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

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exceptional promise as a warrior; as good as me, potentially—"
"As good asyou ?" The girl's ash-blond eyebrows flew up. "You'rejoking ."
"Potentially, I said. You've got the physical side, senses, stamina, reflexes, balance—which are
important, no use in trying if they're lacking—it's the motivation, the drive I'm not certain about. You'd
have to train long and hard, and there's no point in doing that unless youwant it; and there's the training in
command, as well. But I've been instructing you for a year, now; trust my judgment, why don't you? It's
my skill, after all."
"I don'tnot trust your judgment," the girl said, blinking. "You've just never… said anything like that
before. I mean… as good asyou ? I didn't think you thoughtanyone could be as good asyou ."
Shkai'ra shrugged. "It's dangerous to praise too soon in training. I'd have waited until I got back, except
for this war. Don't get complacent—you can still die, it's another four years or so till you reach your full
growth." A wry smile. "Then a decade till you start losing the physical edge; I've got another couple of
years at my best, no more. Though spirit can make up for a good deal of youthful pep."
"You always think people are being cocky," Sova said. "I'm not cocky, I'm just amazed."
"I was your age once, and thought I could whip my weight in tigers. Cockiness is a hazard of youth,
especially in the genuinely talented. The problem is that in this business, it doesn't lead to learning, it
mostly gets you dead. And I want you to live. Of course, sheer luck counts for a good deal, too."
A wink. "I'll let you in on a secret. Up at the top of the profession, who's the 'greatest warrior' as often
as not depends on things like who slept better the night before, or who has a head-cold." Steadily:
"Look, Sova, we'll teach you the basics anyway; everyone needs to know how to defend themselves. If
you want, I can teach you to the point where you'll never have to back down from someone simply
because they're better with a blade. It's a useful set of skills. The question is, what do you want?"
The girl thought for a moment, her nail scratching the edge of the handle of the dipper. "But… tonever
have to back down from someone because they're better means I'd have to be the greatest warrior in the
world."
Shkai'ra made a weighing gesture. "Not really. If you're in the very top rank, the odds against running
into someone much better are small; particularly if you don't make a career of following the drum—you
weren't planning on being a mercenary, I hope? It's an overrated career."
"Well, I didn't think so. But what's the point of doing all the training to be that good if I'mnot going to do
it for a living?"
"You don't have to follow war for it to come to you. Stay in F'talezon and you'll see a good deal of
fighting, will younil you; anywhere else on the Brezhan, the same. And out on the Mitvald, once Arko's
gone, there's going to be bloody chaos a generation, at least. I'd like to see you able to handle it
wherever you go; there's more than one way—Megan knows others—but I can teach you only mine."
The girl sat thinking, the expression unreadable, but filled with some point she wasn't making aloud.
She will speak when she will, Shkai'ra thought. "You think on this, girl. Such a choice should not be left
to whim or default. You're done here now, go."