The Karasor Page 6

  “On a ranger ship,” said Nayaika, “Battles are normally won or lost long before the ship is boarded. If our enemy is surprised, we press home our attack and defeat them with cannon and torpedo. If we are attacked, we will retreat rather than try and win by attrition. If we are boarded, pistols and grenades are generally the weapons we use to defend the ship. The corridors are narrow and the ceilings are low so spears and swords are of little use except as a last resort. The warriors are taught sword-craft to help them learn discipline. Does any of this surprise you, Narikin?”

  “No,” said Narikin, “It’s only logical.”

  “My purpose is not to train you in martial techniques so you can use them in a fight but to build up your confidence and make you stronger.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I’m not sure but when you talked about thrashing me with a spear I think you came closer to what I imagined.”

  Nayaika smiled. “Do you do any physical exercise?”

  “I walk my dog around the island, some gardening and I have a dancing lesson once a week.”

  “Dancing...?”

  “My teacher says it’s good for my posture.”

  Nayaika thought for a moment, a small frown crossing his face like a cloud. “Do you know the movements to the ‘Dance that Greets the Sunrise’?”

  “Yes...”

  “Show me...”

  Narikin stood up and tried to remember the moves in the right sequence: the sweeping of the arms to banish the night, the raising of the hands to hold the sun, the birdsong and the opening of the buds. He could hear Amah’s voice calling out the names of each part. When the dance had become familiar to him, they had practised together, with the sounds of the wind-chimes, the sea and the trees in the background.

  “Always listen to the world around you,” she used to say before they started. “Be mindful of the tiniest leaf and insect while you move; keep your thoughts open and let your body flow. Do not think about the dance; focus on the energy and harmony of Urim, the Spirit of Evigone...”

  She would quiz him afterwards on what he had heard and he would tell her: “The blue birds nesting in the pine tree,” or “my sisters, playing with their dolls on the lawn.” Each time, she asked for more and more details until he found he could recall an entire symphony of sounds.

  “Very good,” she would say. “And if we hear your father’s footsteps…?”

  “We sit down and pretend to be bored,” he would laugh.

  The whole sequence took nearly five minutes and all the while Nayaika kept silent. Narikin listened to the noises in the training hall, just as Amah had taught him. He shut his eyes and counted the numbers of men around him. He knew where Fengtai was training and heard when Captain Subarsi entered the hall.

  When he was finished, he turned to face Nayaika again.

  “Very good,” said the lieutenant. “But why did you close your eyes?”

  “I was listening; it was a game we played when I was dancing with my teacher.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “There are twenty-three men on my right, practising with swords. Fengtai is on my left in a group of ten. Captain Subarsi is talking to an instructor by the door. Behind me, somebody dropped their spear and was told off for being clumsy. Behind you, a group has finished for the day and is talking about going to the mess-hall…”

  Nayaika nodded, “Very interesting,” he said. “Do you know the ‘Dance of the Five Moons of Pentī’?”

  “I do,” Narikin admitted, “But it won’t be as graceful as my sisters can do it; they use ribbons and fans…”

  “I don’t think we have any ribbons or fans but show me anyway.”

  It was a complicated dance and as the name suggested, it came in five parts. Normally, his sisters performed one element each. Amah thought it would be fun to teach him, “But do not let your father see you practising,” she had warned. “I am sure he would be very angry to see his son dancing a woman’s dance.”

  “I won’t,” he had promised.

  Knowing it was meant to entertain males rather than be danced by them, had made him feel uncomfortable. There were connotations of tea houses and low-born women he couldn’t quite escape. His sisters had never performed the dance in front of their father. “Then why have they been taught it?” he had asked Amah.

  “It is for their future husbands,” she had winked. But he hadn’t understood.

  The memories came back to him and he could feel his face was hot from more than the exercise. He made several mistakes but he managed to get to the end without falling over or putting his hand through one of the paper screens.

