CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LOCAL POLITICS

Jian winced and pulled away as Meehae dabbed the gash on his cheek with an alcohol-soaked cloth. Her fingers holding his face still were surprisingly strong. She slapped him lightly and blew on his face as she scolded him. “Hold still, you mewling baby. Next time, don’t wait until morning.”

Jian grunted. The last thing he had wanted to do after a beating was to run through the city to fetch the acupuncturist. After Cyyk and his friends had thrashed him, he had picked himself up and limped back to his shack. Caked with mud and dried blood, Jian hadn’t wanted to dirty his bed, but was too worn to wash it off, so Auntie Li had found him shivering on the floor in the morning.

At least he had a reprieve from morning chores. Xinde and Auntie Li helped him to the infirmary and called for Meehae. The senior was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching. He looked both concerned and annoyed as the apprentice acupuncturist cleaned Jian up.

Xinde tried to lighten the mood. “We need to work on your defense. Half of being a war artist is dishing out a drubbing, but the other half is avoiding taking one.”

“Or being tough enough to soak up the punishment,” grumbled Jian, pulling away as the acupuncturist dabbed the cut over his eye.

She held his head firmly. “You’re going to be a great war artist then.”

The senior’s face turned serious. “How many times now has it been since you arrived? Three, four?”

“Five.”

“All from Cyyk?”

“Only three times,” admitted Jian. “I didn’t say it was Cyyk.”

“You didn’t need to.” The senior ticked his fingers. “Three from Cyyk and the other two from other students. All of those boys who beat you were in the wrong. There’s no excuse for this.”

“It was Songia one time.” This rotten school was full of bullies. He hated it here, hated everyone.

“All right, all of those boys and the girl who beat you were in the wrong. I’m going to punish those responsible.”

“Good. They should all get in trouble.”

Xinde knelt down next to him. “What happens next time?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happens when you get beaten up again, Hiro?”

Jian was taken aback. “Then you should punish them more.”

“Why do you think the other students pick on you? I want you to think about that.”

“Because they’re puss-sour nasty eggs.”

Xinde chuckled. “Cyyk certainly carries an entitled stench, but that’s not really the reason. As far as I know, he doesn’t pick on anyone else. Why does this keep happening only to you?”

“It’s the rich kids picking on the poorer ones.”

Xinde shrugged. “Hua and Jindi’s parents are peasants. Ulli’s father is a homeless drunk.”

“His ba died last winter,” piped in Meehae.

“Oh, I didn’t even know. He never mentioned anything. Poor kid.” Xinde turned his attention back to Jian. “Ulli’s an orphan. It’s not about wealth. There are others who are poor who don’t get picked on.”

“They’re just bullies who pick on the weaker students.” Even saying that made Jian’s face burn. If he could only show them…

Xinde shook his head. “You may be a beginner, Hiro, but you’re talented. Everyone sees that.”

Taishi’s warning rang in his head. Had he blown his cover? He blamed Taishi. She had put him in this mess. “It doesn’t matter why,” he replied, lamely.

“I’m just trying to help you understand,” said Xinde patiently.

“Understand what?”

“He’s saying you’re a mule-brained boob,” snapped Meehae, her voice carrying all the way across the room. She plopped her medic satchel down on the floor. “Look, Hiro, you’re my friend, but you’re a whiny hissing cat, always spewing bitterness at everything.”

Jian bristled. “Why are we friends?”

She smiled sweetly. “I like you in spite of you, but you do make it awfully hard.”

Xinde nodded to Meehae, who left the room. “For someone who never throws the first punch, you pick a lot of fights.”

“I do not!”

“I’m not blind.” The senior’s voice was calm and sympathetic. “If you are always looking for something to get angry about, you will find it. Your attitude influences every interaction you have with the people around you.”

“I’m the victim here.”

