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Dach'osmin Ceredin is, like Idra's mother, very fierce.
It's one of the first things he hears about her after the betrothal, and it worries him a little. His mother's fierceness had not been the only reason she wasn't a good mother, but it had been very much a part. Dach'osmin Ceredin has more outlets, more ways to exercise her mind and body the way that his father always said would have made his mother happier. Her father permitted her to learn swordwork, to begin with, and his cousin has apparently said that he will of course permit her to continue that training after they are married, by all accounts seeming puzzled that anyone would think that he would not.
Which is very typical for cousin Maia. But Idra is not sure, if Dach'osmin Ceredin is like his mother, that that will be enough. He doesn't think Dach'osmin Ceredin will betray his cousin, for her loyalty is spoken of as a certainty by those whom Idra in turn can recognize as completely loyal. That doesn't mean she won't, in her ferocity, be too much like his mother to her children. Idra doesn't want to see that happen again.
Cousin Maia brings her to watch Idra's sword-lessons in the garden of the Alcethmeret one day in early fall. Idra notices them halfway through and slips just a little; his sword-tutor seizes the opening, then stops to walk him through what he'd done wrong. Hot-faced, Idra does his very best to concentrate but still feels the lesson running like water out of his thoughts. When they go through the sequence again, though, he focuses as best as he can, feeling an odd determination to show himself well to this woman who will never once in her life face an actual foe in battle.
Swordsmanship has never been Idra's best subject, though, and he can tell on her face as they approach afterwards that she has noticed his flaws. Not by her expression, which is a pleasant court-lady mask, but by the way her sharp eyes watch him sheathe the sword and move with it dragging at his waist.
Dach'osmin Ceredin doesn't, however, comment. "Prince Idra," she says, with a curtsey. "We are pleased to meet you in person."
"So are we, Dach'osmin Ceredin," he answers, with an equal bow.
"We are approaching our wedding, and I thought it would be better if the two of you met before thy formal introduction to the empress," his cousin says, a little awkwardly. "Since you are both acquainted with swordsmanship, I thought this might be a good time."
Which he clearly is already regretting; Idra's blush at his slip would have been clear as day, and while he had deliberately not been looking for Dach'osmin Ceredin's reaction, she might have said anything to his cousin from that distance and Idra would not have heard. He knows what his mother would have said, if she had understood swordsmanship well enough to judge Idra's.
"You have a very good teacher," Dach'osmin Ceredin says, which is polite, at least, and true. "We see he was demonstrating the classic form of Istandaär. Has he taught you any of the Barizheise styles?"
"He would not think that appropriate for a prince," Idra tells her.
"We learned some of the coastal Barizheise style from our childhood sword-tutor, and one of the Avar's soldiers stationed here has been kind enough to help us develop it further," she says. "We are sure that he would demonstrate it for you too. It is a less elegant style," she adds, which Idra does believe by the light in her eyes isn't meant to be cutting, "but it is meant for lighter frames, and we enjoy it very much."
Her face has gone vivid with excitement, which looks far better on her than the court-lady mask, and a part of Idra regrets that he cannot match her interest. Regrets, too, with an unexpected pang, that he had never seen his mother like this--that she had never been given such a gift as something she could love and enjoy so whole-heartedly.
"We would not like to insult our teacher," he says carefully.
At once some of the animation leaves her, but the smile she gives him is kind. "No, we understand. What else are you studying? Maia has told me that you have an excellent tutor."
"We do," he says in relief. "We are presently studying both the court and trade forms of Barizhin, the history of the northern wars, and our father and grandfather's trade policies."
"Idra has been helping me understand the last two, as well." His cousin smiles at him.
Idra blushes again. "Leilis Athmaza says that the best way to set a lesson in your own mind is to teach another. We do likewise with our sisters."
"As they are lessons I need, they serve both of us," cousin Maia says, with amusement rather than bitterness, undercutting Idra's clumsy attempt to save face for him.
But Dach'osmin Ceredin doesn't stop smiling. "Do your sisters appreciate the lessons, too?"
"The languages. And Mireän enjoys hearing about the wars. We do make the stories less bloody for our sisters," he adds.
She looks pleased. "We hope to meet your sisters, but we did not want to do so without your permission."
His, not cousin Maia's; Idra wonders if that was his cousin's idea or hers. It seems like something cousin Maia might say. He thinks about it for a moment, giving the question its appropriate weight. If his cousin wishes him to make the decision, even if they both know it is only about when and not whether, then Idra must take it seriously.
Dach'osmin Ceredin had turned the conversation as soon as Idra had indicated his discomfort, even though it was away from one she clearly would have enjoyed more. His mother would never have done that.
"We would be honored to introduce you," he tells her.
***
"Suler says she's heard that you know how to fight, like a soldier," Mireän asks her almost immediately, which Idra should have expected after all the stories he's been telling her. "Did you ever fight in a war?"
