It amused him that he'd been more or less adopted by the lady Kelly and her son Haley, one of the young warriors in training. Like the rest of the clan, Haley had been aloofly superior at first—the typical Sandeman reaction Medart expected from those who hadn't been around Imperials much—but his stubborn determination to learn in spite of what the lessons did to him had broken down that reserve. The clan accepted him, and those two had practically become mother hens. As usual one—Kelly, this time—met him at the dining hall door, then brought him a tray and joined him.
"Thanks, Kelly." Medart picked up his fork and stared at the food for several seconds, trying to ignore his stomach. That didn't work any better than usual; at last he gave up the effort and started eating in spite of the queasiness.
"No improvement?" Kelly asked, after a few minutes' silence.
"No. I've given up expecting any, but I can't help hoping." Medart took a few more bites, then shook his head and put the fork down. "Who'm I going up against today?" He'd learned the necessary spells for a duel the first week, both offensive and defensive; he'd been practicing them ever since, trying to learn control, but that was frustratingly elusive. One day he'd barely be able to make his opponent feel his efforts or protect himself, the next it would take the monitors to erect fast barriers to keep him from injuring the other, while his own defenses were at peak.
"The warrior Loren of Clan Raynor," Kelly told him. "I think Chief Ryan is trying to force a breakthrough, finding you strong opponents who won't pull their punches the way we've started doing because we don't want to add to your problems."
"Um." Medart frowned at that. "I hadn't noticed—but then my control's so erratic I probably couldn't. Whoever I fight the duel with damnsure won't pull his punches, though, so I have to go along with Ryan—best I train with someone who's going all-out, too."
"That part no one can argue," Kelly said. "But … James, can you tolerate the added stress? Watching you is like watching a warrior in constant need, with no hope of being able to give you release."
Medart winced, aware of how much that would distress any warriors'-woman. "I'm not in that bad a shape—I've seen some who were, remember? What I'm going through is no fun, but I think I can hold out long enough."
"I pray to all the gods you're right."