Page 40 of Sword Dance

“I’m going to ask Niko about getting a mattress for that extra bed in your room,” Damiskos said. It would look odd to the other slaves, but no one would protest; he was a free man and entitled to his eccentricities.

Varazda groaned. “Oh, First Spear.”

“You call me that to annoy me, don’t you?”

“If it’s not working, I’ll stop.”

Damiskos snorted. “Is there a lock on your door?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, then. I’m sleeping on that other bed. I’ll sleep there without a mattress if I have to.”

“No, no, I will personally find a mattress for you. I wouldn’t want you to enjoy yourself too much.”

“Good. So that’s settled.”

They stood for a moment in the yard. Varazda’s expression lost its mocking cast and became thoughtful.

“You haven’t told Nione the truth yet, have you?”

“No, of course not,” said Damiskos.

“It’s just that she said you are her friend.” Varazda shrugged. “And she was very understanding about … well, my alleged situation. When I went to tell her that Aristokles had left and sold me to you, she congratulated me on having a good master now. She seemed to think you would free me directly.”

“She’s probably wondering why I haven’t.”

“I defer to you, as you know her better, but I think we could trust her with at least some of this. And as it is all happening in her house, her assistance could be very beneficial.”

It struck Damiskos that what Varazda was really doing here was trusting him, and he was rather moved by it.

“I think you’re right,” he said after a moment. “But let me take some time to consider how best to talk to her.”

“Of course. On an unrelated note, how’s your leg?”

“Much better, thanks.”

“Do you fancy sparring a little?”

“Do I what?”

“Fancy sparring. With me. I expect you could teach me a few things.”

“I expect I could.”

He smiled, surprised. It had been a friendly overture, unmistakably. Even if his leg hadn’t been better—and it really was—he would have wanted to say yes.

“And they might come in useful.”

“What?”

“The things you might teach me. Or at least—it might be useful for you to be seen teaching me.”

“Ah. Yes. Can’t hurt to let it get around that you know how to do more with a sword than dance.”

“Exactly.”

Varazda fetched his swords, and they squared off in the slaves’ courtyard. They began with some easy exercises to warm up. Varazda already knew some of these, and the ones he did not know he picked up quickly. By the time they began fencing in earnest, they had an audience, loitering under the stairs and leaning over the railing above.