by Steven Gould
Denesse Sensei reentered the room carrying a small book. They bowed in and he said, “Shidoin to the front. Everybody else, to the sides.”
The two lines split in the middle and moved to the ends of the room. Leland found himself at the other end of the room from Charly. She looked composed, but her face seemed slightly pale.
She’s nervous. Uh-oh. He felt his hands begin to tremble, and he pressed them firmly against his thighs to stop the shaking.
There were five other hakama wearers at the front of the room, beside Denesse Sensei. Denesse Sensei opened his book and placed it on the ground before him, then took a pair of half-glasses from inside his gi and perched them on his nose.
“Charlina Rosen. Leland de Laal. Come forward.” Simultaneously Charly and Leland came out in shikko, knee-walking, and lined up beside each other in the middle of the room, facing the kamiza.
“I’m sure that many of you would like to do ukemi tonight but I only want shodans and above.”
FIRST-DEGREE BLACK BELT.
“So,” continued Denesse, “ukes, please.”
Leland saw motion out of the corner of his eye and heard the sound of multiple feet racing across the tatami. Someone thumped to the mat behind him and he heard the slower feet withdraw back to the sides of the room.
They bowed to the altar, then to Denesse Sensei, then he turned to face the person behind him, one of the older uchideshi, Peter was his name, and bowed to him. Leland turned back to the front.
“Variations on Ushiro Ryotedori Hamnihandachi kokyunage ,” Denesse Sensei said.
And so it started.
Leland lost count of the times they changed ukes, and when they went to jodori —staff taking techniques—he almost panicked. The wooden staffs were the length and width of the bamboo poles used by his brothers over the last year.
PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER. THEY’RE ONLY STICKS. TAKE THEM AWAY. YOU DON’T HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THAT.
He threw his attacker very hard, necessitating yet another change of ukes. Knife and sword taking went easier, and he was more under control.
At the end, totally drenched in sweat, first Charly, then Leland took turns with five-person randori—multiple-person attack.
He was too tired to be nervous. FIVE IS EASY. THEY GET IN EACH OTHER’S WAY. He kept turning, moving forward to the next attacker, turning, moving forward, throwing attacker into attacker, entering their space so quickly it felt more like he was attacking the five, not the other way around.
And then Denesse Sensei clapped his hands and they stopped coming. Leland staggered slightly, then sat beside his ukes. They bowed out and Denesse Sensei said, “A short break.” Then he led the other black belts out of the room.
Leland didn’t know what to do. A short break before what? More testing?
There was a collective groan as the students who’d been sitting seiza throughout the class straightened, massaging their knees. Maybe I was the lucky one. But he felt limp, drained.
Charly walked over to him and sat. “I didn’t see much of your test, Leland, but your randori was lovely. I particularly liked the sankyo projection at the end.”
“My uke seemed surprised. Hope I didn’t hurt him.”
“Worry about the two he collided with. But they’re all fine.”
Leland remembered something. “Hey! Why didn’t you tell me about the test?” Charly stifled laughter in the back of her throat. “If you’d known, would you have taken it?”
He blinked. “I guess.”
“And would you have worried about it?”
He remembered that intense stab of panic in the pit of his stomach when Prudence told him. “Well…yes.”
She grinned. “Then I did you a favor, didn’t I? Believe me, I was nervous enough for both of us.”
“How long have you known about this test?”
“I’ve known about mine for months. It’s why I’m here at Red Rock, after all. I found out this afternoon that you would also test.”
WHAT WAS SHE TESTING FOR?
“What were you testing for?”
“Godan. And my shidoin certificate.”
FIFTH-DEGREE BLACK BELT AND HER INSTRUCTOR’S RATING.
“What was I testing for?”
The smile dropped from Charly’s face. “I don’t know.”
A student seated near the door clapped his hands and the lines reformed.
Denesse Sensei came back in with the upper black belts. They bowed in formally and Denesse Sensei turned to face them.
“Charlina Rosen.” He gestured to the mat before him.
Charly came out in shikko until she was before him, then bowed.
