The Initiate Brother Duology Read Online Free Page A

sight,” he whispered. “Who could this child have been?”
    Beyond the courtyard wall, of white plaster and wood, he could see Sister Morima being escorted down to the waiting ship. She moved with a light step for one so large of frame. The woman was far more clever than he had given her credit for. He would have to be more careful in the future—far more careful.
    He had no intention of letting her, or anyone else, see the scrolls. Not now, not in a hundred years. The matter was no longer within his control. He felt his body slump, ever so slightly, and he fought this sign of resignation. How could this have happened? he wondered for the ten thousandth time. Every precaution had been taken. Every precaution! But it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered. The scrolls were gone. Stolen from under the sleepless eye of the Sacred Guard of Jinjoh Monastery.
    *   *   *
    The twenty junior Initiates, including one senior Neophyte, came to the end of the seventh closure and stopped, absolutely motionless, in the ready position. The senior chi quan instructor stood looking at the students before him, all of them barefoot and stripped to the waist. When none of them wavered in their stance, he nodded, satisfied.
    “Take a partner,” he said quietly. “We will spar.”
    The boys broke into pairs and resumed the ready position.
    “Shuyun-sum,” the instructor beckoned. “You have never sparred?”
    “No, Brother Sotura, senior Neophytes only push-hands.”
    The instructor seemed to consider for a moment. “You will learn soon enough. Today we will both watch. Begin!”
    Sotura walked among the combatants, stopping to watch each pair. The sparring started slowly, following the stylized movements of the form and then gained momentum until all movements became a blur, as each student sought a point of resistance against which he could push or to which he could deliver a blow.
    Shuyun began to stretch his time sense, practicing chi ten to allow him to analyze the sparring as it increased in speed. The motions of the combatants became fluid and endless, each movement leading into the next without hesitation.
    Brother Sotura held up his hands suddenly. “Cease!” he ordered, and walked to a position in front of the class. The silence was perfect.
    “I see that some of you still believe that you can gain an advantage by using bone and muscle. Perhaps you secretly wish to be kick boxers?
    “To move within the form is not enough. You must become insubstantial. No one can kick the wind. No one can push water. It is of no value to make even the most perfect soft-fist if, at the moment of impact, you tighten the muscles. Chi is the source of all of your strength—direct it into your hand as it is needed. Remember that you hold a caterpillar in your curled fist. Its hairs tickle your palm.” The monk paused as a tiny, blue butterfly drifted by and settled on Shuyun’s shoulder. The instructor smiled. “I will demonstrate.”
    He took a step forward and reached out to Shuyun, gently removing the butterfly from his shoulder. Closing his hand over the insect, the instructor moved to the wooden gate that led into a walled garden. Pausing for a split second to take a stance, the monk suddenly drove his hand through one of the gate’s thick planks, which splintered and broke with a loud
crack.
Pivoting gracefully, Brother Sotura held his hand out to the class—a perfect soft-fist—and then released the butterfly, unharmed, into the air. All of the class knelt and touched their heads to the stones.
    “That will be enough for now. Go and meditate upon chi. Try to become a breeze so soft that even a butterfly would be unable to perch on your will.”
    Shuyun opened the gate with its broken board and went into the large garden beyond, a garden known for its many paths and private bowers overlooking the island and the sea. He found a nook formed by flowering rhododendrons and settled cross-legged onto a flat stone. For a moment he