Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Eighteen

Hong Kong, 11 years ago

“Watch his left foot,” whispered Sally. “He drags it to the left before he strikes.”

Jun nodded, wiggling her toes as she watched the kendo instructor take his position in the center of the floor. He and the girls were barefoot, their wooden sandals lined up outside the open door of the dojo. Sally could see other girls in the exercise yard in groups of ten or twelve. Some sparred while instructors shouted at them, sometimes stepping between two girls to show them how to strike or block a kick. Others practiced balancing on wooden poles eight feet high and four feet apart.

Sally unconsciously rubbed her right knee as she watched, remembering the fall she had taken the week before. Master Xan had kept her on the poles for four hours, long after the other girls had gone to supper, making her practice until she could finish the course without falling. Sally had collapsed on her bed afterward, too exhausted to eat or change her clothes, but pleased with herself for not failing.

The next day Xan made her lead the class.

Three days later he made her do it blindfolded.

“Su Quan!” yelled Xan from across the room, breaking Sally out of her reverie. “Come forward.”

A girl with short black hair jumped up and ran lightly to the nearest wall, where long wooden swords hung on racks next to several life-sized figures made of bound straw. Selecting one of the swords, she crossed the hardwood floor and approached her opponent.

The teacher was a young man named Yuan, whom Sally guessed was maybe eighteen, only a few years older than the girls. His hair was cut very short, looking almost spiked, making his forehead seem too big for his face. His eyes looked dull and flat as he studied Su Quan, meeting her nervous gaze as they faced each other and bowed.

The sudden crack of wood against wood was like a gunshot in the enclosed space as Yuan lunged forward, his sword coming down like a scythe toward Su Quan’s head. She parried the blow but it cost her balance, and she staggered backward. Before she could regain her footing, Yuan sprang forward and swung his sword low, knocking her feet out from under her. Su Quan landed hard on her side, her sword clattering across the floor.

Xan came forward as Yuan stepped back into a neutral position, a self-satisfied look on his face.

“Yuan is stronger than Su Quan,” Xan said matter-of-factly. “He is taller, and he is faster. Does this matter?”

“No, Master Xan,” replied the ten girls as one. “Strength does not matter. Not if you are cunning.”

Behind Xan, Yuan smirked at the girls, clearly confident that they were not cunning enough. Sally fought the urge to stick out her tongue-getting caught once by Master Xan was plenty.

“The sword is not a weapon,” said Xan, his eyes running up and down the line. “You are the weapon. The sword is merely a tool.” He paused for effect. “Remember this.”

Xan turned just as Yuan adopted what he hoped would pass for a humble expression. As Xan passed him and approached the open door, Sally noticed a figure standing just outside, looking in their direction. The figure looked male and older, but he was too near the building, his body largely in silhouette beneath the eaves, his face in the shadows. Although slightly stooped and shorter than Xan, there was something in his bearing that convinced Sally he was not just another instructor. Watching Xan approach him, Sally could tell this was someone important.

When Xan bowed deeply, she almost stood to get a better look.

“Jun!” Yuan called, bringing Sally’s attention back to the floor. “You’re next.”

Sally squeezed Jun’s arm as she stood. “Remember the foot!”

Jun flashed Sally a quick smile as she ran to the wall and selected a sword.

Yuan bounced lightly on his toes as he waited, clearly not intimidated. Sally gritted her teeth as her best friend took her position. Xan stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, his head cocked to one side as he listened to his guest.

Yuan and Jun bowed, their eyes betraying nothing. As Yuan stood and raised his sword, Jun leapt forward and swung low at Yuan’s left leg, catching him below the knee. Crying out, he staggered but remained standing, catching himself with his sword and using it as a crutch. But before Jun could press her advantage, Yuan reached with his left hand and grabbed her sword, a move that would be impossible if they were using real blades. Before Jun could stop him, Yuan wrenched the sword from her grasp and jabbed it back at her, catching her in the solar plexus and knocking her down.

