"Nevasa" Part III
[Institute of Defensive Arts, Gol province, Vulcan]
“You still have a tendency to overcompensate, Sakarra-kam” Sovar stated levelly.
“Indeed I do “ the young woman looked at Nevasa reaching her zenith before they entered the relative cool of one of the Institute’s armories.
She carefully placed the sword back on its stand and turned to her cousin “However, the challenge was whether I could prevent you from breaching my defenses. Since that is clearly the case, I submit that your overall assessment was incorrect.”
“So it seems” there was that humor twinkling in the dark eyes again, and as usual it caught Sakarra off balance. To be teased by a Vulcan was bad enough, with Sovar you never even could know for certain if your senses had not played a trick on you. She studied the calm, impassive face in the armory’s twilight and decided, yes, he’d done it again.
By implying that her skills still may need improvement (which of course was true in any case) he had provoked her into giving nothing but her best. And then some, blast him.
But she noted with no small amount of satisfaction that this time she was not the only one walking away from the exercise with a slightly ruffled appearance. At least the collection of sprains and bruises she had amassed over the past years had amounted for something.
“Meet you in the courtyard in thirty minutes?”
Sovar gave a graceful nod and walked off, while Sakarra shook her head in what could safely be called mildly amused irritation. For a long time she used to think that this one deliberately tried to provoke her, in fact went out of his way to annoy her. By now she had arrived at the conclusion that he might actually be showing affection by simply being himself. His annoying self, but once you looked past that he was actually ... almost likeable. Almost.
Chuckling silently, the young woman made her way to the small room she called her own to get cleaned up and slip into a comfortable robe.
The two young people were greeted by residents and merchants as they made their way through the ancient streets of Xen’tal. The tall Vulcan in the robes of V’Shar was well known to most of them, as was the curly-haired young woman accompanying him.
Stone arcades matching the golden color of the houses provided shade for the few people out to brave Nevasa’s midday heat and the soft murmuring of voices indicated where most of those who did not prefer the solitude of their own quarters had sought refuge.
Sakarra confidently steered towards the restaurant gardens next to the old Inn, but a small gesture from Sovar made her stop. She tilted her head questioningly and he indicated one of the shops lining the street. Sakarra recognized it as the one owned by T'Shonra, a weapons smith of unusual talent and one of the few still able to craft traditional swords in the ancient style. And, as it happened, yet another not so distant relative.
Sometimes the young woman felt as if half of the Vulcans at the Science Academy and at least a third of those in Vulcana Regar and Xen’tal were related to her in some way or another, but logically those calculations would never stand up to scrutiny. Even if her entire House were to reside in either Raal or Shi’al province, they would merely make up a small fraction of the population. Still, they would easily overrun at least this tiny village.
For a few seconds Sakarra almost grinned, imagining the quiet streets filled with a few thousand Vulcans trying to move somewhere while still being impeccably polite. She could almost hear the indignant rustling of robes and the sound of dignified irritation in the shuffling of countless feet.
Picking up Sakarra’s amusement, Sovar briefly raised a brow and then gestured for her to walk ahead. ‘So we’re strictly following protocol now’ the young woman thought slightly bemused before she entered the small but elegantly furnished shop. Sovar usually was not one to observe these ancient traditions to the letter… when she saw the tall woman with the regal bearing standing behind a large and intricately carved sword stand, Sakarra almost smiled again. This one certainly looked as if she might take offense at a breach of protocol.
Raising her hand in salute, she went with her instinct and therefore into full formal mode “Sakarra Cha T’Sora. T'nar pak sorat y'rani.”
The woman nodded approvingly. “T’Shonra Cha T’Pau. T'nar jaral.”
The sound of Sovar exhaling softly behind her almost ruined Sakarra’s composure - he had obviously feared she might commit some kind of fauxpas and now radiated relief. The thought of ever calm Sovar actually holding his breath as he trailed behind his unpredictable cousin was enough to make her grin inwardly and she was rather proud of herself for displaying nothing but stoic dignity. At least if one didn’t look TOO close.
However, T’Shonra seemed satisfied and motioned Sakarra to step forward after briefly acknowledging Sovar’s presence. The older woman gave Sakarra an appraising look that caused her to tilt her head in mild puzzlement and then selected a sword from the several dozen displayed on the shop’s walls. “Thee are smaller than Sovar described. Is it that his logic in evaluating your size was in abeyance or merely his description poor?”
Sakarra took the offered weapon with a smooth movement stemming from lots of practice and pondered her response. “Maybe it is neither. Have you considered the possibility that I am not as small as I appear?”
“Hm” T’Shonra gave what positively qualified as a Vulcan huff - or was it actually a smirk? - and the young woman could feel Sovar shifting uncomfortably behind her. Well, if anyone was going to talk that way about him it would be her, no one else. Sakarra felt quite entitled to complain about Sovar in no uncertain terms, but for some reason T’Shonra’s remark had ruffled her feathers. Might as well make that clear here and now and if the elder lady took it as impolite, then so be it.
She seemed unperturbed, however, and simply selected another sword.
“Indeed I have. Now thee should consider the possibility that an artist wishes to test a theory.”
Sakarra raised a brow in mild surprise but gave a respectful nod before accepting the other sword. It was slightly longer and heavier but she immediately recognized how perfectly balanced it was and how nicely it complemented her stature.
“Nunau ish-veh” T’Shonra nodded, her expression as satisfied as that of a Le-Matya after the kill. Sakarra got the distinct impression that it would be unwise to cross this woman but for some reason she didn’t feel even slightly intimidated.
Fascinating.
She handed the sword back and T’Shonra placed it on the stand before walking over to a small table. Motioning to Sovar, whom she’d pointedly ignored until now, she picked up a small item wrapped in velvet and held it out to the young man. “Give my greetings to your foremother. Mene sakkhet ur-seveh, Sovar.”
He gave his most graceful bow and Sakarra correctly assumed that they were dismissed. Offering another salute, she answered for both of them “Sochya eh dif, T‘Shonra”
“Peace and long life, daughter of T’Sora” with this, the elder Vulcan lady turned and left for what Sakarra assumed were her living quarters behind the shop. She was still not quite sure what all this had been about but her stomach was now rather vehemently insisting on lunch and so she strode past Sovar, who had been waiting for her to precede him yet again.
The streets were completely empty now and Sakarra looked up at her cousin, fighting the urge to tease him about his extremely proper behavior “Any more surprises or can we go eat now?”
“I am certain our table is still waiting. After you, my lady.”
One of these days she would smack him behind the ear. He had it coming…