the sound, as though the shock was too great to keep silent.
Dora stood steadily, one foot in front of the other, their softness pressed onto the sharp blade of the sword.
How can she stand there so still? thought Nikko dazedly. Why aren’t her feet bleeding, cut to the bone?
Slowly—almost too slow to see—Dora lifted her arms. They were straight above her head now. All at once she slammed them down, like a bird about to take wing. At the same time she jumped again, down onto the floor.
Nikko gazed at the sword. It gleamed in the light from the doorway. Not even a trickle of blood marred its surface.
Thetis kneeled and touched the sharp sword edge. She turned to Dora, her face questioning, then pointed to her own feet and then to the sword.
Dora laughed again, her voice proud now. ‘Yes, my lamb, I can show you how.’
‘No!’ Nikko’s cry had come before he knew what he was going to say.
Thetis stared at him and lifted her chin. She doesn’t have to say, ‘I want to learn’, thought Nikko. Not aloud.
‘It’s a matter of balance,’ said Dora quietly. ‘Of learning how to spread your weight evenly, and all at once, so no bit of your feet touches the blade before the rest. You might be able to learn the trick of it, boy. But to perform before a king—well, it’s an act, as much as skill. You have to work out what will impress the audience most.
‘A boy slowly stepping onto a sword—that might get a gasp or two, before they go back to chewing their meat. But if you dance with two swords balanced on your shoulders, with your sister standing on the blades, and if you smile as though you didn’t carry death—that will have the crowd screaming, and garlanding you with jewels. Half of which you’ll give to Orkestres and me,’ she added. ‘As is right and proper, seeing as howOrkestres discovered you and we’ll be training you. But there’ll be gold enough for all of us, and when we die what we have will come to you, as our apprentices, as we have no lambs of our own.
‘It’s a good life here,’ she added more gently. ‘Even when you’re too old to interest the High King he doesn’t send you away, not when you’ve given him some good years. When I got fat he had me taught to be a weaver—only wool, not that smelly linen stuff that tears your fingers—and I get to do it here too, not in the shed outside the walls with the slaves. Orkestres and I get all we need as long as we live—’
Thetis took a step toward her, and tugged her trousers. Dora seemed to know what she was saying even without the words.
‘Except the glory. Yes, you’re right, little lamb. Once you have heard the screams, that little gasp of breath as though they can’t believe what they are seeing…it’s hard to live without those. Harder for Orkestres than me, but that’s men for you. Now I’ll show you the stretching exercises, and a dance step or two, otherwise you’ll faint from hunger before we’ve even started.’
CHAPTER 13
And so they practised, always confined in the two rooms of Orkestres and Dora’s quarters. Stretches and leaps at first, and simple dances to the rhythm of Dora’s finger drum, both on the ground and with Thetis on Nikko’s shoulders. They learned to place their feet onto the sword blade too, but not to move about on it. You needed months of practice, said Orkestres, to do that safely, and they’d only have one chance to impress the High King.
In between practice sessions they helped Dora, combing wool to get out the grass seeds and bits of dung, twisting the wool into big loops as she spun it on her distaff, or stirring the pot when she brewed up the barks and lichens for dyes. The sound of her loom was a constant background to their practising, as she kept one eye on them and another on her work. Dora’s weaving produced a cloth so thin you could draw it through a needle, with patterns of fish and waves and birds, far finer than anything seen back in their village, where cloth
Dora stood steadily, one foot in front of the other, their softness pressed onto the sharp blade of the sword.
How can she stand there so still? thought Nikko dazedly. Why aren’t her feet bleeding, cut to the bone?
Slowly—almost too slow to see—Dora lifted her arms. They were straight above her head now. All at once she slammed them down, like a bird about to take wing. At the same time she jumped again, down onto the floor.
Nikko gazed at the sword. It gleamed in the light from the doorway. Not even a trickle of blood marred its surface.
Thetis kneeled and touched the sharp sword edge. She turned to Dora, her face questioning, then pointed to her own feet and then to the sword.
Dora laughed again, her voice proud now. ‘Yes, my lamb, I can show you how.’
‘No!’ Nikko’s cry had come before he knew what he was going to say.
Thetis stared at him and lifted her chin. She doesn’t have to say, ‘I want to learn’, thought Nikko. Not aloud.
‘It’s a matter of balance,’ said Dora quietly. ‘Of learning how to spread your weight evenly, and all at once, so no bit of your feet touches the blade before the rest. You might be able to learn the trick of it, boy. But to perform before a king—well, it’s an act, as much as skill. You have to work out what will impress the audience most.
‘A boy slowly stepping onto a sword—that might get a gasp or two, before they go back to chewing their meat. But if you dance with two swords balanced on your shoulders, with your sister standing on the blades, and if you smile as though you didn’t carry death—that will have the crowd screaming, and garlanding you with jewels. Half of which you’ll give to Orkestres and me,’ she added. ‘As is right and proper, seeing as howOrkestres discovered you and we’ll be training you. But there’ll be gold enough for all of us, and when we die what we have will come to you, as our apprentices, as we have no lambs of our own.
‘It’s a good life here,’ she added more gently. ‘Even when you’re too old to interest the High King he doesn’t send you away, not when you’ve given him some good years. When I got fat he had me taught to be a weaver—only wool, not that smelly linen stuff that tears your fingers—and I get to do it here too, not in the shed outside the walls with the slaves. Orkestres and I get all we need as long as we live—’
Thetis took a step toward her, and tugged her trousers. Dora seemed to know what she was saying even without the words.
‘Except the glory. Yes, you’re right, little lamb. Once you have heard the screams, that little gasp of breath as though they can’t believe what they are seeing…it’s hard to live without those. Harder for Orkestres than me, but that’s men for you. Now I’ll show you the stretching exercises, and a dance step or two, otherwise you’ll faint from hunger before we’ve even started.’
CHAPTER 13
And so they practised, always confined in the two rooms of Orkestres and Dora’s quarters. Stretches and leaps at first, and simple dances to the rhythm of Dora’s finger drum, both on the ground and with Thetis on Nikko’s shoulders. They learned to place their feet onto the sword blade too, but not to move about on it. You needed months of practice, said Orkestres, to do that safely, and they’d only have one chance to impress the High King.
In between practice sessions they helped Dora, combing wool to get out the grass seeds and bits of dung, twisting the wool into big loops as she spun it on her distaff, or stirring the pot when she brewed up the barks and lichens for dyes. The sound of her loom was a constant background to their practising, as she kept one eye on them and another on her work. Dora’s weaving produced a cloth so thin you could draw it through a needle, with patterns of fish and waves and birds, far finer than anything seen back in their village, where cloth
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