Silence, as Kai and I stared at the spot where Jian had been. Silence, until Kai lunged forward, a full-throated scream bouncing off the courtyard walls as he slashed at the air. I jumped back, clutching my own blade as he raged. I’d never seen something so raw coming out of the demon-blooded disciple. Stories of bloodlust and massacres danced in my head. Briefly, I considered trying to call another Inner Disciple.

  But it had been made abundantly clear that, where murder was concerned, we Outers were on our own. Besides, it was possible Kai would attack an Inner in his rage. I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be ignored. To my surprise, I didn’t want to see him expelled. Or worse. I swallowed hard, gathered my courage and said, “So...I guess this means you don’t want to continue to train together?”

  To my surprise, Kai actually stopped. He didn’t turn to look at me, his shoulders hunched and his breathing hard. His hands were clutched so tightly around the hilts of his knives that his already pale skin had gone completely white at the knuckles I could see. “Don’t be stupid. I am just...frustrated with our teacher’s unexpected absence. It is...unprofessional. In my household, such desertion would be strongly punished.” Every sibilant consonant was lengthened.

  I made sure I was out of Kai’s lunging distance, even as I circled around to try and get a look at his face. “Brother Jian isn’t a hired tutor, Kai. And even if he was, you can’t just—”

  “I know that,” Kai twisted about to meet me face to face. The scales of his face had deepened in color, now a deep jade green that shimmered even under the dim, misty light. His black eyes were glowing, tiny sparks of deep red in the inky depths. He bared his teeth. “I am aware. Things are different here. That’s why I’m here. I wanted different. But, in practice, it’s an adjustment.”

  “Most things are. Adjustments. In practice.”

  He made a noise. It took a moment to recognize it as the same smothered amusement from before. The red flickered in his eyes and went out as his scales lost their sheen. “Apparently.” He slipped his knives back up his sleeves and I let out a relieved breath. He frowned. “You didn’t run away.”

  “When have I ever? Besides, I still need a sparring partner, and you’re the best one I’ve found.”

  “Obviously.” Despite the single arrogant word, I got the feeling I’d surprised him again.

  “So...we are keeping this up, then. Until Jian comes back, at least?”

  “I suppose.” His eyes narrowed. “Provided that you don’t take this as an excuse to do more ridiculous things. We will train properly. You cannot just do whatever strange idea comes to your mind.”

  I slipped my own knife back into its concealed place. “You think that when someone tries to really kill us, they’re going to follow perfect forms? We have to learn to be surprising, to know when to break the rules.”

  Kai snorted. “So says a person who doesn’t know enough about the rules to know when it is smart to break them.”

  “Okay, how about we split the difference?” The spots where his eyebrows would be on a full human rose. “One day doing it your way and I won’t complain. But one day doing it my way, and you don’t complain. Or throw a temper tantrum,” I added, with a meaningful nod.

  “It was not a temper tantrum,” he snapped. At my expression, he let out a tch and I knew we were okay again. Or as okay as Kai was ever likely to be. “Fine. Until I persuade you of the superior nature of my approach. It has served generations well.”

  “Generations, huh? You really are from a noble line?”

  “No,” Kai said, flatly. Whatever warmth that might have existed in his face was snuffed out. He turned to leave. Over his shoulder he said, “I am the blight on a noble line. I’ll expect you here tomorrow morning. I’ll have a routine prepared for us both.”

  Then he was gone, nearly as quickly as Jian, although his exit just involved ducking around the corner. I took a deep breath. “Well. That could have gone worse.”

  *

  Dinner was in an uproar. It wasn’t just Brother Jian who had mysteriously disappeared. Fully half of the disciples who had been instructing the Outers had shared the same cryptic message with their classes: sect business, entertain yourselves while we’re gone. Not all of them had disappeared the way Jian had, but none of them had been inclined to share any details.

  “Not even with me,” Zhuzhu said, banging his bowl on the table. “Am I not his favorite? He spared me not even a word. Only gave me a manual to study while he was gone.”

  Everyone at the table perked up and several disciples slid closer. Eyes gleamed with avarice. “What sort of manual? What techniques does it teach?”

  Zhuzhu puffed out his chest. “I haven’t looked at it. Reading manuals is not how I learn best. I require practice. To see strength! To learn from strength!”

  Unease flickered through me. I looked to Ju Jing, and found my own worry echoed in the slight downcast of his mouth. The other students looked simultaneously envious and resentful. Having someone receive a coveted manual of arts and dismiss the gift so lightly must have struck deep. The looks on the faces around us brought to mind Jian’s words and the reminder that, again, we Outers were on our own, to defend what we claimed or have it taken from us. I reached for his arm, tugging at the fabric. “You’ve won several challenges, so I’m not surprised someone gave you such a gift. Even if it’s not your preferred format, you’ll learn a lot by studying it.”

  He shook my arm off. “Bah. I have no patience for such things. It’s not how you build strength.”

  One of the other disciples said, flatly, “Then why don’t you give it to me? I’ll make use of it.”

