Two nights later, Martin found himself back at the Chapel of the Faceless God. An attendant was waiting for him and led him to the usual sparring grounds, where he found Jacques standing with another man. The two paused their conversation as Martin entered.

  “Ah, welcome, Martin. Come meet Aelar. He’s come a long way to join us,” Jacques said, a note of respect in his voice that piqued Martin’s curiosity.

  Aelar’s appearance was striking, not for any particular feature, but for the way it always seemed to shift. Martin was sure that when he looked away, it would be hard to conjure up a more vivid description than that he was exceedingly handsome and his eyes had a charm that could open the doors to even the hardest of hearts.

  Aelar graced Martin with a smile. “A pleasure, Martin. Jacques’s been telling me all about his new student. He speaks rather highly of you, you know?”

  “Is that so? I think the last praise he heaped upon me was that I was the worst Faceless he’d ever seen.”

  Aelar laughed, and Jacques had the good graces to pretend to look embarrassed.

  “Well, I know better than to trust ol’ Two-Face. I suppose I’ll have to settle this for myself. Would you honor me with a spar?”

  The request, though unexpected, ignited a spark in Martin. Other than Jacques, he hadn’t had anyone to gauge his progress on except for Rafe and the servant of the Beautiful Goddess, and she was a foe well beyond his ability. Aelar was seemingly a step above Jacques, whom Martin currently couldn’t best, but as a fellow Faceless Man, he was likely in the realm of a fair fight. Nodding his agreement, Martin walked into the center of the room, drawing his Faceless Dagger out of himself. With a smile, Aelar did the same. His dagger, longer than either Martin’s or Jacques’, appeared in his left hand.

  “Show some restraint, please, Aelar. I’ve invested a fair amount into him now, under our lord’s orders.”

  “You know our lord wouldn’t let me bring any serious harm to one of his own, but I promise.” He gave Jacques an exaggerated bow, then returned to face Martin. “Are you ready, Martin?”

  “Have at you, then.”

  Aelar charged forward, and Martin was relieved to find his fighting style was not dissimilar to Jacques’. He was faster than Jacques and stronger, but his moves seemed to be from the same manual Jacques had been training him from. He was outmatched, but not overly so, and as the blows came raining down, he slowly gave ground but was not overwhelmed.

  Aelar relented for a moment to give Martin a chance to catch his breath.

  “You’ve taught him our ways well, Jacques.”

  “He’s a quick study.”

  Aelar smiled again. “We’ll see about that.”

  He lunged at Martin again, and as he did so, his dagger changed, bulging out and curving at the tip. After a single blow that Martin just managed to deflect, Aelar spun the dagger in his hand and brought it right back towards Martin’s skull. With no time to bring his own dagger back up to defend, Martin threw himself forward, landing in a roll and staggering up to his feet. He turned around as quickly as possible to see Aelar still standing where he had left him, knife held where Martin’s head had been just a moment before. He was still smiling.

  Martin knew that was a mercy. There was no reason for Aelar not to have been on top of him when he came out of that roll other than to prolong the duel. He took a breath to steady himself, and with a nod of thanks to Aelar, resumed his own fighting stance.

  Aelar came in again, knife still held backwards in his left hand. It was more than some fancy knife trick to throw his opponent off guard. Martin felt like he was fighting an entirely different person. The way Aelar moved, the rhythm, the force behind the blows, it all felt like Martin was combating someone twice his size. In this round, Martin found himself giving ground far quicker than before. No matter what he did, Aelar seemed just a step ahead, bringing that knife once more towards his vulnerable flesh.

  “Mind your step,” Aelar suddenly called out as his knife came towards Martin’s head again. Martin brought his leg back in preparation to take the blow when suddenly he felt it push against something hard. His momentum carried the rest of his body over it, and he found himself toppling to the floor.

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  Looking up at Aelar from where he had toppled over the edge of the ring, Martin let out a sigh. “That’s your win. Thank you for the lesson.”

  Aelar tossed his dagger over to his right hand and held out his left to help Martin up. “You did well, but the night is still young. Let’s go one more round.”

