[Askoga]: 89.Novels.Kode.Chapter 2

The next morning I awoke to the sound of a light tapping on my door. I hurriedly dressed and opened the door to find myself face-to-face with Lot. I blinked, having forgotten for just a moment that I’d taken her in the other night. I'd thought that it was the doorkeeper come to warn me about something.
“Good morning, Kode,” she said cheerfully. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”
I laughed, in a good mood that morning, “I’d have woken up soon anyway. Did you want anything in particular?”
“Well, I’ve been wearing these overalls for the past several days, and they smell. I was hoping you could show me where I could go for a few hours to wash them.”
“I’ll do one better. I’ll take you shopping for at least two more outfits. I don’t like my members to be less well-dressed than I am. I assume you prefer men’s clothing?”
Lot made a face, “Dresses are too constricting, and I feel like I can’t get them dirty.”
“Alright, that makes it easier. Come on, I’ll take you, just let me get my boots on.” I turned into my room, leaving the door open so she could enter if she wished. She didn’t.
Soon we were walking down the street. Lot kept looking at me with her hard blue eyes, as though afraid I’d disappear. Finally we reached the door to my favorite shop, and I walked in, holding open the door for Lot. She smiled and walked past me.
“Ah, Kode, surely your trousers haven’t worn out that fast? And you brought a new member, I see. Hello, sir, and welcome to my shop. Just a moment.” Bolin, a burly man with a black beard and a balding head, turned and hurried into the back room. He reappeared with several pairs of trousers, shirts, and boots.
Lot looked at him strangely, “But…isn’t this the same stuff as what’s hanging in your shop?”
The shopkeeper stared at Lot for a moment, most likely he’d only just realized that Lot was a woman. Then he spoke again, “Ah, ehm…this stuff is made especially for Kode, his band, and a selected few others. Wizop is the one who brings them to me. Came with a new load just yesterday, but she refused my coin, as usual. I’ll never understand that lady.”
I didn’t see Lot’s expression, but Bolin hurried over to the counter and laid down his load. Lot wandered over to inspect it, and I heard her inhale sharply.
“That lady does a lot of different things very well, doesn’t she?”
“Wizop’s had a lot of time to practice, Lot.” I told her. “Oh, take at least two outfits, if not three. Don’t worry about paying for them, I will.”
Lot chose three shirts, two pairs of trousers, and a pair of boots. I nodded in approval and fished in my pockets, where I found the six gafels I was looking for, and laid them on the counter.
Bolin took the coins and put them away, not bothering to count them. He paused then, looking around his shop. “By the way, there was a man here this morning looking for you.”
I nodded slightly, to show that I’d understood. “Did he give you a name?” I asked carefully. It might be a customer….or it might not.
“Naw, no name. But he had a couple a other men with him. Mebbe they’ve got a job for you, but I don’ think so.”
I nodded again, thoughtful. I hadn’t had a job in a while, but I had had some trouble. People thought I was out of the country by now, so no-one was looking for my services anymore. “Could you tell me about him? That way if I run into him I’ll know who he is.”
“Sure. He talked with a funny accent, you can’t miss it. And he looked a little lean and underfed.”
I nodded, “Thanks.” I turned and beckoned for Lot to follow me. We walked back to the tavern while I mulled over the implications of a man searching for me so close to my base. I figured it couldn't be very good. Although….the locals didn't have strange accents, so perhaps this was a potential customer. And underfed meant that he probably wasn’t working for the law-keepers. That was good, at least.
We reached the Bull's Eye Bar without incident and Lot dropped off her new things.
"Well, you get changed, and then we can go to the forest and I'll teach you to throw a fashoke. Tomorrow I'll show you where we go to bathe and wash clothes. Don't worry; you'll be in a separate place from me and any other men that join the band while you're here." She changed quickly, then I led her through town, pointing out a few hidden escape routes that she may need in the future. Once we were out of town I became quiet.
There was no further discussion until we reached the clearing in the forest just outside town. Once we were there I pulled two metal fashokes out. One of them was my most-used one, which I kept in my sleeve, in a slim brace that held it to my arm, and the other I pulled out from my belt, where I kept it in its pouch. I handed the one from my belt to Lot and kept the other for myself.
