OK, this is kind of a dead zone. I want to get over this part to where it gets interesting. heh heh… Oh, and this is in no way as morbid as TT part2, so you can relax. Um, what Kel's teacher and what Kel says in Yamani is complete nonsense, so don't try to look it up in a dictionary or something. On we go…
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Chapter 2: Regrets
Why, why, why did I ever do this, Kel thought. No one in her right mind would ever go to Shang.
Keladry of Mindelan had been at the Shang School for a week and she hated it already. They hadn't done the merest leg-stretch in all the time she had been here. They had given a short speech, and then came the chores. Chores, chores, chores. Endless, hateful, chores.
Whoever thought that suffering built character ought to be dumped in the lake, Kel moped. On and on an on, dishwashing, scrubbing floors, polishing anything that could possibly be polished. Why don't they just get servants, for crying out loud! I want to be a fighter, not a scullery maid! And the worst thing was that if you ever complained, the adult would raise an eyebrow and suggest to the Head that maybe so-and-so would like to clean out the privy. It was hell.
Finally, it seemed as if Kel's prayers were answered. Kind of. After nearly a month of this hateful work, all the "new kids", which was four in total, were called down to the exercises court. Kel practically pranced down the stairs.
"Now," said the first-years master, "Today you begin your training. If anybody feels they can't take it, this is your last chance to turn back."
Silence. "Alright. I'm Nhasch Dastkun, the Wolverine. And believe me, after five minutes on the courts, you will agree about the choosing of my title. If you want to learn something new, then you have to get the previous move perfect! You will continue your daily chores-"
There was a chorus of moans, which Nhasch pretended not to hear. "-until this time, when you will come down here to practice. Clear?"
All heads nodded. Thus began the daily routines. They started with stretching. All sorts. It seemed as if there were six different stretches for every muscle in the body. The stretches were almost as bad as the chores, but Kel resigned herself to it. Splits, backbreaking bends, touching your toes without bending your knees. They were all young, so it wasn't to hard, but it made you sore.
I swear, the Wolverine must've been an army drill coach. Then, after about three months of exhausting days, they started a new type of lesson.
"Languages," said the Servants Head. Despite all students doing massive amounts of chores, there were quite a few servants around. She bustled them off to a new classroom, where they waited for the teacher. The Language teacher was the oldest person that Kel had ever seen. Covered in piles of wrinkles, he looked rather like a decrepit elephant. His mind, though, was as sharp as a needle, quick to catch any student not paying attention. They sat on cushions in a semi-circle around the teacher, whose name was Bandaw Gan, the Shang Bear. He was the oldest Shang living, and seeing as most Shangs didn't live to be near as old as he looked, his age was quite a feat.
"Now, you little nips. Here you are going to learn languages. Every language that is spoken in all the eastern lands, you'd better speak fluently if you want to speak at all. After a week of me coaching you rips on a language, you will speak nothing but that one language. You here all speak Common, which is convenient, but not very enlightening. And since Shang is a Yamani art, the first language you will learn will be Yamani. Can any of you speak halfway decent Yamani?"
Kel and some other boy put their hands up. The Bear pointed one knarled finger at Kel.
"Umm…" she said meekly, "I can say a bit in Yamani…"
He said something unintelligible. She just stared.
He sighed. "Hena sharo tas? (how are you).
She replied, "Mes shera kandl, bes-tas," (I am fine, thank you).
"You know the basics," he growled. "You- Pertro. What do you know?"
The boy said something even more impossible than what Bandaw had said to Kel. The Bear replied just the same.
"My parents are Yamani," he explained, with a thick accent. "We move to Tortall year before I came, Yamani is first language."
"You may be good at Yamani but you sure can't speak Common," a girl muttered. Kel glared at her.
"Now," he barked, "the first thing you learn in this class is to be polite. Repeat after me: loray bes-tas. Please, thank you. One, two…"
Before Kel left Shang she learned Yamani, K'miri, Doi, High Gallan, Auld Tongue, and more than she could name without getting a headache. After Languages there was History, Maths, Sciences, Politics (gack) and Etiquette (even worse).
Finally, after a year of cramming her brain, when she was about halfway through rudimentary Doi, they finally started real fighting. Oh, it was simpler than breathing, but the fall signaled a new beginning. "Slap the ground, do it fast, do it right or you'll bruise your ass" was a common chant among the students. It was true. Perfection, perfection, you had to achieve perfection if you wanted to learn anything new. Then armblock1 along with simplepunch1 (as they were dubbed) and endless, endless repetition. More than once she considered running off into the woods and being a hermit, but it never quite won her over. Eventually she just surrendered to bruises and cuts and other nasty things best not described.
Kel and her yearmates, Pertro, Renna, and Xenophanes, got along okay, except for Renna, who was a bit of a bitch. Bit? That's a major understatement… It seemed as if Renna's life goal was to be the most disagreeable person she could possibly be. And she was good at it. Renna was originally from Tyra, from some rich merchant's family that treated her like a queen. She was always saying that the real power in Tyra was from the merchants, and that her father sold the finest silks in the world to nobles and kings. When they were young, Renna stuck to little annoyances, and she was basically a brat. The teachers saw this, and tried to stop it while they could, but to no avail. By the time Renna was ten, she was pulling amazingly cunning and malicious practical jokes. By the time she was fourteen, she had gotten even smarter. She knew every single one of Kel's pressure points, and played with them. She was also exceptionally good at forging handwriting.
On Kel's tenth year, when she was fourteen, Renna pulled the worst trick ever.
Renna Tlarin snickered to herself, reveling in the brilliance of her latest ploy. She didn't hate Kel, exactly, she was just so easy to pull tricks on. She couldn't help herself. Signing the forged letter with a flourish, Renna opened the door of her hideout a crack before tiptoeing through the thin forest and stealing across the courts. If any of the masters caught her at this, she'd be flayed, but if she succeeded… This one was brilliant. Simply brilliant.
She could never work her havoc in the bunker, under the eyes of her yearmates, but she had a special place of her own. She had found it four, maybe five years ago, completely by accident. It was in the sparse forest around the School, almost totally hidden by protective spells. But once you found it, you could find your way back again, back to the little hut with nothing more than a bed and a writing desk.
Silently opening the front double doors, Renna made her way up the stairway to the twelve-year bunker. Opening the door, she whispered to the Crooked God for luck as she laid the letter under the pillow of one of the sleeping forms. Brilliant! Shutting the door behind her, she held back hysterical giggles as she crept into her bunker, having naughty dreams of her wonderful schemes.
Naughty dreams
Brilliant schemes
Under the pillow
Mischief does billow
Something slips?
A little smile upon my lips.
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How's that, huh? I love making up wicked jokes that people play on each other, I suppose that's pretty evident in Themma's Escapades. Remember… R/R!