Chapter 16: The Northern Villa

  Ean was roused, along with the others, by a knock on the door. It wasn’t yet dawn. An attendant—a young woman this time, short and thin and just as harmless as the Scholar that kept watch overnight—informed them that breakfast was ready. She led them to an informal dining hall in the back of the temple. The ceilings were dragon-height and large doors led out to a patio that doubled as an herb garden. There were no high tables or places of honor, only long tables and benches. Covered platters were set across the tabletops along with wooden plates and bowls.

  Cirocco spotted them and motioned at his table, an invitation to join him. He stood with a few of his Elders, Basil, Nadia, and Dar. Ean followed the others over. The Scholars remained standing while more of their sect filtered into the hall. They all wore the same brown robes Ean had seen previously, and most of them had a lavender undergarment that peeked out at the collar and sleeves, but there was a smattering of blue, green, and yellow as well.

  The last of the Scholars trickled in and found a place to stand along the tables. A Scholar at the front of the room struck a small gong with a padded mallet, the opening of some sort of ceremony. Cirocco murmured instructions to the party, guiding them through their morning ritual—a moment of silence, a moment of gratitude, and then a moment to greet each other. Only then did the Scholars sit and help themselves to breakfast.

  The food was simple, bordering on bland, but it was accompanied by hot black tea, pleasantly spiced and liberally sweetened. Ean half-listened as the Elders explained their traditions and rituals to the others and cast a wary glance over the rest of the hall. The Scholars watched their party with open curiosity. He spotted no weapons among them, lending some credence to their declaration of pacifism.

  Breakfast finished and Nadia volunteered to give a tour of the Northern Villa. Leo readily accepted and Ean exchanged an irritated look with Asali. Both of them would rather discuss the sword.

  Nadia was a tall, androgynous woman with a regal air and a slow step. She walked the party through the temple, providing details about its construction and the reign of notable philosophers. Ean wasn’t interested in the history lesson, but Nadia had a pleasingly husky voice that made the lecture more palatable. After touring the temple, she took them outside to view the dormitories and instruction rooms. She paused by the bathhouses and explained that they were built over naturally occurring hot springs. Then she gestured to the fields that had been cut into the sides of the valley and launched into a particularly dry discourse about steppe-farming.

  “It’s a precarious position, being in a valley, is it not?” Asali asked, changing the subject to suit her own interests.

  Nadia smiled. “Perhaps, but we have many means of defense. Concealment, for one. Our villa is hard to find if one does not follow the right path.”

  Chadwick’s eyebrows rose. “I thought it was odd that I didn’t see the mountain ridges while I searched the area. It’s some sort of camouflage magic, isn’t it?”

  Nadia’s smile grew. “Perhaps. But even if an army were to discover us, they would find us to be a formidable force. All Scholars are taught basic self-defense in their first term of instruction, and many choose to continue their training. Come, I will show you.”

  She led them to a receded courtyard by the river. Twenty Scholars, dressed in gray sparring uniforms, moved through a series of defensive stances while Elder Phong paced in front, calling out commands. Ean stopped in surprise. He recognized those exercises. They were practicing Tree Dance.

  Phong caught sight of the group and jogged up the shallow steps with a teasing grin. “Nadia, have you brought me new recruits?”

  “I hoped you might speak to our visitors about our self-defense training.” Nadia turned to Leo. “Elder Phong is our most skilled fighter.”

  “You humble me,” Phong said, giving Nadia a short bow, but there was a smirk about his lips that said he knew it to be true. He looked the party over. “Do any of you know the four strata of the world?”

  Ean was too shocked to answer. Leo glanced his way and spoke for him. “The water, the earth, the air, and the heavens.”

  Phong bobbed his head. “Yes. The strata are the four pillars of life. The dances we learn are based on those pillars, three dances for each. Twelve in total.”

  Ean frowned. That wasn’t right.

  “We start with water first, where life was created, and our souls were born.” Phong turned to his students and barked out a command. Ean watched as the trainees slipped into the opening of Water Dance. After the first sequence, they moved into River, and then into Ocean. They moved well, fluidly and seamlessly, the way the Water dances demanded.

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  “After Water, we move into Earth,” said Phong. “This is our labor, our body, and our heart.”

  The Scholars launched into Earth Dance, planting their feet more firmly and squaring their shoulders. Their strikes became heavier. From Earth, they shifted into Rock and Tree.

  “Above Earth, there is Air, which is our spirit and our will.”

  Wind Dance started with a jump strike and a series of leaps and kicks. The trainees who were newer skipped the more acrobatic steps, then they transitioned into Cloud and Storm.

