Beside him, Liam whistled.
“By the flowery hakama pants of Chancellor Ho!” he muttered. “Will you look at that?”
Kirin blinked slowly. He was used to Liam’s colourful cursing and followed the not-so-subtle jerk of his friend’s chin to the sparring matches, where a woman in white was utterly thrashing a large tiger in a match of Akidoh. The tiger was skilled but the woman was relentless and swift as a mongoose. By the time Kirin began to count points, the tiger was down.
“Forgive my boldness, esteemed Masters,” said Liam. “But who is she and what in the Kingdom is she doing here?”
“Lieutenant Laenskaya,” said the Master of Recruits. “She has been highly recommended from the Kangchen territories. I have a letter of merit from her superior in my office if you doubt.”
“I do not doubt, sir,” said Liam. “I’ve just never seen a woman like that in the ranks.”
Kirin took a long cleansing breath, turned his attention to the woman. Girl, he thought. She was little more than a girl in white doeskin and heels that would make a geisha stumble. A marvelous marbled pelt that most men would kill to touch, soft as the moon, as yielding as water. But one flash of those eyes however and he knew there was no softness, no touching, certainly no yielding. Not that he would consider it. His heart was hidden away in a fortress of winged roofs and blackened cedar beams where it belonged.
The woman stepped back, allowed the tiger regain his feet. He bowed, fist to cupped palm but she did not bow back. Instead, she swept her feral eyes across the four men and Kirin understood her in an instant. She was looking for her next master, and daring any of them to step into the role.
“Look at that hair,” breathed Liam. “She doesn’t bind it. Anyone could grab a handful and yank her off her feet. And that tail. I’ve never seen anything so long.”
Kirin said nothing, wondered how such a small woman could possibly have stamina on the battlefield. She would not be his choice so he turned his attention to an ocelot crossing the courtyard toward them.
“Ah,” said the Master of Recruits. “Perhaps this is news of our third Middle Captain.”
The ocelot bowed in the manner of soldiers. He was an army cat so it was allowed, rather than drop to his knees and hold up the scroll as was custom for most messengers. Respect and order, thought Kirin. The heart of Bushido. All things ran smoothly because of it.
“Oh my,” said the Master as he read. “Oh my.”
“Sidi?” asked the Master at Arms.
“I’m afraid Middle Captain Trevisan-White will not be joining us,” said the first Master, quietly rolling the scroll. “His squadron was caught in an avalanche. All were lost.”
It was like a blow to the belly and Kirin released a deep breath. Avalanches were common at any season in the Great Mountains and Anna’purananna one of her most treacherous peaks. Their Mother had a voracious appetite for feline blood. Even the short journey from Pol’Lhasa to the House Wynegarde-Grey was potentially lethal if the Mountains chose to move.
“We will arrange a memorial this evening,” said the Master at Arms. “But for now, we must honour the recruits. Some of them have come a very long way for this.”
“Yes,” said the Master of Recruits. “We must honour them.”
He nodded and a leopard struck a hand-gong, its low chime ringing out across the courtyard. All sparring ceased, all Sun Salutes ended. Horses were released from their exercises and led to the stables beneath the palace and soon, all cats in the entire court had assembled facing the four men. The Masters stepped forward.
“Honourable men of the Imperial Army,” he began. “I welcome you to this ceremony of the Xuǎnzé, the Selection of Adjutants from the outer districts to become Left Hands for our newest Middle Captains. It is a noble tradition, one that has kept our armies strong, diverese and united over the generations. You should all be proud of the part you play in its continuation and success.”
There was only the sound of the morning breeze, flapping the Imperial standards over the yard.
“Our Mother, the Great Mountains, is a fierce and violent mother,” he called out. “Today, she has decreed that we will be choosing only two adjutants instead of three.”
The courtyard was silent. All soldiers were at attention.
“Middle Captain Trevisan-White and the troop from Anna’purananna have perished in an avalanche. Their lives were lives of service to the Empress therefore their deaths were deaths of honour. The army of the Upper Kingdom is ruled by Bushido, and Bushido is a worthy master.”
