Seventen Training Grounds, Uptown
She had stood on the edge of the training square for some time, watching the training matches taking place. The sun had crept up over the edges of the compound walls, pale and watery through the clouds. It was not so cold as it had been, but still very cold.
Nkemi’s feet, bare and callused in well-laced sandals, felt it the worst, but the breeze that skipped over the packed dirt floor and whistled through the grounds had cut straight through the thin linen of her pants and shirt. She had solved the problem with a thick, quilted training jacket, which puffed her out to nearly twice her size, and went down to the middle of her thighs, meant to help the wearer withstand blows, which she had wrapped around herself and tied with a length of rope. She had at least had the sense to wrap a scarf around her head, the vivid yellow bright and spirit-lifting, as well as warm.
The four men who had been working in all turned to her. The latest bout had ended, and the mock-assailant, with a wooden knife still in his hand, had been the victor; the man he had beaten was sitting on the ground still, one hand rubbing the spot on his shoulder. They all wore the same green pants, which Nkemi understood to be the uniform pants of the Seventen, and more casual garments on their upper body, by Anaxi standards. Three were redheads, and the fourth blond; all had the exceptionally pale skin of Anaxi, freckled.
“Are you lost, Miss?” One of the men asked with a friendly smile.
“No,” Nkemi said, looking between them, chin tilted up. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re one of the Mugrobi lasses, aren’t you?” The man with the knife grinned at her, friendly as well. “One of the prefects of Thul Ka,” he said to the other man.
There was a surprised grin on one face, and a faint snort from the man on the ground. Nkemi supposed his ego had been bruised, as well as his shoulder.
“Yes,” Nkemi swept a more proper bow. “Junior subprefect Nkemi pezre Nkese,” she said, brightly. “Of the Windward Market District of Thul Ka,” she straightened, drawing herself up to the fullness of her height.
“Welcome to Vienda,” the man who had known her bowed as well; there was a rustling, and his colleagues joined him, even the man on the ground rising to respond the greeting. There was a series of introductions, then, and strange foreign Anaxi names; Nkemi did her best to keep track of them, brow furrowed. She had known Anaxi, mostly members of the AAF who found work in Thul Ka, but she had never quite sorted their strange habit of naming, and the sounds seemed to her to blur together.
“The ladies train over there,” the gentleman continued with a smile, gesturing politely with one hand. Nkemi thought his name was something like Nethenielle, but she could not be quite sure.
Nkemi blinked. She glanced back over her shoulder, where he had pointed. “I see,” Nkemi said, understanding what was unspoken as well. “Thank you very much.” She smiled brightly at them, bowed once more, setting off a flurry among them, and turned and made her way across the training yard.
Nkemi kept her chin up, navigating through the rows of dummies, the squares marked off with lines of chalk, the noises of early morning sparring and exercises. She admired a set of difficult looking calisthetics, and shivered in sympathy with how cold everyone must have been. She felt more than a little foolish for not realizing, but in the Prefects men trained with women all the time. It did not, Nkemi thought, made much sense. She understood that the Seventen chased down suspects all the time, did they not? She was given to understand that both the Patrol division and the Investigative division had such responsibilities. Did they think that female Seventen would chase only female suspects?
Nkemi glanced around, and then, unafraid, made her way to a blonde woman who managed to look elegant even in the training costume. She bowed at the edge of the woman’s sight, and smiled as she rose. “Good morning,” Nkemi said, cheerfully, chin lifted over the edge of her puffy jacket. Her field was indectal around her, soft and warm with the mingling of clairvoyant and static mona. “I am Junior subprefect Nkemi pezre Nkese, of Thul Ka.” She paused. “I am sorry to interrupt, but may I join you in your training? I am new to the yard, and would be grateful to have a partner.”