicked to her for a moment before returning to the man standing before him. Qristina was almost disappointed when she saw the noble was not that Kanadis chit. When the messenger had found her in the millhouse, that was who she had surely thought it had been.

“Repeat your request, Lord Davis,” Tesma said.

Davis wet his lips and looked back to Qristina for a moment. “Not a request, Tesma. I need fifteen more mechanical meisters at my factories. I have a writ from Sunset House.”

“Fifteen?” Qristina said. “I am afraid we cannot. Our meisters are already spread thin, and so many will set back various projects.”

Davis pulled a letter out from his coat. “As I said, I have a writ with Count Jaeger’s signature. Sunset House has determined that it is in Tijervyn’s best interest that my factories have the meisters, and that it is the Guild’s duty to provide them. Or do you no longer fall under the authority of Sunset House?”

“We will speak with Sunset House,” Tesma said. “But we do still fall under its authority. Qristina will see to the allocation of meisters for you. You may leave your list of requirements with her.”

Qristina glanced to her father in shock. Was he really going to let the castle push him around so easily? His eyes met hers, and he shook his head so slightly he might have only been stretching his neck, had Qristina not known him. She turned back to Davis and took the folio, with the writ inside.

“You will have your meisters by week’s end,” she said.

“I need them tomorrow,” Davis said. “It’s all there, in the writ.”

Qristina’s hands tightened on the folio, and she wanted to do nothing more than rip it up and throw it back in the man’s face, but she kept her forced smile on.

“Of course. If that is all, I will have an apprentice show you out.”

Davis smirked and nodded, and Qristina quickly saw him to the door and passed him off to one of the apprentices saddled with reception duty. Once he was safely gone, she opened the folio and read over the requirements. She nearly screamed.

“Be calm, daughter,” Tesma said. “How bad is it?”

“He wants two master meisters,” she said. “And the rest are to be at the lowest sub-meisters. Prince Dorian must have conveniently forgotten that he is better to leave us to our own management.”

“The prince?” Tesma stood up and walked over to the lab section of the room, where he began fiddling with one of the shockshield prototypes. “What makes you think this is Dorian’s handiwork?”

“It is Jaeger’s signature,” Qristina said. “And the man is nothing more than a puppet for the prince. Perhaps he knows of your plans, father. This will set us back considerably. What will we do?”

“I am not concerned,” Tesma said. “The loss of a few of those fools who call themselves meisters will not impede us much.”

“But this, on top of the theft of those documents?” She put the folio down on the desk and walked over to him. “What if it was Castle Sentat that stole them, not Lector? They could be damaging.”

“They wouldn’t know what to make of those documents if they had them,” Tesma said. “No, Qristina, you are worrying. We go forward as planned and continue to be the servile peasants they think we are until we are ready.”

“We should at least find out more about this writ,” Qristina said. “It is obvious they are testing us, which they would not do if they were not already a little suspicious of us. If we simply take it, that will make us appear as if we are hiding something far more than if we made polite inquiry.”

Tesma looked up and out a nearby window. His eyes were distant, as if listening to something, and at last he nodded. “You have been learning the ways of court, daughter.”

“It helps to have nobles who think themselves my friends,” she said. “If your game is to succeed, we must appear to be playing theirs.”

He looked back down at the shockshield and sat it down. “Very well, arrange for us to attend some court function, something not too formal, I think. And make sure Jaeger and Dorian will be there.”

“Us, father?” Qristina said.

“Yes, you and I,” Tesma said. “I haven’t been out of the lab in a while. Perhaps it is time to remind them I am still High Meister in this city.”

“Yes father,” Qristina said.

“And see to Lord Davis’s request, as well,” Tesma said. “You may pick from where you will, except for Meister Hares and his team. They are the only ones that are truly important.”

Qristina clinched her fists. Jasyn had been the first name to come to mind when she saw the requirements. He had dodged effective banishment, for now.

“As you say, father.” She smiled, picked the folio up and left for he own office. She had a letter to write, and a list of underachievers to figure out to send away.

* * *

Rojer looked up from his papers as Sergeant Fresen announced Lord Thames. Bryon walked in, dapper as any noble, and took a seat. Rojer dismissed the sergeant with a gesture and poured himself a drink.

“Care for one?” he said.

“Thank you, no,” Bryon said. “But do not limit yourself on my account.”

Rojer smiled and poured a little more into his glass before he put the stopper in the decanter. “And to what do I owe the honor of your company today? Have another recruit you want checked out?”

