Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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now and then, because you'll die if you don't learn. Understandthat ?"
"You've only told me a thousand times,khyd-hird , about armies. I knew I was coming to one. And you
hitting me is no big news." Sova smiled, tapped the edge of the pan with a nail. "The onions are burning."
"Shit!" Shkai'ra stirred them with her knife. "Go get your gear, colt; I want it all here and laid out in half
an hour. Jump!" The girl ran off.
Megan slid into her tunic from yesterday.Well, another to worry about . Shkai'ra, Sova, Hotblood,
Fishhook… They might as well be a circus.
"Gods-damned gang of strolling players, aren't we," Shkai'ra said, yawning and scratching as she stirred
the bacon strips into the onions.
"Just what I was thinking." Megan started rolling the bedding. "So, what did you think of the
Gold-dipped Wonder?"
Shkai'ra winked. "Well, at first I was nervous. But then I said to myself, 'He's just another conquering
hero-king. So what?Fuck Zh'ven'gkua,' I said to myself!"
"Intending to be a woman of your word, too, no doubt—pass the knife?"
"We'll see." Shkai'ra smiled wickedly and reached the cooking knife to her.Dull. Weapons always
ready to split hairs, and her camp knife can't spread butter , Megan thought.
"Well, we'd best not be late for your little demonstration, even if the army isn't marching today."
"Ia. I think he's more interested in what Hotblood can do to the Arkans than my tits—damnitall."
"Ivahn was certainly right, thatyou'd like him on sight," Megan said snidely. Shkai'ra snorted.
Last shot. The shield set up as a target on the other end of the cleared practice-ground receded as
Hotblood galloped flat out away from it. Shkai'ra twisted and drew, the pulleys of the wheelbow silent as
oil, aimed, angled to arch the shot. All around was motion, the Ri's surging body, the grass blurring
beneath his feet, the rushing wind, the distance to the target, changing every moment; but the one point of
her intent, guiding eyes, head, breath and hands, as her body flowed to the Ri's, was as still as a
motionless pond, a moment frozen in time like glass.
Loose. The arrow was too fast to be visible, the first sign of it a flash of sunlight caught on the shaft, at
the top of its three-hundred metre arch; then it was invisible again, until it appeared, sunk halfway into the
shield and the wood pell under it, the deepthump seeming an afterthought. The spectators, a solid rank
of them all around, whistled and clashed wristlets.
It was the final trial all Kommanzas had to perform, to become full warriors, requiring many apparently
impossible shots and maneuvers, including picking up a kerchief from the ground in her teeth, at a full
gallop. The deal was done, but Chevenga had wanted to see what she could do. It couldn't hurt, to give
him, and everyone else here, soon to be comrades-in-arms, or underlings, her measure.
On her silent command Hotblood wheeled, carrying her towards where thesemanakraseye's desk was