"But you still don't believe it?" He shook his head. "You were a farmer's daughter—and you wanted to fight—so in your mind you built up what a soldier's weapon can do. When you become a Girdsman, Paksenarrion, I'll show you, wood against steel, how Gird won."

"Why not now?"

Cieri gave her a long look. "Because you are not under Gird's law yet, and I just might lose my temper."

"Oh." Paks was not sure what he meant, and didn't think she should ask more.

"But as for axes, that's a Girdish weapon. Have you ever used one much for chopping?"

"No—we didn't have forest where I grew up."

"And in Phelan's company?"

"The sergeants said they didn't have time to teach us axe-work."

"Wise. Well, go get one from the armory, and we'll start."

For a few days things went well; the basic drills were not hard, and Paks soon adjusted to the heavy axe-head hanging on the end of her arm. Or so she thought. Then Cieri set up a roughly carved log for her to "fight." It had a couple of branches for "arms." Paks looked at it disdainfully. She had seen the amusement on the others' faces.

"Isn't this just like chopping a tree?"

"Yes, but you haven't chopped any trees, and we don't happen to need any trees chopped. This will be fuel for the main kitchens later, if you'll get busy and do what I tell you." He took the axe from her, motioned her back, and with two smooth swings took a four-finger deep chunk out of the log. "Like that," he said. "And remember what I told you about backswing and bounce. Wood is harder than flesh, but softer than armor—at least this wood is."

Paks took the axe, which now felt comfortable in her grip. The basic stroke, he had explained, was much like the sideswing in longsword—but for using two hands. Paks had not used a two-handed sword; she did not think that mattered. She swung the axe back over her shoulder, and brought it around smoothly. Harder than flesh—softer than armor: she put what she thought was the right force into it. Whack! She felt the blow in both shoulders, and the axe-head recoiled, dragging her off balance, and missing her knee by a fingersbreadth.

"You have to hit harder than that, Paks," said Cieri. "A two-handed blow is a twisting blow; get your back into it."

The next stroke caught the axe-blade in the wood. She struggled to wrench it free, while Cieri described what happened to fighters whose weapons caught in an enemy. She felt the back of her neck getting hot; yet she knew he was right. That didn't help. When she began again, she managed a series of effective strokes, knocking off chips much smaller than Cieri's, but not making any serious mistakes. He called a halt, and nodded.