The Firemane Saga

• CHAPTER FIVE •
A Parting and Trials

Hava stalked the girl like a cat, placing each step purposefully and shifting her balance so she could move in any direction and not let her opponent dictate her choices. The young women both held battle staffs, able to inflict serious damage if unleashed on an unarmoured opponent, but not usually lethal, if the skull wasn’t the target. Hava watched her rival, waiting for an opening.

The day was unusually hot, so perspiration drenched both girls, despite a slight breeze from the ocean. All the students wore fighting clothes: loose-fitting trousers and a short-sleeved, split-front tunic, one side closed over the other, secured by a wide cloth belt knotted on the left hip.

The training area was makeshift: a meadow above the beach, which was divided by a stream that fed into a river and emptied into the sea a mile further down the slope. For reasons not shared with the students, several masters had travelled to Corbara, the main port in Coaltachin, and each had brought along their oldest pupils. While the teachers did whatever they had come here to do, the youths had been given over to a pair of local preceptors to continue their training. This was the second day of exercises, and the students were now completely bored.

There were no classes, only training. Beneath the routine of exercise and combat, Hava felt as if something was about to happen; she sensed a tension in the two preceptors, who seemed to be waiting for something. The students had been housed in the local school, now crowded with all the newcomers, but last night, the usual gossip and joking had been absent, as if they all shared some unnamed expectation.

The older students were routinely sent away when they were finished with their schooling, but this trip felt different. Something was amiss, and Hava couldn’t guess what it might be, but at this moment she had no attention to spare for speculation: this was her third match of the day, she was bone-tired, and every bit of her concentration was focused on her opponent.

The preceptor had paired Hava with a girl named Nessa, from another school on a nearby island. She didn’t know the girl well, though they had trained together on two previous occasions when the students from different schools got together to spar. Sparring with Nessa felt like facing herself to Hava, as Nessa was also slender, fast, and athletic, but there the similarities between the young women ended, for Nessa was also one of the most beautiful girls Hava had seen, a fact often reinforced by quiet remarks from the boys. Although she was long-legged, like Hava, Nessa’s hips and breasts were fuller, giving her a slightly more curvaceous physique. Her honey-brown hair was sun-streaked, and her green eyes were striking in her tanned, slightly freckled face. Her ample lips were now tightly pursed in concentration.

Hava had been told that Nessa was one of the best fighting students in her village. While they had trained together, this was the first time they’d faced each other in a match. Nessa might have been the best in her school, Hava thought as she circled the girl slowly, waiting for her to make the first move, but no matter how much the boys – and a few of the girls – might have admired her, Nessa was never going to become a sicari. In Hava’s less than generous estimation, the young woman was stupid when it came to combat: she needed instructions repeated and often didn’t follow them, and her fighting style was entirely predictable.

To test the theory, Hava feigned a left sweep at Nessa’s feet, and the girl acted as Hava expected, jumping straight back to put more distance between herself and her opponent. Hava had been lingering over certain moves, portraying herself as slow, and attacking the girl from above, inviting Nessa to jump over the sweeping staff and get closer. So either Nessa was far smarter than Hava thought, and knew it was a trap, or she was as poor a fighter as Hava judged.

Nessa was fast and she reacted quickly, but Hava knew that was the sum of the girl’s talents as she moved back to ready herself for a counter-attack. She decided that most of Nessa’s training must have been against opponents of even lesser talents, who didn’t possess Donte’s strength or Hatu’s speed.

Realising that she was tiring of the exercise, Hava feinted again, this time making a spearing move with the butt of her staff, and as she anticipated, Nessa blocked and thrust downwards to her left. Hava then spun to her own left and brought up her staff against the right side of Nessa’s neck, poised to deliver a stunning blow to the head.

‘Halt!’ shouted a woman named Elana. Both students stepped back and turned to face the instructor. Elana said, ‘Hava, you know blows to the head are not permitted.’

Hava nodded. ‘Yes, mistress. That is why I halted the blow rather than knock Nessa to the ground.’

With a slightly sour, slightly amused expression, the preceptor said, ‘You’ve made your point. I give you this match.’ She glanced at the angle of the sun above the meadow and said, ‘We are done for today. Bathe at the river and assemble for a meal at the school in an hour.’

