A soft ding sounded and Jasmine awoke, drawing a small blade and rolling immediately to her left side. Mara stood before the door of her chamber, looking a little frightened and very sheepish.
"I apologize, My Lady. I thought I was being so quiet…"
Jasmine sat up in the bed, replaced the blade and swung her body so her feet rested on the floor. She shook her head.
"Mara, I won't say it again. I serve you now, and if you don't stop calling me that I'm going to wallop you with the flat of my sword."
She scratched the back of her head.
"I had that alarm rigged for a purpose. I need to know when that door opens; your safety is far more important than my sleep."
Though her face clearly betrayed that she would not address Jasmine informally any time soon, Mara nodded, padding across the floor to the bathroom. Advancing to the vanity, Jasmine sat and began arranging her hair into a loose braid.
"We might as well have an early breakfast," she called to Mara's back. " and don't eat too much. We start your training today."
Mara turned, giving her an inquisitive glance, but Jasmine merely made a shooing motion with one hand.
Though the women witnessed the occasional patrolling soldiers, the halls of the ship were vastly empty. Jasmine was once again arrayed in her doeskin shirt, though she'd had a pair of men's pants tailored to fit her. The Necros did many things that she found repulsive, but Jasmine had to marvel again at their skill for craftsmanship.
Mara wore her normal costume of a form fitting black dress. Glancing repeatedly at Jasmine's casual dress, she finally asked,
"You plan to teach me to fight, but how shall I move in this?"
"I plan to teach you enough to keep yourself alive until I can come and save you. And we've found it best to train a warrior in the environment in which they'll be required to fight. Your environment," she gestured toward Mara's outfit, "includes that dress."
The younger woman registered a small frown, but put up no more protest. As they passed the Lord Marshall's chamber, she saw Jasmine glance morosely at its doors. She chanced to speak again.
"You needn't worry that he'll be unfaithful to you," she said reassuringly.
They had reached the stairs, but upon the remark, Jasmine froze, causing Mara to nearly run into her back.
"What did you say?" the Furyan asked quietly, turning to fix an incredulous gaze upon her companion.
Mara mirrored the confusion, but continued,
"It is the Lord Marshall's sworn duty to regard his wives equally. He simply is not ready to part with the other. He would surely do the same if you were there and Kyra here."
At the sound of Kyra's name, Jasmine dropped her chin imperceptibly, understanding dawning in her eyes. Carefully, she phrased her response.
"I am afraid you're mistaken." The words were measured as carefully as her gaze.
Again, Mara was bemused.
"But – you sleep in his chamber. He chooses your clothes – he hasn't touched a one of the concubines – "
"I do not serve him in that way."
The tone spoke of finality, but Mara was too curious to be quelled.
"You haven't heard the talk, My Lady? Everyone assumes you are his woman."
"I am. Aren't you?"
"Of course!" Mara replied immediately, "no one will ever need question my loyalty."
"Good," Jasmine smiled indulgently, with a hint of patronization. "We should get to the training facility."
She turned her back and descended the stairs, hiding the troubled look that crossed her features. As they came to the landing, she huffed in irritation. She could hear the hitch in Mara's breath and knew another question was coming. Expectantly, she whirled to face the Necromonger and let her exasperation show.
Mara was apologetic, but she could not refrain from leaning forward to whisper,
"Then you may want to be careful of your expressions, My Lady. The eyes often betray what the mouth will not speak."
Jasmine drew back in shock, eyes widening as she blinked slowly. Mara's chagrin was evident immediately.
"I've said too much," she finished, mortified.
Jasmine sighed.
"No. I've told you time and again that you are no one's servant. Say what you like."
Even if it's clearly wrong, she thought tenebrously.
They passed the rest of the time in silence, making their way to the lower levels of the ship. The air was filled with a muffled hum, presumably from the engines beneath them.
Suddenly Jasmine stopped, holding up her hand. Mara halted immediately, straining fervently to hear what Jasmine heard.
The Furyan tilted her head to the right, taking a few steps forward. She would have sworn she'd heard voices. She listened again, and distinctly heard,
"You'll have your chance."
Her blade was drawn in an instant. She opened an adjacent door and shoved Mara inside when she found the room empty, mouthing for the young woman to be quiet.
Pressing back until she was against the wall, Jasmine stood beside another door. Standing in the shadows, she waited to see who emerged. The door opened momentarily, and a figure came out. In one move, Jasmine appeared, holding the point of her blade to the throat of…Dame Vaako.
The woman nearly shrieked in surprise, though she collected herself quickly.
"I see you plan to make a habit out of cutting my neck," the woman hissed.
"You'll have your chance to what?" Jasmine hissed in return, teeth bared.
Dame Vaako endeavored to step back, but Jasmine pressed harder with the blade. The Necromonger winced as the sword nicked her skin. Gingerly, she reached up to examine the wound, but Jasmine refused to move the blade.
