Truancy Page 12

  “Do you have confidence in my abilities?” Zyid asked suddenly.

  “Of course I do, sir,” Noni said quickly.

  “Do you have confidence in my judgment?” Zyid demanded.

  “Yes, sir,” Noni replied.

  “And do you trust me, Noni?” Zyid asked.

  “With my life,” Noni said without hesitation.

  “Then I would have thought that you’d have no problem with my choosing to do this myself,” Zyid pointed out.

  Noni had no answer to that, nor did Zyid seem to expect one.

  “Ideally,” Zyid continued, “there would be another one of you or me to handle all that needs doing, but since there is not, I cannot supervise the entire Truancy all the time. Now, remind me, which Disciplinary Officer will be unlucky tomorrow?”

  “Mr. Caine, sir,” Noni said, “of the District 20 School. He has an inspection scheduled for tomorrow.”

  “Ah yes, District 20.” Zyid frowned, muttering under his breath, “Closer to him than I would … actually it’s practically on his doorstep … but nothing can be done about that.… I’m sure he will not interfere—”

  “Sir,” Noni interrupted Zyid’s musings, “it might be a trap. The lack of security might be to bait you.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t considered that possibility, Noni.” Zyid snorted derisively. “I’ll be prudent, and anyway, the Educators are historically clumsy at setting up traps. I assure you, even if they anticipate my coming, the only one who will die tomorrow will be Mr. Caine.”

  “Your word is final, sir,” Noni conceded.

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Noni,” Zyid said. “Now, tell me everything you’ve observed of this Mr. Caine.”

  * * *

  Tack had found himself extremely busy not only with schoolwork but also with Umasi’s training, which had intensified during those hectic weeks. To his great surprise, however, Tack found that the exercises and strange techniques actually helped him to relieve pre-exam stress, as did talking with the boy Tack had grown to respect as his mentor. Tack looked less favorably upon the new salt and sugar “jobs,” but he had become efficient enough with them that he was now completely willing to drink any lemonade made out of his sugar piles, not to mention that he was being paid well for it. Besides, Umasi made it clear that it was also part of his training.

  And all that training came to a head two weeks before final exams at school.

  “So,” Umasi said, looking evenly at Tack, who was busy tossing knives at a target that had been set up in the road. “The school year will be concluding soon.”

  “Yeah,” Tack confirmed as he hurled the last knife into the bull’s-eye with all the others. “Final exams are in two weeks.”

  “Your ordeal is almost over,” Umasi observed.

  “There’s always next year though,” Tack pointed out as he moved over to a crude punching bag made out of stuffed burlap sacks and began beating it.

  “And the year after that,” Umasi agreed as Tack frowned.

  “Not much to look forward to then, huh?” Tack said, grunting slightly.

  “Perhaps,” Umasi allowed, “but fortune has a habit of surprising us all.”

  “I’m worried for my sister too,” Tack confessed suddenly. “I think she’s been … changed by school.”

  “So have you, Tack,” Umasi pointed out. “Every student in this City is.”

  “Yeah,” Tack grunted, deciding that he’d chosen a bad subject that needed to be changed. “So Umasi, are you ever going to tell me why you’re really teaching me all this stuff?”

  Tack asked the question casually, not for a second expecting to get an answer. To Tack’s great surprise, however, Umasi was completely forthcoming this time.

  “The main reason is that I want you to be prepared. The City is not a safe place these days, and I believe that it’s only going to grow more dangerous in the coming months.” Umasi shifted restlessly in his seat. “Another reason is that I do not like feeling inactive myself. You might say that I’m taking action through you.”

  “I see.” Tack digested the answer as he started on his sit-ups. “So how long are we gonna do this?”

  “Actually, Tack,” Umasi said, stretching his back, “I intend to give you your final exam now, before the Educators give you theirs.”

  Tack sat up and stared at Umasi.

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m not,” Umasi said cheerfully.