  “No,” Zhuzhu said. He took a large mouthful of rice and chewed, serene in the face of the growing anger around him. “It’s mine. You can’t have it.” He grinned at them.

  “Zhuzhu…” I muttered, and reached again for his arm.

  I was too slow. The disciple who’d asked for the manual slammed his fists on the table and rose to his feet. “Han Fu! I challenge you. I’ve borne your arrogant boasting for too long. You pig! I’ll take the manual from you, and gift you humility in return!”

  Zhuzhu burst into loud, infectious laughter, but for once no one laughed with him. He rose to his feet slowly, his chest shaking with his mirth. There was something awe-inspiring about it, the deliberateness with which he unveiled his height and flexed the width of his shoulders. The disciple he faced swallowed hard, but to his credit, he didn’t back up or back down.

  Instead, he fell into a martial stance. “Don’t laugh at me!”

  Zhuzhu tilted his neck until there was a pop that the whole table could here and grinned. “Why not? You’re very entertaining. If you don’t like the laughter, then make me stop.”

  Maybe I was just a little slow, but that’s the moment, looking at his shining, merry eyes, that I got it. I groaned. Not quite under my breath, I said, “You’re doing this on purpose. At dinner!”

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  He winked. “Why should we not work up an appetite?” He raised his voice. “Hear you all! Zhuzhu and Laoshu shall take on all comers—”

  I yelped. “Hey, leave me out of this—”

  He boomed over my protest, “and should any of you force myself or the Mouse to concede, I will give you my precious manual!”

  Every pair of eyes (except Ju Jing’s, for obvious reasons) turned from Zhuzhu’s imposing and likely very difficult to defeat bulk to my...everything that was not imposing or difficult to defeat. “I didn’t agree to this!”

  The closest disciple considered that, then shrugged. “You’re not the one with the manual.” That was my warning; with a multiplied roar, a half-dozen disciples launched themselves across the table.

  I scrambled backwards. “Zhuzhu!”

  My only answer was laughter and a crash as he scooped up a bowl of hot rice and broke it over the head of the nearest disciple. He was clearly enjoying himself. Meanwhile I had more than enough to deal with.

  I ducked under a hamfisted swing from one disciple, but failed to see the kick from a second in time. It crashed into my ribs like a hammer. I tried to roll with it and got stomped in one knee for my trouble. I looked up, into a familiar face. “Peng Da!”

  He stomped at my knee again, his teeth bared. “How does it feel, Mouse? And my name is Sing Da!”

  I twisted on the floor, dodging blows from multiple directions, then flung myself at Sing Da (at least that mystery was solved). We collided, and I spun us around, holding him with one arm and using him as a shield against the others. Sometimes, being smaller than any other disciple had its benefits. I formed my other hand into a knife and drove it deep into his solar plexus. “And my name isn’t Mouse.”

  I shoved him away, sending him staggering into three other disciples as I dove for cover. Unfortunately, there was little to be found. It had become a brawl that was consuming the dining pavilion. I could see Zhuzhu, a head taller than almost anyone else, as he picked up an attacking disciple and simply swung them to crash into two others. They fell over like broken terracotta soldiers, but three more surged into the temporary gap. Zhuzhu looked delighted.

  And every disciple who didn’t fancy their chances against the massive Zhuzhu was coming after me. I grabbed bowls and cups, flinging them like knives at the oncoming horde as I retreated. It wasn’t a matter of standing up for myself; I could defeat one or two, maybe three, challengers in a row, I thought. But six? At once?

  It was impossible. Honor demanded I stand and fight, even against overwhelming odds. A challenge, sort of, had been issued after all. No one seemed to care that I hadn’t accepted it. But I was rapidly coming around to the manual’s views on the utility of honor when one was outmatched or outnumbered. And yet, I couldn’t just concede. There was no guarantee that would stop anything. At this point, the fight had taken on a life of its own and I could easily see a dozen men attempting to beat me into silence so each could claim I’d surrendered to them alone.

  Sing Da caught one of my flung bowls with one hand and flung it back. I hadn’t expected that; it struck me full in the face and I staggered, half-blind from the hot, sauced rice that splashed across my face and clung there. Frantically scraping at my eyes, I backpedaled, but I could hear them closing in.

  Then, just as I cleared my eyes enough to blink and see again, the roars of triumph before me became crashes and groans. I stared at the sight of the disciples rolling on the ground. Before them, between myself and them, a familiar figure. He tossed something back to me.

  I snatched the chopsticks—lacquered and finer than any others I’d touched—from the air. They weren’t exactly knives, but I still wasn’t ready to kill. “Kai?”

  “This is what happens when proper forms are discarded.”

  “Yeah, but—look out!”

  The attack came from the left, two disciples working in eerie sync. Familiar faces as well, and I barely blocked Koh the Younger’s blow in time. I struck back, using the doubled chopsticks like a narrow blade, forcing him back with a series of quick stabs. “Koh!”

