by Unknown
"Tuck your thumb over your knuckles," Master explained. "If your thumb sticks upwards or is tucked into your fist you'll break it. Elbows in, turn your back into it, and punch." Keel had spent two hours that first day hitting a padded wall with his fists while Master rearranged his feet and showed him how to turn his hips with the punch for more power.
The dinner bell rang and Keel was given a second full meal that day. He hoped that Saar was also eating with the Yimina. After dinner he was shown to a small room with a sleeping pallet on the floor with thick blankets covering it and a kitty tower in the corner. The kitten immediately latched his claws into the matting of the tower and began to climb.
"You'll join the rest of your class in the morning for training," Master explained as he watched Keel settle under the blankets of his sleeping pad. "I will see you then."
The morning bells woke Keel on the second day. He dressed in loose breeches and a shirt that had been left for him and joined the throng of people heading to the dining hall. Breakfast was a foreign concept to Keel because by the time he and Saar were able to steal food it was usually after lunchtime. Still, he climbed into a seat and tried to look over the table to find something to eat.
"You're a young one," the young man sitting next to Keel exclaimed when he saw Keel standing on his chair and trying to reach a roll on the high table. "I'm Sariel. Who might you be?" The man had thick black hair and heavy dark eyebrows over gray eyes that looked serious but kind. He was older than Cael, but only by a few years
"I Keel," Keel replied, straining his fingers for that roll as he spoke. Sariel reached forward and grabbed the roll for Keel.
"And who might your family be, Keel?" Sariel asked.
Keel sat back down in his chair, his head barely coming up to the lip of the table, and he started gnawing at his roll. "No family. Me'n kitty stay here now."
"Kitty?" Sariel asked.
An imperious meow from the floor answered Sariel's question before Keel had time to find an answer. The kitten had vanished on the journey to the dining hall and had returned with milk covering his whiskers. It settled down underneath Keel's chair and began to groom itself.
"That's a battle cat!" Sariel gasped. "What are you doing with one of those?"
"Don know," Keel replied. He had finished his roll, but before he could get to his feet to find another, Sariel handed a new one over. "Foundim and keepim. Mean merchant tried to squishem, so I saveem."
"Of course you were brought here if a battle cat has attached itself to you. What are you going to name him?"
"Don know," Keel replied, glancing down at his kitten, which was furiously licking one leg.
Bells rang again and the tables began to clear of occupants.
"That's the training bell," Sariel explained. "You'll be with the first years. Why don't I show you to your class?"
Keel hopped down from his chair and took Sariel's hand when it was held out to him. They walked through the corridors of the manor until they reached the room Keel had been practicing in the previous afternoon.
"Maybe I'll see you for the lunch bell," Sariel said with a smile. "Have fun with your new classmates."
The training studio was huge with groups of people of all ages hurrying into the space. The walls and floor were padded, some places with different colored squares of various sizes. Sariel walked to the far side of the room, leaving Keel standing in a corner as other children began to arrive. The oldest child was ten, Keel guessed as parents kissed their kids goodbye, but Keel was easily the youngest by three or four years.
Master appeared a few minutes later and began organizing the kids. Keel was turned to a wall and told to practice his punches. The other kids were partnered up with someone of a similar size and Keel watched as they began to practice hitting and blocking punches and kicks. The oldest kid was partnered with Master.
Keel punched the wall a good hundred times with each fist. Every once in a while Master would come over to check on his form and Keel would have to punch with only one hand for a very long time. It was boring, but there was food in his stomach and a roof over his head so he didn't feel as if he could complain. The only worry Keel had was about how Saar was doing.
He missed having Saar at his side. It would have been nice to have his twin there to practice with. He wished the Simola had gotten them both.
The lunch bell rang and Keel was herded with the other kids back to the dining hall. He stood in the doorway as the other students ran off to tables where they had family or friends waiting for them. He hadn't been introduced to any of his classmates and they certainly hadn't been interested in someone as young as he was.