  “Then what’s the test going to be?” Tack asked eagerly.

  “It’s a two-part test. For the first part, I have yet another jar for you to sort out,” Umasi explained as Tack grimaced.

  “And what’s the second part?” Tack asked.

  “We are going to have a duel,” Umasi said succinctly, standing up and stretching his back. “I can tell you’re looking forward to that. But first things come first.”

  Tack looked disappointedly down at the table as Umasi pushed the jar forward and then casually began reading what looked like the previous day’s issue of The City Times. After a few minutes of sifting through the mess, Tack frowned. He’d assumed it would be another salt and sugar mixture, but the entire thing looked like salt to him, and he couldn’t find a single different grain. Tack looked questioningly up at Umasi, who was still intently reading his newspaper and paying no attention to Tack.

  Tack bent so close to the grains that they slid out of focus. He prodded and shifted them with his finger, examined a dozen different ones individually, and did everything short of actually tasting the grains that looked for all the world like salt. Tack frowned in puzzlement, and then came to a decision. Looking up at Umasi again, he cleared his throat loudly.

  “Yes, Tack?” Umasi inquired, putting his newspaper down.

  “It’s all salt, isn’t it?” Tack said, grinning now.

  “Very good, Tack.” Umasi nodded in approval. “It took you less than five minutes to determine that it was a trick. Had you realized it from the beginning, however, you would have saved yourself those five minutes.”

  Tack frowned slightly. “Well, I just wanted to be cautious.”

  “That is commendable,” Umasi conceded. “But were you able to see the lesson here?”

  Tack scratched his head, something he wasn’t in the habit of doing. “Go with your first instincts?”

  “No, Tack.” Umasi shook his head. “That would be a bad lesson. What you learned here today is not to let routines lure you into security—if a pattern you have come to accept for a long time is broken, you will be caught unprepared.”

  Tack pondered that and realized that Umasi was right.

  “Well, I passed, didn’t I?” Tack questioned Umasi.

  “Indeed you did,” Umasi affirmed. “And I know that you can’t wait for part two. I won’t keep you in suspense—follow me.”

  Tack followed Umasi numbly as he walked around the street corner and into a secluded alley that was empty save for a rusty old Dumpster. Tack couldn’t help but be slightly apprehensive as they went—after all, having witnessed what Umasi was able to do in a fight when he put his mind to it, who wouldn’t be? Still, the exercises had Tack feeling confident about himself, and he was pretty sure that Umasi didn’t intend to cause him any permanent damage.

  “We will be fighting with wooden swords,” Umasi explained, gesturing towards a plastic bucket that held two polished wooden imitations of real swords. “At least until one or the both of us become unarmed.”

  “Sounds good,” Tack said offhandedly, picking up the wooden sword and swinging it through the air lightly, getting the feel of its weight. Umasi had taught him a few tricks with the sword, and he was feeling pretty confident.

  “As this is your final test,” Umasi said, stretching his limbs, “I am afraid that you cannot expect me to hold back.”

  Tack stopped swinging his sword around and looked at Umasi strangely. Frankly, he didn’t think he’d stand a chance if Umasi went all out, though he couldn’t imagine Umas
i killing him and wasting all of the time spent training him.

  “I have a question,” Tack said suddenly, his sword hanging limp.

  “Ask it.” Umasi took his own wooden sword out from the bucket.

  “Is there anyone else in the City like you?” Tack asked.

  “If you mean in knowledge and fighting talent, there were perhaps five others that I knew of who could compete with me,” Umasi replied without hesitation. “As far as I know, only four remain, perhaps fewer by now. Unless you become the fifth, that is.”

  “That many?” Tack asked, surprised.

  “Yes,” Umasi said, his voice suddenly flatter than usual. “Three of them were former friends of mine. About two years ago, I worked with them one by one in a manner similar to how I am working with you now.”

  “What happened to them?” Tack asked apprehensively.

