Harsh Lessons (4 page)

He met her frown with a friendly expression.  'You would not believe how often I've had to do this.'  He looked down at Leeth, careful to smile fondly at her.  'She doesn't know her own limits.'  As he gently cupped her cheek, she stirred, but didn't wake.

Returning all his senses to Leeth, he
probed
for further injuries.  Echoes of violence laced her body: from her brain, shaken to the point of concussion, to bruises, torn muscles, pulled and stretched ligaments, and fading stresses in her strong bones.  As well as a dramatic loss of body fat. 
In just one hour?  Fascinating.
  A new ability, or a new situation?

Closing his eyes, he concentrated, encouraging the disrupted cells to knit back into the proper patterns, moving surely from each injury to the next.

Several minutes passed before he opened his eyes.  'Could you fetch me a stimpatch, Emma?'

From the medicine cabinet, she peeled one open. Smiling his thanks, he applied it to Leeth's upper arm and waited.

She moaned.  Raising a hand to her head, her eyes opened to focus on him.

Her face tightened, no doubt remembering her failure.  Avoiding his gaze, her eyes then fell on Emma, and she blinked in surprise at the stranger's presence.  Harmon, watching them, saw Emma's look soften into pity.  Unsurprisingly, Leeth clenched her teeth and looked away.

'We haven't been introduced, Leeth, but my name is Emma.'  She approached, reaching out a comforting hand to the girl's brow, but stopped when Leeth flinched from the contact. Naturally.  And of course, then sat up.

'Thank you, Emma, but my ward and I have something we need to discuss.'

Emma looked at them both, apparently reluctant to leave Leeth alone with him.

'In private.  Of course you understand.  I'm sure you and I will have a chance to become acquainted properly, soon.  I look forward to it.'

Emma didn't look at all sure
she
did.  He kept smiling patiently, until she looked away.  With one last glance at Leeth, who still avoided her gaze, Emma left the room.

He opened his mouth, but Leeth shook her head, and jabbed a finger at the doorway.  Harmon got up noisily from the cot then stepped loudly toward the opening, watching Leeth until she nodded.

He turned back to her, but she refused to look at him.  Sighing, mulling over what "Father" had said, and what they wanted of Leeth, he sat on the end of the cot.

'So, Leeth.  Tell me what happened.'

Her fists clenched.  Still not looking at him, she spoke in a tight voice, facing the wall.  'I failed.  Dojo says I can't learn.  He won't teach me.'

'What made him think you couldn't learn?'

'I… I lost my temper.  I wouldn't do what I was supposed to.'

'Why did you lose your temper?'

She still spoke to the wall.  'I… He….  It started
out
okay.  But I couldn't get to him at all!  I kept trying, and trying, but all that happened was I kept getting knocked down, or thrown down, or knocked aside; but he could hit
me
whenever he tried, and I couldn't stop him, and I couldn't hurt him, and even at the end-'

'Don't
whine
,' he sneered.

The tirade ended.  She turned toward him, an angry denial on her face.  But her mouth clamped shut on the words.  For a moment he felt sorry for her, though he took care not to let that show.  He saw Father's point.  She never
had
been able to deal with failure.

Well.  It was long past time she learned.  'Leeth.  Are you telling me he was a better fighter than you?'

She looked sullen, but nodded.

'But everyone knew that.  That's
why
he is your teacher.  You must have realized he would be more skilled than you.'

'Yeah,' she said in a small voice.  'I just didn't think he'd be
so much
better than me.'

'And you lost your temper.'

'Yes.'

'But you regained control, later, toward the end.  Then what did you do?'

'I tried again, of course.  But he beat me again.  Then said I'd failed, and he wouldn't teach me.'

There was a pause.

'Then you attacked him
again
, when you were near exhaustion.  And almost succeeded.'  He struggled to understand: she was not behaving as expected.  'Why didn't you try that hard from the beginning, when you were fresher?'

At that she finally looked directly at him, her words grating out with burning intensity.  'Cause I didn't know
how,
at the start.  But I learn fast.'