"You're looking a little lost, Keel," Sariel said as he joined Keel in the doorway. Sariel was sweaty just like Keel, but he was smiling as if he had a lot of fun. Keel guessed that Sariel got to do things a little more interesting than punching a wall.
Keel just shrugged to answer Sariel. He missed the company of Saar even more now that he was on his own.
"Well, you'll have to come eat with me. There's always an extra chair at my table," Sariel said. He reached down to take Keel's hand and led him over to the table they had sat at that morning. He helped Keel fill a plate and they were silent for a few long minutes as they ate.
"How did you like your training?" Sariel asked.
Keel swallowed his mouthful of food, knowing that if he spoke with a full mouth he'd lose some of it to the floor and the kitten mewing hopefully below. Food was too important to waste and the kitten had his own source of food. "Boring. Wanna do more'n punch a wall," he replied.
Sariel laughed. "Punching is one of the fundamental skills of any martial artist. I spent two months figuring out how to keep my elbow in. The trainers used to hit your arm with a stick every time your elbow strayed. You're also young to begin training. Most of the kids your age stay in the nursery. I didn't start until I was seven."
"I'm four," Keel said proudly, happy to hear he was getting some sort of special treatment. It made him feel a little better.
"You know your numbers?" Sariel asked, one brow raised in surprise.
"Naw," Keel disagreed. "That's what mama say, before'n she dead. Lotsa coughing." That time was when he and Saar had first learned how to work together to get food for themselves: when mama was coughing blood and the neighbor was eyeing mama's apartment for his newlywed daughter. Then mama had died and the neighbor hadn't wasted any time sending Keel and Saar on their way.
"What about your father?" Sariel asked.
Keel shrugged. "Mama say he come on boat, stay, n'then go on boat. Never come back, she said."
"Well," Sariel clearly sensed that Keel wasn't particularly happy about the direction of the conversation since he quickly changed the subject. "You'll be going to a different sort of class this afternoon. You'll learn your numbers and your letters. Plus, the teacher will fix your grammar so you'll be a little easier to understand!" he finished with an easy laugh and a grin.
"Talk fine," Keel grumbled, but he couldn't help giving Sariel a small smile in return. "What you got this afternoon?" he asked, trying to emulate Sariel's words.
"I have a special class with Master. In a few years I'll be taking part in the tournament," he said smugly. "And I get exclusive training with a sponsor."
Keel gaped, surprised that Sariel, the young man who had been so kind and helpful, was someone so important. The tournament decided which guild would run Lev for the year and the king himself honored the fighter who won the Simola or the Yimina that power.
Sariel laughed, visibly uncomfortable about Keel's open admiration. "I'm just one of many on both sides of the fight," he said, gently tapping Keel's chin to get him to close his mouth. "But in your case, I'm now your big brother. You can eat with me or train with me, and if you have any problems you can come to me. Okay?"
Keel had never had a big brother before. He was older than Saar, albeit not by much. He wasn't really sure what to say in return, particularly since Saar wasn't ar
ound to support any decision he made.
It seemed like every other thought Keel had was about missing Saar. It wasn't fair that they were separated, and Keel hated it. As the bell signaling the end of lunch rang, Keel gave Sariel a hard hug and let him guide Keel to his classroom.
Day three with the Simola was an echo of day two. Keel punched the wall a lot, but he also watched Sariel train out of the corner of his eye. Master was always telling Elan, the oldest of the children in Keel's group, that hands moved before body and body moved before feet. Sariel made the movements look swift and easy, but the bunching of thick muscles in his arms and legs whenever he kicked, punched, or blocked told a different story.
Afternoon classes continued with the teacher trying to show Keel how to hold the stick of lead used for writing. Keel learned how to form the letter A. He was also reprimanded every time his grammar was less than perfect, which was every time he opened his mouth. The other students had taken to sniggering whenever he spoke, but Keel had gathered that the consequences for physically attacking him were more severe than anyone wanted to receive. Using the martial arts lessons to hurt someone was greatly frowned upon. Keel just sighed and hoped Saar was having a better time.