"My chance to harangue my husband. As the Lord Marshall's second-in-command, he is to officiate over the funeral games. The scribes have come to meet with him and review the rules, but he is nowhere to be found. I thought he might be in the training facility."
"I am the Lord Marshall's second-in-command, and that is not the door to the facility," Jasmine leered.
"This ship has many turns and passageways, young breeder." Dame Vaako spat out the words.
Mouth taut, Jasmine finally stood down, though she did not sheath her blade.
"If you'd prefer to officiate instead, you should let the scribes know."
"I have no interest in your ways," was Jasmine's final reply as she stood aside to let the older woman pass.
When the woman had disappeared around a corner, Jasmine approached the door she'd exited, yanking it open and brandishing her sword and fanblade before her.
She was greeted by an empty passageway. Advancing slowly, she moved down the hall. When she was satisfied that there was no one, she left and went to retrieve Mara.
"It's really mine? I can keep it?" Mara exclaimed in awe.
"The armourers finished it in record time, though I don't recall asking him for the jewel inlay…" Jasmine trailed off humorously. The Necros were craftsmen, but they lacked in the area of simplicity. Still, it was nice to see the girl so happy.
I wonder if her life has been as bitter as her name, the Furyan wondered absently.
Returning to the moment, Jasmine drew her own fanblade and approached Mara.
"That fan is not a toy, young lady," she said gruffly.
In a sudden move, Jasmine turned and flicked her wrist, hurling the fan in Mara's direction. The girl screamed and ducked , though the fan would not have grazed her. Curving to the right, the blade spun, landing with a "thwack" as it embedded itself in the chest of a combat dummy.
"It is a weapon," Jasmine grunted as she pulled the blade free of its mark. With her free hand, she motioned Mara closer to finger the deep gash left in the dummy's torso. The girl's lips formed a silent "o" of surprise.
"A weapon – yes," she nodded breathlessly. "I will not forget."
Jasmine gave a small smile as she remembered the earlier days of her training. The fanblade had been her own invention, but the wonderment had been the same.
"For now, I simply want you to get comfortable with holding it. You will carry it at all times. And this," she concluded, drawing a similarly crafted dagger. Shyly, Mara received the second gift.
"And now you'll show me how to use this?"
"No. Now we start at the beginning."
Gesturing for Mara to follow, Jasmine walked across the practice floor until she reached a console that featured a serious of small levers. Fiddling with the controls, she continued,
"You must learn to see danger before you can fight danger. Stand here."
Mara stood beside the machine, watching curiously as Jasmine drew a length of cloth from her pocket. She took a step forward, but retreated when Jasmine held up a hand.
"When I give the signal, push that button."
Mara nodded her obedience, watching Jasmine walk backward until she stood in the middle of the practice floor. The Furyan proceeded the tie the cloth over her own face.
"Tell me what you see," Jasmine instructed as she signaled for Mara to start the machine.
Mara engaged the contraption, scanning the room furiously for whatever might come. Trouble appeared soon enough, in the form of a huge medicine ball descending from the ceiling in a swinging arc aimed for Jasmine's back.
Jasmine stood motionless as the ball increased in speed and nearness. Mara sputtered, trying to describe the thing to Jasmine, but as the ball came closer, she finally just yelled,
"Jasmine, behind you!"
Jasmine immediately ducked down and right, dropping to her stomach on the floor. The ball swung harmlessly past until it was drawn again into the ceiling. When the Furyan stood, she was smiling.
"Good. Next time, keep it to a level and a direction. Again."
Mara was nonplussed at the unconventional training, but Jasmine's approval filled her with pride. She pushed the button another time.
The sphere came again.
"Low right!" Mara shouted.
Jasmine slid back and left…and bellowed as the ball struck her left side with a thick thud, knocking her to the floor. She groaned a curse and yanked off the blindfold, staring up at her trainee.
"I meant my right…"
Up in the basilica, the Necromongers had gathered to watch the first day of the funeral games. The servants had brought out chairs, leaving a circle clear on the main floor. The Lord Marshall's throne was empty, covered ceremoniously with a length of blood-red silk. Scales sat to the left of the throne while Vaako sat on the right, his wife seated smugly beside him.
When the time came, Vaako arose and addressed the crowd. At his command, those soldiers nominated to compete advanced from the balcony and down the stairs. They were seated around the impromptu ring. A servant came, bearing another silver basin, but this time, there was no bloodletting.
Vaako's wife sailed forward moving to his left; Scales approached more solemnly. Each reached into the basin, selecting a slip of parchment and handing it to Vaako. He opened the slips, reading the names of the two warriors who would compete first. Two armor bearers approached then, holding identical poll axes. The soldiers received the weapons, and the fight began.
The two women slowly made their way back to the main hall. Their speed was affected by Jasmine, who was nursing several bruises, specifically an extremely painful one blossoming upon the skin of her chest and abdomen. Mara was beside herself.
