When they left the Neo-Tantra office some time later, Jazira had signed up for a basic course. Pru explained that, as soon as she got back to North America, she would be taking a similar one, although more intensive.
“You need to tell me what you think of it,” she told her friend, “I want to get other people´s reactions while I´m learning, too.”
They wandered down the streets, looking in shop windows and scanning the open market offerings. Jazira picked up a few items for her kitchen.
“I hope you don´t mind my telling them about Zahl,” Pru said, wondering whether Jazira felt she had been out of line.
“No, not really. I sort of figured you had something in mind when you suggested visiting Neo-Tantra the other day. I don´t know if they can help, but I´m worried enough that I´ll take any help I can get.
“Hey, look,” she went on, “we´re at my Salle.”
They stopped outside one of the Salles des Armes that could always be found in a Controlled Area. The densely populated CAs survived, in part, because nearly everyone was trained from childhood to protect themselves in unarmed combat or with the knives everyone carried. The knives, made of very high-strength plastic, were razor sharp and designed to retain DNA samples. If used in combat, the police could easily find out who had been wounded by any given knife.
“This is the one I always come to,” Jazira said, “and I haven´t worked out in a week. You game?”
“I guess this was something you had in mind. Sure.”
Pru followed her friend into the Salle. They were met by two men, dressed only in briefs, and without knives. Their flashes begged the point, calling them merely Instructors.
“Good afternoon, Ms al-Hamdi, are you here for practice?” asked one of them.
Jazira said, “Yes, please. This is my friend Pru Whiteside. She´ll play, too.”
The other man extended a hand to Pru who shook it, not without some caution. Her own maître was not above trying to throw her just as a greeting.
They were led into the practice room, bright, wide, high-ceilinged and with resilient mats on the floor. Racks of practice staffs and knives lined one wall. Jazira led the way to the changing room, where they put their packages, kilts, jewelry, shoes and knives into lockers. Clad only in their briefs, like the two trainers, but with the addition of sports bras, they returned to the practice room. In the older schools of unarmed combat, participants wore uniforms like the judo-gi; but considering the modern North American habit of wearing only a kilt in Controlled Areas, combat practice was usually done almost in the raw. Only tournaments were fought with padded, protective clothing and gloves.
In a few minutes, after doing stretches and limbering up, each of them squared off with one of the men.
Pru selected the larger of the two, estimating his musculature and assessing his speed. They circled one another, oblivious of the shouts and slaps as Jazira attacked her partner. Pru watched the stranger carefully, noting his attempts to dominate the session and to develop a psychological mastery even before contact was begun. Pru´s estimation of her opponent went up a notch, but she gave no response. It was not her style to attempt dominance with a new partner. Instead, she saved her attention for assessing his preparedness to make the first strike. Pru knew the first strike must sometimes be your own initiative and never hesitated when the time seemed right. But, today she waited.
As they circled warily, Pru slipped automatically into a still, empty place of no expectation, totally in the moment. Without thinking or noticing anything, she nonetheless caught the sign she had been waiting for: a flicker of decision in his eyes, a slight tightening of his mouth. Each opponent was different, but every one betrayed his or her intentions in some way. So, Pru was ready when his hand swept out toward her.
It was a sucker punch, really, one suited to an opponent of unknown skill. She sidestepped, allowing the blow to pass her shoulder, ducking slightly. Turning, she tucked the other shoulder into his armpit, grabbed his arm, and threw her weight forward and down. The man landed heavily on the mat, springing up as she released her grip, and preparing himself for her follow-up. It had been a sucker response to a sucker punch, not a very meaningful exchange. Pru was prepared to follow up – brutally – but since this was practice, she simply stood where she was, a feral grin on her face. The man half-bowed to her, acknowledging the fall. They circled again, looking for the next opportunity.
They began sparring in earnest. Throughout her childhood in China, Pru had spent many hours learning various martial arts. Now she had mastered a style that combined many of them into a dangerous and unusual form that appeared to catch her new opponent off guard. Her attacks were sudden and violent, catching her opponent when off guard or recovering from his own attack. Often, however, she would withdraw from or evade a blow, only to turn the other´s efforts against him. A well-aimed elbow, a deflected a kick to the belly, followed by a chop to the neck with the free hand – stopped just short of inflicting real damage. Her style compensated for her lighter weight and slightly smaller size, and gave her frequent opportunities to bring the larger man to the mat.
Not that she did not find herself there as well, however. As he began to sense her experience and style, he was increasingly able to anticipate her moves. They battled on, sweating and puffing with the exertion and the concentration. Though each of them landed – almost landed – many blows, and each took falls, neither was able to make a move that was decisive. Their blows stopped short of inflicting the damage they would in a real fight.
Off to one side, Jazira and her partner paused after a lengthy round of sparring to watch the other two.
Finally, Pru decided she´d had enough exercise. With a flurried attack, she drove her opponent backward several steps, then as he asserted himself to recover, brought him onto his back with a resounding crash. Her knee landed heavily on his chest, bringing a grunt as the air went out of him. The edge of her hand swept down with enormous force, stopping only a centimeter or two above his throat. He tapped out.
They stood and he offered his hand. “Very good, Ms Whiteside I haven´t had a bout like that in quite a while. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir. I enjoyed it, too. It´s good to work with someone new. I learned a lot.”
In fact, what Pru had learned was that she had not practiced as often as she needed to.
There was a suggestion that they try sparring with practice knives, but Pru took the opportunity to plead weariness. She and Jazira went off to the locker room and into the showers, throwing their briefs into a machine that would wash and dry them by the time they were finished.
“I´d forgotten how you fight,” Jazira told Pru. “You gave him a workout.”
“I got a workout, too,” Pru replied rinsing the suds from her body. “I´m really kind of out of shape.”
Jazira grinned. She didn´t believe a word. Her eyes had told her all she needed to know.
Walking back to the ‘mobile Jazira wondered aloud what the Neo-Tantra course she had signed up for would hold. “Sarah said that it involves a lot of work in learning what others feel. I suppose that might make me more interesting to Zahl, but I´m not sure how.”
“I don´t know a thing about it, either, Jazz. But, the guy who introduced me to it certainly was effective. I wonder if that fellow Said is as good.”
“Well, try him out if you want to, before you leave. I´m a married woman. But” – she grinned at Pru – “let me know what you think.”