Lions of the Sea

7

Laventry left the table under the fig tree and headed for the kitchen. There, his eyes couldn't help to be drawn to Colette's curves, as the cook ran all over the room, making lunch. The corsair's gaze climbed up to the low collar and made the mistake of not lingering there, going to meet Cecilia's half-severe, half-amused look. He showed the empty jug in his hand as his excuse.

"Tomasa, we need more wine, please," said Cecilia, chopping greens for a salad.

Colette found a reason to sneak between the table and Laventry. He didn't step back, forcing her to rub her hips against him. He smiled at the way Cecilia shook her head.

"Why don't you just wed her?" she asked in a whisper. "Wouldn't you like to come back from the sea to her hips?"

"Get married? Me? Who hit you in the head?

"Your house could use a woman to look after it. So would you."

"You're wasting your breath. What happened to lunch? I'm starving."

"That you should ask your friend."

"Why? Where did he go now?"

"He's in the ballroom, with Marina."

"I'll go grab them."

"Good luck getting them out of there before desserts."

Laventry walked down the main hall of the house, heading to the large room that had served as ballroom when Marina's father was still alive. And as he came closer, he heard muffled sounds from inside. Quick footsteps, grunts, isolated words. And something more. Laventry frowned. It didn't make sense, but he knew that sound all too well to miss it: swords clashing. He knocked and waited.

Only at his third knock he heard Wan Claup say from inside, "Come in."

He did and froze just past the door. The furniture had been moved and lined up along the walls, leaving most of the room empty. And in the middle of it, he found Wan Claup and Marina fencing with light practice blades, with steel buttons around the tips to prevent accidental wounds.

The child—the girl, Laventry corrected himself, because thirteen-year-old Marina was nothing of a child anymore. The girl wore brown trousers and shirt, high-topped boots, the long raven hair in a tight braid down her back. She wielded her sword in a natural way, and moved focused on trying to breach her uncle's defense. Wan Claup wouldn't make any offensive move, but Marina couldn't make him take even one step back. Suddenly, the girl unlocked their blades, feinted to the left and dealt her steel down.

"Take this!"

"You take this!" Wan Claup replied.

He stopped the blow, and with a quick movement of his wrist, he made the tip of his blade draw an circle in the air upwards, aiming for his niece's chest. To both men's surprise, she moved her feet a few inches apart to balance her weight and threw her torso back, dodging the stab. And at the same time, she launched her arm upwards. The button of her sword touched Wan Claup's neck under his ear.

"Touché vous!" she cried in joy, straightening up.

Wan Claup nodded with a smile. "Monsieur Etienne isn't keeping any of his tricks."

Laventry applauded, winking at his friend.

"One more, Uncle!"

Wan Claup wore his serious face. "If Laventry's come for us, it means Maxó is about to leave us wineless for lunch."

"Oh, never mind. Bet your cellar is far from empty," the corsair said. He signaled Wan Claup to hand the practice sword over to him and flashed a smirk at Marina. "Do you dare, pearl?"

The girl's eyes sparkled and she stood on guard. Wan Claup stepped back to give them room, but he spoke before they could make a move.

"That open guard isn't wise, Marina. What are you to assess before picking your guard?"

Laventry frowned, like wondering what the heck his friend was talking about.

The girl didn't look away from the corsair to reply, "The place, the blade, the skill and strength of my rival."

"Two you know. But how important is what you don't know?"

Marina nodded, grimacing. "I should use a defensive guard."

"Oh, shut the hell up!" Laventry grunted, and charged before the girl corrected her position.

"Laventry!" Wan Claup scolded him.

"When steel sings, it means the time for talking is over," the corsair replied, raining one blow after another on Marina.

She was forced to retreat, covering herself the best she could.

"This is no parlor game, pearl," Laventry said, not giving her a break. "What you're holding in your hand was created to kill. And not exactly time."

Marina tried to take the offensive. Wan Claup forbade himself to meddle, watching them move all over the large hall. Until Marina was able to lock Laventry's blade and yank it from his fingers.

"Bravo! That's the spirit!" the corsair said, pleased, and looked around. "Now I want to see you with a real blade. Where are them?"

"No way!" said Wan Claup. "Are you crazy?"

"Our pearl is good, but reckless. And nothing teaches caution like a little pain and a few drops of blood."

While Laventry talked, Marina ran out of the room. And when Wan Claup looked again, she was already back, handing Laventry his own sword, while she held her uncle's.

"You know my sister will rip your heart out if you hurt her," Wan Claup said, matter-of-factly. "And I'll eat it best L'Olonnais way: still beating."

Laventry's loud laughter filled the hall. "Come, brother. Just a little prick." He pointed his sword at Marina's belly. "What say you, pearl? There, by your navel. Where nobody should see it before your wedding night."

She nodded, smiling, and hefted the sword, noticing the different weight and balance compared to her practice blade. It was the first time she ever held a real sword, with a tip and an edge.

"Where's your misericorde, child?" Laventry asked.

"I don't use one. I'm ambidextrous."

"Changing your blade from hand to hand won't shield your heart. Besides, the misericorde doesn't only double your strength to hold a blow. You can also use it to stab your enemy while you keep his blade locked."

"Laventry."

The corsair laughed again at Wan Claup's warning. "C'mon! She's missing all the fun!"

"Laventry!"

"Fine, fine." He turned to Marina. "You and I now, pearl."

Wan Claup stepped further back and crossed his hands behind his back. His fists were so tight when the other two started fighting, that his knuckles whitened in his effort to stay out of it.

Marina's moves gave away that she'd never used a real sword before. However, she soon adapted to the wider, heavier blade, and adjusted her technique to it. But she was no match for Laventry, much bigger and seasoned. The girl let out a muffled cry when the tip of the corsair's blade ripped her shirt open and left a brief red line on her skin. Right by her navel, where Laventry had said he'd touch her.

"Enough," Wan Claup hurried to say, stepping up to stand between them. "Marina, go change your shirt and clean that cut. Or your mother will have all our hearts for dinner."

Laventry stopped her before she left the room and patted her shoulder with a proud smile.

"You're good, pearl. Keep working on it," he said.

The cut burned and bled a little, but Marina's face lit up in a grin. She threw one arm around Laventry's neck and smashed a kiss on his raspy cheek. Then she ran out of the hall.

"I never thought you'd let her take fencing lessons," Laventry said.

Wan Claup smiled. "Have you met my sister?"

Laventry's loud, rough laughter filled the room.