Mina called the end of the afternoon set and Daro walked over to review Kes’s flag timing. Then, Seyun straightened up from behind the granite retaining wall and glanced toward the broken western low roof wall of the seal court. Throughout the four pullback passes, Nara Soth had been standing near the weathered corner stone support prop in her heavy grey wool cloak. Her white hair was tied back with a strip of plain hemp cord, her empty left sleeve was pinned neatly to her shoulder seam. Her single scarred right hand rested atop the plain walking staff she had carried since leaving the Hollow Summit.
Without thinking, Seyun braced himself for the check of a senior challenger.
Place III had still burned beneath his chest bone. Then, every movement he made within sight of Nara had felt like part of an ongoing argument over whether Master Uren’s inheritance deserved to survive. Even after their pre-dawn contest and their evening reconciliation two days ago, some deep reflex in his stance still expected the ancient Crown fighter to walk down from the low roof wall and point out that his rear heel had dragged half an inch on the third turn, or that his staff angle against Daro’s short blade was still too stiff for Jade.