“What I need is not exactly a matter of military record,” Bryon said. “But I think you might be able to oblige, nonetheless. I am curious, what do you know about Lector Cennet?”

“The old High Meister?” Rojer rubbed his chin. “I don’t know, anything not dealing with the constant stream of paperwork here in the office gets so fuzzy and jumbled together.”

“Perhaps I can help you remember with something new,” Bryon said. “He’s working with the rebels now. And he stole some documents from the meisters. I couldn’t really make heads or tails of them while they were in my possession, but they seemed to be detailed notes and schematics of some sort. He paid rather well for them.”

“I knew he worked for the rebels,” Hares said. “But that mess up in Docktown, that was you? Might I ask exactly how dear it was to him?”

“More than you make in a year,” Bryon said. “Much more.”

“Then perhaps I should turn to a life of securing valuables,” Rojer said. “What I know about him is that he still thinks he is the High Meister. Apparently, Tesma used some loophole in the guild’s bylaws to oust him from the position.”

“Do you think he could recreate Tesma’s lightning?” Bryon said. “Perhaps even be able to make something Tesma could not?”

“He is a blindly intelligent man,” Rojer said. “I met him once, you know, back before I was in the service and was considering trying the life of a meister, like my brother Jasyn. He might be able to, but I am hardly a judge of such things. Might I ask why you want to know?”

“I just want to know who I’m dealing with,” Bryon said.

“Well, you best be careful,” Rojer said. “Your little operation has been getting quite a bit of attention lately, and that debacle in Docktown isn’t going to lighten it.”

“Hardly anyone died,” Bryon said. “And accidents happen in the shipyards all the time.”

“I have it on good authority that Sunset House has taken an interest in you, friend,” Rojer said. “There is a warrant out specifically for your operation, and the authorities aren’t the only ones you have made enemies of. You tread a razor path, Lord Thames.”

Bryon smiled slightly. “One hardly expects to be loved in my line of work. Such is the fate thrust upon me.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t try and warn you,” Rojer said. “I think you had best be more careful than usual.”

Bryon stood. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I had best be off. My operation won’t run itself, after all.”

“Indeed,” Rojer said. “Sergeant Fresen will see you out.”

Bryon nodded and left, and Rojer picked over a report he had been working on until the sergeant returned. “He’s on his way?”

“Yes, sir,” Fresen said.

“Follow him. Find out where it is that he calls home. And Shane,” Rojer said. “Don’t be seen.”

Fresen nodded and left, and Rojer went back to his report. He knew he should feel bad for betraying a friend, but he had tried to warn him. Still, in the end, business was business. Bryon would understand, at least on some level. Rojer poured himself another drink and went back to his paperwork.

* * *

Maaike walked into the fencing salle and looked around. Most of the younger members of the court were there, with about half of them on a piste, sparring. It was refreshing that this, at least, was common across the countries, although she had only now been able to attend one of these informal fencing courts the prince held.

Becka walked up to her, a mask in one hand and a sword in the other, and smiled. “Lady Kanadis, I didn’t know you fenced.”

“Since I was a little girl,” Maaike said. “Shall we find an open piste?”

“I was waiting for Ariel, but I suppose a little sparring wouldn’t hurt.” Becka turned and walked towards back towards the fencing floor. “So, I heard you had tea with my uncle the other day. I trust he was a gentleman?”

Maaike gave the other woman a sidelong glance. “Of course. Why would he not be?”

“He can be gruff at times,” Becka said. “Especially with someone he thinks is manipulating him, and of late, he seems to think everyone is.”

“Well, you can rest easy that he was an absolute delight to have for tea,” Maaike said. “Truly, I think I should have to invite him again. He is rather adept at conversation.”

“And what is a conversation but a sparing of words instead of steel?” Becka laughed and stepped onto an empty piste. “But let us brandy blades now, milady.”

Maaike saluted with her blade as she stepped up and put her mask on. Even behind Becka’s mask, Maaike could see her smiling. As their blades started to dance around each other, the smile turned to a look of determination. What did the little chit expect, that Maaike would be an amateur swordswoman? She pressed Becka back down the piste, easily parrying lunges and relentless attacking.

It was not that Becka was an amateur herself. No, Maaike would not belittle the woman that much. Her bladework was skilled, but she had an obvious tell before she lunged, and she seemed to completely ignore the lower lines of attack. The bout ended eight to one, and Maaike had actually let Becka have the one touch, not that she had made it look that way. It was better for an opponent to leave with some dignity intact, even in a friendly spar.