  His grimace was sheepish, almost apologetic. “We haven’t impressed anyone. We need the manual.”

  Before I could respond, he and his brother spun like dancers, and now I was facing Koh the Older. His massive fists swept my attempted blows away like a fan sweeps away buzzing flies. He didn’t bother to talk; his face bore no emotion except concentration as he tried to grab me and haul me close where his greater strength and bulk would no doubt wring a surrender from me in moments.

  I was faster, but Koh the Older had a hide like iron. I ducked under his blows and delivered rapid stabs to his kidneys and stomach. He just grunted. I didn’t even feel the flesh flinch under the wood. He pivoted and I rolled back from a strike that made the air whistle. I spared a glance for Kai. To my shock, Koh the Younger was holding his own, retreating to the defensive bulwark that was his brother when Kai got aggressive, then darting forward to strike when he overextended.

  It was similar to the style I was building. But more polished, and the Kohs worked together beautifully, each one covering the other’s weaknesses. When I tried to circle to where the Older would be vulnerable, the Younger fended me off while weaving around his brother to stay ahead of Kai’s attacks. They knew each other’s movements, while Kai and I…

  We were each fighting alone. Sure, we were on the same side (probably), and we’d trained together, but always as opposing factors. I looked beyond them, and saw hungry eyes everywhere. Fewer disciples were willing to leap in with Kai in the mix, but I knew that even if we beat the Kohs, it wouldn’t be the kind of victory that would leave us with any strength. Like scavengers, the rest would fall upon us.

  My pride rebelled at what I was thinking. But there was honor and displaying power, and then there was strategy. Another blow from the Older was only a glancing touch, but it staggered me. Sour defeat coated my tongue, thick enough that I almost choked on it. I dodged the Older’s next strike then threw myself inside his guard.

  Instead of attacking, I lifted my chopsticks. “I surrender. But,” I nodded to the others as his eyes widened, “it’s only a victory if you can keep me at the end, I think.”

  Koh the Older, I had occasionally thought, might have been almost as large as Zhuzhu, but he was a great deal faster on the uptake. He saw what I meant instantly. He barked a curt instruction at his brother; the Younger broke off, pivoted, and punched the nearest disciple in the face, not even questioning the command. The Older looked down on me with a frown. “No tricks.”

  “My word on it,” I promised. As I shamelessly hid behind his bulk I added, “It’s not even my manual.”

  Koh only grunted, spinning with a wide punch that hit two more disciples. “The manual is mine,” he shouted. Cries of protest rose from a dozen throats, and now there was a moment of breathing space.

  Kai sidled up, frowning. “We could have won.” A pause. “I could have won.”

  Disciples tried to circle around the Kohs and attack from our flanks. We put our backs to the Older and beat them away. “Maybe. Maybe them. But everyone?”

  “Tch.”

  “You didn’t surrender. I made the call, so you can keep fighting as much as you like!”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” He jammed his fingers into a disciple’s throat. “Watch your right.”

  I dropped and swept the attacker’s legs from under him. He fell backwards, and Koh the Older kicked him into the crowd.

  Together, the four of us held until disciples staggered away in all directions, defeated and exhausted. Despite our best efforts, blows had gotten through. My ribs, shoulders, and face ached, and when I could finally look again, someone had broken Koh the Younger’s nose. It was swelling like a purple plum, but he waved off my look of concern, still appearing shamefaced about the whole affair.

  Koh the Older was more practical. He put one giant hand on my shoulder and walked us forward, stepping over the disciples who had been knocked cold, or who just were too battered to pull themselves back to their feet. No one appeared dead, to my relief. Not even around Zhuzhu, who was sitting on the dinner table, panting like an excited dog, surrounded by groaning bodies. His face was lumpy with blows, but it did nothing to dim his good cheer.

  Not even when he saw us approach. “Koh! What have we here?”

  “Han Fu,” was Koh’s considerably less enthusiastic reply. “Zhou Hou has conceded to me. I claim the prize.”

  “Hmm.” Zhuzhu’s gaze swept me from top to bottom, his eyes narrowed. “Not a single broken limb. Did you give up too soon, Laoshu?” Something glinted in his expression, more ruthless than joviality.

  I’d thought, before, that he’d planned to taunt the disciples into attacking him. Now I was forced to contemplate that, far from an impulsive act, the targeting of me might have been just as planned, as well. I lifted my chin. “I put up a pretty good fight. Koh won fair and square.”

  Zhuzhu beamed, and the hint of ruthlessness was swept away. He bounced from the table and clapped Koh on both shoulders with enthusiasm. “Wonderful! If anyone was able to best us, I had hoped it would be you. Such strength! We must spar more often, you and I.” He reached into his rather battered sect uniform, and brought out a scroll. Despite the violence, it appeared untouched. He offered it to Koh. “Become stronger still. I look forward to seeing it.”

  I want to figure out what makes them strong, and take it. Until I’m the strongest one there is. The words echoed down the corridor of my memory as I watched Koh the Older take the manual under Zhuzhu’s eager gaze.