“Here. This is a fashoke, the weapon we specialize in using. I'll teach you other weapons, once you're comfortable with this. First I want you to toss it a bit, like this.” I demonstrated, tossing the closed metal fan up into the air. It spun around nicely several times, flying a few feet into the air. As it spun its way back down, I caught it neatly by the handle, letting its downward motion swing my arm back. I then tossed it again, higher this time. The whole time I explained to Lot exactly what to do, including the quick snap of the wrist to make is spin, and letting it slide off your fingers. When I caught it a second time I instructed Lot to try it.
She threw it up, but missed catching its base and instead caught the top. She winced, and I knew I’d done well to bring out a dull one.
“Be careful, a sharp one will slice your hand off, even if it is closed." She tried again, and again caught the top. She gritted her teeth. I thought for a moment, “Have you ever thrown knives?”
“Yes. I was never very good at it, though, and this is a lot heavier than a throwing knife.”
“Okay, imagine that it is a knife; picture it so clearly in your mind that you actually see a knife in your hand.” I watched as she adjusted her grip. She threw it perfectly, and caught its base neatly when it came down.
“Oh! That was easy!” She stared at the fashoke in her hand, her blue eyes wide.
“Of course. The well-made fashoke responds to its owner. If you believe that you can do it properly, then the fan cooperates. If you don’t believe in your ability, then invariably you’ll catch it wrong. Now, I want you to practice that. I’ll touch up on my own skills. Remember, believe in yourself.”
I watched her toss it up once more, then I turned and opened my own weapon with a practiced flick. I tossed it up into the air, then caught it easily. Finally, I sank into a fighting stance, picturing a battle, with enemies all around me. I began throwing the fashoke at my imaginary enemies. It returned every time. I’d been working for ten minutes before I realized that Lot was watching me. I’d forgotten her.
I refolded the fashoke and nodded to her. “I’m sorry about that, Lot. I haven’t had any company out here in a long time, and I guess I forgot you were out here.”
“Oh, it’s fine. That was wonderful work. How do you get it to return to you?”
“Oh, you call to it. The spells worked into the metal recognize you as their owner and they come back to you. Now I’ll show you how to toss it when it’s opened. If you felt comfortable enough to stop practicing you must be ready for step two. After this we'll have to stop, though. I'm afraid that while one can easily get the hang of it one day, the next the technique will be gone, unless you have a better memory than most.”
I held out my fashoke. “Alright, here’s how you open it. You place your thumb here, on the top blade, and pull it, gently pressing down. If you press too hard it won’t open, and too softly your thumb will slide right off.” I demonstrated for her, going slowly. “Or, when you get better, you can flick it open. See, if you hold it like so, and twitch your hand it falls open.” Again I demonstrated for her. I held the blade vertically and tilted slightly away from my body, then let my fingers drop until I was gripping only the base. As I did so I twitched my hand, almost unnoticeably, and it flew open. “But when you do it this way it’s necessary to also call the metal open.
Lot nodded and opened her fashoke, using the first method I’d shown her. I nodded in approval. “Good! Now, hold it level and at about chest height, with your arm curved around the blade.” I showed her, and she followed my movements. I carefully corrected her grip, and then went back into position.
“Bend your knees a little, with one foot slightly in front of the other. Now, imagine that it’s a knife again and throw it to me.”
I moved to the other side of the clearing and she watched me. I nodded, and she threw it to me. My hand, almost of its own accord, reached out and caught the base. I smiled, “Now, back to you.” I waited for her to nod, then threw it to her. She caught it and made a sound of protest.
I rushed over to Lot and examined her hand. She wasn’t cut, but the thing had apparently hit her hand harder than she’d expected. “Well, that’s good. Would you like to continue practicing? You’ve gotten the hang of calling the metal far faster than any of the men ever did. Next time don't call it so forcefully, though. Otherwise you won't be able to use that hand for weeks.”
Lot nodded and picked up her fashoke again as I hurried over to the other side of the clearing. We tossed it back and forth until Lot declared that her arms hadn’t had so much of a work out in too long. I agreed. It was getting dark anyway. We went back to the tavern, to be admitted by the door-keeper.
After a nice supper provided by the tavern owner, I showed Lot her room, then I went to my own and promptly fell asleep.