From somewhere, I was not sure where, Donnett procured a dressmaker’s dummy, and the two of us began to spar to protect it. I started next to it, or far away, but whatever the case, it was my job to keep him from reaching it. Donnett had no clever line, as Temar did: now you’re dead, and Miriel is dead. Whenever he tapped the mannequin with his sword, he only looked over at me, and then raised an eyebrow. If I did not understand the maneuver he had used, he would explain it. When I did understand it, we went again.

Author: Moira Katson