“And I’m going to punish Cyyk for that,” said Xinde. “I won’t begin to try to understand the difficult life you’ve had, but you can’t treat everyone like they’ve wronged you. Because then eventually they will. You especially can’t treat the other students this way. Longxian is not just a war arts school, it’s a family. You and me, Cyyk too, we’re brothers. Longxian war artists will never engage one another on the battlefield. Our bonds transcend blood and duty.”

“Maybe for you,” grumbled Jian. “You’re Longxian’s golden boy.”

“For you too,” said Xinde, “if you let it. But brotherhood under the lunar court is never freely given. It must be earned through dedication, comradeship, and benevolence. Sometimes, it’s not about who is to blame or at fault. It’s not even about right or wrong. Family and brotherhood run far deeper. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Jian didn’t really.

“Excuse me, senior, you wanted to speak…” Cyyk appeared at the doorway and froze when he saw Jian.

Xinde winked at Jian, and then his face contorted into one of rage as he whirled on the larger boy. “Someone beat up Brother Hiro last night. I think you did it.”

Cyyk was a terrible actor. His face paled and he swallowed as he froze in place. “I—”

“This behavior is beneath a Longxian brother’s honor. I have a right mind to put you on yard duty for the rest of the cycle. Maybe that’s what it’ll take for you to learn some respect.”

“But he—”

“Are you going to spout lies?” hissed Xinde. His glance shot to Jian for an instant. “I don’t care what Brother Hiro says, I know you did it. I want you to march to the courtyard and kneel in the middle of the training field until tomorrow morning.”

Cyyk’s eyes bugged. “Until tomorrow morning?”

Jian had been fully embracing Cyyk’s comeuppance right up to when Xinde mentioned his name. That was when the senior’s intention became clear.

When Jian stayed silent, the senior continued to scold Cyyk. “You’re lucky I don’t expel you. Maybe then you’ll finally learn what humility and brotherhood mean.” He turned to Jian. “Well, what do you have to say?”

Jian stared at his big toe. The lesson Xinde was trying to teach was right there, but Jian’s pride and anger stood in his way. He just couldn’t let it go. He wanted to see Cyyk punished. That entitled bully always got away with everything just because he was rich and popular.

After a few awkward moments, Xinde gave up and sighed. “All right, since neither of you are willing to speak up, then you both share the punishment. On your knees in the courtyard until the dinner gong. Go.”

Jian was startled. “But I’m the victim.”

This was so unfair. He hadn’t done anything. If he thought there was anyone who would be on his side, it was Xinde. Apparently not. Everyone was out to get him.

The first morning class was already in session when Xinde marched them into the courtyard. Guanshi, sitting on his throne, didn’t bat an eye when he saw Jian. “Horse stance, block, turn, parry, bow stance, punch, kick-punch, step through. Horse stance, parry…” His voice trailed off when he caught sight of Cyyk.

Xinde marched the two to the front of class. “On your knees.”

Both boys obeyed, facing their peers.

Guanshi’s face grew dark and he exchanged a few sharp whispers with Xinde, who responded only slightly less sharply. The master looked unsatisfied as he snapped back to the class gawking at the pair. “Did I say stop? If you fools are waiting for my instructions, so be it. Everyone, horse stance and don’t move until I say so.” Guanshi got up and stormed off. Half of the poor novices had fallen over by the time the master returned near the end of class.

Another group soon took their place. Lunch rolled around and ended. Several practiced with staves and spears during the open workout period afterward. Jian and Cyyk stayed on their knees the entire time. A few of Cyyk’s friends tried to speak to him, but were shooed away by a glower from Xinde.

At some point late in the afternoon, Jian’s stamina began to fade. He struggled to stay upright. Cyyk was suffering too, his knees slowly folding in. Seeing his rival lag gave Jian a second wind. If he wasn’t allowed to win in a fight, he was going to win this punishment. His rival apparently came to the same conclusion. Both boys became as stiff as staves.

Two more hours passed.

After having missed two meals, Jian’s stomach growled at the aroma from the kitchen. He glanced over at Cyyk, who scowled. He scowled back. It became another contest.