“It is with great sorrow…” said Denesse Sensei. There was a gasp from the students and they shifted en masse.
Didn’t she pass?
Denesse glared at the students and they settled back. “As I was saying—it is with great sorrow that I…award you your godan rank and shidoin rating. For it means you will leave us.” And now he smiled and there was muffled laughter from the students.
THAT OLD SCUMBAG!
Denesse Sensei said, “Good test, Charly.” He led the applause, which went on for quite a while. Then they bowed to each other again and Denesse Sensei gestured to a spot by his side. Charly slid forward and sat beside him.
“Leland de Laal.”
Leland knee-walked out and bowed.
“When we promote it is to acknowledge something that has already been accomplished—something that already is—but it is also to acknowledge the work, effort, and time that has gone into attaining that level of technique. Do you understand what I mean?”
PERFECTLY. “Hai, Sensei,” Leland said.
“We find it inappropriate to rank you at this time. This does not reflect upon your test, which was excellent, but only on the amount of time you’ve practiced. We do award you your shidoin certificate, though, for to do otherwise would be to deny us what you have to teach.”
Denesse gestured to Charly and she bowed, then turned to a comer of the kamiza where a dark bundle sat. She took it and turned back to Leland, knee-walking forward and putting the bundle down in front of him, then bowing. In a low voice she said, “I wove the cloth myself.”
He bowed low and took the package. It was a midnight-blue hakama folded in the formal style.
Denesse spoke again. “Charlina Sensei and Leland Sensei will be leaving tomorrow. It is my hope that Leland Sensei will teach the morning class before he leaves.”
Me? YOU? Leland blushed to the roots of his hair. “Hai.”
Denesse Sensei said, “For those of you who can stay, we’ll be having a dinner immediately after. In the meanwhile, let me be the first to congratulate Leland Sensei.” He began a round of applause.
I didn’t do anything to deserve this.
PERHAPS THEY’RE APPLAUDING FOR DINNER.
Cynic. They’re applauding—it’s enough.
Later, when he was feeling his way down the hill with Charly, he asked, “So you’re leaving tomorrow also. Where to?” The sky was overcast, blocking the ring-light, but he’d been up and down this path so many times in the last six weeks that his feet knew the way.
Charly said, “I’m from Noramland, though I’ve been here for the last nine months. Almost like a pregnancy, eh? Gestating a shidoin certificate.” She laughed. There’d been a lot of toasts drunk to the departing pair and they were both light-headed from the wine.
“Oh. Where in Noramland?”
“The city.”
Leland blinked. “I went once—when I was seven. The whole family made the trip. My father has an estate and a townhouse there.”
“Yes. He’s a Principal of the Council, after all.”
The thought of his father chilled Leland. “Ah. So he is.” He tried to change the subject. “Will you be taking the horse road into Noram?”
“No. I’ll be going to Laal Station with you and travel with the next trade caravan.
It’ll be good to get back to my doj
o. There are people I miss. And heliograms are poor substitutes for flesh.”
“What’ll happen to your cottage?”
“It’s not mine. It belongs to the dojo—for visiting instructors. I’ve been told that there’ll be two this winter. I hope they keep the uchideshi hopping.”
When they reached the cottage the lamps were on and the fire was lit. Charly’s weaving supplies and clothing were packed in hampers, lined neatly up in the space her loom had recently occupied. The loom itself was disassembled and lashed into bundles. Leland’s clothing was laid out neatly, next to his bag, ready to pack when he’d selected his clothing for the next day.
“Who did this?” Leland asked.
“The uchideshi. They left before the toasts.”
“They were back before we left!”
“Well, they ran up and down the hill. It’s good for them. But remember, when you teach in the morning, if they seem a little slow in class? Take it into consideration.”
“I will.” He grinned wickedly. “Believe me—I will.”
Putting on the hakama was like going home after a long absence—both intimately familiar and passing strange. He was surprised to see more than the uchideshi on the mat. Several of the evening students were there, too.
He led the class in warmups, including some stretches strange to them. Then, after ukemi practice, he called on Prudence as his uke.
It was like dancing.
