In answer, Taru points inside the dojo, high above the heads of the instructor and his trainees. There’s a large canvas hanging from the ceiling. The outline of a human body is sketched upon it, and over that a series of straight lines has been drawn, four of them, all intersecting in the center of the illustration. Large numbers are painted beside and correspond to each line. The same is true of the fields created between the lines. The former obviously relates to slashing, while the open areas relate to thrusting.

“I see,” Lexi says, watching Daian intently.

He guides the class through several more sequences before a downward slash pulls his body in Lexi’s direction. He spots her and Taru standing at the edge of the crowd gathered beyond the dojo floor. There’s surprise, then an undeniable pleasure in his eyes as he looks upon them.

“Class, return!” he calls out, lowering his dagger to his side and standing straight.

All thirty acolytes adopt a neutral stance reflecting his.

“Form for sparring!”

The mat empties, each trainee sprinting and kneeling along its edge until they surround the entire square of straw and canvas.

Daian takes the opportunity to walk to the dojo floor’s edge in front of Lexi and Taru. He kneels there, bowing his head with a smile.

“Te-Gen,” he greets her. “Or Lexi. I remember your instructions.”

Lexi bows. “Daian. It is not our intention to interrupt your class.”

He waves his training blade in dismissal. “That’s all right. It’s rare we receive such esteemed patronage. What can I do for you?”

“A word in private,” Lexi says, her tone turning more serious.

Daian hears the urgency barely contained there, and his expression darkens for it.

“Of course,” he says, motioning them both to a staircase leading up onto the platform.

Lexi gathers the hem of her formal wrap and Taru follows her down the sidewalk and up the half dozen steps.

Daian meets them there, sheathing his practice dagger. “If you’ll follow me,” he bids them. Then, to the other instructors, “Grath, Kamala, take over. I need to step out for a moment.”

“What are they doing in an Aegin dojo?”

The question is asked by one of Daian’s fellow instructors, a handsome chestnut-haired man who is obviously aware of just how handsome he is. He must be Grath.

The question is directed at Taru.

Lexi sighs. She’s felt tired since meeting Daian over two corpses she helped along their way to the other side of the veil, and this conversation is only wearying her further.

“Taru is my retainer,” Lexi says. “And that is the last time I will explain myself to Aegins whose brains are as obviously small as their knives.”

The third instructor, a woman with her dark scalp practically shaved smooth and a scar over one milky eye, joins them.