Silence as everyone bowed their heads, said prayers to their gods. For his part, Kirin clasped his hands behind his back and breathed deeply, drawing strength from the Bushido that formed his core. Indeed, it was a worthy master.
“To honour them,” the Master went on, “We will continue the Xuǎnzé and remember this day as one of solemn duty and pride. We will faithfully serve the two new officers who present themselves here today. Middle Captain Wynegarde-Grey of Pol’Lhasa and Middle Captain al’Massay-Carr of Cal’Cathah. Recruits, step forward.”
From the crowd, the seven soldiers did as asked, stepping to form a line in front of the Masters. Two lions, two leopards, the tiger, the jaguar, and the snow leopard. Any of them would be acceptable, Kirin thought. Except perhaps the woman. There was simply something in her eye that told him there would be no trust, and without trust, an adjutant was worse than none at all. Worse even than a dancer.
“We will spend the morning continuing the martial drills – sword, bo and hand-to-hand. All matches will be judged, all recruits scored and those scores given to our Middle Captains, who will choose three of the seven for interviews. Compatibility, respect, obedience and honour are as important as combat skills in the service of our Most Revered Empress.”
The woman made a noise. For some reason, Kirin’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. She noticed and those feral eyes flashed at him. Unfathomable.
“Recruits have been given their schedules. Two will drill the sword, two will drill the staff, two will demonstrate their skill at unarmed combat and during this time, one will rest. Once each match is completed, the recruits will move on to their next scheduled station, and their next scheduled opponent. If, for some unforeseen reason, a recruit takes an injury that prevents him from continuing, he will forfeit his chance at moving up as adjutant. He will return to his former unit with no disgrace or dishonour attached to his name.”
“Or her,” murmured Liam.
Kirin looked at him.
“His or her unit. His or her name.” Liam nodded. “Snowy is a woman, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Kirin shook his head, turned back to study the seven. The woman was still staring at him, her eyes pale as a moonbeam. He could drop her with a single blow. Well, judging by her skill with the tiger, perhaps three.
“We will begin,” said the Master. “Recruits, to your stations.”
Soon, three matches were underway – sword, bo and hand combat, while one sat out. The tiger watched all three matches with interest and patience. Good qualities, thought Kirin. A tiger as an adjutant might not be a bad thing.
He turned his attention to the bo match where a lion and a jaguar were going at it with force.
The lion far outweighed the jaguar but the smaller man was fast and accurate and his points were adding up. The bos cracked together and the lion pushed the smaller man backwards. Kirin found his legs twitching, his hands curling into fists. In a real battle, the stronger would swipe with his foot, using the weaker’s lack of balance to knock him to the ground. Or the weaker would duck, using the stronger’s force against him and swinging the bo to take out the legs. In a real battle, the world shrank to the simple matter of balance. Ultimately, sharp blades or long reach had little to do with life or death.
There, the jaguar feinted left then swung right, deftly springing around the lion and giving him a crack on the back with the length of the bo for his final point, winning the match. A chee
r went up from all spectators and both cats bowed, fist to cupped hand, the staffs tucked neatly beneath their arms.
“Well done,” said Kirin. “His skill is admirable.”
“I like the snow leopard,” said Liam. “She’s fierce.”
“Ferocity wins battles,” said Kirin. “I’d rather win wars.”
“By Ho’s saffron fundoshi,” laughed his friend. “You are such a diplomat! Leave your swords at home, Kirin, and trade them for brushes and parchments!”
“One day, Liam,” said Kirin and he grinned. “But not today.”
The courtyard echoed with the ringing of blades and the cracking of staffs. It was remarkably free of grunts and growls but the kiais shook the courtyard walls. These were experienced soldiers, able to control even the threats of their voice and while the lions were deep-throated and loud, it was the woman whose cries struck her opponents with as much energy as her fist. The kiai was crucial in the hand-to-hand, a projection of the internal chi and a well-timed kiai was used to startle, intimidate, confuse and gloat, depending on the point in the battle. Kirin found her distracting, but he supposed that was the point. It was definitely part of her strategy and he had to commend her for it.
