Joanna stared at him balefully for a long time, displaying contempt like her own personal banner. Then she abruptly turned and walked back to the rim, where Ellis awaited her with a bundle in his arms. Taking the bundle from him, she lay it on the ground. It was wrapped in heavy brocaded cloth whose surface depicted images of swooping falcons in bright colors and stark design. To underline the sacredness of the intriguing package, Joanna began to unwrap it with slow, deliberate motions, as if according to an ancient rite. When the corners of the cloth lay flat to the ground, Aidan still could not perceive the contents. Looking up at Ellis and receiving a nod from him, Joanna respectfully lifted two identical objects from the cloth and held them gingerly in her arms.

The rest of the sibko had left the classroom, and with Dermot hovering nervously behind them and moving around the diameter of the circle, they watched the central actions intently. Aidan spotted Marthe staring only at him, her eyes so cool that, with the empathy they shared, he could easily see her anxiety.

Joanna stood up. Approaching Aidan, she held the pair of objects over her head, yelling to the crowd, "You may have seen whips before, children, but none like these." She cracked both whips, and their sound was explosive. "These thongs are of the toughest leather and their handles are perfectly balanced. Not only that, but each is equipped with a guidance system that, like a missile, finds its target, even when your arm is so weakened that you can only flick out the whip feebly. A useful personal weapon when you are faced with survival on a backwater planet or when your 'Mech is down and the enemy is closing in on you. Like so." She leaned down close to the ground and, with no perceptible wrist or arm movement, sent the whip thong flying toward Aidan's feet. Before he could move out of its way, it had wrapped around both ankles and flipped him over. He landed on the ground with some impact, and the pain of it surged up his spine. Some of the members of the sibko laughed, but it was not mocking laughter, it was a laugh of relief at not being the victim of the demonstration. At one time or another, each one had been knocked over by some attack or other by a training officer, and they did not at all mind watching it happen to someone else. (More than once Aidan had wondered whether the tactics of their trainers were not intended to strike at the sibko's closeness, to dislodge them from long-held loyalties.)

As Aidan sat up, the whip thong still wrapped around his legs, he saw the mix of terrible emotions that had come onto the faces of his sibkin. Bret's look was scornful, a judgment on Aidan's penchant for getting into trouble. Peri's was mocking, an I-hope-you-really-get-it-this-time kind of look. Endo was smug, probably thinking that he was punished in the Circle much less than Aidan or any of the others. Orilna was more withdrawn, but she already had poised her body, as she often did, into a battle pose. She would, while standing still, imitate the bodily moves of Joanna, whom she admired beyond logic. Freda, who drew punishment almost as much as Aidan, was already grimacing, ready to absorb all the pain empathically. Only Marthe's face showed much concern for Aidan's plight. She hated Falconer Joanna almost as much as he did.

Behind the agitated group, Falconer Commander Ter Roshak stood impassively, as he usually did. He rarely participated in training but frequently observed it. Although he usually did not speak to cadets, it was said that he called in the training officers each night and gave them trenchant critical lectures laced with scorn and obscenity. Every once in a while during the training period, Aidan had looked up to see Ter Roshak staring piercingly at him, a suggestion of anger in his eyes. His strange face often seemed to take on different looks, different aspects, as mountainsides did during the changing light of day.

As Joanna pressed a button on the handle of her whip, the thongs were abruptly released from Aidan's ankles. They glided back toward Joanna, who was clearly guiding their flight. At the end of the trip, the thong straightened and slid back into the handle. "A beautiful hurting machine, eh, class? Repeat the words after me. A beautiful hurting machine."

"A BEAUTIFUL HURTING MACHINE."

"If you think kill, you will kill."

"IF WE THINK KILL, WE WILL KILL."

"If you have a boot, you crush your enemy."

"IF WE HAVE A BOOT, WE CRUSH OUR ENEMY."

"If you have a hand, you strangle your enemy."

"IF WE HAVE A HAND, WE STRANGLE OUR ENEMY."

"If you have a club, you bludgeon your attacker."

"IF WE HAVE A CLUB, WE BLUDGEON THE ATTACKER."

"If you have a knife, you stab your foe."

"IF WE HAVE A KNIFE, WE STAB OUR FOE."

"If you have a gun, you shoot it."

"IF WE HAVE A GUN, WE SHOOT IT."

"If you have a tank, you roll it over the opposing ranks"

"IF WE HAVE A TANK, WE ROLL IT OVER THE OPPOSING RANKS."

"If you have an aerofighter, you bomb them."

"IF WE HAVE AN AEROFIGHTER, WE BOMB THEM."

"If you have a 'Mech, you win."

"IF WE HAVE A 'MECH, WE WIN."

"You are always the victor."

"WE ARE ALWAYS THE VICTOR."

"When the blood is spilled, the bloodname is earned."

"WHEN THE BLOOD IS SPILLED, THE BLOOD-NAME IS EARNED."

"We are the Clan."

"WE ARE THE CLAN."

At the end she held the pair of whips high over her head, harsh beams of light coming off the metal studs in her falconer gloves, and Aidan was certain that her voice made the outer walls of the school building shake. If not for his intense control over his physical body, it would certainly have made him tremble.

But he no longer feared Falconer Joanna. At first he had, but each insult, each beating, cut down fear rather than increased it. Ter Roshak, on the other hand—Ter Roshak, who had never addressed Aidan, for all the times he had stared at him—was for Aidan an object of continual fear who even terrorized his dreams.

Turning toward Aidan, who now stood, Joanna tossed him one of the whips. She purposely made the arc so that it would fall just short of Aidan's easy reach. But he was used to her devious ways and instinctively took a step forward. With an awkward lunge that almost made him lose his balance and fall, he caught the whip by its handle. Surprised by how light it felt, he quickly learned how to position his fingers, with his thumb locating the simple controls. Setting his face in a proud grimace, he pressed the button that released the thong and watched it fly upward, toward the sky, the line of it sure, its graceful arcing a pleasure to watch. Aidan felt a slight vibration in the handle and heard its quiet hum. Flicking his wrist and making the whip snap, he felt as if he had been using this weapon for ages. Yet, it was the first time he had held a whip of any kind.

"Look toward me, filth."

The haziness of the air around them, which made the sun seem to fill the sky, made Joanna indistinct. Her body had no clear outline, her features the vagueness of an unfinished portrait. But the whip she was now raising was as detailed as a technical drawing in a manual. Aidan almost expected to find lines leading away from it to outlined boxes containing sentences of technical explanatory detail.

Joanna's arm barely moved as she flicked her wrist and sent the thong of the whip flying toward him. It came so fast that he scarcely felt its physical contact as it grazed against his cheek. It stung terribly, but he used his best resources of control to keep his face from displaying any reaction. Touching his face with the back of his hand, he felt the small cut. When he looked at the hand, he saw a trace of blood along his knuckles. Bret, who hated the sight of blood, might have blanched if similarly cut, but Aidan allowed his mouth to form a pleased smile.