  “I expect you’re wondering why she taught me the ‘Five Moons’,” he said when he was finished.

  But Nayaika shook his head. In the corner, among the wooden training swords and spears, he picked up a small drum and a stick. “I would like you to do it again, but this time faster. I will keep time on this drum.”

  Narikin, not sure what the point was, obliged never-the-less. The drum helped him to space out his movements in an orderly fashion and this time he made no mistakes at all.

  “Again, faster,” said Nayaika.

  Now he had been through the dance twice, he began to remember some of the refinements Amah had taught him; little twists of the hands, the position of his head when coming out of a leap, and the angle of his feet. His sisters were still better at the graceful parts, but he didn’t think he was doing too badly.

  When he was finished, Nayaika put the drum back in the corner. Next, he picked up a wooden sword and handed it to Narikin. “I want you to do it again while you hold this,” he said. “Try and keep the rhythm in your head.”

  The sword might have been made of wood but it still felt heavy. He did his best, sweeping the blade around with a satisfying swish, but after a short while his arm began to ache and he was frightened the sword would slip out of his fingers.

  He managed to get to the end without dropping it but he wasn’t proud of his achievement. “I’m sorry - that must have looked very clumsy to you…”

  “It was interesting,” said Nayaika, taking the sword away again. “Do you know the ‘Flag Dance of Iro’?”

  “I do,” said Narikin, feeling more comfortable. “Though I never did it in a group, like it should be performed.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Nayaika went to the corner and brought him a spear, “Show me...”

  Narikin did as he was told. Again, he could almost hear his sisters giggling at him as the spear, which was even heavier than the sword, swept around his body and threatened to shoot off across the room as he thrust it forward, sideways or back.

  Amah had given him a broom handle with a piece of ribbon attached to the end. “Watch how the pennant flows with the motions of the air,” she had told him. “Make it flow straight as you move; that is how the flag dancers of Iro do it.”

  Narikin tried to imagine the broom and the ribbon rather than the heavy spear. It was killing every part of his arms and back. He also wished the training room was less stuffy and more like the open veranda where Amah used to teach him, with the view of the ocean and the islands of the archipelago in the background.

  He was glad when he was finished.

  Nayaika took the spear away. “Who is this teacher you speak of?” he asked.

  “Amah,” Narikin replied.

  “And she taught you these moves...?”

  “Yes, and the ‘Dance of the Rings of Pentī’ and the ‘Dance of the Fish Leaping’. I suppose she must have taught me dozens but the ‘Dance that Greets the Sunrise’ was always my favourite.”

  Puzzled, Nayaika asked, “Who is her father?”

  “His name is Haku; he is the captain of my father’s house guards.”

  “I know him,” said the lieutenant, nodding as though some kind of understanding had been reached.

  “Sometimes, she took me to dance for him. He was a very
good dancer too and made suggestions for improving my technique. I suppose I must have been very bad because I kicked him in the chest and we never practised together again.”

  “Did you really?” Nayaika looked surprised. “Do you remember what you did?”

  “It was the ‘Dance of the Fish Leaping’ and I got too close to him when I jumped.”

  Nayaika smiled. “Let us go back to the ‘Dance that Greets the Sunrise’…” He put the spear away and then stood in front of Narikin. “As soon as I move, I want you to do the ‘Mist Rolling Away’ and the ‘Rays Striking the Rocks’. Don’t think about them; just complete the actions as you have been taught.”

  “Okay,” said Narikin, nervously. Before he could blink, Nayaika went to strike him and Narikin reacted with the moves of the dance.

  To his utter astonishment, he knocked Nayaika’s arm out the way, shoved the lieutenant across the mat and he fell onto his back.

  “By the lords, I’m so sorry…” he said, running towards the master to help him up.

  But Nayaika was laughing. In fact, he was laughing so hard, silhouettes began to appear on the other side of the paper screen as people in the training hall began to wonder what was going on.