He ran through techniques from ushiro ryotedori—an attack where uke grabs a wrist with one hand, then circles behind to grab the other wrist and pin nage’ s arms behind.
He started with ikkyo, the elbow immobilization, then proceeded through a series of projections: iriminage, jujinage, standing kokyuho, and finally udegarami. As he walked around correcting technique and ukemi, he felt like an impostor, a fake.
YOU’RE HERE FOR THEM—NOT YOURSELF.
He tried to ignore the doubts. At the end, when he was bowing to the picture of the great teacher, he lifted a prayer. Make me worthy…in my own right.
ONLY YOU CAN DO THAT.
Oh, shut up.
Chapter 6
KOSHIN: MOVING BACKWARD
The walk back to the Khyber Pass was much like Leland’s first trip to Red Rock. Bonkers and the rest of the llama string were with him, though this time they carried Charly’s household goods and loom. Also, the night stop was in the low barrens between the two passes. And, of course, there was Charly.
“I saw a lynx! I’m sure of it.” She was bouncing up and down.
“This is awful low altitude for a lynx. Did it have tufted ears?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.”
“It was probably a bobcat. It’s the same genus, but smaller, though it has the tufted ears. Have you ever seen a lynx?”
“Yes. Not alive, though. There’s a stuffed one at the Steward’s Palace in Noram City.”
“They call Noram House a palace?”
“Well, it is a bit big to be called a house. The steward started calling it that and it stuck.”
When will “high steward” be replaced with “king”? He changed the subject back. “We get lynx above the Tiber Valley, sometimes, especially in the winter. They come down after the snowshoe hare.”
On the Tiber side of the Khyber Pass, they were met by three mounted squads of the Falcons and Louis, the boy from Red Rock who’d broken his leg.
The man in charge sketched a quick salute. “Warden Leland,” their leader called. “Coronet Gahnfeld at your service. Captain Koss sends his compliments. We’ve been assigned as your bodyguard.”
Leland returned the salute. “My bodyguard? Whatever for?”
Gahnfeld was a big, dark-skinned man with heavy bones. He seemed in his mid-thirties. He shook his head. “I’ve no idea, Guide. After your father met with the messenger from the high steward, I was told to meet you here and stick with you, if you’ll pardon the expression, ‘like a stud to a mare.’”
Leland frowned. “Those weren’t my father’s words, were they?”
Gahnfeld grinned. “Captain Koss.”
“Ah. This is Charlina Rosen. She travels with us to the Station. Why are you here, Louis?”
Louis, who was scratching Bonkers’s neck vigorously, grinned. “I’m here to take my string back. I’m going home.”
Leland glanced back at the llamas, loaded with Charly’s stuff.
Louis said, “Oh, don’t worry about the loads. These guys brought pack mules for your stuff.”
“And mounts for you and Guide Charlina,” Gahnfeld added.
“Uh, Charlina isn’t—” Leland started to say, but then he looked at Charly, who laughed.
“Well, actually, Charlina is,” said Charly. “It’s de Rosen but it’s not important. I don’t usually use it. Was it an assumption, Coronet?” she asked Gahnfeld.
“No, Guide. My orders specifically mentioned ‘Guide Charlina de Rosen of Noram City.’”
“Oh, well,” said Charly. “Your father knows mine. They’re on the council together. He probably recognized my name in Denesse Sensei’s heliogram.”
Leland tried to picture Charly dressed for a court function but couldn’t imagine it. He shook his head. “Well, let’s transfer the baggage.”
“At your command, Guide. If you’ll be seated—there’s lunch waiting.” Gahnfeld turned. “Petrach, Liu—have your squads transfer the baggage. Grambort, perimeter watch—both sides of the pass. Bungy—ride on back to that line-of-sight and signal Laal Station.”
“What message?” asked the soldier who must have been Bungy.
“To Koss, Falcons. Haystack. Gahnfeld.”
The soldier repeated it back, then mounted a horse and rode back through the pass.
“Haystack?” said Leland.
Gahnfeld grinned. “As in finding, Guide.”