Ahh.
  But she was no longer talking about "Dojo."   She was adapting even faster than he had expected.

Assuming listening devices, however, he set that issue aside, and simply smiled.  'Well, you and I both know you can lose without giving in.  But Dojo wasn't looking at it that way at all.'  He shook his head.  'He wasn't trying to make you submit, Leeth.  He was trying to make you learn.'

She glared at him.  He could imagine the bitter words crowding her mind at the word "submit."   Then saw the expected look of confusion flood in behind the glare.

He watched her pull herself back from that brink, and again pretended not to notice.  'His job is to teach you.  And your job is to learn from him.  The only one making the lesson into a contest was you.  If you control that temper, and try to think about it, surely you can see that?'

'He won't teach me.  He says I can't learn.'

'Dojo has been told to try again.  You have one last chance to prove to him you
can
learn.  You were eager to, before.  Now that you know just how good he is, imagine what you could become if you combined your strengths and abilities with the skills he can teach you.'  He knew her childish dreams of being a super-heroine, or a spy.  His Huntress.  'The girl I knew would be thirsty to acquire some of those skills for herself.  I'm sure you could find a use for them.  Don't you
want
them?'

'Oh, yes,' she breathed, staring at him hungrily; and then past him.

He didn't need magic to know what she was thinking, seeing herself as a super-spy.  Still, it would be advisable to distract her; and make her grateful for his part in their changed circumstances.

'I thought so – back at the Institute, you pestered me endlessly to find you a teacher.  I'm sure you did well, in your first real lesson.'

She giggled!

He stared at her, nonplussed; and her grin grew wider.  'You just gave me a pep talk, Keepie!  I can't remember you
ever
giving me a pep talk before!'

He felt an eyebrow lift.  It was true.  In the ten years he had cared for her… oh, except for the second day, when she'd thought she was going to be sent back to the orphanage.

He felt warm for some reason, as he remembered the eight year old with the quivering lip and the determination not to cry.

Facing the echo of that happy child now, and considering what he had turned that girl into, he felt a disturbing mix of loss and guilt.  He remembered her leap into his arms from the trampoline; her
Pouncing
him; her explosive arrival through the ceiling outside Godsson's cell….

Her
death
, as she slew Melisande's creation.

She truly was remarkable.  He shook his head, allowing some of that genuine warmth to flow into his expression.

The depth of her smile that blossomed in response struck with the impact of an arrow to the heart.  He had to look away.

Checking his watch, he used the time to catch his breath.  'This little fiasco has wasted half an hour now; and Dojo has been told to be waiting in the same place for your next lesson, in a further half hour.'  He didn't mention that her instructor had needed that time to recover, himself.  He had half hoped she might have injured the fellow, but of course it had been too much to expect him to be incompetent.  'Will you be ready by then?'

'Sure.'

'Good.  I want your best effort, Leeth.  Nothing less will suffice.  Just remember, it has taken Dojo all his life to acquire the skills he possesses.  To reach his standard in less time than that would be… remarkable.'  He watched as her expression settled into one of determination.

He got up from the cot.  In the doorway, he turned to face her again.  'One last thing, Leeth.  When an
intelligent
person sees she is losing a contest, she tries to change the contest.  Or looks at winning in the longer term.  The
last thing
she does is stubbornly continue on a sure path to defeat.  Blindly persisting down a dead end – that's merely a childish way of giving in, of giving up.  Surrendering.  It's sparring, not fighting.  You're there to learn, not to win.  The only way you can fail is by not learning, not listening.  Your mind is a weapon, too, girl – use it.'

She looked thoughtful as he left.

Chapter 3 

Stretching on the cot, Leeth allowed herself the pleasure of feeling her body moving uninjured and pain-free.  Even the acid burn from the earlier workout seemed less. 
Keepie sure is good at Healing me
.  That thought led to another. 
And hurting me
.  She remembered holding herself still while he beat her.  Just before the police had burst in and shot him, making her think they'd killed him.