After dinner on the third day, Keel and his kitten followed Sariel around. Sariel had nighttime rounds as a guard in the city every couple of days, a requirement for every student of the Simola—and also the Yimina, Keel assumed because he was used to avoiding patrols from both guilds. Each guild had territory that was theirs alone. It was equal in size to the other guild's with the guild-house in the center. The territories couldn't overlap or even touch in order to minimize fights like the one Keel had seen erupt on his first day, which meant that large parts of the city weren't under the protection of a guild. Every year a tournament was held and the two guilds battled to see who would gain control of the extra territory. Keel didn't know who had won the last tournament, or whether Sariel was going to help patrol Simola's smaller territory or the entirety of Lev.
In the basement of the manor was an armory where Sariel was given a heavy leather jerkin to wear as well as other protective bits of armor. He wasn't given any weapons, which surprised Keel until Sariel explained that his body was trained as a weapon and the use of a blade was cheating.
"You know, most kids your age would be crying from exhaustion and begging to head to their beds," Sariel commented as he led the way out of the armory and to the front door of the manor. He held the door for Keel and they stepped out onto the expansive lawn together.
"I not most kids," Keel replied firmly. He had seen a couple of the other kids his age briefly while walking to his afternoon class. The classroom was located just a few doors down from the nursery, where a bored looking teen not much younger than Sariel was listlessly making sure the complaining toddlers were making proper punching fists. Keel would have run away in minutes if he had to put up with that. Those kids had never had to scramble after a dropped loaf of bread, trying to capture it before the baker noticed it was missing or a passing human or animal carelessly crushed it beneath their feet. Keel had done that plenty of times—he had to or he would have starved to death a long time ago. He was grateful to be in Master's class even if all he ever did was punch the wall.
"I suppose you're not," Sariel agreed. "I have to go now. I'll see you at breakfast?" He waited for Keel's eager nod before continuing. "Okay. The guard at the front door should let you in, but if he's busy, the kitchen door around the back of the manor is always left open to let the heat from the cooking fires vent. You can get in that way." Keel followed Sariel's pointing finger towards a stone pathway that led around the house and nodded.
The plan in his head was already coming clear as Sariel gently ruffled his hair and headed out through the gate to his patrol. Keel took that path back and sure enough, he found the doorway to the kitchen. There actually wasn't even a door attached to the frame, just a thin screen that easily moved when Keel pushed. It wasn't difficult to find his small bedroom from there.
Keel dozed for a few hours, his kitten keeping his feet warm as he slept. It didn't take long before the noises in the manor hallway outside his room faded away, but Keel knew better and waited while the occasional straggler came by. Finally, the hallway was totally silent. Keel slid out of bed and left his bedroom, sneaking through the empty hallways and the darkened kitchen. He and his kitten were outside in moments.
It was harder to get through the fence that surrounded the entire property, but the guards on the front gate weren't looking for someone so small. He snuck by when a woman on patrol making her report distracted them.
Keel knew the city streets, although it was harder to find his way at night. He and Saar often had excellent luck finding leftover food scraps in the market after dark. He made a few wrong turns as he walked, but he was able to avoid the patrols and bar-goers and make it to his and Saar's little hideaway.
After their mother had died and they lost their only home, Keel and Saar had been forced to find a new place to live. Aside from the orphanages, from which horror stories regularly emerged, there wasn't anywhere for children as young as they were to stay since they weren't quite old enough to work in the sweatshops. While wandering around one afternoon, tired of sleeping on doorsteps, they had found this hideaway.
Where the homes belonging to the lower middle class ended, but before the warehouse district began, was a walking park. In that park was an old gazebo that was raised off the ground to keep the floor from turning into a puddle in the rain. To hide the extra height, carved wooden boards had been added, creating a hidden space just large enough for two small boys to curl up.
