Conflict is its own art form. On the eight pillars rests the daipuna artist’s ideal for management of inharmony. All, whether benevolent or tyrant, must choose their path and walk in its way.
DAIPUNA: THE ART OF COMBAT
For the first time in his life, Roshon had his own bedroom. Sure, the cabin aboard the Hekili was small—there wasn’t even enough space to spread his arms all the way out before touching both walls—but it was blessedly private. Just a narrow bed, a little table next to it, and some pegs on the wall for clothes. But he wouldn’t have to listen to Varten’s snores as he had every other night of his life.
He barely slept at all the first night. The second and third weren’t much better. It was a week before he was able to get a decent rest. The evenings were just so quiet, with nothing but the hum of the engines and the gentle swaying of the ship as it sliced through the waves. Not much at all to distract his mind from dwelling on what would happen to Papa, what would happen to them all as each day brought them closer to the Okkapu. He wished he could talk his father out of the foolish mission, but the man would not be dissuaded.
At least Tai hadn’t fully agreed to sail the dangerous waters. He’d consented to go as close as was safe and then reassess. It was a hedge, but one Roshon was mightily grateful for.
Varten spent much of each day on the bridge with Mik and Tai, learning how the ship worked. Roshon’s brother had always had an interest in mechanical things, tinkering with them and pulling them apart to see how they functioned. But this was the first opportunity he’d had to study an engine up close and in person, not merely in books.
The ship was optimized for a small crew and could function for short stretches with as few as two people. Though apparently, when Tai and Ani’s father had been the captain, he’d had a team of half a dozen. So Ani bustled about, taking up the slack. She had an aversion to idleness, both hers and anyone else’s, and quickly roped Roshon into helping with her duties. Keeping busy at least kept his mind off what lay ahead, if only for a few minutes at a time.
“So are you Tai’s apprentice now, instead of Noa’s?” he asked one day, swabbing the deck while Ani hung precariously from the side of the ship, recalibrating the plates of sun-absorbing selakki scales. The engine was powered by the sun’s energy so at least they didn’t have to worry about fuel.
“Not officially, but I do all the duties of an apprentice. I’m hoping to make captain before I’m eighteen.”
“That seems young.”
She just shrugged, hanging from one hand and one foot while she held a wrench in the other hand. “Life happens while you’re waiting to grow old,” she said.
He frowned. What did that even mean? “So tell me more about the Okkapu.”
“Why? So you can worry about it?”
He bristled. “So I can prepare.”
“Why not just deal with it as it comes? You can’t prepare for everything.”
He paused in his mopping. “But you can for some things. So why shouldn’t you?”
“How exactly are you planning to prepare for the Okkapu?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s why I’m asking you.”
She tilted her head back, laughing so hard that, for a moment, he thought she might fall. It would serve her right. “You don’t take anything seriously, do you?” he muttered, dipping the mop back in the soapy bucket.
“Not when I can help it. What difference does it really make? You can think and worry and plan all you want, but things go sideways all the time. I’d think you’d know that given how you ended up here.”
“Sure, unexpected things happen, but strategizing before jumping into the unknown is just good sense.” He huffed in exasperation. “Running around like you don’t have a care in the world isn’t the way to live a long life.”
“Why live a long life if it’s miserable?” she shot back, swaying from her perch and jumping to land next to him on the deck. “Accept the danger. Accept that you don’t have control. You aren’t always going to be safe and warm on your farm in the middle of nowhere.” With each statement, she stepped closer until she was right in front of him, staring up.
He gritted his teeth. “You don’t know anything about me and my life.”
“Poor little Roshon, tucked away in your little valley where you can’t hear mean people saying mean things about your strange family.” She tilted her head, mocking him. “Elsirans are jerks, small-minded little bigots, but the world is hard. You need to toughen up.”
“You don’t think I’m tough?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, actually considering. He found himself holding his breath under her scrutiny. “Actually, I think you are. You stood strong as a stonefish with that gun pointed at you. I’ve seen grown men piss their pants for less.” Her dark eyes were glittering jewels as she stared at him. “So why can’t you do that now?”
He recalled how his knees had shaken at the feel of the meaty arm across his chest, the cold metal of the pistol pressed into his head. He’d tried not to let it show, but pissing his pants had been a very near thing. Swallowing, he forced the emotion and the memory away. “Because going into danger now is a choice. And I’m not a reckless hellion . . . unlike some people.”
She blinked, and he thought he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes. But that couldn’t be right. She was the one chiding him. This girl had nerves of steel. He knew he’d imagined the expression because a brilliant smile overtook her face. “More fun that way.”
He turned back to his mop. “Not everything is supposed to be fun.” Jasminda would laugh and call him an old man. Prickly as a porcupine, she’d say and tweak his ear. You’re being disagreeable just because. And he was. He could admit it to himself if not anyone else.
But Ani obviously had a few screws loose. She’d been raised by pirates, and it showed. She didn’t even have enough sense to consider her own well-being. “Don’t you care that every ship at sea is hunting you, trying to take you off to eventually marry some gangster?”
She didn’t answer for a long time, and he turned back to find her still as a stone, watching the water. “You think I don’t care?” Her voice was small, all its usual humor and teasing gone.
“I . . . I don’t—” he stammered, taken aback by the abrupt change.
“Some girls entertain their first challenge at thirteen—girls from respectable families. But even before Father . . . betrayed us, there wasn’t anyone calling. Mother already had a place in the Cabinet, and everyone knew she’d be the next king. Captains should have been lining up, seeking me for an apprentice, trying to curry favor with my family, but still nothing.” She turned slowly, her face placid. “Women can have power in Raun. We can be whatever we want to be. But all I’ve ever wanted is my own ship. Captain Ani Summerhawk. And the only way to get my mark—” she pointed to her forehead, which was empty of the tattoos that Tai bore “—is as an apprentice. And that can only happen with a contract signed by my mother. Noa was the only one who came offering. That’s why she accepted the deal over Tai’s objections.”
