Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers

“We’re going to Lemon City, to the auditions. We need a fourth.”

“What auditions?”

“Hoo hoo,” Lucky said with a grin.

“Three times a year they hold an audition for the city guard,” Ro said. “They only accept quads, they think it’s the most stable configuration for training and fighting.”

“So,” I said. I thought of Tom under the alders, of Lemon City as I’d imagined it with Ad.

“So you probably noticed there are only three of us.”

“You came all this way from Grayling without a fourth?”

“No, of course not,” Ro said patiently. “He left us two days ago. He found true love in some stupid little town with probably only one bloodline, but he didn’t care. He’s a romantic, much good may it do him in the ass end of nowhere.”

“And you’d take me just like that, not knowing me at all.”

“What do we need to know?” Lucky said. “You breathe, you can stand up without falling over. You’re on the road to Lemon City, aren’t you? Do you want a job or not?”

“You mean for money?” She shook her head as if she couldn’t credit my being so dumb. But I’d expected to have to find honest work, meaning something dirty and bone-tiring, before I could start looking for someone to train with. The idea of getting tired, dirty, and paid to train was so exciting I could hardly believe it was real.

Ro said, “We’ll offer you a trial on the road. Travel with us to Lemon City and we’ll see if we want to take it any farther.”

“Not without a fight,” Braxis said. We all looked at her; Ro and Lucky seemed as surprised that she’d spoken as they did at what she’d said.

“I don’t take anyone on without knowing if they can hold their own,” she said reasonably. “Not even on trial. That’s the whole point of a quad, isn’t it? Four walls, stable house. We need strong walls.”

“They train you, Brax,” Ro responded. “All we have to do is get past the gate.”

“No,” I said slowly. “She’s right. And so are you: I do want to go to Lemon City, but it’s got to be properly done.” They looked at me with a variety of expressions: Braxis impassive, Ro with his head tilted and a wrinkle in his forehead, Lucky grinning with her arms akimbo.

“I can’t explain it. But I need this to be something I can be proud of. It needs to be earned.”

“Gods, another romantic,” Ro muttered.

We climbed over the wall into the field, and laid aside our swords. Lemon City was just behind that cloud, and I was a hot wind. It was such an amazing feeling that I almost forgot that I’d never really fought anyone except Tom, that I didn’t yet know if I could. Then Braxis’s strong arms reached for me.

When we were done, and Brax had finished coughing up grass, she said, “Fine. On the way there, you can teach us how to do that.”

We began to learn each other: Braxis woke up surly; Lucky sang walking songs out of tune, and she knew a hundred of them; Ro was good at resolving differences between others and peevish when he didn’t get his own way. I wasn’t sure what they were discovering about me. I’d never lived with anyone except my mother: It was one more thing I didn’t know how to do. I watched everything and tried not to offend anyone.

We got into the routine of making camp early in the afternoon, to keep the last hours of light for practicing swords and stormfighting. It didn’t take them long to work out that I barely knew one end of my sword from the other. I was ashamed, and halfway expected them to kick me back up the road. They surprised me. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like you do,” Ro said matter-of-factly. “If we can trade learning between us, it makes us all stronger.” Then he set about showing me the basics.

Two weeks later it was Lucky who came toward me with her sword. I looked at Ro. He smiled. “I’ve given you enough so that you can at least keep up with what she’s got to show you. She’s the best of us.”

I expected the thrust-and-parry exercises that I’d worked on with Ro, but Lucky came to stand to one side of me, just out of blade range. She extended her sword. “Follow me,” was all she said, and then she was off in a step, turn, strike, block that moved straight into a new combination. She was fast. I stayed with her as best I could, and actually matched her about one move in seven.

“Not horrible,” she said. “Let’s try it again.” We worked it over and over until finally she reached out and pried the sword out of my grip. “Those will hurt tomorrow,” she said of the blisters on my palms. “You should have told me.” But I was determined to hold my own with these people, so I only shrugged. My hands felt raw for days after; but I was stubborn. And it helped that I could teach as well as learn. It did not matter so much that I was the youngling, the inexperienced one, when their bodies worked to imitate mine, when their muscles fluttered and strained to please me.