Chapter 6 #2
Rin thought this was just irresponsible teaching, but she wanted to keep Jiang talking.
Here he was in a rare moment of lucidity, offering to teach her martial arts that she couldn’t learn by herself.
She was half-afraid that if she said the wrong thing, she would send him running off like a startled hare.
“So am I interesting?” she asked slowly.
“You’re a walking disaster,” Jiang said bluntly. “You’re training with arcane techniques at a rate that will lead to inevitable injury, and not the kind you recover from. You’ve misinterpreted Seejin’s texts so badly that I believe you’ve come up with a new art form all by yourself.”
Rin scowled. “Then why are you helping me?”
“To spite Jun, mostly.” Jiang scratched his chin. “I hate the man. Did you know he petitioned to have me fired last week?”
Rin was mostly surprised that Jun hadn’t tried that sooner.
“Also, anyone this obstinate deserves some attention, if only to make sure you don’t become a walking hazard to everyone around you,” Jiang continued. “You know, your footwork is remarkable.”
She flushed. “Really?”
“Placement is perfect. Beautiful angles.” He cocked his head. “Of course, everything you’re doing is useless.”
She scowled. “Well, if you’re not going to teach me, then—”
“I didn’t say that. You’ve done a good job working only with the text,” Jiang acknowledged.
“A better job than many apprentices would have done. It’s your upper body strength that’s the problem.
Namely, you have none.” He grabbed for her wrist and pulled her arm up as if he were examining a mannequin.
“So skinny. Weren’t you a farmhand or something? ”
“Not everyone from the south is a farmer,” she snapped. “I was a shopgirl.”
“Hm. No heavy labor, then. Pampered. You’re useless.”
She crossed her arms against her chest. “I wasn’t pampered—”
“Yeah, yeah.” He held up a hand to cut her off. “It doesn’t matter. Here’s the thing: all the technique in the world won’t do you any good if you don’t have the strength to back it up. You don’t need Seejin, kid. You need ki. You need muscle.”
“So what do you want me to do? Calisthenics?”
He stood still, contemplative, for a long moment. Then he beamed. “No. I have a better idea. Be at the campus gates for class tomorrow.”
Before she could respond, he strolled out of the garden.
“Wow.” Raban set down his chopsticks. “He must really like you.”
“He called me stupid and hotheaded,” Rin said. “And then he told me to be on time for class.”
“He definitely likes you,” Raban said. “Jiang’s never uttered anything nice to anyone in my year. He mostly yells at us to stay away from his daffodils. He told Kureel that her braids made her look like snakes were growing out the back of her head.”
“I heard he got drunk on rice wine last week and pissed into Jun’s window,” Kitay chipped in. “He sounds awesome.”
“How long has Jiang been here?” Rin asked. The Lore Master seemed amazingly young, at most half of Jun’s age. She couldn’t believe the other masters would put up with such aggravating behavior from someone who was clearly their junior.
“Not sure. He was here when I was a first-year, but that doesn’t mean much. I heard he came from the Night Castle twenty years ago.”
“Jiang was Cike?”
Among the divisions of the Militia, only the Cike bore an ill reputation.
They were a division of soldiers holed up in the Night Castle, far up the Wudang mountain range, whose sole task was to carry out assassinations for the Empress.
The Cike fought without honor. They respected no rules of combat, and they were notorious for their brutality.
They operated in the darkness; they did the Empress’s dirty work and received no recognition afterward.
Most apprentices would have quit the service rather than join the Cike.
Rin had a hard time reconciling her image of the whimsical Lore Master with that of a hardened assassin.
“Well, that’s just the rumor. None of the masters will say anything about him.
I get the feeling that Jiang’s considered a bit of an embarrassment to the school.
” Raban rubbed the back of his head. “The apprentices love to gossip, though. Every class plays the ‘Who is Jiang?’ guessing game. My class was convinced that he was the founder of the Red Junk Opera. The truth’s been stretched so many times that the only thing certain is that we know absolutely nothing about him. ”
“Surely he’s had apprentices before,” said Rin.
“Jiang is the Lore Master,” Raban said slowly, as if talking to a child. “Nobody pledges Lore.”
“Because Jiang won’t take any students?”
“Because Lore is a bloody joke,” said Raban.
“Every other track at Sinegard prepares you for a government position or for command in the Militia. But Lore is . . . I don’t know, Lore’s odd.
I think it was originally meant to be a study of the Hinterlanders, to see if there’s any substance to their witch-magic rituals, but everyone lost interest pretty quickly.
