Page 75 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

This sword could win or lose her everything tomorrow. She could see her own bloodshot eyes in its flat.

Rain drizzled from the rooftops of the school. On her way back to her quarters, she heard a muffled laugh.

The door to a small balcony was open. Tané glanced over the balustrade. In the courtyard below, where pear trees grew, Onren and Kanperu were sitting together, heads bowed over a game board, fingers intertwined.

“Tané.”

She startled. Dumusa was looking out from her own quarters, dressed in a short-sleeved robe, holding a pipe. She joined Tané on the balcony and followed her gaze.

“You must not be envious of them,” she said after a long silence.

“I am not—”

“Peace. I envy them too, sometimes. How easy they seem to find it. Onren, especially.”

Tané hid her face behind her hair.

“She excels,” she said, “with so little—” The words lodged in her throat. “With so little.”

“She excels because she trusts in her skill. I suspect you fear that yours will slip between your fingers if you loosen your grip for even a moment,” Dumusa said. “I was born a descendant of riders. That was a great blessing, and I always wanted to prove to myself that I was worthy of it. When I was sixteen, I stopped everything but my studies. I stopped going to the city. I stopped painting. I stopped seeing Ishari. All I did was practice until I became principal apprentice. I forgot how to possess a skill. Instead, the skill possessed me. All of me.”

Tané felt a chill.

“But—” She hesitated. “You do not look the way I feel.”

Dumusa blew out a mouthful of smoke.

“I realized,” she said, “that if I am fortunate enough to become a rider, I will be expected to answer the moment Seiiki calls. I will not have days of practice beforehand. Remember, Tané, that a sword does not need to be whetted at all hours to keep it sharp.”

“I know.”

Dumusa gave her a look. “Then stop sharpening. And go to sleep.”

The final trial would take place in the courtyard. Tané broke her fast early and found a spot on the benches.

Onren came to sit beside her at dawn. They listened to the distant rumble of the thunder.

“So,” Onren said, “are you ready?”

Tané nodded, then shook her head.

“Me, too.” Onren turned her face into the heavy rain. “You will ride, Tané. The Miduchi judge us based on our performance across all of the water trials, and you have done enough.”

“This is the most important,” Tané murmured. “We will use swords more than any other weapon. If we cannot win a fight in a school—”

“We all know how good you are with a blade. You’re going to be fine.”

Tané twisted her hands between her knees.

The others trickled outside. When everyone was present, the Sea General emerged. The servant beside him craned on tiptoe to hold an umbrella over his head.

“Your final trial is with swords,” the Sea General told them all. “First, the honorable Tané, of the South House.”

She stood.

“Honorable Tané,” he said, “this day you will face the honorable Turosa, of the North House.”

Turosa rose from the benches without hesitation.

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