  “One died, one left me, and the last one…,” Umasi began, looking up at the sky wistfully. “Well, the last one betrayed me. He attempted to kill me, though I’m pleased to report that he failed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tack said automatically.

  “It’s not a problem.” Umasi waved his hand dismissively. “I expect that, someday, you might go your own way as well. People with strong wills will always seek to express individuality. This, above all else, irks the Educators.”

  Tack nodded. Who knew what his future might bring? He was lately enjoying a greater sense of possibility than he’d ever known before.

  “But that’s only three,” Tack realized suddenly.

  “Hm?” Umasi inquired distractedly as he ran his hand over his sword.

  “You said there were five in the City like you,” Tack pressed. “You only mentioned your three friends.”

  “Ah yes.” Umasi frowned. “The last two would be Zyid, the leader of the Truancy, and Noni—the only one, as far as I know, that he ever taught.”

  “Do you know them?” Tack asked eagerly.

  “We are acquainted,” Umasi said simply. “I will leave it at that.”

  Tack nodded again, and then realized something.

  “I have one last question.”

  “Very well.” Umasi raised an eyebrow above his glasses.

  “If all of your other friends failed you in one way or another,” Tack began carefully, “then why do you trust me?”

  “I’m usually not a bad judge of character,” Umasi allowed. “And, as I mentioned when we first met, you reminded me of someone I used to know.”

  “One of your old friends?” Tack pressed.

  “Yes.” Umasi nodded.

  “Which one?” Tack couldn’t help but ask.

  Umasi looked at Tack unflinchingly. “The one who died.”

  Tack suppressed a shudder and nodded, this time in acceptance. He was lucky, really, to have received as many answers as he had.

  “If your thirst for information has been quenched,” Umasi said, swinging his sword lightly, “then we should begin. Are you ready, Tack?”

  “Yeah,” Tack confirmed, raising his own wooden blade.

  “Then before we start, I believe I should warn you,” Umasi said, propping his sword up casually and leaning against it, “improvement only comes after suffering. I will drive you hard. It may be that I will beat you within an inch of your life.”

  “Yeah, all right,” Tack said warily, though he still found it hard to imagine Umasi doing any such thing.

  “You have talent, and I have given you technique,” Umasi said, slinging his sword over his shoulder, behind his neck. “But when your life is threatened, will you have the nerve?”

  Tack narrowed his eyes. It was a question that, he knew, would be answered here and now.

  Umasi took a step forward, regarded Tack carefully from behind his sunglasses … and then lunged forward without warning, bringing his sword around in a powerful arc aimed at Tack’s neck. Barely able to react in time, Tack swung his own sword up and to the left, parrying Umasi’s blow. Not giving Tack any time to recover, Umasi slashed at Tack’s legs. Tack jumped, avoiding the attack, and then seized his opportunity, jabbing his sword forward. Umasi sidestepped the attack neatly, then swung his weapon back again, landing a blow behind Tack’s right ankle.

  “Ouch!” Tack yelped, staggering backwards.

  “You don’t want to hit me,” Umasi observed.

  “What’re you talking about?” Tack demanded. “I’m trying as hard as I can to hit you!”

  “As hard as you can?” Umasi shook his head. “No. You do not wish to truly cause me harm, which is why you will fail to do so.”

  Umasi lunged forward again, swinging his sword towards Tack’s middle. Tack stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding the attack, then frowned and swung his own sword up, aiming to cut a diagonal across Umasi’s chest. Umasi brought his own sword down with terrible force, slamming Tack’s wooden blade all the way to the ground. Taking advantage of the deadlock, Umasi shifted half his body forward and drove his knee up into Tack’s gut.

  “I will beat you hard, and then harder,” Umasi said as Tack gasped in pain and doubled over. “You will learn to fight back out of necessity, if nothing else.”

