from Levi, agitated by the rising tension. As it ran between Scarpelli’s legs, he kicked it away, all the while holding the Doctor’s eye.
The Doctor smiled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you after you’ve come so far. Perhaps that workshop tour will make up for it.”
The boys stood in four lines, each boy paired off. At the end stood Sofia.
“Avanti!”
The swooping banners and clashing sticks were deafening rain.
“Contrario!” Sofia roared.
The same exchange repeated with roles reversed, attackers now defending in the same well-drilled rhythm. She walked between rows, adjusting students’ posture, feet, and grip, correcting flaws with quick demonstrations.
“You teach girls as well as Concordians?” With no prospect of a Contract, Scarpelli was being more blatantly rude.
“She’s the one teaching,” Levi observed.
“Must gall to sell yourself so cheap, Doctor.”
The Doctor smiled at Scarpelli. “Actually, we’re rather expensive. But what, pray tell, is the difference between us? John Acuto may not be Etrurian, but you are.”
Scarpelli reddened, and the Doctor knew he had made a hit—so, a condottiere who wanted to be a knight.
Scarpelli covered embarrassment with anger. “Yes, my loyalty’s for sale. I’m sensible, like you.”
The Doctor just smiled as he called Sofia.
“You’re being rude,” Levi whispered.
Scarpelli spit on the floor chippings. “So what? This baby tyrant isn’t buying what we’re selling.”
“Colonel! You wanted to see how tough Rasenneisi are?” Not waiting for an answer, he threw Scarpelli a combat banner. Sofia stepped forward.
Scarpelli looked at the flag contemptuously and dropped it. “In the real world, soldiers fight with steel.”
The students began to take an interest. A civilian might not know what throwing down another’s banner meant, but even Scarpelli could sense the sudden change in the air.
“Use your sword, then,” the Doctor said coldly.
“This is absurd. I won’t attack a girl with her arm in a sling!”
The Doctor stood close to Levi.
“Doctor . . .”
“Relax. I’m sure a condottiere can defend himself.”
Scarpelli put his hand on his sword but got no further. Sofia jabbed him just below the diaphragm, partially winding him. A boy laughed as Scarpelli stumbled. The condottiere blushed violently and pulled out his sword.
The Doc wanted a show. Sofia let the sword strokes pass close by her body, keeping her flag low, luring him on.
Scarpelli was red-faced and already getting tired. She glanced at the Doctor. He nodded, and her flag went up. Scarpelli stabbed desperately and struck nothing; then a pole crunched into his nose, followed by a bruising rap on his knuckles. He dropped his sword. Flag strokes above him, in front of his face—where was she?
“Boo!” Sofia whispered, and kicked his feet out from behind. Quickly propping the end of her banner on the floor, she jammed her knee into Scarpelli’s back. He struggled to stop his own weight from strangling him.
Levi’s hand went for his sword and found the Doctor’s hand resting lightly on his. “You’ll just embarrass yourself. That’s all Signorina Scaligeri is doing to your colleague.”
“Scaligeri?” said Levi. “Of the—?”
“My ward,” said the Doctor.
He walked over to Scarpelli. “See? It’s easy to disarm the weak. For years, Concord has kept our leash loose, and we have been sensible. But struggle”—Sofia jerked the pole—“and we die! Get it?”
Scarpelli gargled affirmatively. The Doctor nodded, and Sofia released him. The condottiere rolled on the floor, gasping, and the circle broke up.
The Doctor turned to Levi. “Should I swap a leash for a noose?”
“I apologize for my colleague’s poor manners,” Levi said, slipping into dialect, “but John Acuto’s war on Concord is real. By Herod’s Sword, I swear. Acuto’s son died in the belly of the Beast.”
“Should I risk my town for that? You seem less of a
The Doctor smiled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you after you’ve come so far. Perhaps that workshop tour will make up for it.”
The boys stood in four lines, each boy paired off. At the end stood Sofia.
“Avanti!”
The swooping banners and clashing sticks were deafening rain.
“Contrario!” Sofia roared.
The same exchange repeated with roles reversed, attackers now defending in the same well-drilled rhythm. She walked between rows, adjusting students’ posture, feet, and grip, correcting flaws with quick demonstrations.
“You teach girls as well as Concordians?” With no prospect of a Contract, Scarpelli was being more blatantly rude.
“She’s the one teaching,” Levi observed.
“Must gall to sell yourself so cheap, Doctor.”
The Doctor smiled at Scarpelli. “Actually, we’re rather expensive. But what, pray tell, is the difference between us? John Acuto may not be Etrurian, but you are.”
Scarpelli reddened, and the Doctor knew he had made a hit—so, a condottiere who wanted to be a knight.
Scarpelli covered embarrassment with anger. “Yes, my loyalty’s for sale. I’m sensible, like you.”
The Doctor just smiled as he called Sofia.
“You’re being rude,” Levi whispered.
Scarpelli spit on the floor chippings. “So what? This baby tyrant isn’t buying what we’re selling.”
“Colonel! You wanted to see how tough Rasenneisi are?” Not waiting for an answer, he threw Scarpelli a combat banner. Sofia stepped forward.
Scarpelli looked at the flag contemptuously and dropped it. “In the real world, soldiers fight with steel.”
The students began to take an interest. A civilian might not know what throwing down another’s banner meant, but even Scarpelli could sense the sudden change in the air.
“Use your sword, then,” the Doctor said coldly.
“This is absurd. I won’t attack a girl with her arm in a sling!”
The Doctor stood close to Levi.
“Doctor . . .”
“Relax. I’m sure a condottiere can defend himself.”
Scarpelli put his hand on his sword but got no further. Sofia jabbed him just below the diaphragm, partially winding him. A boy laughed as Scarpelli stumbled. The condottiere blushed violently and pulled out his sword.
The Doc wanted a show. Sofia let the sword strokes pass close by her body, keeping her flag low, luring him on.
Scarpelli was red-faced and already getting tired. She glanced at the Doctor. He nodded, and her flag went up. Scarpelli stabbed desperately and struck nothing; then a pole crunched into his nose, followed by a bruising rap on his knuckles. He dropped his sword. Flag strokes above him, in front of his face—where was she?
“Boo!” Sofia whispered, and kicked his feet out from behind. Quickly propping the end of her banner on the floor, she jammed her knee into Scarpelli’s back. He struggled to stop his own weight from strangling him.
Levi’s hand went for his sword and found the Doctor’s hand resting lightly on his. “You’ll just embarrass yourself. That’s all Signorina Scaligeri is doing to your colleague.”
“Scaligeri?” said Levi. “Of the—?”
“My ward,” said the Doctor.
He walked over to Scarpelli. “See? It’s easy to disarm the weak. For years, Concord has kept our leash loose, and we have been sensible. But struggle”—Sofia jerked the pole—“and we die! Get it?”
Scarpelli gargled affirmatively. The Doctor nodded, and Sofia released him. The condottiere rolled on the floor, gasping, and the circle broke up.
The Doctor turned to Levi. “Should I swap a leash for a noose?”
“I apologize for my colleague’s poor manners,” Levi said, slipping into dialect, “but John Acuto’s war on Concord is real. By Herod’s Sword, I swear. Acuto’s son died in the belly of the Beast.”
“Should I risk my town for that? You seem less of a
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