Eight

Over the following days Sarah began to ponder just how her retribution would be carried out. She was counting on her womanly cycle to begin shortly, hopefully putting to rest any concerns about pregnancy. Should she be late starting her cycle, surely a physician with the ability to perform a rape kit could also perform a simple pregnancy test.

One afternoon from a loft in the recreational room she watched as Jareth fenced with a partner. The sabers clanged and the two men yelled and grunted at each other. She wondered to her self how hard it would to master the techniques for a smaller blade, something like a dagger. Her revenge would have to be done discreet and swift. One skilled hold and another skilled flick would cut a man's throat and have him dead in seconds. Jareth dodged and landed a mark on his partner's shoulder. He could teach her.

As the two parted ways following their friendly match Sarah descended to the recreational room's floor. She admired the sabers laid out on the table. Glancing around the room she saw a few other objects for practicing. Jareth approached while removing his protective glove. "I want to learn," she announced.

"To fence?"

"Yes or at least something akin to it."

He sat the glove on the table and reached around his side to remove his plastron. "You plan on executing your vengeance with a blade?"

"I could strike swiftly, from a distance even if I learned how to throw. Will you teach me?"

He seemed to consider her proposal for a moment. Sarah was an enchanting woman, able to gain people's trust easily. If she could gain her attacker's trust, then she could easily get within a good striking range. "Are you certain of your self? Vengeance is a serious matter; wielding a weapon equally so. You commit your being to both, you best be convicted."

"I am."

"Puck!" he called for a near by servant. "Fetch my box of throwing knives."

A few moments later the goblin returned carrying a plain dark wood box. Carefully he sat the box on the table and lifted the lid: inside was a grey silk clothe. Having set aside the clothe Jareth produced an all most dainty set of silver knives. "There is something of a mantra all warriors learn," he said as he removed one and walked on to the practice mat. "King and knight alike are taught it." Stopping about middle he turned towards a practice dummy suspended against a wall and began to quote, "I do not strike with my hand. I strike with my eye." He raised his hand, the tip of the dagger balanced against his fingers. "I do not aim with my eye. I aim with my heart. And the heart judges it's self." In one smooth motion the dagger left his fingers and rocked the dummy. Looking Sarah saw it had landed where the eyes would have been. "Say it after me. I do not strike with my hand."

"I do not strike with my hand."

"I strike with my eye."

"I strike with my eye."

He went to retrieve the knife. "I do not aim with my eye."

"I do not aim with my eye."

The wood cracked as he yanked it forth. "I aim with my heart."

"I aim with my heart."

"And the heart judges it's self."

"And the heart judges it's self."

Standing next to her again he questioned her whether or not she understood the saying. "It is important that you do."

She replayed in her head the motions he had just gone through: where he stepped, how he held the blade, the movement of his hand. He had known exactly where that blade would land. Was it just skill? Was practice enough? "The blade goes where the hand tells it to go. The hand knows where to go because the eye sees the path." She paused attempting to put together the last part. You can know your target, but if you don't know why you're going to strike… "The eye is directed by the heart. The decision to strike is made internally."

"He who strikes to kill, whatever it may be, must understand the reason. He who kills for no reason is judged the moment his heart is put into action."

"The heart judges it's self," she repeated.

"Yet," he held the blade up. "Even he who has reason must ask him self- is he justified to act?" In another series of smooth movements he was behind her, one hand pulling her arms backwards, the other holding the blade to her throat. "Careful Sarah," he cautioned when she jerked.

"Jareth!" she hissed. She wasn't sure what hurt more: her arms twisted back or the trust he was threatening to break. His body was rigid and hot against hers. "You have no reason!"

"Don't I?" he responded in a casual tone. "I'm not so sure of that. Five years is a long time to nurse a wounded ego."

The metal was cold against her skin. "You can't be serious?"

"You challenged me, turned subjects against me, and threw my kingdom into chaos. I'm a sore looser Sarah."

"Jareth!"

"Aren't I justified?" he pressed.

Sarah saw the glint of the blade. "No more than I am. Didn't you taunt me? Didn't you mess with my head; turn my world up side down?"

He made an agreeing sound. "Well said." Moving the blade away he continued, "So I will ask you again: are your committed, are you justified in seeking vengeance?"

"No one asks to be raped and beaten."

"You yourself questioned whether or not it was entirely his fault."

"I admitted to going to his place freely, but no means no regardless of your species' origins!"

He released her. Her hand went to her throat feeling for some mark. With a huff she looked at him. "Say your mantra again," he ordered.

The first day of training began and she was showed the basics. He pointed out on the dummy the crucial hit points- throat, kidney, lower stomach, "And a vein that runs up by the groin- that is a major artery. You strike there your opponent will bleed out quickly." Every few moments he would ask her to repeat the mantra. If Sarah Williams was going to learn to kill under his instruction, she needed to be fully aware of the implications. He would vouch for her actions, as would Bartholomew- she was restoring her honor. After an hour he left her to see to some business with a smile.

Feeling that her new life was on the right path Sarah retreated to the library. She found Meep helping another goblin put away several stacks of books. Sarah smiled and waved. They returned the greeting and then went back to their work and their conversation. "It'll be a big to-do," said Meep. "Set your watch on it Violet."

Sarah wandered down the room, looking for a book to pass the two hours before she needed to dress for dinner.

Violet snorted, "I haven't got a watch to set, but would if I did! By the Mighty Ursik I would!"

"Bless him and his turnips," agreed Meep.

Sarah realized she was eaves dropping.

Meep continued, "This ball will be the last of our days," she lamented. "Miss Leslie will see to it. Her and her kind will have the most of us out."

"What with the drought and all," added Violet. "Tain't no wonder the king is entertaining such a bargain, but he could choose better. Here now Miss Sarah!" she called.

Sarah had been trying her darnedest to not appear interested in their conversation. She feigned surprise when Violet called her name. "Huh?"

"Take a look at her Meep," continued Violet as she approached the two goblins. "No flinching, no worrying, no complaining- just a nice woman who doesn't mind us. Tell us both miss would you put us out?"

Sarah looked at the two ratty haired goblins. She smiled at them. "Now why would I do that? This is the castle beyond the Goblin City last I checked."

"A woman of sense says I," complimented Meep.

"What bargaining chips could you offer miss if the king were interested in you? How could you ease the drought?"

Absently Sarah bit her lip. She hadn't a clue what drought the goblins were speaking of and only a vague suspicion of what they were suggesting Jareth was up to. "Unfortunately I don't even have a bag of Miracle Grow to my name," she answered.

Violet shook her head. "Tsk! Tsk!"

"So," Sarah ventured. She pretended to examine a few of the stacked books. "Just why is the king entertaining the Wimberly's?"

"Good land," replied Meep.

"They must have a lot of Miracle Grow," added Violet.