that maybe I'm not interested in furthering the Vulpitanian Plan?" I sneered.
"Interested or not, further The Plan you shall," Sam stated flatly. "But meanwhile, training you need."
"I don't need any training from you," I scowled. "I learned Wiles from Sheila na Gig, and archery from Utica the Huntress. I can already influence lowfolk -"
"Your henchmen show me, then," Sam insisted, looking around curiously.
"Well, I haven't started gathering henchmen yet," I countered. "But the point is, I could. And I already know how to fight, so you've wasted your time coming here. Give me back my mustache and be on your way."
"From me, take it you must," he declared. "For one of your prowess, easy this should be."
I lunged forward and grabbed at the mustache in his hand.
Suddenly he was behind me, rapping the back of my head sharply with his staff.
"OW!" I exclaimed. "You moved!"
"First rule of combat," Sam stated calmly. "When attack your enemy does, not where he is aiming you must be."
"Again try," he suggested, holding up the mustache. "Better, perhaps, this time you will do."
I reached toward the mustache while simultaneously ducking and dodging toward the left. Sam was somehow there again, and thumped me across my ribs with his staff.
"Second rule," he explained. "Strike you must not where your enemy is, but where he will be."
"Are you Pooking?" I wheezed. "You must be Pooking. There's no other way to move that fast."
"The mustache again try to take," Sam suggested.
I reached to my right while jumping to my left and twisting around to face completely away from where Sam was standing. He poked his staff between my ankles and sent me sprawling on the grass.
"Rule three. Get fancy you must not. And rule four: Away from your enemy never look. Again try."
I rolled over and rushed at his knees.
"OOH!" I heard some of my Ixies yell as Sam adroitly batted me aside. "Art thou gonna let him do that to thee, Sire??"