Legacies by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

his grandsire to watch the flock.
    If he tried, he got praised, but he was almost as sore, and then he was expected to remember what he had done well—and do better every morning thereafter.
    Still, he hurried, as he did every morning, but Royalt was waiting in the armory for him, in the open area in the middle of the big room that had become a training arena. He tossed Alucius one of the blunt wooden knives. “Take the rifle. Check it to make sure it’s unloaded.”
    Alucius caught the knife and put it through his belt, then checked the rifle. “Chamber’s empty, magazine’s empty.” He cocked the weapon, then uncocked it, and checked again. He frowned. There was a cartridge in the chamber.
    â€œGood. Sometimes, if a cartridge is just in the top of the magazine over the lip, you can’t see it unless you look closely. Two things can happen. Either you shoot yourself or someone with you, or when you load the magazine and you cock it, you jam it.”
    Alucius nodded and removed the cartridge.
    â€œNot the best design, and it usually doesn’t happen. Took me a while to jigger that just right. But it’s the things that don’t happen often that can kill you.”
    From what Alucius was beginning to feel, everything could kill a man. Or at least, his grandfather felt that way.
    â€œNow…you’ve fired your last bullet, and you’ve got a knife. So does the Reillie that’s just overrun you.” Royalt circled toward Alucius, holding the other blunt wooden knife. “Go on…what are you going to do?”
    Alucius tried to circle away, but felt hampered with the heavy rifle, especially when Royalt jumped toward his right side. No matter what he did, he felt off-balance, and the useless rifle slowed him.
    Finally, he set it down as he circled, and squared himself, finding his eyes tracking his grandsire’s.
    â€œStupid move…” Royalt murmured, and feinted.
    Alucius backed in a circle.
    From nowhere, Royalt’s booted foot slammed the knife from Alucius’s hand, and before Alucius could recover, he was on his back with the wooden knife at his throat. Royalt shook his head and released his grandson. “In a real fight, wouldn’t put you down and put the knife to your throat. Put the knife right up under your gut. Won’t kill you immediately, but the pain’s so bad you won’t be able to do anything, and you’ll die anyway.”
    Alucius swallowed as he scrambled up.
    â€œYou were watching my eyes, not my body.”
    â€œIt’s hard. I’ve grown up watching the eyes.”
    Royalt snorted, tucked the wooden knife into his belt, and picked up the rifle, holding it in both hands. The black crystal band in the center of his herder’s wristguard glinted, even though there was no direct light falling upon it. “Why didn’t you use both hands?”
    â€œThen I couldn’t use the knife.”
    â€œAll right…you attack me with your knife. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
    Alucius reclaimed the knife off the stone floor, then circled in.
    Royalt ducked, glanced to his right.
    Alucius ignored the glance, but the rifle barrel snapped down on his weapon, and the knife went flying, and, again, Alucius looked up at his grandfather from the floor.
    â€œHow many times do I have to tell you? You don’t watch a man’s eyes. He can move his body one way while looking another. You watch the middle of his body. That’s where his weight is, and that tells you where he’s moving. He can’t go anywhere without bringing it with him. Now, on your feet.”
    Alucius wanted to groan. His grandfather was ten quints plus, with the gray hair of age, and he was handling Alucius as if he were a toddler.
    â€œYou want to die out there?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œThen act like you want to live and start listening. How long is the rifle?”
    â€œA yard or