Charly said, “I don’t understand.”
Leland blushed. “I’m Warden of the Needle. The message means they’ve found me. A needle in a haystack.”
“Oh,” Charly said. “So, shidoin, why do you need a bodyguard?”
“Ix-nay on the idoin-shay, if you please. I’ve no idea.”
Gahnfeld steered them to the side of the pass, out of the way of the soldiers moving the bags.
“Do you know anything about the high steward’s message?”
“Yes, Warden. The high steward’s party crosses the Black tomorrow morning. With them rides Siegfried Montrose.” One of the soldiers carrying luggage spit at the sound of Montrose’s name. The coronet stiffened at the sound but kept his eyes on Leland.
Leland’s eyebrows went up. “Montrose, eh? My, oh my.” Peace? He sat down on a boulder in the shade and blinked. “Well, I guess we should eat this food and get going then, shouldn’t we?”
“Steward, I must protest!”
Dulan de Laal raised his eyebrows and looked at Captain Koss. There was a silence in the room, rigid and furious. Captain Koss clenched his jaw and stared back. Martin and Dexter stared wide-eyed at both of them, shocked not only by Captain Koss’s outburst but also by the statement that had caused the reaction.
Guide Dulan sighed and looked aside. “Please excuse us, Martin, Dexter.”
Dexter stood immediately, followed more slowly by Martin. They both bowed and left Dulan’s study, closing the door behind them.
Captain Koss was still glaring angrily when Dulan turned back to him.
“Machiavelli had advice for situations like this,” Dulan said quietly. “He suggested that a prince should have a council of a few wise men who feared not to tell him the truth but only when he asked for it!” He raised his eyebrows again. “Did I ask your opinion of my orders?”
“Stuff Machiavelli! You’ll throw your sons into open revolt if you give the new unit to Leland!”
“You take a great deal upon yourself, Leonid!”
“Then remove me from my post or kill me! If de Noram calls on you for troops to fight the Rootless, then the new unit will be all that defends Laal. If Montrose
attacks, despite whatever agreement he’s cemented with Arthur, the new unit will need a commander that’s been proven in battle. That means you, Dillan, or Dexter. Ricard and I will be on the other side of Noram, fighting for that stupid plain, and your guides will be harrying the enemy’s flanks with their few professionals and their militias! By the Founders, man, he’s only seventeen!”
“Ah,” said Dulan. “That’s why you’re upset. Well, don’t worry. When and if Cotswold crosses the Black, the Falcons and the Mounted Pikes will be here to meet them. The new unit goes to the plain.”
Captain Koss sat back in his chair, astonished. His mouth opened twice to say something, but each time he shut it again. Finally he pushed his chair back and knelt on the floor. “I apologize abjectly, sire. I beg you to remove me from my post. I am not worthy to hold it.”
“Oh, shut up and get us some wine. Think what’s going to happen when I tell Dillan!”
Captain Koss hesitated for a moment, then got up and went to the sideboard. He returned with two goblets. “Nothing will happen when you tell Dillan—he will say ‘Of course, Father’ and that will be it. Anthony, on the other hand, will be furious. Dexter will be confused.”
Dulan nodded. “Yes, you’re right. That’s why I sent Dillan to escort Arthur in. Nothing Arthur or Siegfried can say or do will get a rise from him.” He accepted the goblet from Captain Koss. “I’m still surprised you don’t object more about Leland’s appointment. Aren’t you worried about the men?”
Captain Koss shrugged. “Yes, but less than if Dexter held the command. Leland is more likely to bring them back alive. Dexter takes too many risks. Also, when you received that head wound at Atten Falls, I was the one who bathed and bandaged it. I saw the scars on your temples, and I’ve seen the scars on Leland’s head in the same place.”
Dulan grunted. “There is that…I hope.” He turned back to Koss. “How many of the men are from the old troops?”
“All five halvidars and fifteen of the coronets. We have chosen provisional coronets for the other eight positions.” He paused then, keeping his eyes on the table. “I would offer a suggestion.”
Dulan looked at Koss gravely. “Please—I ask it of you.”