Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 13

Chapter 13 Mean Man

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 20:36

* * *

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 20:36

"Vagrant, you are amazing, marvelous, wonderful, fabulous, delightful....."

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 20:58

Elena gritted her teeth and returned to the stance Figueredo called 'position'.

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 21:00

"... unimaginable fool," the tutor finished, punctuating each word with a light tap of his wand on the palm of his hand. For a change, his own palm, just like the stern teacher next to the blackboard. The impression was reinforced by the fact that the master was indeed standing next to a large blackboard, which was covered with thin and carefully fitted slate tiles. The dark, glossy surface was chalked out - the direction of the main attacks according to Elena's height.

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 21:01

"You've been taking lessons from me for more than a year," Figueredo said boredly. "That money could buy you a good dowry and help you marry a decent man. You've been wasting it, tossing my time around like sand in the wind."

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:09

Draftsman sighed and whipped his apprentice on the shoulder with an exclamation:

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:10

"Position! Keep your back straight!"

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:10

Elena stretched even more. Her spine rattled like a taut string, or, to use a familiar reality, like the bowstring of a block crossbow. Her lower back ached. It was so tired from Badas's asshole surgery the day before yesterday, and it had continued unabated. The prison had started a big investigation with a group interrogation in several ways, the equivalent of a face-to-face session, and the apprentices had overdone it again. And now, with every movement, it was as if a copper nail from the shipwrights' arsenal had been hammered into her sacrum. The unpleasant word "sciatica" persisted under the skull cap, which Grandfather had suffered from impressively and for many years.

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:16

"One more time, you fool," Figueredo squeaked like an angry cricket. "First."

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:17

This time, the stick, or rather, a long and thick rod, whipped across her thigh. Elena bit her lip and didn't make a sound.

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:18

"Walk without stepping. The foot is carried forward, and then the force of the fall pulls it in and puts it there. I said this a year ago, six months ago, a month ago, but you don't listen to me. Let the earth itself attract and move your feet, don't put in unnecessary forces. You're gonna need it. Second."

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:20

A new stroke burned the other leg symmetrically. Elena held back this time, too. Figueredo stepped behind her, his brittle voice almost in her ear.

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:21

"You're lifting your toes, even though that's what I've managed to put in your empty head. But I'll say it again."

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:26

Draftsman was a little sideways and pinched the tips of the toes of her left foot with the rod.

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:28

"The foot doesn't roll. Not! Rolling!"

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:27

Elena waited for another blow, and it came, now on the shin, very painful, so that the woman did not hold back a sob through her teeth.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:28

Figueredo stood beside her, side by side, demonstrating for what must have been the thousandth time.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:29

"The foot walks forward, the muscles are not tense, the thigh swings like a pendulum, without tension. The toe is raised so that you don't trip if a stone, a thrown blade, or a corpse falls under your foot. And if it's an enemy's foot, you step on it, and you can unbalance him."

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:30

Draftsman slammed his foot in an old felt slipper against the stone floor a few times.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:31

"And no roll! The foot comes down all at once, like the jaw of a snare. The ground attracts the foot, and the foot clings to the ground with the whole sole, from top to bottom. With the right step, you can fight even on ice. Otherwise, you're bound to slip. Especially if you have a sword in your hand, which is pulling your body."

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:33

Draftsman sighed heavily again and shook his head, his tail of gray hair swinging behind his back.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:34

- Vandera, you're as strong as an ordinary peasant. But weaker than any real fighter. It's harder to parry because a good punch with a strong arm will sweep away your defenses. It's harder to chop and slash through clothing than chainmail or armor. Only impeccable skill and skillful movement will equalize the odds, and you have one wrong one for six correct steps. That's good enough for a soldier. And for a woman, too. But in a fight with a brether or a good fencer, every seventh or eighth step opens you up to a blow. Maybe I taught you the art of the sword too soon.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 15:06

Draftsman walked around and stood opposite her, one hand behind his back, like Napoleon's, the other twitching with a stick like a wasp's sting. Figueredo put the instrument to his student's forehead in a deliberately slow gesture and spoke gravely as if hammering wisdom into Elena's head:

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 15:07

"Right now, in this vast world, someone is frantically exercising to kill you. You don't know this person. He doesn't know you. But your destinies are linked. They lead to an inevitable meeting. The enemy does for your ten repetitions eleven of his own. He learns the right step. He corrects mistakes by painstaking teaching. And all this to finish you off. Think of it hourly, minute by minute."

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 15:08

// "I know who wants to kill me," Elena thought and remained silent.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 15:09

A new sigh, full of deep disappointment.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:35

"Again. All over again on the spot."

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 15:09

Elena stepped into the center of the circle of death and gripped the hilt of her training sword, a heavy stick with a cross instead of a hilt and a lead pommel on the end of the hilt. She wanted to cry, as she had in the first weeks of her apprenticeship, to see how effortlessly and effortlessly her mentor handled everything. Draftsman was seriously ill, a relentless sickness gnawing at the old man from the inside day after day. Figueredo could not walk a hundred steps without respite, could not bend over, and had to squat, keeping his body upright. Elena was healthier, younger, stronger, and faster. And still, next to the sick fencer, she felt like a cow on the ice, trying to compete with a figure skater. There was a ruthless, radical refinement in every movement of Draftsman, a school where mistakes were punished by the strictest examiner named Death. This school, the precise knowledge of what to do and how to do it at every moment replaced both health and youth.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 15:12

The student performed the parade and froze in anticipation of the command.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 15:13

"Pendulum!" ordered Figueredo.

