Going to talk to a soldier drider

Today, Teysa decided, she would talk to the Matron’s guards. If she was to lead the defense of the warren, she needed an idea of her troops’ capabilities. She had avoided doing so so far, at least partially because their blank countenances disturbed her. The changes overtaking the drider warren had been faster in some places and slower in others, but nobody seemed to have changed less than the guards. Indeed, some of them had stopped speaking entirely, as though their sisters’ advancement had triggered a countervailing regression.

They reminded her of nothing so much as soldier ants, an impression that was all the stronger for the glossy black armor they wore. The plates were steel enameled with some kind of lacquer that drank up light. The guards never took their armor off, at least not where Teysa could see. They slept in public, either in the halls of the warren or in shady corners of the Matron’s audience chamber, armored all the while and with their spears cradled in their arms.

Even approaching them proved difficult. The guards patrolled in pairs and tended to move in groups even when off duty. They were attentive, and looked up when Teysa passed, though it was impossible to read any expression on their statue-perfect faces. Once or twice Teysa tried to start a conversation with a marching pair, but while they would respond politely and clearly to any direct question, they seemed utterly uninterested in conversation. Whenever Teysa offered to train with them or asked them about their plans for defending the warren, they stared at her in silence: not incomprehension, but the silence of one who simply has nothing to say.

She spent a fruitless morning trying to find a crack in their steely facades. She had just about given up in disgust and was heading back to the armory when a voice stopped her.

<Sister Tey’sa.> It was always easy to tell when a soldier drider was speaking; their voices were low, their tones clipped, with a strange buzz beneath their words like the vibrating of a beetle’s wing.

Teysa turned to see one of the soldiers facing her, about six feet away. The drider was fearsome in her segmented armor, a leaf-bladed spear held in both hands, and Teysa tensed. Even after her transformation, the sight of a towering spider-woman in full panoply of war could intimidate her. She struggled to remember this one’s name and came up short—she had been introduced to many of the soldiers, but they were not memorable, and the armor made them all look alike.

<Sister,> she replied. <I am sorry, I do not remember your name.>

The soldier looked surprised. She paused before answering, as though she had to take a moment to remember it as well.

<I am Lur’vess.>

<I am Teysa, Lur’vess,> Teysa said, though she was quite sure that the other drider knew her name. There were not many Ascended in the warren, and each was quite recognizable.

<I know.> Lur’vess paused again. <I have heard that you seek to test yourself against the guards.>

<Not exactly,> Teysa said. <The Matron has charged me with defense of the warren. I wanted to get to know you better.> She felt herself relaxing a little, although she was still on edge. Lur’vess did not seem threatening, but she had not relaxed, either, and she still held her spear in a ready grip.

<I will spar with you,> Lur’vess said at last.

Teysa hesitated. <Of course,> she said. She felt that something more was called for from her.

<How are you today, Lur’vess?> she asked.

<The Matron is safe. The warren is safe.> Lur’vess said, as if that were an answer. She half-turned away. <We can use the arena where you trained our two-legged cousins. Come.> Without waiting to see if Teysa was following her, she set off.

Teysa followed at a polite remove. Lur’vess seemed to have no interest in walking and talking. She was moving quickly, with determination, her shoulders slightly hunched and her spear held up in a ready position, as though she expected to encounter enemies in the corridors between here and the sparring arena.

The arena cave was empty and dim, its glow-bug sconces unlit. The only light came from a patch of phosphorescent moss clinging to the vaulted ceiling. Teysa made to awaken one of the glow-bugs and hesitated. She could see just fine in the gloom, and she knew Lur’vess could as well. It was only for the benefit of the surface dwellers that the driders had kept the warren lit at all. And now there are no surface dwellers left down here.

Lur’vess took up station on the far side of the arena and addressed Teysa with her spear held high. Teysa planted her eight legs in the loose sand of the arena floor and shook the stiffness out of her arms.

<Shall we begin?> Lur’vess asked. <To first blood?>

<To first strike,> Teysa replied. <No blood if you can help it.> Bloodshed in the service of training was wasteful, to her mind, though she’d known warriors who considered training a waste of time if **** or injury was not on the line.

