A/N are at the end of the chapter.

Chapter IV:

Meetings in Xian

Ivan threw clothes, food, and anything else he thought he might need into his bag with ardent enthusiasm. He was going to Xian, then to Tolbi! Master Hammet was taking him! He looked over the bag and figured that something that full couldn't be missing anything absolutely vital. Pulling on his coat and shoes, he dashed out the door of his room, skidding on the polished wood of the hallway when he remembered his bag and turned around to scoop it up off the floor. Pausing only to hang it on his shoulders, he ran out of the palace, leaving a wake of innocent, startled passers-by behind him

Hammet barely managed to get out of the way himself as Ivan threw his bag into the wagon, clambered up into the cloth-covered structure himself, and sat in the shadowed interior of the vehicle, twitching a foot excitedly. Hammet shook his head. He hadn't expected quite this much enthusiasm from the boy, he'd just thought it would be a good idea to get him out of Kalay, get him used to traveling before he had to traipse all over the world. Xian wasn't that big of a town; he hoped Ivan wouldn't be disappointed by it. Ivan, however, seemed to think it was heaven, the way he was twitching all over, a rare sign of excitement in him. Had Maeve let him have sugar? He hoped –fervently– that she hadn't. Ivan didn't get hyper easily, but he didn't want any catalysts in the boy's system today.

"You don't mind riding in the back, do you? It's going to be a long ride, and you will be more comfortable in here. There are blankets in that box, and pillows, if you get tired. The water and food are in that bag." Ivan shook his head, his messy blond hair flying in all directions.

"No, I don't mind. How long will it be to get there?"

"Two or three days, depending on the weather."

"Do they really fight without any weapons and eat with sticks?" Oh great. Here came the questions. Hammet, Layana, and everyone else in the palace was inundated with them daily. At least the fact that the boy asked ten questions a day–one for every year of his life–meant that he wasn't reading their minds to get the answers. He wondered if being a Jupiter Adept was what made him so curious, or if he would have been curious anyway. The 'curious, studious, stay-indoors-with-books' stereotype fitted him, anyway, although most seemed to sense there was more to him than that. Ivan was smaller than average for a boy of ten, with chin-length dirty-blond hair and amethyst-colored eyes. Purple was, strangely, his favorite color, one of many things he liked that were odd, to one degree or another. At a low degree of oddness was his affinity for animal companionship over human company to the point of unsociability, although Hammet knew it may well have been the other way round. Ivan wasn't the most popular person in Kalay, unless he had agreed to be the target in all those games of 'human pinata.'

At the other end of the oddness scale was the boy's liking for storms, especially those with lightning and thunder. Layana had gone into his room to comfort him one particularly stormy night, certain he'd be terrified, and she'd found him halfway out his window, complaining –to a cat!– that the palace guard wouldn't let him outside. Oddness of that sort bordered on creepy. No, not bordered. It invaded creepy. It invaded it with standards of war and giant siege engines.

But now he was in 'I don't know this so it must be interesting' mode, asking question after question after question after question about Xian. Did they really speak a different language? Did Hammet speak it, or did they speak Common too? Did Hammet think the villagers would teach him (Ivan) their language? How hot was the Lamakan, really? Were there really monks near Xian that worshipped llamas? What were llamas? Would he see one? Would he see a silkworm? Could he learn their fighting style in the school? How did their eating-sticks work? Would he have to use them or did they have forks and spoons in Xian? Did they really let you drink soup out of the bowl there? You can't eat soup with sticks, after all. Did they–

Hammet took his seat on the horse drawing the wagon as Bunza rode up on his own horse, a skewbald –dun and white– mare called Patch. Bunza wasn't very comfortable around Ivan, and he was also taking the easy way out of all the questions. The endless questions, about sticks, and silkworms, and llamas. Llamas. Why did the boy care about a bunch of llamas? He was going to kill the monk that named that temple.

Hammet nodded to Bunza, and Bunza nodded back. "All ready, Hammet. Boy in?" Hammet nodded, and nudged his horse, a strawberry roan mare named Ana, with his heels.

"Walk, now," he whispered. Ana's ears flicked back for a moment; she'd heard him. She pulled against the harness experimentally and, with a satisfied snort, began walking down the trail, ears pricked and nostrils flared for any sign of danger in the area. Hammet had once wondered why horses were always so on-edge, until he'd wondered it out loud in front of Ivan. Talking to animals was another thing that bordered on creepy. Not the talking part, the getting answers part. It was just not…well, Ivan wasn't normal himself, so Hammet couldn't fault him. He was still asking question after question, and Hammet was beginning to block them out. Ivan was used to that by now, anyway. Hammet was sure Ivan understood that Hammet didn't know most of the answers to the questions he asked (and he didn't care about over half of those answers either), Ivan just liked to ask them and think about the answers himself. So he was going to do that, until he got bored of asking questions and not getting answers. Which would happen in about an hour.