Becka removed her mask and took a deep breath. “Milady is quite skilled.”

“Voxfeldian professors feel that the mind emulates the body and vice versa. As such, a nimble body and a nimble mind are inseparable.”

“I don’t know about that,” Becka said. “Uncle is hardly nimble of limb anymore, but he is more than nimble of mind.”

Maaike smiled and stepped off the piste. “Perhaps. Ah, it looks like Lady Dunny is arriving.”

Back at entrance, Ariel was just walking through the door, though not dressed to fence. That hardly surprised Maaike despite Becka’s indication that Ariel would be otherwise; she doubted the woman would know which end of the weapon to even hold. What Maaike did not expect, though, was Qristina, who walked beside her. The meister was dressed for the event, although she scandalously was wearing breeches instead of a skirt.

Becka passed by Maaike on her way to greet the newcomers, and Maaike trailed behind. What could it mean that Qristina was here? While Maaike thought, a tall, lean man broke away from the group and headed over to the stands, where Count Jaeger and Prince Dorian sat.

“Becka,” she said. “Who is that?”

Becka glanced to where Maaike pointed. “Oh, that’s the High Meister. I wonder what he’s doing here.”

“Tesma?” Maaike looked at the man again. Yes, she could see some of Qristina in him. Tall, lean, and with a pointed nose. Why was he wearing that coat and hat, though? Surely they were stifling in this summer heat. Maaike started to ask another question, but they had reached the group, and Ariel stepped forward.

“Becka,” Ariel said. “There you are, but why are you panting?”

“Oh, I was just sparring with Lady Kanadis,” Becka said. “She is really quite good with a blade.”

Ariel smiled. “Oh, you love to play with swords too, milady? I find it terribly violent, but I must admit it is a rather amusing way to pass the afternoon, watching the men getting their aggression out.”

Maaike nodded, not quite sure how to take comment, and turned to Qristina. “Meister, I am surprised to see you here. I did not think your temperament would match court well.”

“So you have me figured out,” Qristina said. “I do find the drooling presumptions of power so many nobles have to be tiring, and I typically have far more important things to do back at the guild. But, today father wished to make an appearance at court, and Ariel was so kind as to invite us to a gathering where I might at least exercise my body, if not my mind.”

“Then perhaps you will do me the honor of a bout,” Maaike said.

“I prefer to fence with the men,” Qristina said. “They are closer to my level. I would hate terribly to embarrass you, especially after Becka here spoke so highly of your skill.”

“I think it is your own inflated opinion of yourself that would suffer,” Maaike said. “Don’t tell me you’re frightened a foreign, backwater bumpkin will make you look the neophyte.”

Both Becka and Ariel had been listening to the conversation with morbid fascination, but now they both drew in a sharp breath. Qristina’s eyes narrowed.

“Very well, bumpkin,” she said. “If you are so eager to be embarrassed, so be it. I could use someone to warm up on.”

“I will only be embarrassed for you,” Maaike said. “Choose a piste.”

* * *

“I say, Jaeger, isn’t that Tesma and his daughter?”

Jaeger looked down to the entrance and forced only the slightest surprise to show in his voice. “Why, yes your highness. I do believe it is. I wonder what made them crawl out from that complex of theirs.”

“Try and be civil,” Dorian said. “It isn’t like they have actually done anything to you.”

“Perhaps,” Jaeger said.

Dorian caught Tesma’s eye and gestured, and the man broke away from the group. No doubt he would have walked over had Dorian gestured for him to stay away. Tesma went where he wished. A week ago, Jaeger would not have thought much of that. Today was another matter.

“Your highness,” Tesma said. “It is good to see you after so long. I regret that I cannot find my way to court more often, but the work at the lab seems to never end.”

“I have missed our conversations,” Dorian said. “It is a pleasure to see you here now.”

“Pray tell,” Jaeger said. “What brings you out, then?”

Tesma glanced at him for a moment then turned his eyes to somewhere just past Jaeger’s shoulder. “I think you know that, Count of Sunset.”

Dorian looked at Jaeger. “What does he mean?”

Jaeger smiled. That the meisters had risen to his bait meant nothing, not by itself. But it was a start. “He is talking about the writ I issued to Lord Davis.”

Dorian frowned. “A writ? Pertaining to what?”