Camrad_RIP 12.11.23 в 15:29

Elena stretched her arm forward and began a combination that had become tiresome over hundreds, thousands of repetitions. The "point" froze, glued to an invisible point, the weapon arm going left and right, practicing symmetrical defenses against side blows. Thirty movements, then a change of hand. And again, and again, and again, until the hand loses sensation and the forearm broken a year ago seems like lead. And then keep going.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:13

"The horseshoe!"

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:14

Now the point was actively working, the wooden sword drawing an inverted horseshoe.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:14

"Elbow still!" shouted Draftsman. "The arm acts from the shoulder, and the torso rotates, increasing the opposition! Otherwise the heavier blade will strike your own."

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:16

Her lower back ached even more. However, it was much harder on her soul.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:17

The year of apprenticeship became for Elena a time of permanent humiliation. And it could not be said the fencer tried to hurt her in any way. After the mentor and the apprentice had concluded the present contract, it was as if Draftsman had been replaced. The mentor was strict, businesslike, and professional. He took to teaching and taught her every minute of their almost daily lessons. Elena waited for the inevitable washing of the training room, taking out the night potty, and other "non-statutory" things that, judging by the mass culture, were inevitable for an apprentice in the dojo. None of this was required by Figueredo. Elena came, put on her training pants and shirt, and then all communication was devoted only to the High Art.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:20

"A high diagonal!"

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:21

The sword chopped from top to bottom, striking downward, in an almost fully extended arm, ending the motion at the foot of the "hind leg". And immediately went in the opposite direction, imitating a false blade strike from bottom to top.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:21

Yes, as a mentor, the fencer was above reproach. Except for the fact that, with very few exceptions, every lesson left Elena with several new bruises. Worse was another thing. Figueredo didn't believe in his pupil and didn't think it necessary to hide it. He just didn't. "Vandera" could try or not try, trample on the place in impotent attempts, or demonstrate impressive successes, but the mentor still sincerely despised her as a person out of place, who bangs his forehead in the closed gate instead of doing something more worthy and useful. And this quiet, unconcerned disdain hurt more than a stick, the third in a year of apprenticeship. It hurt like a real blade. Especially when combined with the growing realization that, yes, Draftsman was right, she would never be a brilliant swordsman. Only a solid average.

Camrad_RIP 17.11.23 в 17:24

"Left-handed eight!"

Camrad_RIP 18.11.23 в 18:08

Month after month Elena tried her best. It seemed to her sooner or later the fencer would at least appreciate her persistence. In vain. It took many weeks for the student to finally understand - Figueredo would never recognize her as a fighter. It simply wasn't in his picture of the universe. Now, the woman held on to nothing but her ego. And the memory of the killer's red eyes on the ship. Draftsman was wrong about one thing - Elena knew full well who would one day come for her. And now, thanks to the science of Art, she understood even better how deep the gulf between them was. So, despite all the frustration, almost every day Elena knocked on the hated door of the hated mentor. And she was learning, little by little, tiny steps, hard, with frustrating failures and setbacks - but she was moving forward.

Camrad_RIP 18.11.23 в 19:16

"Chopping from behind the head, fifty strikes each to the right and left."

Camrad_RIP 18.11.23 в 19:16

When, despite the autumn chill in the unheated house, the student's shirt was soaked almost through, Draftsman finally deigned to return to the movements. Elena walked along the exhausting rays of the damned star, performing learned and exhausting sequences of blows. She practiced the simplest combinations "parry - counterstrike", on which the whole fencing art of "urban combat" was based. The air in the hall seemed to thicken, soaked through with the sour smell of sweat and disturbed dust. Figueredo's eyes bulged with what seemed to be toad eyes as he beat the rhythm of the stick on his own palm and his student's hands. Not hard enough to take away her mobility but enough to memorize the direct link between error and pain at the level of reflexes.

Camrad_RIP 18.11.23 в 19:18

"Enough," Figueredo finally relented, and Elena froze, leaning on the stick.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 19:40

As usual, the woman lost track of time - there was nothing in the hall to measure time, no hourglass or simple klepsydra. Even the ringing of the city bells faded into the thick walls of the house. The duration of each lesson Draftsman determined arbitrarily, guided by his own considerations. Elena could determine the time only when it was over, going outside. It could be a few minutes (which, however, rarely happened) or two or three hours until the midnight watch, so it was necessary to return home at the darkest and most dangerous time of the night.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 21:02

"Defenses," Draftsman ordered curtly, selecting a training sword for himself. "How do you take a blade-to-blade strike?" He asked, weighing the same stick as Elena's in his hand as if he were holding it for the first time.

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 21:03

"At right angles, strictly, without cupping the blade," she replied without hesitation. Elena went into a defensive stance without command, placing her right hand behind her back. The draughtsman had trained her from the beginning as an overhand swordsman, both to make her opponents more uncomfortable and to compensate for the fracture that had stiffened the mobility of her main arm a bit.

Camrad_RIP 18.11.23 в 19:20

"Explain."

Camrad_RIP 18.11.23 в 19:20

"The blade of one blade and a line transverse to the blades of the other always form a right angle."

Camrad_RIP 16.11.23 в 13:35