Kardo made him choose the ground.
Iven walked the storage apron before breakfast had settled. The center offered firm stone under a thin layer of dust. The northern edge dipped toward a drainage groove. Two old loading posts stood eleven yards apart, their bases sound. A low bank enclosed the western side without becoming a wall someone could be driven against.
He chose the center with both posts inside the boundary.
“Why?” Kardo asked.
“Enough room to move. Something real to anchor to. No excuse about bad ground.”
Kardo nodded. “I like the first two.”
He wore a padded vest over his working shirt and carried the long staff from the previous afternoon. Its ends had been wrapped thickly, but the central wood was sound and heavy. Iven had chosen a shorter padded bar and the small forearm shield. Both men wore gloves. Neither pretended the padding would make an uncontrolled graft strike harmless.
Mira stood at the chalk line with a whistle. Borin watched from beside the gate, arms folded. Kardo’s two learners sat on an empty crate where they could see without crowding the bank. Kesh had come as much to assess their fighting habits as to enjoy the bout. She would have to work beside both in the spring channel.