Tesma glanced back to Dorian with a slight look of surprise then turned his eyes out to the fencers. “I thought you would have known, your highness. Two days ago, Lord Davis came to us with a writ from Sunset House demanding we send fifteen meisters over to his factories.”

Dorian turned to Jaeger. “What is the meaning of this?”

“It is part of your rejuvenation project, your majesty,” Jaeger said. “The one that you tasked me with several months ago? The Davis factories produce bricks, mortar, and steel that will all be useful in rebuilding the southern cities, but they are woefully underdeveloped at present. The meisters are needed to modernize them to our needs.”

“Oh, well,” Dorian said. “I can see the misunderstanding. Still, you should have consulted me before sending such a writ to the High Meister. Tesma, I am sorry about this.”

“So you will reverse the writ?” Tesma said. “I need the meisters for our projects. The guild can surely find a better use of their time, and Davis can petition the guild for any modernizations his factory needs.”

“If this was a purely business matter, I’d agree,” Jaeger said. “But this is an initiative of the state, which takes precedence.”

“It isn’t that dire,” Dorian said. “I think we can accommodate the guild in this.”

“You were rather insistent about this project when you gave it to me, your majesty,” Jaeger said. “Besides, even with the improvements, it will be early winter before we can get relief to the war torn cities. Without them, our people will freeze for want of adequate shelter.”

“So melodramatic, Count,” Tesma said. “Even here, winters are not so harsh, and I am sure you can find ways to help the southern people without hurting the nation by crippling the guild so with your writ.”

“Fifteen meisters out of hundreds,” Jaeger said. “I doubt that will be so crippling, except perhaps to personal projects.”

Tesma smiled and looked back at Jaeger, this time not looking away “But where one writ has been made, others may follow. How soon before you have stripped the guild with mismanaged demands?”

“I’ll have the writ recalled,” Dorian said. “I am sorry this happened, Tesma. The count was simply being overzealous in his duties.”

Tesma smiled and looked somewhere to the prince’s lower left. “Thank you, your highness. And I can understand zeal in one’s passions. In the future, if the count would but let us know of his needs, we will do what we can to help.”

Jaeger leaned back. So, that was the way of it. Tesma had not really done anything wrong; he was simply a businessman seeking to protect his interests. No, that had not been the test, anyway. He had simply wanted to bring the High Meister out of his tower and observe more closely how others acted around him. The prince’s simpering deference was the real answer to Jaeger’s questions. That and the way everyone who seemed to even look at Tesma since he stepped into the room did so with awe, and rarely kept their gaze on him for long.

Jaeger looked out over the room, and noticed that what eyes were not glancing up at the prince and the High Meister were instead locked on a bout in the center-most piste.

He leaned forward. “I say, who is that?”

Dorian followed Jaeger’s gaze. “Well, I’d say that one of them is the High Meister’s daughter. And could that be Lady Maaike she is sparring with?”

Tesma turned his wandering gaze to the match. “Maaike? I have heard this name. The heiress to Kanadis?”

“Yes, I think it is,” Jaeger said. “I had no clue she was so splendid a fencer.”

As they watched, Maaike matched Qristina well in a constant swirl of steel. The fight seemed to last forever before a touch was landed and Jaeger caught the score: four touches to each. The next would determine the winner. Jaeger could not suppress a smile. He had seen Qristina humiliate the best men in court, and given what she had done to Maaike at the Meisters’ Guild, he hoped Maaike would return the favor here and now.

Before they started the last exchange, Jaeger glanced around, and noticed Tesma had disappeared. Left without so much as a “by your leave.” One thing was for sure: the man was dangerously out of control.

* * *

Maaike parried the feinted attack and moved to bind Qristina’s blade into a low line. The woman was good, very good, but Maaike knew she was better. The score might say they were evenly matched right now, but each of Maaike’s touches had been resounding works of art, where Qristina’s had been gambles and luck.

The bind paid off, and Qristina over-extended herself as she disengaged and attempted another attack. Maaike flicked the blade with hers so that it was just ever so slightly out of line then half-stepped to the side. Qristina had attacked too aggressively, and Maaike only had to partially extend her blade before Qristina ran right into it. They stood there, Qristina’s blade harmlessly to the side and Maaike’s deeply bent as it pressed against the other woman’s stomach. All around, thunderous applause erupted as though a dam had burst, and Maaike pulled her blade back and saluted. Qristina quivered in rage, but saluted and took her mask off. She did not shake hands, though, and started to storm off.