Presently, although after a longer stretch of time than Hammet had believed it would, Ivan did indeed shut up. Things were peaceful for about, oh, ten minutes. The sun was high overhead, with no clouds in sight, there was a fresh breeze stopping him from becoming too hot, the surrounding area was peaceful and quiet… The breeze was getting a bit strong, admittedly, it was going right down the back of his neck…

A small bottle hit him on the head, having rocketed out of the back of the caravan. Hammet whirled around in his seat and confronted his passenger. The entire back of the caravan was messy; everything that wasn't stocked with heavy goods like water or metal had shifted position drastically. There was a small, circular, irregular depression in the wood in front of Ivan, as if the wood had been gouged out by something. Ivan himself was staring, wide-eyed, at Hammet, wearing the expression that means someone is trying to decide which option is more incriminating: saying it wasn't them (always a dead giveaway) or staying silent when alone in the midst of obvious wrongdoing. Hammet glared at him, trying to make sense of the situation, before remembering what the boy's sister had said about controlling whirlwinds. He turned back to the horse and sighed, rubbing his sore head.

It was going to be the longest trip to Xian he'd ever made in his life.

Ivan woke up on the third morning of their trip surrounded by huge cliffs, a welcome change from the Lamakan's stifling heat. They towered above him (as did most other things, admittedly, but that was entirely beside the point), grey and brown and green, and, here and there, purple; Ivan had never seen something as big and impressive in his life. It was a fabulous start to the Trip To Xian… but he also had a bad feeling in his stomach whenever he looked up at them. A bad feeling like his stomach was full of squirmy bugs, and his head began to hurt, too.

Maybe he was hungry. Or sick. He disappeared into the wagon, trying very hard not to look at the cliffs. Their presence outside still scared him deep down, and he shivered until they came out of the pass through the mountains. They were in Xian an hour after that.

It was as wonderful as Ivan had imagined; it wasn't Kalay. Kalay was very nice and all, but one got sick of it after six consecutive years in it, so far as he remembered. He was pretty sure he'd been in it before that, but he couldn't remember any further back than being three. Xian, now…Xian was a wonder. There was a river running through it, and the town seemed almost to have been constructed around the river, twisting and bending with it, delicate-looking wood bridges connecting its banks in places. To one side, verdant and lush, the mulberry orchard exuded a sense of deep contentment. A young man in a white shirt and trousers practiced kicks against a tree log on a stump; two more in similar clothes, a man and a woman, sparred in hand-to-hand combat beside a large, single-storey building. Hammet dismounted and came to stand beside Ivan.

"You like it?" he asked, seeming to stifle a yawn. Ivan nodded furiously. He loved it. It was the most wonderful place he'd ever seen.

Hammet smiled. "Good. You have the rest of the day to yourself; I will be in the inn, sleeping. I won't do anything until tomorrow, and I'd appreciate help then for a while. Go explore if you like," he told Ivan, although he hardly needed telling. He rattled off a 'yes, master', barely listening. He was going to go and explore, indeed! Only, he couldn't decide what to explore first. He decided on the river. Maybe it would help him calm his thoughts.

He arrived there, accidentally knocking into a girl his own age as he went by. She said several things in her own language that Ivan gathered from her thoughts she wasn't supposed to know, much less say. She had spilled her water, because he'd bumped into her, and he got more for her; she took the large pot and took it back to her home, carrying it–bizarrely–on her head. Ivan pondered on that (he imagined it would give anyone a terrible headache) and went to sit by the waterfall. He saw a flash of purple when he looked up at the large building, the fighting school, he supposed. When he looked closer, it had vanished completely. He decided it wasn't important, and went to look at an odd pool near the river, with a rock-formed waterfall (it looked man-made) and red and white fish swimming in it. The water noises around him did a lot to calm him down.

His next look was the mulberry garden. This was where the silkworms of Xian grew and spun their thread. He saw a few of the tiny, worm-like caterpillars, and didn't think they were much to look at. Then again, neither was he. He tried to hold a conversation with three, but all proved recalcitrant in their silence towards him. He knew they heard him, but the only thoughts he got from them were 'when will this strange human go away' and 'it's blocking my light'; he received nothing that was directed at him. Strange creatures, they didn't even seem to know how valued they were by humans. All they thought of was light, eating, and spinning cocoons. Ivan left the orchard baffled.