  The doors slid open and Subarsi entered, “Is everything all right, Nayaika?”

  Nayaika got to his feet and bowed to the captain, “I have made an interesting discovery; watch this...” He turned back to his student. “Narikin, every movement I make I want you to counter with an aspect of the dance. Again, try not to think about your actions but let your instincts do what seems appropriate, do you understand?”

  Narikin nodded even though he didn’t. He had a horrible feeling his luck had just run out.

  Subarsi opened the screen wide and Narikin could see Fengtai and the other young recruits watching, puzzled. Before he could feel self-conscious, Nayaika crossed the mat and tried to strike him.

  The silence in the hall was terrible. Narikin watched as Nayaika spun away from him and landed on his back again. The master rolled onto his feet and this time leapt like a fish-eagle across the mat. “The Sun Completes the Day,” Narikin murmured. He caught Nayaika’s foot in both his hands and sent him head-over-heels, turning a full somersault to land on his feet again.

  “Remarkable,” said Captain Subarsi. “But how can this be? His father told us he has not received a day’s training in his life…?”

  “Tell him, Prince Narikin,” said Nayaika.

  “My Amah taught me dancing,” said Narikin, “That’s all; I didn’t know I could do any of this...”

  “Dancing…?” said Subarsi. “But your movements are perfect…”

  “Do you know who her father was?” said Nayaika. “Can you guess?”

  Subarsi shook his head, “I would say she was taught by Captain Haku; I can see his refinements of the Rising Sun technique, but I have never heard him taking any students, let alone his daughter…”

  “It is the same,” said Nayaika. “He taught her and she taught our prince, in secret.”

  Subarsi smiled and nodded, asked, “How many years have you been ‘dancing’?”

  “All my life,” Narikin replied. “She said it would make me more proficient at calligraphy, poetry and motion. She didn’t tell me I was learning martial arts...”

  “If your father had found out he would have been furious and dismissed her instantly.”

  “I don’t want her to get into trouble…”

  “It is a serious breach of protocol,” Subarsi admitted. “But very welcome; show us some more...”

  “Let us do the ‘Five Moons’ together,” said Nayaika.

  Narikin almost said ‘do we have to?’ It was humiliating enough to know the dance was some kind of sexual ritual let alone have to perform it in front of the captain.

  Aware his student was growing tired, Nayaika brought two wooden tantō-blades from the rack, rather than the long swords, and handed one to him. The knives were shorter and lighter. He showed Narikin how to hold them.

  “Do the movements exactly as you have been taught,” he said. “Or one of us will go to bed rather more bruised than we would wish.”

  Narikin thought it was likely to be him but bowed and said nothing. Captain Subarsi picked up the drum and began to beat time.

  They went through the dance together and as the blades clashed in perfect synchronisation, he began to realise the women performed the ‘Five Moons’ as a tribute to their husbands, like the rituals that gave thanks for the harvest or for the blossoms that would mean fruit in the autumn. There was nothing ‘soft’ or ‘gentle’ about them after all.

  He thought about the other dances too. The ‘Dance that Greets the Sunrise’ was for fighting without a weapon, like the ‘Fish Leaping’ or the ‘Rings of Pentī’ that could trip and topple an opponent. The ‘Flag Dance’ must have had its roots in infantry training. ‘The Five Moons’ was obviously meant for sword practice. Amah had taught him every technique of martial arts and he had believed it was just a silly bit of dancing. He felt humiliated for not recognising the actions for what they were.

  They finished the sequence and the audience clapped enthusiastically, including Subarsi. “That was beautiful to watch,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t be able to do it with a proper sword,” Narikin admitted. “It would be too heavy for me to hold.” Even the tantō-blade was making his wrist ache.

  Nayaika took the knives back to the rack and then bowed to his opponent. “When it comes to the moves, there is nothing I can teach that you don’t already know.”