  “And finally, there are the Heavens, a glimpse into the great mystery of what is beyond our comprehension. Some call it fate; some say it is a deity. Whatever it is, it gives our minds perspective and guidance. It reminds us we are small. It tells us to do better.”

  The trainees moved into Sun Dance, the first dance that Ean had learned, and then into Moon and Star, finishing with a flurry of strikes and then snapping back to attention.

  The others applauded. Ean didn’t.

  “Impressive,” Leo said.

  “They are good students,” Phong agreed. “These trainees have decided to pursue their martial training. Not all scholars choose to do so.”

  “How old are trainees when they join?” Leo asked.

  “Most Scholars take their oath in their adolescent years,” Phong said. “We have taken in younger, but traditionally Scholars don’t pledge until they are fifteen. We want our followers to make their decisions based on their own thoughts and feelings, not out of obligation or coercion.”

  Leo raised his eyebrows at Ean.

  Ean ignored him. “You’re teaching the dances backwards.”

  Phong glanced at his hair. “Ah, the shadow-walker.”

  “We start with Sun Dance, not Water.”

  Phong shook his head. “By starting with the Heavens, you focus too much on fate, and therefore assume that responsibility. We start with Water to reflect on our own souls before continuing onto our heart and our spirit. Only then, when we know ourselves, we can begin to talk of fate. That is how the path of man was intended to be traveled.”

  Ean wasn’t convinced. “You’re still only teaching half of the dances.”

  “We only train in the original twelve.”

  Ean cocked his head to the side. The original twelve?

  Phong smiled. “You didn’t know that the shadow-walkers stole our dances, did you?”

  Ean hadn’t known that, but history wasn’t an important topic at Haven. There were a lot of gaps in his knowledge. He gestured at the trainees. “The dances you teach are primarily defensive.”

  “Quite so.”

  “You can’t win with a defensive dance.”

  “We don’t fight to win,” Phong countered. “We fight to protect.”

  “If you lose, you can’t protect anyone because you’re dead.”

  Leo threw him a warning look, but Phong didn’t seem offended by his candor. “You were taught that to survive you must be the aggressor. We teach that defense is all you need. Through defense of self, and defense of others, you can win all wars.”

  The sentiment was pretty, but unrealistic. Ean scoffed. “Sounds like a load of horseshit to me.”

  “Ean!” Leo hissed, his expression scandalized.

  Phong laughed. “Come, we will put this to the test.”

  He stepped into the courtyard, waving Ean to follow. Leo shook his head at Ean, a signal for him to decline. Ean pretended not to see it.

  The trainees cleared the space, backing up to stand along the stone steps that framed the yard. The ground in the center was firm, but covered in thick, soft grass, almost moss-like in its density. It was good for sparring. Phong pulled off his outer-robe, leaving him in simple short sleeves and linen trousers. Ean removed his knives because it seemed polite. If Phong was impressed by the number of weapons he carried, he didn’t show it.

  “I will start with Sun Dance,” he said, “since you learned it first. It is a bright, strong defense. And you will counter with Fire, is that correct?”

  Ean nodded. “Sun Dance is linear. Fire allows a greater range of movement.”

  Phong dropped into his beginning stance and motioned for Ean to attack. “Show me.”

  Ean did, launching into Fire Dance with a flurry of blows aimed straight at his head. Phong blocked every one, cleanly and efficiently, and when Ean broke off after the initial bout, both to catch his breath and take stock of his opponent, Phong took one step forward, like the sun on its path through the sky.

  Ean attacked again, this time twisting to the side at the last minute to come at him from the right. Fire Dance was fierce and unpredictable and, like he had said, it was the offensive dance. But Phong’s defense held steady. It was like Ean was fighting against his teacher, but when he sparred with Felix, he could usually land a few blows or knock him back a step. Phong was too fast. And not just fast, but solid. Every time he blocked Ean’s punches, or struck down his arms, or stopped a kick, Ean could feel bruises blossoming at the point of contact. And Phong kept pressing him back, like the sun in the sky, steady in its course, unstoppable.

  Ean tried attacking from above and then from below. No impact. He knew he was fighting well, even better than when he had received his proficiency braids, but it wasn’t enough. Phong was backing him into the corner of the courtyard and soon he’d step out of bounds—not that it meant anything if Ean was truly trying to kill him, but for training bouts, it meant defeat. Ean gave one last effort, a flurry of hand strikes followed by a jump kick, but Phong saw it coming. He swept Ean’s launch foot out from under him and slammed his hand down, straight into his chest. Phong pulled the punch, otherwise Ean was sure he would have cracked his sternum. Ean hit the ground, the air knocked out of him.