The claps suddenly died except for one, slow beat, and the crowd opened just before Qristina, but not to let her through. Instead, Tesma stepped out, clapping.

“Impressive, Lady Kanadis,” Tesma said. “I have long wondered when someone might teach my little girl some humility.”

Qristina bristled at the comment and glared back at Maaike. Maaike inclined her head with a smile.

“She was a most worthy opponent,” Maaike said. “And I must say: it is an honor to finally meet you, High Meister. I was well acquainted with Quintin Lazris in Adervyn and always found his company a pleasure. I am remiss that it has taken so long for us to meet.”

Qristina looked ready to spit, but Tesma’s eyes only narrowed slightly. “Quintin is an old friend. I would love to hear of what he has been up to these many years. But, before any of this, I wondered if I might ask you a favor, milady?”

Maaike tilted her head, confused. An old friend? Quintin had hardly painted such a picture on the few times he had spoken of Tesma. “Yes?”

“I was curious if I might have the honor of a short bout, perhaps to three touches only instead of nine?”

A general murmur filled the room, and Maaike licked her lips. What was his game? “If you insist, I would be delighted.”

Tesma smiled and turned to Qristina. “Daughter, might I borrow your mask and blade?”

Qristina nodded, and Tesma shrugged out of his coat and took his hat off, offering both to Qristina. A bracer that had been hidden by his coat was strapped to his left arm, and Maaike raised an eyebrow at it.

“Your bracer has no sigil of rank,” she said.

Tesma glanced down at his arm. “The High Meister may be elected from anyone within the guild, even the newest junior meister. As such, he is outside of the guild hierarchy and bares no sigil.”

“Intriguing,” she said. “It is almost as if he gives up being a meister and strives for something more.”

Tesma’s smile tightened. “You could say that.” He then put on the mask and saluted. “En Garde.”

Maaike quickly saluted and put her mask on. No sooner was her blade up than Tesma lunged. She parried at the last moment, and he switched into a new line of attack. She barely kept up with him, and her own ripostes felt awkward and sluggish compared to the man. Qristina had been good, but compared to her father, she might have been a novice. His attacks might not have been complex or artful, but they were precise and blindingly fast.

Only a handful of heartbeats had passed before his blade was firmly pressed against her heart. They returned to the center of the piste, and this time she was ready for the speed. She launched her own offensive, a mix of feints and binds, and for a moment thought she was doing well until Tesma’s blade moved just a hair, allowing her counter-parry to catch only air and, once again, his sword found her heart.

She had lost the bout, but perhaps she could save some face. She returned to the center of the piste, and Tesma cocked his head curiously as she took three slow, deep breaths. She would have to be fast and make no mistakes, and above all else, do the unexpected. Surely he had anticipated her move the last time.

She raised her foil, and despite having his own blade up, he only stood there watching her. Heartbeats passed, and they both moved at the same moment. Tesma moved to parry her, and she spun her blade around, refusing to touch his weapon but never giving him an opening to clearly strike at her. It was different from how she normally liked to fight, and she often felt it cowardly, and that was why it had to work. Tesma had watched her fight Qristina and knew she preferred to manipulate her opponent directly.

Tesma took a step back, and Maaike pressed her attack, still avoiding his parry and refusing to enter a bind, even when he obviously opened his blade for it. And then she saw it, the opening in the pattern. She lunged, and Tesma turned his blade, bringing the point completely off line and caught the thrust just before it landed. He then slid down the blade and twisted his wrist.

A general cry went up through the salle as Maaike’s blade went flying through the air, and before it even landed some twenty feet away, Tesma took a step back and lunged. The force of the blow knocked Maaike back, and Tesma twisted his body to step in closer. She could see his eyes clearly through the mask as he whispered to her.

“Be careful of what fires you play with,” he said. “There are things at work in this world beyond your understanding.”

He stepped back, and she fell to the floor. Her chest hurt despite the thin metal breastplate she wore under her jacket, and when she looked up, Tesma had already put his coat and hat back on. He looked at her for a moment, then turned his eyes to the ceiling.

“Please, come visit the Guild some time. I think we would have much to speak about.”

He turned and the crowd parted before him as he left. Qristina followed, but not before she looked murder at Maaike. The crowd closed, and Becka and Ariel swooped in, worrying over her. She waved them off, professing to be fine, but then excused herself to her rooms.

At the door to the Salle, she met Jaeger. “Well?”

“I think we should have tea tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “We definitely need to talk.”

She nodded. “Yes, we do.”