Keel found the loose board and lifted it up, peering inside the space as if Saar really was just waiting for him to get home. The space was empty, but Keel crawled inside anyway. The dirt floor was smooth, which made Keel sigh. Saar had apparently not been able to get away from the Yimina. Keel waited for as long as he dared, knowing he still had to get back across the city without getting caught and he had an early morning of training to be rested for.
Saar never appeared. Keel dug a finger into the dirt where he carved a circle and then six lines, three on each side of the circle. The very ends of the lines curved upwards to tell Saar he was happy. He left the gazebo and returned to the Simola manor, where he got a few hours of sleep and spent the next day yawning through his classes.
It was another week before Keel felt safe enough to sneak out again. He was still punching the wall, but he had progressed quite a few more letters down the alphabet. He could spell his own name, but was still missing the letters for most of Saar's.
The gazebo looked untouched, but he and Saar were practiced at keeping it that way. Keel lifted up the loose board and slid into the space. A knot in his heart that had been present from the first moment he saw Saar with the Yimina unclenched and began to fade away when he looked down at the picture he had drawn in the dirt.
The circle was gone, replaced by a triangle, but the lines still curved upwards. Saar had been to the gazebo and he was happy where he was. The Yimina were taking care of him.
Keel carefully smudged away the triangle and redrew his circle to tell Saar he had been by and was still okay. He missed his brother fiercely, but knowing he was being taken care of made the separation a little easier to bear.
When Keel returned to the Simola manor that night, he was in better spirits than ever. He and Saar were both getting fed regularly, they had a roof over their heads that didn't leak when it rained, and they were happy. That they were apart was the only difficult thing, but Keel knew that one night he would pull aside that board and see Saar's identical face waiting for him.
*~*~*
It was actually a full six months before Keel saw Saar again, and it wasn't at the gazebo. It was during tournament week, when the entire city went insane. Keel was used to the sudden influx of tourists crowding the streets, the increase in pickpockets and guards he had to watch out for, and the sudden creation
of a slapdash market just outside the tournament grounds where there was food aplenty for hungry children with nimble fingers. The new parts for Keel were the preparations inside the Simola.
They had three fighters strong enough for contention in the final battle and all three were furiously training non-stop. Sariel was going to participate in the alternate tournament held for those fighters strong enough, but still too young, to enter the full tournament. He had been pulled from his nighttime rounds to spar with one of the tournament fighters and was showing up at breakfast bruised.
"Bruises are a part of training," Sariel explained when Keel had remarked on his black eye. "If you're not bruised then you're not training hard enough."
"I not bruised," Keel replied, showing his short, unblemished arms to Sariel. "I not doing it right?"
Sariel laughed. "Keel, you're miles ahead of anyone else your age in this compound." When Keel continued to frown, Sariel sighed. "Look, you've already started learning blocks, right?" Keel nodded. "Okay, block my punch."
His right fist shot out, slower than Keel knew Sariel could punch, but still with enough force that Keel knew Sariel wasn't playing around. Keel's left hand flew into the air to the left of his face, his arm perfectly parallel to his head, and the bone in his forearm clacked against the bone in Sariel's forearm as Sariel's fist was pushed harmlessly away from Keel's face thanks to a strong block.
Keel hissed and withdrew his arm to stare at the bruise already purpling on his arm.
"See," Sariel said gently. "You'll be bruised. But if you block correctly," he added ruefully as his fingers brushed against his black eye, "the bruises will stay on your arms and legs with the rest of you protected."
"Oh," Keel replied. "Haven't gotten to blocking real punches. I'ma get there soon?"
Sariel laughed, one hand reaching out to ruffle Keel's hair. "I'll talk to Master about it after the tournament is over. You've been punching the wall by yourself for long enough."
The first day of the tournament dawned bright and clear. Sariel and everyone else participating in the tournament had a welcome breakfast hosted by the king's steward to attend, so Keel muddled through breakfast on his own. Someone had found him a box to sit on a few months ago, so he could see over the table when he was eating. Standing on the box gave him just enough height to reach the various plates. Some of the other regulars at the table gave Keel a hand, which he appreciated.