The combined classes had been assembled on the north side of the island just outside of the city of Corbara, scattered across the field in small mixed groups under the supervision of lower-ranked instructors, those who would some day be preceptors. The preceptors were with the masters in the city, where matters of importance were being discussed.

The local school was just up the hill from the training meadow. The day was hot and the students quickly headed down to the stream, many stripping off their fighting togs as they hurried towards the water.

Hava and Nessa reached the bank together and stripped off their garments. As they waded into the shallow creek, stooping to splash water over themselves, Nessa said, ‘You fight well.’

Hava paused for a moment, considering a truthful response or pointless compliment, and chose a combination. ‘You’re very fast,’ she said, ‘as fast as anyone I’ve fought but Hatu.’

‘I remember him,’ said Nessa, settling into the cool water, resting on her back, leaning on her elbows. ‘He’s the … foreign boy?’

Hava nodded as she duplicated Nessa’s position, deftly moving away the few sharp pebbles until there were only smooth ones beneath her. She looked around and realised she missed Hatu. ‘He’s a … friend.’

Nessa smiled and cocked her head slightly. ‘What about your other friend, the big one?’

‘Donte? He’s travelling.’ He’s travelling was a code not to ask questions, for it meant Donte was on a mission of some sort for a master.

Nessa ignored the warning and said, ‘Oh, really?’

Hava, finding herself on the verge of disliking the girl and fighting off her irritation, cut off further enquiry by saying, ‘He left yesterday.’ And now she missed Donte, as well, and found her irritation towards Nessa growing.

Nessa sighed, luxuriating in the cool water. Hava looked beyond the young woman’s curves to see some of the boys casting glances in their direction, despite other nude girls standing beside them. Hava took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Boys, she thought. Nessa was easily the most beautiful girl here, but to Hava she was little more than the girls sent to the brothels to listen for rumours from drunken travellers.

‘You’re the best fighter I’ve met,’ said Nessa absently. ‘Of the girls, of course.’

Hava’s brow furrowed a little and she echoed, ‘Of course.’ She had decided to push aside her growing dislike for the girl; some day she might find herself working with Nessa. She might never become a sicari, but Nessa’s beauty predicted that she would end up on the arm of someone influential, even very powerful. And she might even surprise Hava and become a noconochi, a special female assassin. Finally, Hava decided to offer some advice. ‘You know, you rely too much on your speed. You fall into a pattern.’

Nessa made a sour expression. ‘I know. I only win because I’m faster than most. I really don’t care. I only fight because they make me.’

Hava was astonished at this remark and found herself unable to speak. Being able to fight for one’s life was a core skill for any student who wished to serve the nation. She could understand someone like Hatu, perhaps, as an outlander, not holding quite the same beliefs as she did, but for a girl of Coaltachin, who had come so far in her training …? Any student who betrayed such an attitude within the hearing of Master Facaria would have been sent away from his school within days, to be used as a worker, sold as a slave to an outbound trader, or even killed. Either Nessa’s master was more lax in his training than Master Facaria, or they had already decided that her fate lay along another path. If she was not the fool she appeared to be, but as cunning as she was beautiful, maybe she would become a noconochi, and a poisoned drink, or a dagger in the night, would be her weapon of choice. Maybe, thought Hava, her master had already decided that was her course.

As if sensing Hava’s surprise, Nessa said, ‘I can defend myself hut have no desire to ever need that skill.’ She smiled as she stretched and sat up, glancing over her shoulder to where the boys still tried not to be obvious about staring at her, while other students splashed and shouted a little further on. ‘Boys,’ said Nessa, ‘they are so easy.’ Then, letting her gaze follow the lines of Hava’s body, she said, ‘Girls, too.’ She leaned forward, her smile predatory. ‘We have other weapons besides a staff or blade.’ She lowered her voice and asked, ‘Have you been with a woman yet?’

Hava kept her expression calm, unwilling to betray any feeling to this girl. It didn’t matter if she was merely seeking a reaction or if she was revealing sexual interest; both were met with a mask of indifference. ‘It is forbidden,’ said Hava calmly.

Nessa laughed, and several of the boys glanced in her direction. She smiled and waved at them, and they quickly turned away. ‘As I said, so easy.’ She looked again at Hava. ‘Yes, forbidden.’ Her smile hinted at subjects Hava preferred not to pursue.

