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now. All that natural talent is wasted toddling around after me all day. If
she can't-well, then she shouldn't be guarding me anyway, eh?" She met his
eyes.
"Point taken... I'll make sure Koudelka puts her in the first round against
someone of her own height and weight class. In absolute terms she's a bit on
the small side."
"She's bigger than you are."
"In height. I imagine I have a few kilos on her in weight. Nevertheless, your
wish is my command. Oof." He climbed back to his feet, and went to enter
Droushnakovi on Koudelka's list for the lists. Cordelia could not hear what
they said to each other, across the garden, but supplied her own dialogue from
gesture and expression, murmuring, "Aral: Cordelia wants Drou to play.
Kou: Aw! Who wants gurls? Aral: Tough. Kou: They mess everything up, and
besides, they cry a lot. Sergeant Bothari will squash her-hm, I do hope that's
what that gesture means, otherwise you're getting obscene, Kou-wipe that smirk
off your face, Vorkosigan-Aral: The little woman insists. You know how
henpecked I am. Kou: Oh, all right. Phooey. Transaction complete: the rest is
up to you, Drou."
Vorkosigan rejoined her. "All set. She'll start against one of father's men."
Droushnakovi returned, attired in loose slacks and a knit shirt, as close to
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the men's workout suits as her wardrobe could provide. The Count came out to
consult with Sergeant Bothari, his team leader, and find a place to warm his
bones in the sun beside them.
"What's this?" Piotr asked, as Koudelka called Droushnakovi's name for the
second pair up. "Are we importing Betan customs now?"
"The girl has a lot of natural talent," Vorkosigan explained. "Besides, she
needs the practice as much as any of them-more; she has the most important job
of any of them."
"You'll be wanting women in the Service, next," complained Piotr. "Where will
it end? That's what I'd like to know."
"What's wrong with women in the Service?" Cordelia asked, baiting him a
little.
"It's unmilitary," snapped the old man.
" 'Military' is whatever wins the war, I should think." She smiled blandly. A
small friendly warning pinch from Vorkosigan restrained her from rubbing in
the point any harder.
In any case it wasn't necessary. Piotr turned to watch his player, saying
only, "Humph."
The Count's player carelessly underestimated his opponent, and took the first
fall for his error. It woke him up considerably.
The onlookers shouted raucous comments. He pinned her on the next fall.
"Koudelka counted a bit fast there, didn't he?" asked Cordelia, as the Count's
player let Droushnakovi up after the decision.
"Mm. Maybe," said Vorkosigan in a non-committal tone. "She pulls her punches a
bit, too, I notice. She'll never make it to the next round if she keeps doing
that in this company."
On the next encounter, the deciding one for the two-out-of-three, Droushnakovi
applied a successful arm-bar, but let it slip away from her.
"Oh, too bad," murmured the Count cheerfully. "You should have let him break
it!" cried Cordelia, getting more and more involved. The Count's player took a
soft and sloppy fall. "Call it, Kou!" But the referee, leaning on his stick,
let it pass. In any case, Droushnakovi spotted an opportunity for a choke, and
grabbed it. "Why doesn't he tap out?" asked Cordelia. "He'd rather pass out,"
replied Aral. "That way he won't have to listen to his friends."
Droushnakovi was beginning to look doubtful, as the face clamped under her arm
turned a dusky purple. Cordelia could see release coming, and leaped up to
shout, "Hang on, Drou! Don't let him fake you out!" Droushnakovi took a firmer
hold, and the figure stopped struggling.
"Go ahead and call it, Koudelka," called Piotr, shaking his head ruefully. "He
has to be on duty tonight." And so the round went to Droushnakovi.
"Good work, Drou!" said Cordelia as Droushnakovi returned to them. "But you've
got to be more aggressive. Release your killer instincts."
"I agree," said Vorkosigan unexpectedly. "That little hesitation you display
could be deadly-and not just for yourself." He held her eye. "You're
practicing for the real thing here; although we all pray that no such
situation occurs. The kind of all-out effort it takes should be absolutely
automatic."
"Yes, sir. I'll try, sir."
The next round featured Sergeant Bothari, who flattened his opponent twice in
rapid succession. The defeated crawled out of the ring. Several more rounds
went by, and it was Droushnakovi's turn again, this time with one of Illyan's
men.
They connected, and in the struggle he goosed her effectively, loosing
catcalls from the audience. In her angry distraction, he pulled her
off-balance for a fairly clean fall.
"Did you see that!" cried Cordelia to Aral. "That was a dirty trick!"
"Mm. It wasn't one of the eight forbidden blows, though. You couldn't
disqualify him on it. Nevertheless..." he motioned
Koudelka for a time-out, and called Droushnakovi over for a quiet word.
"We saw the blow," he murmured. Her lips were tight and her face red. "Now, as
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Milady's champion, an insult to you is in some measure an insult to her. Also
a very bad precedent. It is my desire that your opponent not leave the ring
conscious. How, is your problem. You may take that as an order, if you like.
And don't worry needlessly about breaking bones, either," he added blandly.
Droushnakovi returned to the ring with a slight smile on her face, eyes
narrowed and glittering. She followed a feint with a lightning kick to her
opponent's jaw, a punch to his belly, and a low body blow to his knees that
brought him down with a boom on the matting. He did not get up. There was a
slightly shocked silence.
"You're right," said Vorkosigan. "She was pulling her punches."
Cordelia smiled smugly, and settled herself more comfortably. "Thought so."
The next round to come up for Droushnakovi was the semi-final, and it was the
luck of the draw that her opponent was
Sergeant Bothari.
"Hm," murmured Cordelia to Vorkosigan. "I'm not sure about the psychodynamics
of this. Is it safe? I mean for both of them, not just for her. And not just
physically."
"I think so," he replied, equally quietly. "Life in the Counts service has
been a nice, quiet routine for Bothari. He's been taking his medication. I
think he's in pretty good shape at the moment. And the atmosphere of the
practice ring is a safe, familiar one for him. It would take more tension than
Drou can provide to unhinge him." Cordelia nodded, satisfied, and settled back
to watch the slaughter. Droushnakovi looked nervous.
The start was slow, with Droushnakovi mainly concentrating on staying out of
reach. Swinging around to watch, Lieutenant
Koudelka accidently pressed the release of his swordstick, and the cover shot
off into the bushes. Bothari was distracted for an instant, and Drou struck,
low and fast. Bothari landed clean with a firm impact, although he rolled
immediately to his feet with scarcely a pause.
"Oh, good throw!" cried Cordelia ecstatically. Drou looked quite as amazed as
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