  “Oh...” he glanced at the faces of the recruits watching quietly around the edge of the room. He was so stunned he had to sit down. “It was just dancing,” he repeated. “My father told me martial arts are not fitting for a prince, even though I asked him for lessons. I had no idea Amah was teaching me such skills. I had no idea she even knew them herself.”

  “A wise woman,” said Subarsi. “Brave too; to risk the anger of the Shōgun so his son could be prepared for any kind of danger. She must care for you very much.”

  “That’s why I tried so hard,” he admitted.

  “Indeed,” said Nayaika. “And you have, without doubt, become very skilled. I admit I told you which moves to make but you executed them perfectly. We will practise together so you will know when to use them but I’m pleased to know we won’t be starting from the bottom.”

  Subarsi agreed, “Perhaps you would be kind enough to share some of your knowledge with the other recruits.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow,” said Narikin. “Right now, I feel a little over-whelmed.”

  “No more ‘training’ today,” Nayaika smiled.

  “Go and relax,” Subarsi added. “You have surprised us all, Prince Narikin.”

  Narikin got to his feet and bowed to both the captain and his lieutenant. Then he joined Fengtai and they walked out of the hall together. The other recruits bowed as they went past. “Our Prince,” they said, proudly.

  Embarrassed, he bowed back to them and was glad when they were alone in the corridor outside. He wasn’t used to being ‘admired’. Mocked or ignored perhaps, but not looked at as though he was special, which he wasn’t, of course.

  “That was amazing,” laughed his friend. “Why didn’t you tell me you already knew how to fight?”

  “I thought I didn’t - I feel a bit of a fool for not realising sooner.”

  “Don’t be ashamed; you have the skills and that’s what’s important.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” And then he laughed, “I’m glad I never refused to do as Amah told me; if she’d wanted to, she could have knocked me down with her little finger.”

  6 – Subarsi’s logbooks

  After his success in the dojo, everything seemed to slide downhill. Sometimes quite literally. Over the next week, his body was subjected to extremes of pain and suffering that he never thought possible without dying at the end. Sometimes he really thought he was dead and sometimes he just wished he wa
s.

  Every morning began with half an hour of static exercises in the corridor outside their cabin. Then there was a run through the corridors of the Kyzylagash, along with the other recruits; thundering up the stairs, across the ship, down more stairs, and finally back to their cabin again. Even though the distance was less than two miles, Narikin had never run anywhere in his life and after the initial shock he decided he never wanted to again. But he didn’t have a choice and suffered the indignity of being the last to finish every day.

  In the training hall, there were more exercises, involving weights, doing push-ups and sit-ups and other activities he found almost impossible. He had to reduce the number of discs on the barbells until only the tiniest were left and after three push-ups, Narikin thought his arms were going to break. When he tried to do sit-ups, Fengtai had to hold his feet down but he could barely manage a dozen before his stomach refused to do any more.

  “It will get easier,” Fengtai kept saying.

  Narikin’s face was red from more than the exercise. “This is so embarrassing,” he kept saying angrily. “There should have been a gymnasium in the palace so I could exercise daily and not let my body atrophy to this pathetic extent. There are sticks in the garden with more muscles than me. I am so ashamed…”

  After his out-burst, he threw his towel at the weights and was close to tears. A small crowd gathered. By now, the news the son of the Shōgun was on board had reached almost every crewman. They were curious. They stood around the mat and whispered to each other as Narikin lay on his back and tried to do another sit-up. He got his shoulders off the floor and was about to collapse again when somebody said, “You can do it, Prince.” Several others joined in. Narikin gritted his teeth and through the screaming pain, managed to force his body up. The crowd clapped enthusiastically.

  The noise attracted the attention of the training masters and the recruits were ordered back to their mats. “That wasn’t too humiliating,” said Narikin sarcastically. “Now the whole ship will know the future of the clan is in the hands of a weakling.”