Sex between students was strictly prohibited. No reason had ever been given for the rule, but over the years the more intelligent ones had pieced together the reasoning. Hava had discussed it with Donte and Hatu when they were younger; Donte had predictably made jokes, but Hatu seemed uncomfortable talking about sex. She found that odd as it wasn’t forbidden to talk about it and sex was often discussed openly at the school, and living close to island farms, she’d been watching animals mate since before she understood what it was.

Most students thought the ban on sex was to avoid pregnancies, but Hava knew there were ways to prevent that from happening. Its true purpose was subtler, more about the forming of relationships and bonds, and to prevent any that might be placed ahead of loyalty to the family, clan, or nation. Hatu was often lost during such talk, as he was a foreigner. When they were much younger, Hava, Donte, and other students had asked the instructors about Hatu’s origins, but silence or a switch across the back of the legs quickly communicated that this question was not to be raised, ever.

Hava pushed aside those thoughts. Now completely annoyed with Nessa, she stood and said, ‘I’m going back to the school to wait for food.’

Nessa looked a little surprised but shrugged.

Hava dressed quickly, picked up her practice staff, and walked towards the school. Reaching the classroom, she spied a familiar figure resting with his back against the wall, his travel pack used as a makeshift pillow.

Hatu dozed in the afternoon heat. Hava poked him lightly in the leg with the tip of her staff. His eyes opened at once, his body tense until he saw who it was and sighed. ‘What made you decide you must wake me?’

She squatted next to him, a playful smile on her face, and said, ‘I’m bored. I need someone to amuse me.’ Then she hit him on the shoulder. ‘When did you get back?’

‘This morning. Master Bodai told me to return here, and you were out there’ – he waved towards the training yard – ‘and I did not want to risk being ordered to fight. I’m too tired. I had the night watch on the ship. I need sleep.’ He leaned back and closed his eyes.

She hit him again. ‘I said I need amusement,’ she demanded in a joking fashion.

Looking slightly annoyed, he stifled a yawn and said, ‘Did Donte stop being funny?’

‘He’s travelling.’

Hatu sat up fully. ‘When?’

‘Yesterday. Master Facaria brought the older students here—’

‘The Council meets,’ interrupted Hatu.

‘Where have you been?’

Hatu softly said, ‘Travelling.’ Hava rarely let her emotions betray her, but the expression on her face communicated much to Hatu. ‘Sorry,’ he added.

She gave one curt nod of understanding, though clearly she didn’t like it. Hatu sensed her irritation and said, ‘Did I do something to annoy you?’

She frowned as she sat down next to him, and then let out a somewhat dramatic sigh. Hatu raised an eyebrow. ‘No,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m just … tired, and there’s this girl who put me in a bad mood.’

‘Girl?’ Hatu sat up straighter, adjusting his position against the wall and giving his friend his full attention.

‘It’s nothing,’ said Hava, looking Hatu in the eyes. ‘I let her put me in a bad mood.’

Hatu nodded once, an emphatic agreement. ‘Good, because no one puts you anywhere.’

Her eyes widened a bit, then she laughed. She suddenly leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ve missed you, you bonehead.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Really?’

She hit him on the shoulder again, this time just hard enough to cause him to pull away. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Yes, really.’ Then she narrowed her gaze and gave him a look he had come to know well since they were children: for the moment at least, this topic of discussion was closed. Finally she said, ‘I wonder how much longer we’re going to be here.’

Hatu said, ‘Not long is my guess.’ He weighed what he could and couldn’t share with her, then said, ‘You know I was called out of the warehouse by Master Bodai?’

She nodded.

‘I travelled with him.’ Hava’s expression told him that he was stating the obvious given how long they’d been gone. He continued, ‘I … we were on our way back and …’ He again considered what he could tell her, took a breath, then said, ‘Master Bodai sent word to the other masters to meet us here when we arrived, at dawn.’

‘So you spoke to the Council?’ Her eyes widened slightly as the Council had almost a mythic status to the students of Coaltachin.

‘No,’ said Hatu. ‘I just waited around outside all morning, then a while ago Master Bodai told me to come here and wait. It’s just that whatever they …’ He shrugged without finishing the thought. ‘I think most of us will go back to school.’