First set of matches over, with the snow leopard winning the hand, the jaguar winning the sword and one of leopards winning the bo.
“Switch!” called the Master of Recruits.
The seven did as instructed, each moving on to a different discipline and once again, the courtyard rang with the sharp sounds of battle. Cracks, tangs and kiais. The music of his life.
Before he knew it, the gong sounded to conclude the matches. He looked up at the sun. It was high in the sky and the he realized it was closing on noon. Impressive. He hadn’t even noticed the time and he studied the sheets that had been handed him, names, scores and evaluations painted precisely in black ink. The recruits were exemplary in their skills but three had outranked the others in their point count – one of the leopards, the jaguar and the snow leopard. Pity. The thought of a tiger so high in the government had been a satisfying thing. Perhaps in the interview.
Across the courtyard, two tents were being set up and he could see ocelots moving in and out of them with the things necessary for setting up a tea ceremony. Kirin found himself eagerly awaiting his second cup of the morning. Tea was a cleansing drink for body and soul and a perfect accompaniment to an interview with a potential adjutant. Much could be learned from a candidate in the making and taking of tea. The ritual itself was steadying, a rudder in a world of uncertainty.
“Well?” said Liam as he fell in at his side. “Have you changed your mind?”
“On?” he asked.
“Snowy. Nothing weak in her arsenal that I can see. She’d be perfect as a Left Hand.”
“Perhaps in Cal’Cathah,” he answered. “In Pol’Lhasa, she’d be as likely to kill Chancellor Ho as an hassassan.”
“Your loss,” grinned Liam.
“Your funeral,” grinned Kirin.
“Shall we?” asked the Master of Recruits and together, the four men approached the seven.
The recruits stood, hands behind their backs, in a perfect line in front of a sea of uniforms. The Master of Recruits stepped forward.
“The combat tests are complete and you have been placed according to your scores,” said the Master. “Congratulations to Lieutenant Laenskaya from Kangchen on taking first place across all drills. Your skill in the Arts is truly astounding.”
She raised her chin, did not smile.
“Congratulations also to Lieutenant Navhare from Lan’Ladesh-Dhaka. Well done to both recruits. You are a credit to your races and you honour to the Empire with your skill.”
As one, the sea of uniforms bowed, fist to cupped palm.
“But remember,” the Master of Arms spoke now. “Compatibility and respect are as important as skill. You are all outstanding soldiers, all worthy to bear the katanah and kodai’chi, a warriors blood brothers. But a military adjutant is more than simply the bearer of dual swords. He is a Captain’s left hand, trusted and relied upon like no other. Therefore, it is their decision, and theirs alone.”
He turned to Liam.
“Middle Captain al’Massay-Carr, you may choose to offer interviews to three recruits. Will you indicate your choices, please?”
Liam stepped forward, immediately nodding at one lion, one leopard and finally, the snow leopard. Kirin could have sworn her tail lashed at the choosing. Unfathomable her arrogance.
“Thank you Middle Captain al’Massay-Carr,” said the Master. “Your choices have been noted and the recruits will make their way to your appointed tent. Middle Captain Wynegarde-Grey, name your choices.”
He could feel the woman’s ice blue eyes as he stepped forward to inspect the recruits. He ignored her, nodding at the jaguar, a leopard and…
He paused.
She was holding her breath. How odd.
He moved on to nod at the tiger.
“No,” said the snow leopard.
“Thank you, Middle Captains,” said the Master. “Please proceed to your tents. The recruits will be sent to you directly and you may conduct your interviews over the ceremony of tea.”
“No,” hissed the woman. “That’s not right.”
“Lieutenant Laenskaya,” said the Master. “Stand down.”
“I am the top scorer,” she snapped. “I should be granted an interview.”