Jun lay on her back gasping, eyes watering as she struggled for breath. Yuan cursed as he hopped over to her and raised his sword, looking as if he would crack her skull open. Ten girls jumped to their feet, Sally at the front of the pack.

“Enough!” shouted Xan, his voice echoing around the chamber. The man next to him remained motionless.

Yuan sneered at Jun and lowered his sword, turning his back as he limped to his mark. Sally and Su Quan lifted Jun off the floor and carried her back to the line.

“Sally!” called Xan. “Choose a sword, little dragon.”

As Sally walked slowly toward the wall of swords, the figure next to Xan spoke, his voice too low for anyone but Xan to hear.

“Is she the one?”

“Yes, shan chu,” replied Xan.

“And she is ready?”

Xan hesitated. “She is barely fifteen, shan chu.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Xan sighed. “She speaks three languages,” he said deliberately. “She can tell jokes or curse in any of them, better than you or me. She knows math, music, and some art. She excels at disguises-she can dress up like an old woman, and you would swear she is an old crone. She has studied the martial arts of the samurai and the Shao Lin.”

“But is she ready?”

Again Xan hesitated. “It is difficult to judge, shan chu. She is young.”

The figure nodded, as if considering the wisdom of Xan’s words. When he spoke again, his tone was milder, as if he had grown bored and changed the subject.

“My son is getting older,” he said idly. “And so am I.”

Xan took a deep breath. “With all due respect, shan chu, your son-”

“My son,” came the stern reply, “is pak tsz sin-the position of White Paper Fan is a serious one, equal in rank to your own.”

“I know, but-”

“But you think he is not ready to ascend further, is that it?”

Xan tried to control his breathing. “I think all of the society’s money flows through his fingers,” he said carefully.

“That is his job,” said the man. “That is his duty.”

“I understand duty, shan chu,” Xan said slowly.

The man turned slightly and nodded. “I know you do, Xan.” He gestured idly toward the room, where Sally was still looking over the swords. “Who is the instructor?”

Xan shrugged. “Just one of the 49s,” he said. “A sze kau-one of our foot soldiers.”

“He is a good swordsman.”

“He is fast,” agreed Xan, “but he is impetuous.”

Sally looked over her shoulder. Yuan was looking toward Xan, probably wishing Xan would yell at her to get moving. By the time she faced him, Sally wanted Yuan to be impatient at the very least, and ideally mad. Glancing at Xan she saw he was still talking to the older man, but they were both looking her way. It was time to fight.

Walking slowly across the floor, Sally smiled sweetly as she held Yuan’s gaze. As she came closer, his sullen look transformed into an angry sneer, but Sally only increased the voltage of her smile. By the time they were facing each other, Yuan looked as if he were about to scream and Sally looked as if she’d just been asked to dance. She held her sword tightly in her right hand, her eyes never leaving Yuan’s face.

They bowed and Yuan came up quickly, raising his sword before he had even stood upright, his legs sliding apart as he prepared to lunge.

Sally never even stood up. Bent forward from her bow, she swung her sword across her body, catching the tip in her left hand and holding it like a staff. As Yuan started to crouch, Sally somersaulted forward, her hands holding the sword and pushing down against the floor, sending her into a spring-loaded handstand. Yuan started to jump and Sally lunged upward feet-first, her right heel connecting with his crotch.

Sally’s classmates gasped as Yuan choked on his own scream, the force of Sally’s legs sending him flying backward. By the time his back hit the floor and he curled into a fetal position, Sally had landed on her feet.

She stood over him, her sword inches from his face.

“I am the weapon,” she whispered fiercely.

Yuan yelped and curled tighter into a ball.

Xan coughed, as if stifling a laugh, then clapped his hands to signal the end of class.

The man next to him blinked, stunned at how quickly the match had ended. Turning to Xan, he spoke quietly but firmly, making it clear there would be no further discussion.

“She is ready,” he said. “In one month, Xan, give her to me.”