Hava reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why?’

‘Because we were sent back after you left with Master Bodai. Master Facaria summoned only the older students – Donte, myself and three others – to come with him to this meeting. The younger students stayed home. That’s the way it was for all the schools. Only the eldest are here. Before we left the school, we were told to put all our belongings in our go-bags.’

Hatu looked troubled. Hava said, ‘Wait,’ stood up, and crossed the room. She rummaged through her bag and came back with a smaller cloth sack. ‘You don’t keep much, but I grabbed this for you just in case.’

He opened the sack and found a few of his personal items, mementoes mostly: a broken practice blade he had kept as a child for good luck, a particularly pretty stone he’d found in a stream, a large spool of good thread he had purloined from a booth years before, a well-made metal spoon, and a ribbon. He glanced up at Hava and said, ‘Thank you. These are just … things, but you were very thoughtful.’ He looked at her as if seeing her in an entirely different way.

‘We’re friends,’ she said, ‘and Donte was too busy being Donte to remember you were already gone.’ She sat down again and sighed. ‘We were only back for a short while before we returned here.’

Hatu nodded. ‘We were only—’ He stopped himself from telling Hava they had been in Sandura. ‘We were only ashore for one day before we turned around and headed back. I’ve been at sea for the entire time since I left.’

He settled back and his tone turned contemplative. ‘It’s odd, but we’ve been told all our lives that … that the school isn’t home, just a place to learn before we go and do whatever it is we’re told to do—’

She interrupted. ‘But it is home.’ Shaking her head slightly, she said, ‘It’s more home than my parents’ hut. You and Donte are more like brothers than my brothers are. I can barely remember their faces.’

Hatu felt a stab of concern. If they were no longer to be students, and were to be sent out into the world on missions like the one from which he had just returned, would that mean he’d not see Hava again? That idea felt like a kick to the stomach.

He saw a look of concern pass over her face as she said, ‘What?’

He was silent, then, almost whispering, he said, ‘Nothing, really. Just an odd thought.’ The other students returning to the training floor to await their call to a meal interrupted further conversation. Hava sat back against the wall, next to Hatu. After a moment, she gently patted his hand.

Neither spoke for a while.

Nessa entered with a group of boys behind her and noticed the friends. She nodded at Hava, and gave Hatu an appraising look, but said nothing.

‘You really don’t like her,’ Hatu said, studying Hava’s expression.

‘How can you tell?’

‘I know that face. Others might not see it, but something about her …’

Hava looked down, avoiding eye contact, and said, ‘She’s different. Something about her makes me very … uneasy.’

‘How?’

‘I can’t tell you, but look at how the boys flock around her.’ She lifted her head and indicated across the room where Nessa was surrounded by admirers.

‘They just want her,’ said Hatu dismissively. ‘Even though it is forbidden.’

‘People always want what’s forbidden. Don’t you?’

Hatu smiled. ‘There are better girls,’ he said, looking at Hava.

Hava stared at him for a moment, then she looked away. Softly she said, ‘She’s lazy.’

Hatu shrugged as Hava glanced sideways at him. ‘She’s going to end up married to someone important, in some foreign land probably, and she’s going to spend her life sending messages to the Council. She can be lazy as long as she’s clever.’

Hava considered that. ‘Maybe she can be clever, but to me she seems obvious.’

A thought struck Hatu. ‘I wonder if we all appear obvious to others.’

Hava laughed softly. ‘Perhaps.’ She shook her head slightly. ‘It would prove a useful tool, having people underestimate you.’

Food was brought to them and the students ate in relative silence, as they had been trained to do when in a school, especially when surrounded by others not well known to them. This was one of the many habits drilled into them since infancy.

As the meal ended, Bodai and Facaria entered the room with another pair of men unknown to Hatu and Hava. Facaria came to where Hava and Hatu had been eating; they were now both on their feet with their hands clasped before them. He spoke to Hava. ‘You have ended your schooling and are now to spend time in other places. Go outside to where the other girls are gathering and wait for further instruction.’ She grabbed her bag and barely had time to give Hatu a slight nod, as close as they would be allowed to a proper goodbye.

