The sun descended, a faint white hint of the moon marking the night’s approach, yet still his training was not finished. Cyrus followed Stasia to the edge of the woods that surrounded the mansion. He limped slightly, the result of a bad twist while trying to properly imitate one of Thorda’s million different stances. They’d spent the entire afternoon on just those stances. Most were awkward to perform, and pulled at his arms and waist in uncomfortable ways. The light wood of the poles became heavier than stone to his drooping limbs. Each and every stance had a name, and Thorda called them out incessantly. Sometimes they took breaks to focus on his footwork, easily the worst of the lot. It felt less like battle and more like learning a strange, old-fashioned dance. Yet Thorda insisted it just as important, if not more so, than the placement of his hands. It might be important, but it made his ankles and thighs ache like mad, and multiple times he collapsed to the ground, unable to maintain the stance on his shaking legs.

“On your feet,” Thorda would say, the same words each and every time Cyrus found himself in the dirt. “Try again.”

Some six hours or so of this, and Cyrus’s mind was numb, barely able to process any of the commands given to him. His errors compounded, until at last Thorda declared them done for the evening. Thinking his training over, Cyrus could barely contain his relief.

“Not quite,” Thorda had explained. “Stasia has one last skill set for you to improve upon.”

And so the pair trudged to the woods. For reasons he could not guess, Stasia carried a chair she’d retrieved from the kitchen, and he was too tired to ask. He’d be told eventually, of that he was certain, so best to find out in time. Anything beyond that would involve thinking, and thinking was hard. Concentration was an impossibility. He was so exhausted, he’d begun fantasizing about curling up in the grass and falling asleep right then and there.

“This’ll do,” Stasia said, putting the chair down outside the line of trees. She sat in it, back to the woods, and groaned with satisfaction while stretching her arms and neck. “Consider this the least taxing portion of your training. Stealth and sneakiness are not what I would consider my strengths, so I’ll use the same methods my father used to teach me. The rules are simple. You start thirty paces deep into the woods. While my back is turned, you must tap my shoulder without me hearing your approach.”

“That’s it?”

She winked.