Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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far-off sentry-call.I hope it sounded better to everyone else than it did to me . "I submit myself."
She set her teeth, and started the long slow breathing; then came the whistling of air, and the first blow.
I flinched. My face flinched, I didn't think of my face, shit! Next stroke, my face is rock, my face is
stone… She made her eyes bore through the spot on the post, worn grey wood-grain.Breathing, I'm
forgetting … The second stroke came, before she was ready for it; she'd never be ready for it, but she
managed not to flinch somehow.It's not so bad. Not as bad as I feared . She caught on, then, to the
rhythm.
Lines she'd heard someone quote from an old strategy book came into her head, and somehow stayed
there, the pain searing them in, in fluid Yeoli.There is rhythm in all things. There is a season to
everything . She breathed, and burned into the spot with her gaze, and put all her soul into keeping still
and silent. With all her soul she counted with the count-herald, to know and celebrate in her bones that it
would only be eleven more, ten more, nine more, half over, to measure out her strength to last just as
long as she needed.It'll be over. It'll be over in a moment and then he'll hold me, and we'll stagger
off to the healer together and get our backs salved . 'Ten!' She felt her face flinch again. Ialmost
yelled. Don't relax, yet. Only five more, I can make it, breathe in, and out, and in, and out…
Eleven. I can make it. Twelve. I can make it. Just three more. Thirteen. Hardly anything left, I can
make it. In, out… Fourteen. I've just about made it. Fifteen. It's over, O Gotthumml great god
Nurse Zhymatait's over Echerry shitI'm still in front of everyone I'd better not fall over …
Grey cleared from her eyes. Straightening was agony, walking all she could do. The whip-wielder was
there, his face sympathetic; dully remembering what Echera-e had done, as if she hadn't known it before,
she kissed the hand offered, and salutedkhyd-hird , who sat impassive. Sensation returning, she realized
she had tears in her eyes; but she was sweating so much as well, maybe no one had seen. In the ring of
faces was only admiration. It occurred to her that they might never have seen a fourteen-year-old flogged
before, since Yeolis under sixteen didn't get flogged.I did it. I didn't cry out or fall over or faint or
anything. I did it . Echera-e's arms welcomed her, clasping her shoulders.
XIV
To: Slaf Hikarme, Rilla called Shadow's Shade and Shyll called Dog Lord
From: Megan called Whitlock
Dated: Seventh Iron-Cycle, Sixth Day, Year of the Lead Cat
I greet you both, with love, from the middle of the largest gathering of naZak that I have ever seen in one
place at one time. We are all well; Sova arrived with not so much as a scratch on her. She is doing well
fighting in Shkai'ra's collection of "odds and sods" mercenaries and is associating with a very nice young
Yeoli boy, Echera-e. Since she speaks not a word of his tongue and he very little Enchian, this is doing
wonders for her Yeoli language lessons, among other things.
Shkai'ra is having a marvelous time doing what she does best, bashing heads. The command that given
her was, at first, exactly how she described it, but has since improved. She has been awarded a Nephrite
Flame, the decoration for "conspicuous presence of mind," which is high enough that she had it presented