The ache returned to his gut as the thought that he might not see Hava again for a long time, or ever again, struck him once more, and he was barely able to focus his attention when Master Facaria said, ‘You’re to go to the harbour. Look for a light boat named Fair Charmer. The captain expects you and three other lads and will be leaving with you on the evening tide. You’ll be told what you need to know when you arrive. Go.’

Hatu hesitated for only a moment, then grabbed his bag and hurried out of the door. Outside the school’s entrance, a path led down to a road that would take him easily to the harbour. Hava stood nearby, next to Nessa and four other girls; she noticed him and smiled. He raised his hand slightly and gave her a small farewell wave, then, shutting out the sudden cold that gripped his core, turned his attention to getting to the harbour before the ship sailed.

He could hear other boys hurrying out of the school and following his trail, hut he refused to look back. He pushed aside the familiar rising anger as he tightened his jaw and tried not to think of Hava.

HATUSHALY STOOD SILENTLY ON A corner in the city of Numerset, knowing what was expected of him, and calm and confident in that knowledge. He was in the Washa District, home to merchants who catered to the noble and wealthy people of the city. Hatu attempted to blend in as well as a ragged boy could in a city littered with urchins.

He had docked two weeks before, was met by the local crew captain, and was taken to a warehouse. Donte had been a welcome sight on his arrival, and within minutes of talking to his old friend, Hatu knew his school days were truly over. He had thought they were over when Hava was sent away and Master Facaria sent him here, but he was now starting his real work for Coaltachin; he was a fully fledged criminal. While he welcomed the reunion with Donte, it only deepened his concern that he might never see Hava again, and that raised feelings he could not sort out.

He took a deep breath and scanned the crowd. Today he was part of a four-boy team, a ‘boosting crew’, and his role was that of the ‘stall’. It was his task to interrupt the progress of a well-to-do member of the crowd, for only a moment or two, allowing the ‘cutter’ to liberate his purse while the target’s attention was diverted. The cutter was the most practised member of the crew, chosen for their swift hands and reflexes, and able to slice a coat and snatch a coin pouch from a pocket, or separate a purse from a belt, without notice. Within seconds the cutter would hand his prize and his blade to the ‘bag’, who would dart away as quickly as possible. The handoff was known as the ‘toss’. Today, Donte was the bag.

Should the victim, or the ‘mark’, notice and be quick enough to catch up with the cutter, the boy would not have the purse or blade in his possession, making any accusation impossible to prove.

The fourth boy, the ‘eye’, would signal a likely mark. He would wander about the stalls of the market looking for someone with a full purse and lax attention, the type who might not notice a missing purse until the boys removed themselves to another venue.

Hatu shifted uneasily; the eye had not yet signalled them, despite passing by several promising-looking marks. It was as if he was waiting for someone specific. Hatu began to feel a familiar discomfort, that he was unaware of something important.

Then came the signal: the eye, a boy named Jolen, took off his cap and wiped his brow as a stout merchant in fine robes walked past him. Hatu moved without hesitation.

He saw that the mark carried his belt purse on his right, indicating he was a left-handed man, as wise men kept their off hand close to their purse. Hatu veered slightly to bring himself to the man’s left side, then stumbled in front of him, drawing the man’s attention for an instant. Hatu took the opportunity to make eye contact and started to beg.

‘Please, sir, have you a coin to spare? I’m an orphan and haven’t eaten in days!’

Brendant, the cutter, was in position to take the purse and dart away, but instead he drew his dagger and plunged it deep into the man’s stomach. Hatu saw the boy push upwards, under the rib cage and deep into the man’s liver. The mark would bleed out within minutes. All the man could do was gasp, barely making a sound as his knees began to buckle.

The eye shouted, ‘Long gone!’ and the boys took off at a run, as fast as they could move, darting through the crowd towards the docks.

They were half a block away before the first shout of alarm went up behind them. Brendant motioned for the others to follow him into an alley, where he stripped off his jacket to reveal a ragged short-sleeved shirt beneath. He put the jacket behind a pile of rubbish and motioned for the others to follow suit.

Hatu glanced at Brendant. ‘Crib?’

With one shake of his head Brendant indicated that they were not returning to their base. ‘Open water,’ was all he said in response, and the other three began modifying their clothing for their new roles.

Hatu pulled off his jacket and was about to toss it on the pile when Brendant said, ‘Don’t leave your thing.’