He went to the fighting school, poking his head into it to see the fighters at work. He caught another flash of purple out of the corner of his eye, and as he whirled around, a door closed (doors here slid!) very quickly. He frowned and went to open it, but a man stepped in front of him; it was the same one that he'd seen sparring with the woman when he'd looked earlier.

"Hello," the man said. "You are new. I have not seen you before. Where have you come from?"

"Kalay, Mister…" Ivan paused, reading his mind as casually as he could. "Feh." Feh blinked once, as if he knew what Ivan had done.

"Yes… Did Lord Hammet tell you my name?" Ivan nodded rapidly. Why not? Better than being called crazy. "I haven't seen you before… Are you new to his group? Are you his son?" Ivan flinched; many people thought that. And as much as he wished it were otherwise, he didn't have any parents, only Hammet and Layana. It didn't usually bother him, if he didn't think about it too much. Less people cared what he did, for one thing, but… there were times… when he wondered if his family were somewhere. When he wondered why they weren't with him.

"No. I'm his servant… one of them, sir. I came with him, and I have the day off while he recovers from the trip. My name is Ivan." Feh's eyebrows rose imperceptibly and he looked Ivan over wordlessly, and nodded. He motioned to the large, mat-covered room to Ivan's left.

"Well, Ivan, this is the Xianese Academy of the Martial Arts. The fighting arts. Here, we teach agility, flexibility, and the use of kicks and punches. We learn to fight without weapons from an early age, many of us."

"How young?"

"Younger than you." Ivan was surprised.

"That… is a good time to learn to fight?" Feh nodded.

"It is a good time to learn anything. Let me show you some simple punches and kicks." Feh did so for nearly an hour, allowing Ivan to try them himself, before the boy began to be sore and tired. He made his excuses to Feh and left the school, massaging his arms and resolving to spend the rest of the day in his bed. On the way back, he bumped into some men in orange robes. All of them apologized to each other, and they went off towards the school. Ivan watched them for a moment before returning to the room in the inn that he was sharing with Hammet and flopping down on the bed, limp and stiff at the same time.

The closet was hot.

The closet was stuffy.

The closet was damp.

The closet was cramped.

Hama wanted out of the closet. She hissed through the frame, trying to catch Feh's attention.

"Feh. Feh! Is he still there?"

"Who? Ivan? The boy left here half an hour ago." She could hear the suppressed laughter in his voice, and she saw it on his face when he opened the door. "I thought you were listening." She glared at him as she stepped out of the closet.

"And I had assumed you–my friend!– would tell me when I could come out of that tiny, dark, miserable–" Feh pointed behind her. She looked around.

Monks were the spawn of the devil.

"Master Hama–" They had taken to calling her that, had they? She was a master, but not the way they wanted, and they had seemed to take the title as encouragement. For the fiftieth time (or it felt like it) she explained to them that no, she did not want to come to their temple and lead them. Yes, she saw that they had shirts on now. She still didn't want to. They bowed respectfully and left.

"How many times must I say that?" she asked, exasperation in her voice. Feh chuckled.

"They are determined. You must see that. They will ask until you say yes," he explained.

"Why do you think this is so funny?" Hama asked, repressing a desire to punch his face in.

"There is no reason that I know of. It simply is funny." He paused, and his next question held no trace of amusement. "Hama, why were you so afraid that he would see you?" Hama looked at him, her anger gone.

"…I explained, Feh. He can't–"

Feh shook his head. "I would not ask if you had already told me. He would not recognize you even if he remembered you, and it is impossible that he would. So why would you hide?" Hama was silent. She didn't like to tell Feh what she could do with her Psynergy. She had never read his mind, except when she identified him at her door, but she still did not want to cast suspicion onto their friendship. …Lying to him on the subject was a very good way to do that, though. Unfortunately, so was telling the truth, and telling him that she didn't want her brother reading her mind would indicate that she could read minds as well. Feh was a lot of things, but stupid definitely wasn't one of them.

And then there was the other reason. She didn't want Ivan to know she was so near. She'd have to tell him, eventually, and he was going to want to know why she'd never said anything before. She didn't want him to be on familiar terms with her. Partly because that would make it harder to admit that she hadn't let him know she was his family… the only family he had anymore… and partly because she didn't trust herself not to break and tell him outright.

If she couldn't keep quiet around him, it was best just not to be near him.