I know Yim and Sonnen have both petitioned Jima to have the class canceled, but it’s still offered every year. I’m not sure why.”
“Surely there have been Lore students in the past,” said Kitay. “What have they said?”
Raban shrugged. “It’s a new discipline—the others have been taught since the Red Emperor founded this school, but Lore’s only been around for two decades or so—and no one’s stuck with the course all the way through.
I hear that a couple years ago some suckers took the bait, but they dropped out of Sinegard and were never heard from again.
No one in their right mind now would pledge Lore.
Altan was the exception, but nobody ever knows what’s going on in Altan’s head. ”
“I thought Altan pledged Strategy,” said Kitay.
“Altan could have pledged whatever he wanted. For some reason he was hell-bent on Lore, but then Jiang changed his mind and Altan had to settle for Irjah instead.”
This was news to Rin. “Does that happen often—students choosing the master?”
“Very rarely. Most of us are relieved to get one bid; it’s an especially impressive student who gets two.”
“How many bids did Altan get?”
“Six. Seven if you include Lore, but Jiang withdrew his bid at the last minute.” Raban gave her a knowing look. “Why so curious about Altan?”
“Just wondering,” Rin said quickly.
“Taken a shine to our crimson-eyed hero, huh? You wouldn’t be the first.” Raban grinned. “Just be careful. Altan’s not too kind to admirers.”
“What’s he like?” She couldn’t help but ask. “As a person, I mean.”
Raban shrugged. “We haven’t had classes together since our first year. I don’t know him well. I don’t think anyone really does. He mostly keeps to himself. He’s quiet. Trains alone and doesn’t really have friends.”
“Sounds like someone we know.” Kitay jabbed an elbow at Rin.
She bristled. “Shut up. I have friends.”
“You have a friend,” Kitay said. “Singular.”
Rin pushed at Kitay’s arm. “But Altan’s so good,” she said. “At everything. Everyone adores him.”
Raban shrugged. “Altan’s more or less a god on this campus. Doesn’t mean he’s happy.”
Once the conversation had derailed to Altan, Rin forgot half the questions she had meant to ask about Jiang. She and Kitay prodded Raban for anecdotes about Altan until dinner break ended. That night, she tried asking Kureel and Arda, but neither of them could confirm anything substantial.
“I see Jiang in the infirmary sometimes,” said Arda.
“Enro keeps a walled-off bed just for him. He stays for a day or two every other month and then leaves. Maybe he’s sick with something.
Or maybe he just really likes the smell of disinfectant, I can’t tell.
Enro caught him trying to get high off medicine fumes once. ”
“Jun doesn’t like him,” said Kureel. “Not hard to see why. What kind of master acts like that? Especially at Sinegard?” Her face twisted with disapproval. “I think he’s a disgrace to the Academy. Why’re you asking?”
“No reason,” said Rin. “Just curious.”
Kureel shrugged. “Every class falls for it at first. Everyone thinks there’s more to Jiang than there is, that Lore is a real subject worth learning. But there’s nothing there. Jiang’s a joke. You’re wasting your time.”
But the Lore Master was real. Jiang was a faculty member of the Academy, even if all he did was wander around and annoy the other masters. No one else could have gotten away with provoking Jun like Jiang did on a regular basis. So if Jiang didn’t bother teaching, what was he doing at Sinegard?
Rin was slightly amazed when she saw Jiang waiting at the campus gates the next afternoon. She wouldn’t have put it past him to simply forget. She opened her mouth to ask where they were going, but he simply waved at her to follow him.
She assumed that she was just going to have to get used to being led around by Jiang with no clear explanation.
They had hardly started down the path before they ran into Jun, returning from city patrol with a group of his apprentices.
“Ah. The lackwit and the peasant.” Jun slowed to a stop. His apprentices looked somewhat wary, as if they’d seen this exchange before. “And where are you going on this fine afternoon?”
“None of your business, Loran,” Jiang said breezily. He tried to skirt around Jun, but Jun stepped into his path.
“A master leaving the grounds alone with a student. I wonder what they’ll say.” Jun narrowed his eyes.
“Probably that a master of his rank and standing could do much better than dicking around with female students,” Jiang replied cheerfully, looking directly at Jun’s apprentices. Kureel looked outraged.
Jun scowled. “She doesn’t have permission to leave the grounds. She needs written approval from Jima.”
Jiang stretched out his right arm and shoved his sleeve up to the elbow. At first Rin thought that he might punch Jun, but Jiang simply raised his elbow to his mouth and made a loud farting noise.