“You have been granted an interview,” he said. “With Middle Captain al’Massay-Carr.”
“Not him,” she said and she stabbed a white finger. “Him.”
There was silence in the courtyard as all eyes fell upon him.
“I have made my choices,” said Kirin. “She should be grateful that Middle Captain al’Massay-Carr sees something beyond the disrespect.”
She stepped out of the line and the others glanced around at the breech of protocol.
“Lieutenant Laenskaya,” growled the Master. “I said stand down.”
“I want an interview with him,” she said. “I have won it.”
“I’m afraid your conduct has disqualified you from further consideration,” said the Master. “Please remove yourself from Sri’Pol’Lhasa or I will have you escorted from the grounds.”
“Why will he not grant me an interview? Tell me! I deserve an answer!”
The Master nodded at the Leopard Guard flanking the walls and as one, they peeled from their posts, drawing swords as they came.
Kirin held up a hand.
Slowly, he moved toward her, watched as her pupils grew sharp, saw the tiny muscles twitch at her wrists, knew she was prepared to attack or defend in a heartbeat. He stopped with less than a whisker between them, towered over her like a mountain.
“I did not grant you an interview,” he began. “Because I believe your chi is fueled by anger. An angry chi makes you unpredictable and therefore, unreliable. Your behaviour in the matches inferred it, but this… this confirms it.”
“I will not be angry if you grant me an interview,” she growled.
“I am not responsible for your anger,” he said. “As a woman, your natural Yin is overpowered by extreme Yang. There is no balance. There is no whole. You live in the extremes and that destroys your chi.”
“That is not a good reason.”
“Very well. Here is my simple reason, then. I do not want you as my adjutant.”
If she could kill him with her eyes, he thought, he would be dead, right here, right now.
With that, he turned to walk toward his tent, feeling the sun flood his shoulders as they drained of tension.
“You are a coward,” he heard her say behind him. “You are afraid of having a woman as your adjutant. That is your ‘simple reason.”
He shook his head and continued walking, could hear the Leopard Guard march to flank her, take her arms.
“You bow at a woman’s feet but will not fight at a woman’s side!”
“Remove her from the courtyard!
” snapped the Master.
There would be tea in the tent. He could dearly use a cup of tea.
“My skills would make the Empress proud!”
Kirin slowed.
“But she knows nothing of her people…”
Froze.
“She hides behind a wall of gold!”
Utter silence in the courtyard. The breeze lifting and lowering his golden mane from his back.
“Perhaps she is the one who is the coward!”
Slowly, he crossed his arms, gripped the hilts of both katanah and kodai’chi. In one swift motion, brought them singing from their sheaths.
He turned to the Leopard Guard. At his nod, they released her and she slid her own sword from her hip, lowering into a deep warrior pose. Her eyes were sharp, wide; her long tail lashing behind her, her free hand behind as balance. He marched toward her, swinging the katanah then the kodai’chi in circles like the threshing of wheat and he did not slow as he reached her.
All three swords struck and she slid back, her heels creating deep grooves in the courtyard’s earth. He waited for her feint, did not lose balance when it came but rather forced her back further, stomping his boot into the ground and missing her tail by a hair. She ducked and whirled, slashing at his knees with her blade. It was sheer grace but left her temporarily vulnerable and he sent his boot thudding into her ribs. She went with it, flinging herself into a backhand spring and sending her spiked heels up to his chin. His teeth cracked together and he stepped back, shaking his head and blinking.
“First point for me,” she said.
Blood welled up at his lip. He spit it to the ground and stared at her.
Hair fell across her face and her eyes peered out through it like through tall grass. Her uniform – once lily-white doeskin – was stained with grass and mud and the blood of her opponents.
“Three and I become your adjutant.”
She was wild, he realized, wild and untamed and he wondered what could have conspired to make her this way.
“You won’t make three,” he said. “But you can try.”
Swallowtail & Sword: The Scholar's Book of Story & Song (Tails from the Upper Kingdom 4) Page 7