Ivan woke up the next morning at dawn. He dashed outside, looked at the orchard again, and spent about half an hour eating breakfast by the waterfall before he went back to the inn to help Hammet. He spent the morning unloading and unpacking good and supplies from the wagon, ate lunch, and had the rest of the day to himself. He wandered around the town again, taking in everything about the new place as quickly as he could, wondering how long they would be there and determined not to waste a moment.

He rushed through the town, barely looking where he was going. As a result, he bumped into someone, nearly knocking them over. The person he'd collided with dropped the jug she'd been carrying, fumbled to catch it, and eventually regained a hold of it, although all the water had fallen out again. She glared at Ivan.

"Ah! You made me drop my water! You should watch where you run!" she yelled, treading the line between mad and rude.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I meant to…I mean I didn't mean to. Here, I'll get some more for you…" He took the jug and refilled it in the stream, offering it to her when he was done. "If you like, I'll carry it for you," he offered. She smirked.

"That is generous of you. But you are smaller than me, little boy. Let your elders do the work." Ivan fumed inwardly, letting nothing show on his face as he refused to give her the jug.

"No, that's alright. …You're a very small teenager, then, if you're my elder," he told her.

"…How old are you then, little boy?"

"I'm ten this year. You?" She was silent and he guessed the answer wasn't ten.

"…In my tenth year. I am sorry. Yet you are so…"

"Small. I know. I'm used to hearing it, so don't worry. Where's your house?" She pointed out a small bungalow next to a restaurant.

"I live there. Thank you." He carried the water over, although not on his head, and gave it back to her outside the back door of the house. She placed it inside, next to another pot, which seemed to contain milk. "What is your name? I am Mirielle."

"I'm Ivan. It's nice to meet you. Although," he went on, seeing her drenched attire, "not so nice for you, I think." She looked down and shrugged.

"I am going to the school now. I would have changed anyway. Do you want to come and see?" Ivan nodded. The last day in that place had been hard, but he wouldn't mind seeing more of the people there and how they worked. She went inside and changed her clothes while Ivan waited.

She returned and led him back to the school. He looked around; nobody seemed to be doing much of anything. There was a large crowd in the school, gathered around the practice arena. Mirielle frowned.

"It's her," she said by way of explanation. "She disturbs me."

"Who?" The girl shook her head.

"I should not speak badly of her. She is Master Feh's friend and a master herself. But I feel uncomfortable around her. I hope she is not teaching today." Ivan stared at her, confused, and headed for the front of the crowd to get a better look. Most of the watchers moved out of his way without seeming to notice him. One commented that since anyone could see right over his head without knowing he was there, he didn't know why anyone would object to him being in front. Ivan ignored that piece of advice.

Eventually, after much prodding and 'pardon's, he could see the arena clearly. The man he'd met yesterday was sparring with the same woman he'd sparred with the previous day, a tall woman with purple hair and eyes and a master's sash around her practice clothes. They were very good, which was probably why all the students wanted to watch them sparring, to pick up secrets. Both were grinning as they fought, suggesting a strong friendship. Both were also sweating, and their punches seemed tired and clumsy. They'd been fighting for a while.

Mirielle joined him at the front. "Do not do that. …Can you feel it from her? She is odd." Ivan watched the woman carefully.

There was something about her, but it did not make him uneasy or uncomfortable. It was strange, like dèja vu. He told Mirielle this and she stared at him as if he were insane.

"I cannot believe that you do not see she is odd." She watched them for another while. "They are very good though. The best in Xian at martial arts and Chi."

Ivan looked away from the two fighters to look at Mirielle, a quizzical expression on his face. "Chi? What's that?"

"Chi is the body's power focused in the hand. It is a great power. I try to learn it. They will not teach me. They say I must wait." Ivan nodded.

"Maybe they have too many students just now, and they need to wait until later to get you in. Or maybe they want you to practice your other techniques before you start on Chi."

"Maybe they simply do not want me to know it. Hmm?" She looked up at the two fighters, surprise on her face. "They are looking at us," she said. Ivan turned back to them. Both seemed surprised to see the two there; the woman looked as if it were a particularly jarring surprise. Mirielle whispered, "You see, she does not like me either," but it was Ivan she was looking at.

Ivan stared back for a moment before he realized he was being rude and looked away hurriedly. Still, she looked bizarrely familiar… "Sorry," he said, trying to break the tension in the air; most of the assembled crowd was looking at him now, wondering what he'd done or said. "I was just watching. You were very good. My name is Ivan, I'm from Kalay." She blinked, startled, and looked at the floor.

