CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE HOSTEL
Terra, Locke, and Edgar rounded a huge rock and found a house. It stood out on the plateau, a high, flat valley between Mount Kolts and the neighboring mountains. This was the only solace to weary travelers on the pass. The house was, like the land on which it stood, broad and flat, humble (though not unkempt) and unadorned. It had a garden where the inhabitants grew what food they could.
Terra had been watching Edgar as they approached the hostel. His manner grew stiff and rigid, and in spite of himself he had the look of one troubled by something he would not speak of. Terra wondered if she would at last come to the conclusion of the mystery of his twin.
But before that Terra looked forward to a good bath and a long rest. Mount Kolts had exhausted her. Her dread of the mountain abated upon the first sign of people.
When they reached the porch, a boy in unusual clothes came out to greet them. He wore a white uniform. It consisted of a long, buttonless shirt tied with a white belt with two black stripes at the ends, and loose-fitting white pants. He wore nothing on his feet.
"Welcome, friends," said the boy politely, bowing. When he raised his head and saw Edgar, there was a look of sudden recognition, which was replaced by confusion and then understanding, as if he had remembered something. No words passed between them, but Terra saw that the young man's look had not been lost on Edgar. Edgar looked annoyed.
"You must be tired," continued the boy, chattering excitedly. "I'll stable your Chocobo and bring in your things. The Senpai will show you to your rooms. Dinner is in an hour, but you can go to the kitchen at any time." With that, the boy bowed and led their birds away.
When they entered they found themselves in a broad, low-ceilinged room. Yellowish-orange light came in through the translucent walls, which were little more than screens supported by square lattices. Dozens of young men in white uniforms were training under the instruction of an elderly man. They were lined up rank and file, punching and kicking the air in a steady rhythm, turning in unison, and sounding off at the end of each blow.
The tension coming from Edgar was almost tangible. He appeared to be looking for someone, someone he hoped not to see.
"What kind of hostel is this?" asked Terra.
"It's a dojo," said Edgar, "a school for martial artists. That," indicating the old man, "is Master Duncan."
"The husband of the woman who helped us in South Figaro?"
"Yes."
Terra wanted to ask him how he knew so much, but didn't want to add to his pain. Locke too appeared unusually subdued.
At that moment Master Duncan gave a command to what appeared to be his oldest student in the front row. This student bowed to Master Duncan and broke rank, jogging over to meet them.
"Welcome," he said. This one was more subtle in his reaction to Edgar. "I am Senpai Soren. Allow me to show you to your rooms." He led them down a narrow hall. "We do not have many women stay here, so you can have your own room, Ma'am. But you two," indicating Locke and Edgar, "can stay in the dormitory, if you don't object to sharing a room with the Kohai."
There was no objection.
The Senpai first showed them the dormitory, a large room filled with double-beds, one stacked upon the other, each with a short ladder to the top bunk. The room smelled like body odor. Locke and Edgar dropped their packs on a couple of unclaimed beds.
Next the Senpai showed them to Terra's room, a smaller, nicer-smelling room with a bed and a bathtub. It was quite clean, much to her satisfaction. There was a plank leaning against the wall by the door. The door and the wall beside had catches into which the plank could be slid.
"Will I need that?" Terra whispered to Edgar.
"No, Ma'am," answered the Senpai, politely but firmly, "you won't need to bar the door. The dojo is well defended, and you have nothing to fear from the Kohai. We live by the strictest discipline. Hospitality is second only to our own physical and moral training. The plank is there only as a courtesy."
Terra soon got the chance to see the discipline of martial artists' lifestyle in action. The party had decided to wait for dinner, giving Terra time to bathe—hot water was brought to Terra's bath in buckets by the boys—and take a short nap. She slept better than she had the night before, for her dread was lost in the bustle and the noise of human society, and woke, though she'd only slept a short time, better rested. She awoke to Locke's knocking on the door, informing her that it was time for dinner. She dressed and went out, following Locke down the hallway to the large training room, which now held long tables and benches. There the boys—or Kohai—were setting the tables.