Lur’vess approached in grim silence, her head low, her spearpoint weaving a figure eight in the air. A distraction, Teysa knew. She **** herself not to watch to speartip. Instead, she focused on Lur’vess’s face. A skilled duelist could read a human or elven opponent like a book. Every twitch of the jaw and flicker of the eye told volumes. The driders, with their blank eyes and statuesque faces, were singularly unreadable, but since her transformation Teysa had been picking up subtle tells that she’d always missed before.

She let Lur’vess advance, holding her own spear loose and ready. The strike, when it came, was as sudden and vicious as the jab of a scorpion’s tail. Lur’vess stabbed upward and Teysa crossed the blow with her steel haft, deflecting it leftward. Lur’vess let her momentum spin her around, whirling away and redressing with a low slice that Teysa barely managed to avoid. Her fighting style was like nothing Teysa had ever seen: despite her size, Lur’vess moved like a dancer, conserving her momentum and letting one attack carry her into the next. It was incredibly economical, with not a single ounce of **** wasted.

<Impressive, Lur’vess!> Teysa said, at least partially to buy herself some time. In truth, Lur’vess did not need any “training,” and Teysa doubted she had anything to teach any of the guards. She’d hoped to use this time to bond with them, but Lur’vess’s silence and intense focus made it seem like she was not interested in talking.

Teysa tried anyways. <Where did you learn this technique?> she asked. <I am still adjusting to fighting on eight legs.>

<From the Matron.> Lur’vess did not look up at Teysa as she spoke. She circled her opponent with short, scuttling steps, essaying a periodic jab to test Teysa’s defenses. Her attacks were rapid, but lacked penetrating ****—her flowing style prevented her from bringing her formidable drider strength into play. Teysa took advantage of that, allowing individual jabs to ring off her armor. Where the spear met plate head-on, it deflected with a metallic squeal. Teysa slashed her own blade down in an oblique arc, forcing Lur’vess to yield ground.

<I wonder why she needs guards at all,> Teysa said. <She seems formidable.> She had meant it as a joke, but Lur’vess responded with a flurry of savage blows that Teysa barely managed to avoid. Their spears clattered together, and Teysa half-turned her armored torso to expose a narrower profile. Most of Lur’vess’s attacks, she noticed, were aimed at her human body.

<She has many enemies,> Lur’vess said. <The Underneath is dangerous.>

<I meant no offense,> Teysa said. <She is lucky to have such skilled protectors.> In truth, it was impossible to tell if Lur’vess was offended; her flat affect never changed, and if anything, she sounded slightly bored. But the sudden fury of her attack suggested that Teysa had touched a nerve.

<If that is so, then why do you seek to test us?> Lur’vess asked. <As you said yourself, you have not yet mastered our forms of combat.> She reared up on six legs and stabbed down with sudden, fearsome strength. Teysa had to throw herself sideways to avoid the attack, and her eight legs skittered for purchase. She danced crazily across the floor, her thumping feet throwing up little puffs of sand. For a moment, she had the queasy certainty that she would topple over, but then she regained her balance and reset her stance.

She could not keep giving ground like this. Lur’vess was flexible enough to shift between styles of combat, and some of her blows had had dangerous **** behind them. Teysa wasn’t sure the other drider had taken her admonishment about bloodspill to heart. She decided to go on the attack instead. This time, when Lur’vess approached, Teysa gripped her spear tightly with her left hand. Her right hand, further up the shaft, still held it loosely, presenting the image of a warrior seeking to play defense. As she expected, Lur’vess took on the attacker’s role, her spear cocked for a thrust.

Teysa bulled forward instead, solidifying her grip in a second and plunging her spear towards Lur’vess’s armored heart. The other drider reeled, momentarily wrongfooted, and Teysa pressed her advantage. She stabbed hard, knowing that Lur’vess’s armor would block her blow. The impact still shivered the drider guard, and Teysa followed up with a sweep of her spear shaft—a technique she had not seen any of the guards employ. The steel bar scythed three of Lur’vess’s legs out from under her, and the drider guard toppled forward, suddenly unbalanced. She was **** to use her own spear to prop herself up as she regained her footing, and that left her open. Teysa swung her spear butt again and it clanged off of Lur’vess’s helmet with an echo like the ringing of a church bell. Lurv’ess staggered backwards unsteadily.

<A strike to me,> Teysa said. <Do you want to pause?>