The nice thing about having a town full of people who vocally informed her that they could take care of themselves, Kel thought, was that she could pick her battles as far as what actually “shouldn’t be her responsibility.”
She grinned at the motley group of children arrayed before her. In theory, they weren’t her responsibility. But New Hope had learned from Haven, and Fanche had a long talk with any parents who resisted the idea of letting their children learn how to fight. Kel being the one who taught them had been obvious, as far as Tobe and his friends were concerned. Fanche had spent about three minutes going “We could teach them ourselves, you know” before shrugging and accepting the inevitable.
“Good morning,” Kel said cheerfully, and the children chorused the greeting back at her. She hadn’t been able to get the group going while New Hope was being built—everyone had worked on New Hope, including children and knights who didn’t know how to use a hammer—and it felt like a luxury to have this time set aside again.
“I think all of you know me, but just in case you’re new: I’m Keladry of Mindelan, Lady Knight and commander of New Hope. Headwoman Fanche is the one you’ve been going to for most of your everyday problems, and I’m so happy for you and her both. Me, I’ve got other skills.” She picked up the bundle of staffs Tobe offered to her. “You’re here because I want everyone in New Hope to know how to handle themselves in a fight. First question! What’s the fastest way to end a fight?”
She’d had a talk with Tobe and Loesia and the other older children about this, asking them to let the younger or less-experienced children have a chance to answer first. Kel looked over the group with calm eyes, waiting, and then nodded encouragingly at a young boy who was opening and closing his mouth over and over again. With that, he said, “Killing them?”
“Maybe.” Kel chewed her lip. “If you’ve got a sword and they don’t, then you might be able to end a fight in one hit like that. But what if they’re the one with a sword, and you don’t have anything? Or what if you’re in a fight with someone you don’t want to kill?”
The boy flushed, but he didn’t look away. Kel liked him for that; he was new, not one of the Haven children who had gone through so much. Bravely, he asked, “Make them stop fighting?”
“Pretty much.” Kel pulled two staffs out and tossed one each to Tobe and Loesia, who caught them easily. “What’s the easiest way to stop a fight?”
After a moment of silence, a girl piped up with, “Run away?”
“If you can, it’s always a good option.” Kel set the rest of the staffs aside and then said, “That’s the first lesson. I think it’s one of the hardest for warriors to learn, because they learn to fight, so they forget there are other options. Let’s say Tobe and Loesia here attack me.”
The two children immediately fell into well-practiced stances, their staffs pointed straight at her. Kel grinned at them, pride in her heart. “What’s the first thing I should try to do?”
“Run away!” came in a delightful chorus, and Kel laughed.
“Right!” Kel nodded at Tobe and Loesia. “Let’s have a little demonstration, shall we?”
Tobe and Loesia immediately advanced on her, working together, and Kel dodged back. She could escape from them easily, with the advantage of her height and long legs, but that wasn’t what she wanted the children to see. Instead, she narrated her actions as she tried to make her way to a tree. When she was cut off, she switched to a pile of wood, and kept going until she made it up a ladder. Tobe and Loesia stayed at the bottom, vigilant, and Kel looked down at the children.
She might not like heights, but she wasn’t much more than a body-length above the ground right now. “This is what we’re practicing today,” she said, pitching her voice so they could all easily hear. “Pick partners—it’s best if you’re pretty well-matched in your ability to run, but we’ll be switching partners every so often—and stand near each other. Tobe, Loesia, help me pass out staffs once everyone has a partner.”
The field soon devolved into a somewhat-organized game of tag. Kel watched, keeping her eyes peeled in case any of her erstwhile students decided to use this as an excuse to bully each other, but they were surprisingly focused. She called them back every ten minutes or so, to rest and talk about what strategies worked and what strategies didn’t work, and then sent them out again with new partners.
Neal wandered over near the end, eyes sharp despite how tired she knew he was. He might have learned how to conserve his magical energy, but Kel knew that he—like her, as she knew he’d point out—always took on too much.
Kel glanced at him when he settled down beside her, and made a grabbing motion at the jerked meat in his hands.
Neal sighed loudly as he handed her a piece. “Interesting exercise you’ve got for them.”
“I’d been thinking about it while we got New Hope built.” Kel leaned on her own staff. “They want to learn to fight, but I want them to have fun, too.”
“They’ll have plenty of time for that.” Neal punched her thigh, since it was the right height where he was sitting. “Stop worrying about the children, Mother.”
She swatted his head, irritable, and bit into the jerked meat. After a moment of chewing, she admitted, “If I could stop worrying, I would.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to perfect your teaching methods.”
Kel slowly chewed the jerky, making mental notes about what kind of advice she wanted to pass on to the children next. After a minute of moderately suspicious silence, she asked, “So, what did you come out here to avoid?”
Neal groaned, and Kel laughed, and settled down to listen with half her brain to the spiralling complaints that they both knew weren’t actually important but that Neal still periodically needed to vent. The rest of her brain went to the children, and their slowly fading facade of seriousness.
Kel smiled. They all had another chance, and she was going to do her best to make sure they all grew up as happily and well as they could.