"No," Dach'osmin Ceredin tells her. She looks less awkward now that she's able to directly address Mireän; she had clearly been unsure how to react to Ino ducking behind Idra on first introduction. Mireän's obvious disappointment makes her smile. "We were not taught to fight like a soldier, unfortunately. We were taught to duel, which our present instructor has made clear to us is not at all the same thing. He is teaching us a few things about how a soldier fights, however."
Again Idra thinks of his mother, of the way his father had said she would make a good soldier, how once his father said that it had seemed so patently true. It is good for her, if she's like his mother, that cousin Maia is letting her learn such things. It still makes his stomach lurch.
Mireän looks up at her wide-eyed. "Could we see?"
Dach'osmin Ceredin looks awkward again, glancing up at cousin Maia. "We would not want to upset your brother or your cousin."
Idra looks to cousin Maia, too, only to see his cousin looking back at him. "Wouldst it bother thee, Idra?"
Hastily, Idra composes his expression, but his cousin is still looking at him with concern. Idra wonders if he remembers, too, what Idra had told him of that conversation with his father.
Now Dach'osmin Ceredin is also looking at him in concern--less obvious than cousin Maia's unschooled face, but tense as if she's starting to think she might have misstepped. He has seen it too often on his mother's companions just before she flew into one of her rages not to see it even under the Dach'osmin's court mask. And Mireän is biting her lip, the exact same expression brewing on her, too.
"You may borrow our sword," he tells her, unfastening it from his belt, and everyone else relaxes at once.
Idra tries to relax too as Dach'osmin Ceredin, smiling again, takes the blade from him. She doesn't unsheathe it, which he's grateful for, just holds the hilt and tests the balance with the sheath on and then, stepping clear of the chair and any of them, starts into a set of sword-forms that Idra doesn't recognize at all. It must be the coastal Barizheise style she had mentioned, because Idra can recognize all the dominant forms of the Ethuveraz, even if he's only learning one.
As she had told him, it isn't as elegant as any of those he knows. It is, in fact, almost brutal, all quick forceful movements. A soldier's style indeed, rather than a duelist's.
"That is all we have learned as yet," she says when she comes to the end, turning to Mireän with that light back in her eyes. "And we are far from expert. We are better with the old elvish forms, especially of Istandaär and Tetar, though unfortunately we have been given no opportunity to actually face another in a duel."
"Oh, our brother knows Istandaär," Mireän says dismissively, and despite his anxiety Idra has to bite his lip against laughter.
The Dach'osmin does laugh, bright and startled. Then, before she can compose herself, she jumps at a tug on her skirt that Idra also hadn't expected--Ino has slipped out in front of him, eyes wide, to look shyly up at her.
"Can you show us how?"
Dach'osmin Ceredin looks at him again. Idra can see that she wants to say yes, that she is restraining herself because Maia has made him the authority here--for they both know cousin Maia would himself say yes without question. His stomach lurches again.
Mother wouldn't just have made a good soldier. She would have been happy as one. Neither of his sisters could ever be one, any more than Dach'osmin Ceredin could be. But if they turn out to have his mother's ferocity too, and they are given that outlet, perhaps it will also give them Dach'osmin Ceredin's delight in something they enjoy, instead of their mother's unyielding frustration at the cage her sex had locked her within.
"We are sure Dach'osmin Ceredin would like to show you," he tells Ino.
"We would be most happy to," she agrees immediately, smiling down at Ino, but holds his sword out to him. "Though you will need a sword more suited to your stature. We are not expert at the Barizheise style," she adds, "but we would do as your brother does, and hope to learn by teaching. Once you are of age, our teacher may be able to tutor you as well."
"If not, I will ask the Avar to send another," cousin Maia says.
Ino continues to cling to Dach'osmin Ceredin's skirt, staring up at her in wide-eyed silent wonder.
"You'll teach us too, won't you?" Mireän demands, restless at having lost everyone's attention.
"Of course," Dach'osmin Ceredin says. "Your brother tells me that you're very interested in the northern wars. Is your interest in strategy and tactics?"
"We like hearing about the Nazhmorhathveras," Mireän corrects her. "Do you know they have long sharp teeth?"
"So we have heard." Dach'osmin looks at her thoughtfully. "We have a friend who has made a study of them, and collects their folktales and portraits made by travelers. We could ask our friend if she would show them to you some time."
"Oh, yes," Mireän says, enchanted. As is Idra, if he's being honest.
"We would also like to meet her," his cousin says, looking just as intrigued.
Dach'osmin Ceredin smiles. "Then we will ask her the next chance we get. We will also look into a practice sword for your sister, and," she turns to Idra and cousin Maia, "arrange a good time to visit again. Perhaps regular visits, if we are to instruct Ino in the blade."
"We look forward to it," Idra tells her, and thinks it may be true.