She arrived just in time to see the end of a beating. The Senpai was standing behind a boy on his knees, lashing his bare back with a rod. With each blow the boy cried out the count. It was soon over. The boy, who Terra now recognized as the one who took their Chocobo, put his shirt back on and approached her with tears in his eyes, followed by the Senpai.
"I'm sorry for stealing from you and for impure thoughts," said the boy, handing her an undergarment belonging to her.
Terra was taken aback. "You're forgiven," she said after she understood what had happened. The boy seemed to receive her forgiveness with gladness, and wiped his eyes and took his place at the table. Terra felt sorry for him, though she knew that his punishment had been fair and in keeping with the rules of the dojo and would not be allowed to be taken to the point of cruelty. He was a good boy and genuinely wanted her forgiveness; another boy in his situation might have apologized only because he had been forced to.
Dinner was executed with the same discipline as every other activity. The Kohai sat by order of age and rank, which was indicated by the color of their belts and the number of stripes on them. Master Duncan sat at the head of one long table. Terra, Locke, and Edgar sat near him across from the Senpai and other high-ranking students.
Edgar, apparently satisfied that his twin was nowhere to be found, nevertheless looked harassed by the whispers and snickers and indiscreet looks of the Kohai. One look from their Sensei, however, and the boys bowed their heads and minded their own business. But Terra also wondered whether Edgar's visible agitation hadn't something to do with the discipline of the dojo. She had noticed that he wore a pained, almost indignant look, when he heard the reason why the boy had been beaten. After all, people always grow indignant when they see others punished for sins of which they themselves are guilty.
After Master Duncan said grace and everyone started eating, he greeted his guests.
"Welcome, friends," said the Sensei. "What brings you to Kolts Pass?" He seemed a very wise and subtle man, and knew how to show courtesy.
Locke made up a story about his family owning some land in Sabil Valley to the north. The party had made up their minds long ago to involve as few people in their plans as possible, even if they happened to be friends, so as not to needlessly endanger them. Thus it was unfortunately necessary to lie.
Whether or not Master Duncan believed their story Terra couldn't tell. He kept a cheerful look on his face and never made his guests feel uncomfortable. When it became evident that they were reluctant to give information, Master Duncan seamlessly brought the conversation around to life at the dojo on Mount Kolts. He told interesting anecdotes about students past and present, funny stories about former guests, and talked about his philosophy. "Training in high altitudes is part of the discipline," he said. "After exercising at this elevation, we have much greater endurance when we go down to the plains. This discipline boasts some of the greatest martial artists in the world.
"Also, the scarcity of the air here has had a great influence on our style. We have had to develop subtler moves that require less physical exertion. Our blocks and strikes are so non-evasive that a fight is often over before the other man realizes that he's dealing with an experienced fighter. Thus the fight rarely has a chance to escalate, and rarely is any permanent damage done. Our philosophy puts so high a value on human life that killing is always a last resort. Some will not perform a fatal strike even to save their own lives, believing that it is better to be deprived of life than to deprive another."
After dinner Master Duncan took Edgar aside to talk. They went into another room where Terra couldn't see them. She and Locke went out onto the porch to watch the sun go down behind the vast and seemingly endless mountains to the west, a view that was none the less beautiful for the fact that she had a headache and a feeling of malaise which she attributed to altitude sickness.
"Do you know anything about Edgar's mysterious twin?" said Terra.
"No," said Locke. "I don't know anything more than what you told me."
Terra continued. "I think whoever-he-is has stayed here before. Maybe he was a student. People here seem to notice their resemblance."
"Yeah, I've noticed that too."
"When do you think Edgar will tell us?"
"When he's ready, kid." Here Locke gave her his inscrutable grin, but his eyes were thoughtful. "Some of us carry heavy burdens. You should be thankful."
"Thankful that I don't have a memory?" she reproached him. "I would rather have a painful one than none at all." But she wasn't sure he heard this. He sat pensively, gazing westward towards the beautiful orange and purple sunset, thinking perhaps about Rachel.
"I think you'll have to wait a little longer, kid," said Locke, coming out of his revere. But whether this was in reference to Edgar's secret or his own, Terra didn't know.
