The young pup named Rye flashed his Sitian weapon. Wonderful. Janco loved surprises. Although he wasn’t too keen on countering a scimitar, he understood how Rye had gotten through Maren’s defenses. Sword fighting wasn’t her forte, and the scimitar’s long curved blade reached beyond her ability.

Janco rubbed his bandaged arm, debating if he should challenge Rye to a duel. Francesca’s nasty little scratch still throbbed, and he vowed to sharpen his knife fighting skills. Chuckling at his own pun, he sobered when Ari shot him an annoyed frown.

“Where did you get your weapon?” Ari asked Rye.

The greenie glanced around the training yard. Most of the soldiers had dispersed, and the sun hovered on the horizon. Maren leaned on her bow staff, listening to them.

“My mother gave it to me. She said it was a family heirloom,” Rye said.

“Family, eh?” Janco scratched the scar below what remained of his right ear. Whenever something didn’t sound right or feel right, the spot would tweak with pain as if jabbed with a needle.

“Do you even know what it is?” The young man’s tone bordered on snide.

“Course. I’m the only Ixian who’s fought against one.”

“The only Ixian, Janco?” Ari asked.

“Yeah. You can’t call hacking at a scimitar with your broadsword fighting. Face it, Ari you have no finesse.”

His partner sighed, but refused to counter. No fun. Janco enjoyed goading Ari into a verbal bout, and loved provoking him into a real fight. Ari was the best opponent around besides Maren.

Rye failed to be impressed by Janco’s claims. “Since I’ve been assigned to the Commander’s garrison, more than thirty soldiers have faced this weapon and lost.”

That did it. Janco pulled his sword. “Come on puppy dog; show me what you can do.”

Much to his chagrin, Rye could do quite a bit. The greenie launched into the match without hesitation, forcing Janco to back peddle and counter Rye’s initial strikes.

The clang and ring of swords vibrated through the air. Janco moved to an internal cadence, testing the youth’s skills.

“He’s green and likes to preen.” Janco feinted high and attacked low. Rye failed to take the bait, blocking Janco’s strike. “Tends to brag and his feet do lag. Soon he’ll be in a body bag.” After a quick secession of jabs, he lunged.

Rye tripped as he shuffled back. Pressing his advantage, Janco stalked the greenie as he rolled away. The scimitar blurred with motion, keeping Janco at bay while the puppy regained his feet. Impossible.

“He’s old yet bold. Soon he’ll be turning into mold,” Rye sang.

How dare he! Janco increased the pace of his attack.

The fight lengthened until the light faded. Finally, Ari called the match a tie. Janco panted, staring at the greenie. It has been years since Janco failed to get past an opponent’s defense at least once. He was impressed, annoyed and furious all at the same time.

“Interesting,” Ari said. “Come back tomorrow. I want to see how you do against me.”

“Prepare to lose, sir.” Rye saluted and swaggered toward the barracks.

Ari clamped down on Janco’s shoulder before he could chase after the insolent puppy.

Unable to break his partner’s vice-like grip, Janco said, “He needs a good beating.”

“I doubt he would get it from you,” Maren said. She swiped blond hair from her gray eyes. “It was only a matter of time before he disarmed you.”

He sputtered in outrage when Ari agreed with Maren. “Back stabber. Disloyal—”

“Be quiet, Janco. I won’t be able to beat him either. Did you see how the scimitar moved?”

He closed his mouth and reviewed the match. Rye’s gawky jabs and clumsy footwork didn’t jive with the weapon’s lightening fast reactions and smooth counters. “The sword has a mind of its own.”

Maren laughed. “Only you would think that. Ari’s implying our greenie may be a magician and a spy from Sitia.”

Which would explain the Sitian weapon and his darker skin tone. “You’d think he would have disguised himself better.”

“May be a spy. ‘May’ being the key word.” Maren looked at Ari. “What’s next?”

“Hey,” Janco said. “How come you always ask him? He’s just the muscle. I’m the brains of this outfit.”

She ignored him. “Ari?”

“Can you do a little research into Rye’s background? Find out where he’s from and who his family is?”

“No problem.”

“Janco, I want you to follow the greenie around. See who his friends are and watch what he does with his free time.”

“Why do I get to baby-sit?” No answer. “Wouldn’t it look strange if I start hanging out at the barracks?”

“Good point.” Ari considered.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you people. Brains and brawn, I’m a talented guy.”

“Modest, too,” Maren muttered.

“Inventory is due and an annual maintenance inspection. That should be good cover.” Ari nodded as if the discussion was final.

Janco groaned, counting supplies and looking for splinters was drudge work. He brightened only when he imagined himself discovering a plot and single-handedly stopping the spies from carrying out their nefarious deeds.

“… listening?” Ari’s annoyed tone cut through his daydreams. “I said you’ll want to recruit a helper to watch Rye at night. I’ll check Valek’s files, I’m sure he has one of his intelligence operatives assigned to listen for any trouble in the barracks.”

“Why don’t we just use him the whole time?”

Maren huffed. “Brain Boy can’t figure it out. It’s called sleep. Everyone has to do it sometime.”

He drew a breath to retort, but Ari silenced him with a warning look. Grumbling, he trudged back to the castle to bathe, change clothes and eat dinner. It would take Ari a while to ferret out the operative’s name, so Janco headed to the barracks to baby-sit the greenie overnight.

Doing inventory would be high entertainment compared to watching a man sleep. Rows of bunk beds lined the entire first floor of the wooden barracks. The officer’s bedrooms were located on the second floor, but since Ari and Janco’s promotion to Valek’s seconds, they had rather extensive rooms in the castle.

Aside from the snores, coughs and creaks of floorboards from soldiers either leaving for or coming back from guard duty, the night remained uneventful.

Upon reflection, the early morning hours had been too quiet. There had been a lack of… substance. It was the best word to describe those hours, but he knew Ari wouldn’t understand. Ari would be too busy berating him.

Because when the substance returned, Rye was gone.