“Why not apprentice with Tai?”
“He’s barred until he clears Father’s debts. So my options are limited. No apprenticeship, no license. No license, no tattoo. No tattoo, no ship.” She shook her head.
“You still have a choice.”
She shrugged.
“And you’d apprentice with him, knowing he is cruel and wants to marry you, just to get your own ship?”
“He’s got plenty of them. And if I’m sailing, I wouldn’t have to see him that much anyway. Mother always said the only reason she and Father lasted so long was because he was never home.” She gave a little snort.
A fist tightened around Roshon’s chest to think Ani valued herself so little. Accepting a miserable partnership just so she could have a chance at her dream? “Could you wait until Tai clears the debt? Or wait for someone else? You don’t know that no one else will offer.”
“Not since Mother signed the contract. Besides, once Noa let it be known he was interested, anyone else who might have been would never cross him. He’s too powerful. Mother knew that. Tai will try to outrun fate for as long as he can, but we both know where I’ll end up.”
The resignation in her voice gutted him. So did the pain in her eyes. He had been wrong. She wasn’t made of steel. She was made up of the same stuff they all were: beating hearts and pulpy, tender pieces, trying not to fall apart.
He swallowed, realizing that he’d almost reached for her. To comfort her? She certainly didn’t want that from him.
Toughen up.
He hated that she was right. “What’s this challenge? What does it entail?”
She sucked in a deep breath and visibly shook off the melancholy. Motion started in her limbs again and the fidgeting ball of energy he’d met in Rosira quickly returned. “The challenge is a game, a fight, a contest of strength and strategy. We use daipuna—it’s our martial art.” She cracked her neck and turned to face him. “In Raun, marriages are true partnerships. Men need capable wives. Good partners who will bear strong and intelligent children. Savvy negotiators who will make advantageous deals. It’s the man’s job to challenge a woman he believes can best him both mentally and physically.”
“Wait . . . What? How can you best any man physically? No offense, but you’re tiny.”
“I’ve been training in daipuna since I was three years old. I’ve mastered twenty-five levels.”
His only warning was a flash of her teeth, and then Roshon was flat on his back, looking up at the clouds passing overhead. “What just happened?”
Ani stood above him, hands on her hips, grinning. “Daipuna is different for women and men. We learn how to compensate for smaller size and strength differences. Pressure points, leverage, the art of surprise.” She stuck a hand out to him, and he took it gratefully. “But a male challenger still needs to last a full round in order to be considered a suitable husband.” Her voice was wry.
Roshon dusted himself off. “Sounds like there are a lot of rules.”
“Oh, definitely. Challenges must be held within three days of issue. They can be rejected by the challenged or her guardian if she’s not of age.” She ticked off with her fingers. “Girls as young as twelve can be challenged for. A parent can accept for a child, but it can be overruled if the girl accepts a more desirable challenge.”
“So if this Noa finds you, you could still reject him?”
“Since my mother is still my guardian and she approves, I could only reject if I accept another challenge, one I feel is worthier.”
Roshon was still working to get the breath back in his lungs after her takedown. “Someone better in daipuna?”
“Maybe. Really just someone better in every way possible. Then I’d have to beat him.”
“Just seems unfair.”
“Well how do they do it in Elsira?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.
His face heated. “I . . . I think you just . . . find someone you fancy and then you talk to them. Court them. Learn if the two of you are a good fit. Then at some point, if you both like each other, you just decide to get married.”
Ani mulled this over. “But how can you be sure they’re right? How do you know they have the proper values and will be a good partner and have your back in a fight?”
“A fight? Who do you plan on fighting?”
“Who knows?” She spread her arms out. “Negotiations go bad all the time.”
Roshon stared, eyes wide. “And that’s how you want to live? Running from gunfire and smuggling in ports around the world?”
“That’s my life. The strongest and fastest wins.” She rolled her eyes. “One day, I’m sure you’ll find some simpering ginger girl with nonsensical freckles who’s as afraid of her own shadow as you are and you two can be blissfully happy planting apple seeds on your farm.”
Roshon sputtered. “I’m not afraid of my shadow.”
“You’re afraid of everything, Roshon. Why is that? Why are you so scared?”
“Why are you so reckless and annoying?”
She clamped her jaw shut. “Well, at least if we crash in the Okkapu I won’t have to deal with you anymore.” She turned on her heel and stomped away.
“I’m sure you’d love to die in a shipwreck. You’d probably think it was exciting!” He stood fuming on the deck until her footsteps returned.
“Get inside. Your skin is starting to burn.” Then she marched away again.
His cheeks did feel hot and tight, but he’d stay out there as long as he wanted, just to spite her. There was nothing wrong with being cautious. Caution would have saved them a lot of heartache. Varten didn’t have to chase after every voice crying for help, and Papa was usually far more sensible than to run off based on the instructions of some supposed goddess. For Sovereign’s sake, if Mama had been more careful, she wouldn’t have climbed that ladder in the barn by herself, and she wouldn’t have fallen . . . alone.
No, he was perfectly fine being cautious, and if certain people didn’t appreciate it, well, he didn’t care much. And if his skin burned, it was his skin, after all. It wasn’t anyone else’s problem.
He sat on the deck of the Hekili gazing out at the churning ocean surrounding them. There was no land in sight, nothing solid to plant his feet on. The water was so vast, so infinite it made him feel small. Small and alone.