Hatu nodded. He retrieved a round metal tin from an inside pocket of his jacket and slipped it under his shirt, above his belt. He knew it would be annoying, but it was vital that he didn’t forget what the other young men called ‘his thing’. It was a pomade to darken his hair to a more common brown-red shade. It resisted water and washing, so he only needed to apply it every few days.

In less than two minutes, four young sailors ambled out of the alley and walked calmly away from the murder scene towards the docks as the alarm spread through the market like a ripple in a pond.

Hatu felt anger rising and forced it back down. No one had told him this wasn’t a simple purse-cut, and he was doubly angry, as he had been forced to abandon the first pair of boots that had fitted him in almost a year. But most of all he now felt uncertain, as he had many times since his childhood. Brendant wasn’t a common crew boy, he was a man who looked younger than his years, an experienced sicari, for no common crewmember would be tasked with an assassination.

The four sailors moved calmly through the crowd, their meaningless banter lost in the noise of the streets. Donte regaled Hatu with his speculations on a barmaid, and Hatu focused on him just enough to grunt affirmation or enquiry without saying a word.

He tried to make sense of what had just happened. This particular crew had been working in Numerset for more than a year before Donte and Hatu joined them, and they had established themselves among the ruffians and cutpurses of the city. Each crew spent half their time fighting for their right to participate in the local criminal bounty.

They had arrived from Coaltachin one by one and found each other slowly, blending in with the hundreds of nameless people cast by fate into poverty. They had found a small neighbourhood gang and, after a few fights to demonstrate their prowess, had quickly taken over and built it into one of the most efficient crews in the city. With other captains, they had formed their numerous crews into what was called a regime and together had effectively taken control of crime in the region. Regimes reported directly to one of the masters in Coaltachin, who coordinated with the other masters in the Council.

The boys and girls who showed talent were allowed to remain, while those who proved a liability to the gang had been cut loose, allowed to perish, be captured, or join another gang. Hatu’s crew had shown themselves to be ruthless since his arrival.

Occasionally, as had occurred the day prior, a coded message would arrive for Brendant, who would then inform the others as to the task. Hatu, Jolen, and Donte knew without being told that his instructions came from the clan leaders, the Council.

Brendant’s crew, which currently numbered about twenty-five boys and girls, generated gold for Coaltachin. That gold was turned over to him every day. There was a captain at every level, so their context created a variety of titles. Brendant was a crew captain; he had an under-captain named Jadique who ruled in his absence, and who would, Hatu supposed, take over now that Brendant was fleeing the city.

Brendant’s crew had become one of the most proficient in the city’s network, and as such was well rewarded. Hatu had saved his share, not squandering it on gambling, women, drugs, or drink. He occasionally allowed himself a good meal at an inn near the eastern gate, as he enjoyed his privacy and, in his estimation, none of the crew except Donte offered him the prospect of good company, but that was the extent of his self-indulgence. When he could steal away, he traded his coins for small gems through a trader he trusted. He had a small pouch sewn into his trousers, which he could grab quickly should the need arise. He estimated he could live for a year or more on what he had saved. In a year, he would be able to support himself in a meagre fashion for years to come.

There were as many as a dozen crews in the city regime; the boys and girls were divided into various-sized companies, depending on need. Most of them were involved with petty, but lucrative, street crime, while crews of larger boys acted as enforcers, and kept discipline within the other gangs as well as keeping local criminals out of the more profitable neighbourhoods. The entire city was under the authority of the regime master. Not every member of every crew was from Coaltachin, but every key member belonged to them. Most of the locals didn’t know they worked for the Council. They didn’t even know where their bosses were from. The wall of secrecy, the barrier to knowledge, was absolute, and every member of Hatu’s group from the home island knew that to violate that pledge was a death sentence to all involved.

It was Brendant’s responsibility to see that the gold was shipped back to the Council. After permitted deductions, he passed the payment to a particular dockworker who would in turn pass it to the appropriate ship’s captain bound for Coaltachin. A certain amount was expected from them each month, and although Hatu did not know what the level was, to fall short would earn punishment, perhaps dire if warranted, so Brendant’s crew ensured they were never short. More than one greedy lad had ended up in the bay with ears and nose removed, or fingers chopped off, as a warning to others.