Healer

17

     "Calm down," Conrad ordered. "Stop worrying so much about Pzinski. He'll probably survive his mission."

     "I can't help it!" Reynolds exclaimed. He clutched at his hair, nearly dislodging the headband where he'd kept his telepathic communicator since making Hunter Candidate. Now, he wished he could use it to contact his fellow Candidate and learn how things had gone on his first training mission. "You know what Clemens is like. Even you think he pushes Pzinski too hard, and Walsh is just as bad!"

     "They have to," Conrad said calmly. "He's in competition with you."

     "I don't care about the stupid bets," he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "I'm just worried, ok?"

     Conrad seemed to study him for a moment. Then he raised his training sword, tossing another to Reynolds. "Let's go through some stances, huh? Our usual program."

     Reynolds sighed, nodded, and raised his weapon. After returning from his mission, he'd been surprised when Conrad showed up, offering intensive one-on-one training to help ensure he passed his swordsmanship exam. He'd been more surprised when the lessons continued once he'd passed. Reynolds had been grateful for more reason than one. Naturally, he'd been worried about the exam and certain Conrad had some ulterior motive for his actions. But at the same time, despite the tension between them, he'd already understood that Conrad was a surprisingly good listener. Right now, the ginger Hunter was the only other person he had regular contact with. He focused on his stances, moving through Conrad's program. It helped. The program encouraged meditation. Now, he reached eagerly for the much-needed calm, allowing tension to flow out of his body as he smoothly transitioned from stance to stance. By the time he finished, he was already feeling much better.

     "Again," ordered Conrad. "And this time, let's talk."

     "I honestly don't know what we've got to talk about," Reynolds admitted, returning to his starting stance and seeing Conrad do the same. He took a moment to admire the Hunter's smooth transitions as the program turned him toward his instructor. Conrad still moved like a dancer, all grace and sleek lines. Would he ever reach that level? Probably not.

     "Stop looking at my ass."

     Reynolds made a face. "I assure you, I am not."

     "Hey, I get it," Conrad offered without breaking his slow, graceful transition into the next stance. "An ass this fine, I'd probably want to catch a peek, too."

     Reynolds rolled his eyes. "Mine's better anyway. All the girls say so."

     "Ah, there's that snark!" Conrad shifted his weight, bringing his sword about. "Lately, all I've heard from you is 'Imbago says this' or 'Imbago wants that.' It's like you don't even have a mind of your own anymore."

     Reynolds frowned. "You're making it sound like something bad. Since I made Candidate, I've only got one more training mission before I have to pass whatever test comes next to become a Hunter. Then, we'll be sent on separate missions. Between the limited time for training and the knowledge that we could be separated for God only knows how long? We're just trying to take advantage of the time we've got."

     "That's why you don't spend time with anyone but her, except for these practice sessions with me?" Reynolds was facing away from him now, unable to see his expression. Conrad's voice was calm, giving no hint of his thoughts. "I'm betting that, since you passed swordsmanship, these won't go on for much longer, either," the Hunter continued.

     "Why wouldn't they? We both know I suck with swords and passed by the skin of my teeth."

     "You do suck with swords. Almost as bad as your trainer."