For A Time

“Who taught them how to fight before?” Engel asked.

Jente scrubbed a cool, damp cloth over her face, scrubbed a hand over her short hair. “Who knows. Someone who wasn’t taught by Old Master, obviously.”

“They’re strong and fit,” Engel said. “It’s a question of technique and instinct at this point.”

“It’s an adjustment for us,” Jente said. “When was the last time we fought with troops on this massive a scale? Some ingenuity and wit is sacrificed for the sake of controlling so many men.”

“So we’re just here learning?” Engel asked.

“Not just learning. Waiting. For a time.”