Xinde was teaching the late-afternoon class when the front gates slammed open. Two students ran through, one bloodied, and the other looking as if he had taken a dive into a pig trough.

“Senior,” a squat burly man named Hunra huffed, falling to a knee as he caught his breath. “There’s an incident at the Pecking Crane near the west gate. Some of ours are getting into it with the Southern Cross.”

“How many?” asked Xinde. “And how many of theirs?”

Hunra counted on his fingers. “Nine or so. There’s many more of theirs.”

“What were you doing there?” snapped Xinde.

Hunra looked abashed. “The army’s temp quotas had already been filled this cycle, so some of us thought we’d try our luck with the merchants.”

Now that the war had ended, this was becoming a more frequent problem. The Pecking Crane was a seedy bar popular with merchants of goods both legitimate and less so, and happened to be where many of them hired guards for their caravans. It was also generally considered a rival school’s turf.

Xinde banged the nearest gong three times. Within seconds, every student on the school grounds had gathered around the senior. He picked out ten older students and instructed the rest to continue with their day.

“We’re here to keep the peace and make sure no one—not our people, not theirs—comes to harm.” He pointed at the assorted clubs, short swords, and staves several carried. “No weapons unless drawn upon first.”

“Yes, senior!” the group chorused. The air was charged.

Xinde spotted Jian and Cyyk. “You two. Come along. Maybe you’ll finally learn something about brotherhood.”

Both boys leaped off their sore knees and joined the back of the group. A few of the students gathered around Jian and verbally questioned the wisdom of his attendance, much to his embarrassment. Cyyk was a known asset, having spent years training and fighting with the other students. Jian was just a novice with a poor reputation. However, Xinde was insistent they accompany the group as he led them out the front gates.

The crowds in the busy streets parted before the Longxian group moving down the street. They knew what to expect when they saw a cluster of armed war artists. If the duchy of Caobiu’s primary industry was the military, then Jiayi’s industry of specialization was war arts. Because all officers in the army were required to be skilled war artists, no other city in the Enlightened States had as many war arts schools as Jiayi. Inevitably, this led to rivalries and competition. Longxian was one of the finest schools in the commandery, but they were one of more than a dozen premier academies.

Jian nearly tripped over a pair of legs jutting on the sidewalk. He grimaced at the body attached to them. It was a soldier, hugging his spear as he slept. An entire line of them was sprawled against the wall along their path. The military had been the primary employer of Caobiu duchy for centuries. Once the war with Katuia ended, the Enlightened States drastically cut back military spending, reducing staffing and head count. These cost reductions had affected the entire supply chain, which then cascaded down to everyone from blacksmiths and leather workers to farmers and traders, to even the bar and room salon workers. These cutbacks had been especially hard on Caobiu. There were now a growing number of unemployed soldiers and war artists looking for work with fewer and fewer positions available, which only exacerbated the already fierce competition between schools.

The brawl that had erupted at the Pecking Crane could be heard half a block away. It was the rumbling of a gathering mob punctuated by occasional screams and breaking glass. That wasn’t what Xinde was interested in, however.

He raised a hand and motioned for the Longxian to stop just outside the bar so he could listen intently. “No metal or wood clashing. Keep your weapons sheathed. Open hand only unless absolutely necessary. Longxian will not draw first, do you all understand?”

Everyone nodded. Fights between rival schools had become so common, the local magistrates rarely bothered getting involved as long as the offending school paid for damages. They drew the line at death, serious injury, excessive property damage, or rioting. Everything else was fair game.

Many of the reputable schools, Longxian included, took great pains never to draw first in order to avoid liability. Guanshi’s wrath after paying for damages or doctors’ bills was terrible. For the most part, Longxian had managed to avoid squabbles with the other schools. The only exception was the Red Lion Academy of the Southern Cross based on the west side of Jiayi. Both schools were upper-echelon, respected, and popular. The source of their rivalry stemmed from the markets the schools fed into. Longxian dominated the military officer ranks, while Southern Cross was known for their security work, including palace guards, magistrates, and caravans. With jobs drying up, war artists were fighting fiercely for the dwindling scraps of opportunity.