She felt confused.  Could their “sessions” really be for her own good?  Look at the trouble she'd got Mr Shanahan into, after all.

Does he love me, or not?

He
must
do.  I’
m
sure
he does.

Forcing the doubts aside, she stood, then realized she was
dying
of thirst.  She poured herself a glass of water, fretting at the slow stream, then gulped it down.  Then another.  She was supposed to wait thirty minutes, he'd said.  From the bowl on her table, she took an apple in each hand.  Biting alternately into one, then the other, she wolfed them down.  Then followed up with a protein bar.  And another.

She forced herself to wait for another five minutes, after that, before finally deciding it'd be better to be early than late.  She shrugged.  She could do some exercises if Dojo wasn't there yet.

Leaving her room, she stood frowning in the empty passageway that looked like a path through the countryside.

'Dojo,' she said aloud, then began following the helpful arrows that appeared on the long corridor walls.  For a while she walked, just appreciating the scenery, while concealed speakers projected bird calls, and the rush of wind, and the whispers of leaves.

But like all recorded sounds, it didn't sound real: none of the ultra-squeaky insect sounds, and no really deep rumbles, either.  All a bit flat.  She sighed.

This place is like a maze.  I wonder how big it is?

She was taking too long.

She began jogging, which seemed to take the direction arrows by surprise: at the next junction she had to glance back to check which way she should be going.  But instead of slowing down, she pushed on faster.  The arrows started appearing faster, too.

She ran harder still. 
Come on, arrows, see if you can keep up!

An arrow flashed triumphantly green on the T junction ahead, pointing to the right.  She braked to a halt, turned the corner, and saw the double doors at the end.

Will he mind that I'm
puffed?  Or
be pleased that I hurried?

Will he
really
give me another
chance? 
Really?
  Pushing through the swing doors, she kept her eyes down until she'd crossed the room to where she sensed Dojo stood, waiting.

She looked up, meeting his gaze.

'My-'

Oh!
  This time, he wore no shirt. 
Fitness
radiated from him.  The taut skin, the firm muscles….

Suddenly she was sure:
this
was the teacher she'd always dreamed of.  She'd never been so certain of anything.  He
had
to teach her!  She felt oddly off-balance, as if his presence alone somehow tugged her closer.  She wondered how old he was.  Much older than her; but much younger than Uncle.  And well muscled….

'Miss Leeth.'

She dragged her attention back from
him
, to his words. 'Uncle said you'd give me a second chance.'

She saw his eyes narrow.

Really?
  I have to
apologize
, too?
 
For what; getting beaten up?
  'Please….'  She wanted to look away, to look down, but she forced herself to stare straight back at him.  Lifted her chin.  '
Please
will you teach me?' 

He said nothing, just stared at her, and her face went hot, then cold.  But after long seconds, he nodded, as if deciding not to force her to say the "S" word.

'Do you know the Japanese word for
teacher
?' he finally asked.

She shook her head.

'It is
sensei
.  While I teach you, you will call me sensei, hai?'

'Sensay.'  She
wanted
to jump in the air and scream for joy; but she kept still.  Studied him, all serious.  'I'll remember.' 
I’ll make you proud.

'Then we shall start.'

-

Paul watched her thud into the mat again, heavily, this time failing even to roll properly to absorb the impact. Clearly, she grew tired.
Finally.

She had taxed his own reserves, despite taking numerous rest breaks while directing her in solo exercises.

He checked his Link: two hours and forty minutes had passed.  Astonishing.  No other student had ever managed much more than an hour of this.  His eyes narrowed.  She looked… thinner.  More of her magic?

He watched while she collected first her wits, then her breath, then forced herself up onto her knees.  Then paused, gathering the strength to stand again.

She must have had a very bad teacher
.  One of those many flawed pretenders.  She had known none of the basics; had mastered only a few superficial moves.  She had not even known how to fall properly.  It made no sense, considering her earlier performance.  She was learning now, though.  Quite well.  Especially given her exhaustion.