"Yes… You must have come with Lord Hammet… It's a pleasure to meet you, then. Thank you for the compliment… I'm sorry, I have something I must do." She bowed swiftly to Feh and left, staring fixedly ahead of her as she did so. Feh watched her go and spoke to Mirielle.

"Have you just arrived?" Mirielle nodded.

"Yes, master. I met this boy in the town, and he said he'd like to see the school."

Feh smiled. "He saw it yesterday. Still, I can show him again. I will teach you also. Come over here." He proceeded to drill Mirielle in kicks and punches she already knew, alongside another girl, Feizhi, a little older than Ivan and with long, lavender hair tied up and out of her face. Ivan watched and thought for a while about the woman, until he admitted to himself that his thoughts were going nowhere. A far more interesting topic was Chi… The power of the body, focused into the hand… Wasn't his power all about focusing? But Mirielle had said that Chi had to be learned, and he couldn't remember ever learning to use his powers. He'd always had them.

Wait… Mirielle had only said she wanted to learn Chi… maybe some people were born knowing it? Or with an innate talent? He didn't know, and he didn't think it would be tactful or kind to mention it in front of Feh. He made an excuse to the others and left the school, asking the locals for the address of Feh's sparring partner. He found it quickly and knocked on the door.

Hama lay on her 'bed', staring blankly at the ceiling. She should have been meditating, or reading, or doing something, instead of letting her thoughts chase themselves in circles and knots endlessly. But…

Ah, what had she expected? If wasn't as if she could have expected him to recognize her, or remember anything of their hometown… Still, hearing him say 'I'm from Kalay' had hurt. She had a brother…and yet she still had no-one.

There was a knock on her door, and he called out. "Ma'am? Er…Master? I have a question…" Hama sighed and went to the door. The lamps were lit, she couldn't very well pretend she wasn't here.

"Hello," she said, opening the door, "you're the boy from Kalay, aren't you? Ivan?" I've known your name for ten years, you're not from Kalay, you're my brother but I can't say so, will you leave me alone until I can? Yes, that would make him think she was sane.

"Yes, that's me," he replied, slightly shaken, from the sound of his voice. "I wanted to ask about… about the school and what they teach."

She recited them as if it were a lesson and she a pupil. "We teach the fighting arts using the body as a weapon, unarmed defense against attack, agility training, and the arts of Chi." She took a breath. "Was that what you wanted to know?" He shook his head and she resisted an urge to pat his hair down where it stuck up in the back.

"No…uhm… What, exactly, is Chi?" Her expression softened markedly. So that was it; he'd made the same mistake she had. She clenched a fist, focused, and opened it again; on her palm sat a transparent globe of glowing white light.

"This is Chi. I had to study for months to learn to do this, and that was when I was the best pupil in the school. By mastering Chi, you become a teacher in the school. It's not taught to children, was that what you were asking?" She tried to keep her voice kind; his disappointment had been obvious from the moment he had seen the sphere.

"…No, but…it's alright. You answered my question very clearly. Thank you, master," he replied, and went back towards the inn. She watched him, or at least his hair, for as long as she could see him, then sighed and went back into her quarters.

What in Jupiter's name was she going to do with this mess?

Alright…Sorry this has taken so long to get up. Chapter six should be up relatively soon. (Wouldn't take much.) After this, updates will definitely be somewhat…erratic.

Elliott: First year of Senior Cycle. Studying for a big exam that's required for third level, instead of a wussy exam that's required for nothing. So…

Yeah. Fourth year is when the teachers start working you to death, instead of just incapacitation.

Elliott: In short, she'll be kind of busy.

Yep… T.T I promise monthly updates, though. Promise. I'll aim for fortnightly. More if I get holidays or not much/easy homework. And update frequency will definitely be affected by the fact that my plan suck(zor)ed (royally) and I have abandoned it. So, once again, I have no idea of what's going on. Oh well. And I'm sorry that the first Ivan chapter was so boring; I didn't like that one at all. I've moved the story on a bit (chronologically) so he's older (about nine or ten here) and I can have a bit more fun with him. xP I think this one is a little better.

Ivan: Meep. If something's boring, surely it's the writer's fault, not…the… oh dear… Shutting up…

Yes. Fun. Muahahaha…….Wait till next chapter, Ivan. Remember how I said you weren't done puking?

Ivan: o.O Save me…

Review Response: Zashlight Heh. Thanks for reviewing; it was what, an hour after I put the chapter up? As you can see, more Hama. I think I'll try to have them both in every chapter from here on in. Focusing is starting to bore me. The story itself isn't, but I'm taking a new approach to the structure. That's all.

Read and review! I know not too many people are reading this, but I really want to pluralize that word.