Inside the Pecking Crane, it was standing room only, not only on the main floor but along the balconies overlooking the center area. The Longxian pushed through the crowd around the brawl. Jian’s nerves tensed as the sounds of fighting grew louder. This was his first time seeing one of these things, and his nerves tingled with anticipation. He could tell the others felt the same way. Most looked eager and anxious.

There were only a few combatants, but there were several bodies scattered around the main floor. As far as Jian could tell, he counted four Longxian students fighting twice that number of Southern Cross. A larger group of Southern Cross had formed a perimeter around the fight to prevent it from spilling out of hand and damaging the bar’s furniture. They too cared about avoiding the magistrates’ and their master’s anger.

Xinde was the first to reach the melee. The senior waded into the fray, pulling combatants apart as he came to the defense of his brothers and sisters. When one of the Southern Cross turned to attack him, Xinde disabled him efficiently, slipping a clumsy strike, trapping an arm, and pushing him out of the circle. The senior moved on, wrapping his arms around a woman from behind and spinning her down to the ground. When someone tried to charge at him from the side, he kicked the man’s ankles from under him, sending him flying. Within seconds, the senior had smashed through all of the Southern Cross involved in the melee. The crowds clapped and cheered as Jian and the other Longxian dragged their wounded back to safety.

Xinde stood alone in the center of the open area. He folded his arms behind his back as he swept a thunderous gaze across the Southern Cross ranks. “Anyone else?” It was quite dramatic, half indignation and half theatrics. Brawls between schools, while real, followed unspoken rules and were often a school’s best marketing tool.

Xinde knew how to leverage these incidents very skillfully, and was already a legend in this city. Jian had witnessed him practice his haughty mien for what amounted to hours in front of a mirror. The senior intoned in a clear voice, “War arts schools used to fight over skill and pride. We competed for bragging rights and the top honors at tournaments, not only for ourselves but for our schools, masters, and family styles. More recently, however, we’ve begun to quarrel over contracts and jobs…” He threw his hands wide and spun as if performing a dance turn. Jian had seen him practice that too. The man was awfully graceful. “…for the right to earn a couple of extra copper liang. And now—” He continued his dramatic pauses. “—now we are quarreling over the places where we apply for these jobs?” Xinde stopped abruptly. “Are we so petty and insecure that we can’t even seek employment on our own merits?” Xinde took a step toward the Southern Cross. Several tripped in their haste to keep their distance.

A slow, deliberate clap began to echo across the Pecking Crane’s tall ceiling. The sea of bodies parted as a tall, muscular man made his way into the circle. Jian’s nerves ratcheted up another notch. Zhu Keiro was the Southern Cross’s senior. He and Xinde had been rivals since they were children. Both were muscular and handsome, and Keiro was supposedly equally charming. If there was ever another person as perfect as Xinde, it was Keiro, but they were opposites. If Xinde stared into Mirror Lake down in the Eighth Hell, he would see Keiro.

The Southern Cross senior raked his fingers across his bald head and tugged at his braided goatee. “Great speech, Xinde. If that’s true, then why is Longxian even here?”

Xinde crossed his arms. “Hello, Keiro. I’m keeping the peace, as should you.”

The two men could not have looked more different. Xinde looked like a young noble: clean-shaven with long black hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, and a square jaw—these were all descriptions Meehae had given breathlessly to Jian—and Keiro played the part of a ruffian just as perfectly: bald with a long scar running from the crown of his head down between his eyes, an impressive goatee, and a nose so crooked it whistled every time he breathed. Meehae had also professed that Keiro looked roguishly dashing and would have been very swoon-worthy if it weren’t for his bad breath. Meehae had firsthand knowledge, since her master sometimes provided care for the Southern Cross when their usual doctor was unavailable. Seeing Keiro up close for the first time made Jian question Meehae’s taste in men.

