He had finished and was leaning over the stall door, still murmuring to the horse, when the faint sound of the blown horn drifted through the courtyard door.  Quite a few of his fellow stu-dents bolted out the door as though they were being chased by a pack of hounds.  Sparrowhawk rubbed Wick’s nose one final time and left, regretful that the class should be over so quickly.
    Luckily, they didn’t have to go far to get to the next class—Combat on Foot—which was located in the courtyard.  The master, a huge man with arms the size of tree trunks and an extraordinarily thick neck, was leaning against the wall of the stable, keeping a careful eye on the boys as they set their things against the opposite wall and congregated in the middle.  Sparrowhawk approached the massive man with some trepidation, intimidated by his sheer size.
    “Excuse me, sir?” he asked, trying to summon up the courage he had found with Wick at his shoulder.  It worked better than he had anticipated.
    The man looked over.  “Ah, you must be the new student.”  He pushed himself off the wall.  Sparrowhawk was stunned.  Con-trary to the rough growl he had expected, the master spoke with smooth, honeyed tones that he found easy to listen to.  “I’m Rex,” the master said, seizing the boy’s hand.  “They hired me to teach people how to swing a weapon.  I heard that you are already quite proficient at it.”
    Sparrowhawk’s whole arm was beginning to turn numb.  He extracted his fingers with difficulty.  “My name is Sparrowhawk.  And I’m not sure how much Master Wyve told you, or anything, so I was wondering—”
    “If there was anything you needed for this class,” Rex fin-ished for him.  “I know the drill.  Don’t worry.  The only thing I need to do today is see how good you really are.  We can move on from there.  Once I’ve set the rest of them on their task for the day, I’ll come and collect you.  Got it?”
    “I think so,” Sparrowhawk replied, trying the best he could to stop his head from spinning and sound confident at the same time.  Apparently—for the first time—it actually worked.  Rex nodded, satisfied, and walked off toward the assembled group of students.  The boy noticed that he hadn’t even waited for the second horn to call the class to order.
    “Listen up!” the massive teacher roared, his voice cutting through the noise like a hot knife through butter.  Everyone quieted instantly and turned to face him.  Sparrowhawk couldn’t help but notice that Rex, who must’ve been at the very least six and a half feet tall, towered head and shoulders over the rest of them.  “I want you all to pair off, go find your implement of choice, and face each other in combat.  Take it slow, mind—I don’t want any more acci-dents after what happened to Roux last period.  Once you’re back in the groove, you can gradually speed it up until you’re at a nor-mal pace.  Got it?”
    Nobody had a chance to answer, because Rex only paused for half a millisecond before plunging on.  “Good!  Then get to it!”
    The other students moved en masse to the opposite side of the courtyard, where a large shed was pushed against the wall.  Sparrowhawk watched curiously as they emerged one by one, holding various pieces of wood masquerading as weapons.  He was surprised; they were actually fairly accurate representations, as far as he could tell, made of good quality timber with dulled edges.  While they could thump and bruise, possibly breaking a bone or two if swung hard enough, they wouldn’t be enough to kill unless someone was really determined and happened to be chopping at your windpipe.
    The boys then found partners and dispersed across the court-yard, swinging their fake armaments experimentally.  So fascinated was Sparrowhawk by the bizarre scene that he didn’t notice Rex’s approach until the master was five feet away.
    “You ready?” the massive human asked.
    Sparrowhawk looked over at him, his stomach suddenly clenching tight with nerves.  “I think so,” he said cautiously.
    Rex clapped him on the shoulder, almost knocking the slight young man off his feet.  “Right this way, then,” he chuckled.
    The boy followed him as Rex skirted the slowly moving combatants and headed for the shed.  As they stepped inside, it took their eyes a couple seconds to adjust to the change in light.  Sparrowhawk noticed that the shed wasn’t as long inside as it had looked from outdoors, but then he noticed the door set into the op-posite wall.  Rex wound his way through the racks of wooden tools to the door, which he opened with a key hung around his neck.
    This room was as black as pitch.  Rex groped his way inside and lit some lamps; the light caught on the edges of several long silver objects.  Sparrowhawk realized that they were actually a rack of swords, pushed up against the wall.
    It was a strange-shaped room, he had to admit—it extended at one part for the last length of the shed before turning a right an-gle.  Apparently someone had hollowed out the wall itself, because a long, wide side was obvious as it extended into darkness.  And everywhere he looked, along the walls was the glint of steel.
    “This is the real mother lode,” Rex chortled, seeing the amazed look on Sparrowhawk’s face.  “Some of the weapons the students in the school use are down here.  Of course, the other half reside in the basements, but those are mainly for the older stu-dents.”
    “Who uses these, then?”
    Rex shrugged.  “You first years will start with them in a cou-ple days.  The next level up uses them for the whole year, but the third group gets to go to the basement, to where the really snazzy stuff is.”
    Sparrowhawk didn’t know what to say.  He walked over to the nearest rack of weapons and inspected them closely, making sure to stay at least three feet away.  It was better to be cautious; he didn’t want to touch anything he wasn’t supposed to.
    “What kind of implement did you use to get rid of those Sea Raiders?” Rex asked curiously.  
    “A rusty sword that had been sitting in the closet for who knows how many years,” Sparrowhawk replied, absently, still staggered by the sheer amount of weaponry arrayed in the room.  He couldn’t believe there was this much of the stuff in the whole world.
    “Well, find something that feels good in your hand, so we can get this over with.”  Rex put his hand back on the door handle.  “I’ll be right back.  Can I trust you not to cut yourself to pieces?”
    Sparrowhawk looked back over his shoulder at the huge man.  “I think I can handle it.”
    “Be back in a minute, then,” Rex said with a small chuckle.  He backed out of the room and shut the door.