  Martin shot a glance at Jacques, who had somehow found a glass of wine during their struggle and was watching bemused. He gave Martin an encouraging nod, and Martin, not entirely unwilling, found himself squared up again in the center of the ring. For this third round, Aelar took his most relaxed stance of the evening, and Martin couldn’t help but notice his knife was still in his right hand.

  Aelar had started the previous two bouts, but this time he stayed in his relaxed posture, his lips left in a bemused grin. If he wasn’t going to move, Martin decided it would be up to him. He feinted low and then savagely brought the knife back up towards Aelar’s head. Aelar barely moved his body, but with a simple roll and a push with his own knife, Martin found his blade shooting wildly over Aelar’s head, leaving himself completely off balance and vulnerable to a counterattack that never came.

  Aelar let him collect himself, again waiting for Martin to initiate. After a moment to plan his attack, he did so. This third Aelar was an entirely different fight altogether. While the first form was like a more challenging version of Jacques, and the second was like what he imagined battling a pirate would be like, this version was like trying to hack at a weed that kept twisting in the wind. No matter what angle Martin pressed at, Aelar would, with the slightest application of force, leave his blade flowing totally in the wrong direction.

  Realizing Aelar wasn’t trying to rub his nose in his own inferiority but giving him an opportunity, Martin decided to make the most of it. The rage that had driven his opening blow of this bout slowly evaporated as he began to view it as a physics puzzle. His blade came down at a forty-five-degree angle, and Aelar countered, sending Martin’s blade flying towards the floor. As he began to let go and focus on the forces at play, he could feel himself taking more control of the battle. Aelar still batted every single one of his blows aside, but Martin gradually found himself no longer completely off balance after each one. He was eventually able to chain his blows together, forcing Aelar to push off two or three attempts before Martin would need to reset and try again. The grin on Aelar’s face never went away, but gradually began to widen as the slightest bit of his true abilities were finally called upon.

  The two were locked like this for some time until finally brought to a halt by the sound of clapping hands. At the sound of the clap, Aelar broke from his pattern of passive defense and reached out like a snake, wrapping his hand around Martin’s wrist.

  “That was quite the show, you two, and I hope it was educational for all those involved,” Jacques said, his eyes locked on Martin’s as he said the second part.

  “Jacques was telling the truth,” Aelar said, “You are a good student. Whether you’re an awful Faceless remains to be seen, I suppose.”

  “Thank you Aelar,” Martin said, “that fight was incredibly informative. How did you learn all those different styles?”

  “That’s a rather personal question for a Faceless,” Aelar said with a grin. “I usually make people buy me dinner first, but for you… The first, I’m sure you recognize as the standard text that new Faceless are trained from. You’ve done quite a good job with the fundamentals there, and your breathing is exceptional, but there are a few places where your footwork is holding you back. The second was one I obtained from a man in the colonies. He served on a war galley from the Court of Malquesseth.”

  “For half a moment, I thought I was battling a pirate.”

  “Spoken like a true servant of the Eldamris Empire.”

  “And the last one?”

  “The last… The last I’ll keep to myself for now. A Faceless must have some secrets after all, but in exchange, why don’t I show you those footwork errors I told you about? Jacques, while I give young Martin here a lesson, would you mind seeing if that task I mentioned has been completed?”

  “Certainly.” With a short bow, Jacques made his way out of the room, and Aelar pulled himself close to Martin, guiding him back into his fighting stance.

  Jacques was a skilled teacher, and Martin was indebted to him for his quick improvement as a fighter, but Aelar had an ability to look at him and evaluate what was wrong to a level that seemed almost supernatural. He guided Martin through a series of steps, highlighting where his footing was at, and through various pushes and blows demonstrated where it left him vulnerable. He then pushed Martin into the correct position and delivered the same blows, letting Martin feel how much sturdier he became with just those small modifications.

  By the time Aelar had finished correcting all the issues he had noticed, Jacques had returned.

  “The task has been taken care of. The letter will be delivered tonight. I’ve also made a reservation at a local restaurant, for three, if you’d care to join us, Martin.”

  Martin hesitated for a moment as he knew Boudica would be expecting him back, but not knowing how long Aelar would stay or when he would have an opportunity like this again left him unable to refuse, and he soon found himself following behind Jacques and Aelar as they made their way to the restaurant.