Keiro stepped forward to confront his counterpart. “The Pecking Crane has always been Southern Cross turf. What is Longxian scum doing here?”

The students around Jian grumbled at the insult, but were held back by Xinde’s raised hand. “No one owns public places, Keiro. The merchants are free to recruit whomever they please. Unless the Southern Cross are afraid of a little competition?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, then, if some of ours went to the army recruitment center in Rose Ridge District. Would you?”

“May the better artist win.” Xinde’s hesitation was brief, but obvious. Master Guanshi would never allow competitors to seek employment near their school. The truth was Keiro and Southern Cross weren’t in the wrong.

“Is that so?” Keiro raised his guard. “Maybe we should test that.”

Xinde’s hands stayed behind his back. “Are you sure you want to do this? We both know who wins the tournaments.”

“Maybe it’s time we see what happens without judges and points. The Southern Cross will not concede to Longxian. If you want to avoid a fight, go ahead and show your ass.”

There was no way Xinde could walk away from that insult, especially under the lunar court. Although truthfully, it was the Longxian who had arrived with the challenge. The circle around the two men widened. While the two men were closely matched, Xinde had always had a decided edge in tournaments: more skilled, quicker, and better disciplined. In the realm of single-handed combat, those small advantages made all the difference and led to an undefeated record.

Several in the crowd began waving strings of liang and shouting names as bookies began collecting bets. Xinde emerged the overwhelming favorite, which only made Keiro’s face darken even more. He raised his guard and tapped the ground twice with his lead foot. Xinde offered the war arts bow, his right fist touching his left open palm, and returned his hands behind his back. He tapped the ground twice with his lead foot as well.

Xinde’s foot had barely touched the ground the second time when Keiro launched himself at him. His fists and legs snapped forward in a flurry of short punches and kicks. The Southern Cross style was aggressive, often forgoing defense in favor of overwhelming their opponents. Xinde, having sparred with Keiro many times, was ready for this. He slipped the initial barrage, parried several kicks with his own, and sidestepped to safety, all with his hands still behind his back.

The crowds oohed and ahhed. There was a disproportionate number of women cheering for Xinde, which was often the case. Jian and the other Longxian students cheered rowdily at their senior’s confident display of skill, while the other side of the circle grumbled and jeered at the perceived disrespect. Their anger wasn’t unjustified, but these fights were where war artists established reputations, so a degree of showmanship was generally encouraged.

The two men spun back and forth, their exchanges furious and quick. Keiro continued to press forward while Xinde was content to defend, his hands still behind his back. Panther Pouncing Along Low-Hanging Branch was countered by Lazy Flamingo Skipping Stones. It was followed by Fists of Stone meeting the Maiden Fanning the Air (but with Xinde’s feet!). Some of their exchanges were so rapid and decisive that Jian couldn’t follow exactly what was happening. When Keiro pushed Xinde backward, the crowd that surrounded them moved with them, everyone keeping one eye on the fight, and one on the rest of the students.

It wasn’t until Keiro managed to grab hold of Xinde’s shirt and land a glancing blow that the Longxian began to fully defend himself.

“A whole minute,” murmured Cyyk in awe, standing next to Jian. It was showboating, but the crowd ate it up and clapped in appreciation while several strings of liang changed hands. Apparently, bets were made on how long Xinde could fight without using his hands.

Jian cheered along with the crowd, short of breath and flinching with each feint and punch as if he were the one fighting. Keiro landed a hard blow that knocked Xinde off balance. When Xinde tried to leap up to the second-story balcony, the Southern Cross senior latched on to his ankle and dragged him back down. Every time it looked as if Xinde was losing, he would pull off some miraculous maneuver, knock Keiro’s face sideways, and step to safety.