"Jasmine, why did you let me do that to you?"
At least she stopped saying 'My Lady', Jasmine thought ruefully.
"Guilt."
"What?" Mara asked, perplexed.
"Memories are sharper when they can be connected to a strong emotion. Your strongest emotion is guilt. By using that, we've insured that you will never forget this training. The thought of me being hurt on your account will do more to keep you watchful than any of my warnings."
She winced as the bruises stung anew, frowning as she saw Mara's eyes glow glassy with moisture.
"I have a salve for bruises," she said to reassure the distraught girl, "and I'm a fast healer."
When they reached the basilica, they found the way obstructed where it had previously been clear.
"Funeral games began today," Mara explained.
Jasmine nodded as though this were new information; she'd purposely kept the Dame Vaako encounter from the girl.
"Why don't you stay and watch," Jasmine suggested. Mara would surely be safe in such a public place. "I should see to myself."
They moved around the crowd until they reached the group sitting by the throne.
"Is there a seat for the Lord Marshall's consort?" Jasmine asked, mustering an authority that belied her pain.
Vaako nodded imperiously, gesturing to the empty place beside his wife. Unaware of that morning's events, Mara sat down excitedly. She missed the heated glance that Jasmine and Dame Vaako shared, as did all of the others.
"I'll return momentarily," Jasmine whispered to Mara, keeping her eyes on Dame Vaako the entire time. The woman smiled pompously.
Doing her best to hide her injuries, Jasmine climbed the stairs and hobbled to her room. There, she sank gratefully into a hot bath.
Enlightened regarding the world of combat, Mara watched eagerly, trying to retain all that she could. Dame Vaako noted the girl's excitement, leaning over to ask,
"The breeder is teaching you to fight?"
"No," the girl answered, true to Jasmine's hushed command that she keep their activities secret, "I was giving her a tour."
Dame Vaako was suspicious, but she replied,
"I see, and will you show her the purification chamber any time soon?"
Mara frowned,
"Jasmine doesn't want to be purified."
Ignoring her husband's disproving glance, Dame Vaako continued,
"But even Riddick has agreed to be purified. The girl is in rebellion, and that is not loyalty."
Mara froze, remembering another secret she'd been sworn to keep, this time by Riddick himself.
He probably wishes to wait until his return, she rationalized.
"The Lord Marshall will address that when he returns," she said aloud.
"I'm sure he will, my dear, but would it not be a pleasant surprise if Jasmine was already purified upon his arrival? We'd be one big happy family," she sighed, voice syrupy-sweet.
"I doubt you could persuade her."
"With your help, I can."
Mara glanced up at the older woman, brow deeply furrowed. Something was not right.
"What do you mean?"
Dame Vaako waved her hand, pooh-poohing the girl's suspicions.
"She won't come anywhere near me, but if you could set up an occasion where I could speak with her, I'm sure I could win her over to our side."
When Mara was silent, she concluded,
"Oh, just think about it. What harm could there possibly be in talking?"
After the bath and the liberal applying of salve to the worst of the bruises, Jasmine felt well enough to return to the great hall. She found her way downstairs just as two soldiers were beginning another match. When Vaako saw that she wished to sit, he turned to his wife expectantly. Dame Vaako stared hotly, daring him to do what he planned.
Her fiery look did nothing to stop him; she was long overdue for a rebuke.
"Wife, the Lord Marshall's second-in-command must be seated. Go and join the noblewomen."
There were too many people watching, so Dame Vaako could not protest as she burned to do. Barely masking her fury, she rose, and walked away. Jasmine promptly sat, doing nothing to hide her mirth.
After touching Mara's shoulder in greeting, she leaned toward Vaako.
"Is now a proper time to ask how this works?"
Impressed by her decorum, Vaako inclined his head and replied,
"Over the next five days, the nominated soldiers compete in five weapons: poll axe, broad sword, war hammer, gladius, and hand-to-hand combat."
Jasmine nodded. The weapons' ranges grew smaller each day; opponents would be forced to fight in closer proximity.
"They fight to the death?" she finally asked.
"No," he answered, following her train of thought, "we do not believe in wasting soldiers. For the bigger weapons, like the poll ax, the fight is called when one is in position to strike the killing blow."
"Checkmate," Jasmine quipped to herself.
At her chess reference, the corner of one of Vaako's eyes crinkled, though he did not smile. He concluded,
"For hand to hand, after three touches. Then the five winners battle with the weapon of their choice. Eventually one is left."
"And if a warrior wins in more than one weapon?"
"He advances automatically to the last battle."
So the Necros were occasionally possessed with common sense.
Jasmine shifted in the hard chair, focusing on the bout in order to ignore her discomfort. She sniffed. This had not been the first, and she was certain that it would not be the last time that she felt uncomfortable in this place.