Jian and the Longxian side went crazy, jumping up and down. He and Cyyk even whooped and slapped each other’s backs until they simultaneously realized who they were celebrating with and quickly broke apart.

“That was a neat trick with those sticky hands,” said Xinde, positioning himself back in the center of the circle. “You’ll have to teach me that technique.”

Keiro breathed heavily out of his open mouth. “Our enrollment is full, and the academy has a lengthy wait list, but I can put in a good word for you.”

“I appreciate it.” How did Xinde fight with a smile? “Seems expensive for what I get in return.”

“How about I show you what else we offer?” Keiro’s face contorted as he charged again.

The melee continued, except this time Xinde wasn’t satisfied staying on the defensive. After weathering Keiro’s opening, he attacked, throwing a dazzling combination of looping punches and flashy kicks. Lizard Leaping Between Trees was followed up by Monk with a Thousand Feet.

These moves were more for show than effect, but Xinde made it work, striking Keiro once in the chin and then once again in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground. The Southern Cross senior recovered quickly, but Xinde kept the pressure on.

The longer the fight went on, the more punishment Keiro took, showing it on his body in the form of bruises and welts. To his credit, the Southern Cross senior refused to quit. However, after being on the losing end of several more exchanges, he began to try to break away. The Longxian senior allowed none of that, matching him step for step, until finally Xinde feinted high, swept low, and took Keiro’s feet out from under him. The Southern Cross miraculously stayed upright, but then ate a kick to the midsection that sent him flying into the crowd. Jian and most of the crowd roared in approval. More money changed hands.

Xinde stood over his fallen opponent, triumphant. “Well fought, Keiro.” He offered a hand. “Next time, let’s settle our differences over some rice tea.”

Keiro, sitting on his backside, looked up. “How about a cup of heady zuijo instead?”

He made as if to accept the outstretched hand. There was the metallic sound of a blade leaving its sheath as his hands blurred across Xinde’s chest. The Longxian senior couldn’t react quickly enough. The front of his robes split open. He stumbled backward, clutching his chest as it began to blossom crimson. Keiro rose to his feet, face dark, a saber in his hand. He charged at the stunned Longxian senior.

Jian stared in disbelief. Drawing blood with a blade after a fair fight was beyond the pale. He didn’t think Keiro would actually follow through, but the rage on the Southern Cross senior’s face was shocking. Why wasn’t Xinde defending himself? The Longxian senior just stood there, frozen, mouth agape, his hands clutching his chest. He made no move to defend himself as Keiro charged him.

Intervening in a duel was highly inappropriate under the lunar court, but Jian didn’t care. He moved on instinct and dove into the center of the circle. Keiro saw him approach from the side and would probably have killed him, saber or no saber, but then Cyyk appeared next to him. Together, they knocked the Southern Cross senior down and jumped on top of Xinde to pull him away to safety.

Around them, the other Longxian students began attacking Southern Cross. Jian did his best to shield Xinde with his body, but it wasn’t stray blows that Jian had to worry about. He could feel the wetness on the senior’s chest. The mayhem spread through the Pecking Crane and out, like a blaze across a dry field. Someone stepped on Jian’s hand and another tripped over him. He was in very real danger of getting trampled when rough hands hauled him to his feet.

Cyyk, already sporting a bloody lip, shoved him toward the back. “Get the senior to safety.”

Loud whistles began to shrill over the sound of fighting. “Magistrates!” someone yelled. The scuffle stopped abruptly, and the combatants scattered. Jian dragged Xinde as best he could, but they didn’t make it very far down the street. He was about to hide Xinde in an alley when a loud and rowdy mob descended upon him.

Jian stepped in front of Xinde and raised his guard. Relief swept over him when he realized he was surrounded by friendly faces. Two older students took Xinde from him and began to carry him back toward the school.

Jian was about to help when Senior Gwaiya held him back. “Do you know where the clinic is located?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Fetch the doctor, as fast as you can.” She shoved him along as a boost. “Hurry, run, fool!”

Jian ran like a fool.