  Umasi swung his sword at Tack’s head. Tack blocked the attack feebly and tried to straighten up. Umasi knocked his sword out of the way with brute force and then proceeded to bring his weapon crashing down upon Tack’s shoulder.

  “You don’t want to hurt others,” Umasi said as Tack cursed and clutched his bruised shoulder. “There are people in this City that do not share your reluctance. If you stand against them, they will hurt you, and then they will kill you if you do not stop them.”

  Umasi parried another feeble blow from Tack, and then ruthlessly kicked his feet from under him.

  “You cannot count on mercy—yours, Tack, or theirs!” Umasi shouted now, as he lifted his sword above his head and swung it down towards Tack, who lay groaning on the ground.

  Tack’s eyes snapped open, and he swung his sword up to block the oncoming attack. Rolling aside, Tack leaped to his feet and lifted his sword, breathing hard.

  “You have spirit,” Umasi observed, nodding in approval. “But you are not yet in control of your fear, Tack.”

  “I am not afraid.” Tack glared at his mentor.

  “Oh, but you are,” Umasi insisted, raising his sword lazily. “You’re afraid of being hit, and even worse, you’re even afraid of hitting me.”

  Tack froze. Umasi was right, after all. Tack certainly didn’t want to be hit, and he found it hard to seriously attack someone he regarded as a friend … though Umasi obviously held no such sentiments, Tack observed bitterly.

  “When your enemy attacks—” Umasi spun, bringing his sword into a 360-degree arc aimed at Tack’s left hip.

  “—you must know that you will not be hit.” Tack parried the blow and brought his sword down towards Umasi’s outstretched arms.

  “When you attack—,” Umasi said, withdrawing his arms hastily as Tack’s sword cut through the air they’d occupied a moment ago,

  “—you must know that you will hit your target.” Umasi rolled to the side, bringing his sword up to crash into Tack’s belly, knocking the wind out of him.

  “There is no room for fear,” Umasi declared, slamming his elbow into Tack’s face before he could recover, causing him to fall to the ground.

  “… or doubt…,” Umasi continued, bringing his foot down on Tack’s right hand, which jerked and reluctantly released the sword it had been holding.

  “… or restraint!” Umasi concluded as he tossed his own sword away and placed a foot on Tack’s heaving chest.

  “And you can never give up, Tack,” Umasi said quietly as Tack tried to catch his breath. “To give up in this City would be to throw your own life away. Life is one of the most precious things that exist in this world, and so even the rats, when backed into a corner, will fight to keep theirs.”

  “And what about your opponents and their lives?” Tack managed to ask, a trickle of blood running
down his chin.

  “There is time for mercy after they are defeated,” Umasi explained quietly, increasing the pressure on Tack’s chest, causing him to gasp painfully. “Do not seek to take life, Tack. Only seek to preserve it.”

  Tack’s eyes flashed as Umasi pressed down on his chest even harder. Suddenly, he let out a roar and grasped Umasi’s leg with both hands, throwing Umasi off-balance. Leaping to his feet, he snapped his wrist into Umasi’s face, and then moved to deliver a punch to his waist. Umasi, more prepared now, twisted his body 180 degrees and grasped Tack’s arm as it flew by. Using the arm as leverage, Umasi moved with practiced skill and hurled Tack over his head, throwing him onto his back, wedged between a brick wall and a rusted old Dumpster.

  “Better,” Umasi said in satisfaction as Tack nimbly returned to his feet. “You are backed into your corner.”

  Umasi turned his arms so that the palms of his fists faced upwards, and then drew them back under his shoulders. Assuming a defensive stance, he nodded slightly at Tack.

  “I know that I will not let you land a blow,” Umasi declared.

  “And I know that I will hit you,” Tack said, fierce determination shining in his eyes.

  “One of us,” Umasi reasoned, “will be proven wrong.”

  “Yes,” Tack agreed, clenching his fists, “you will.”

  Tack lunged, pivoting on his left leg to snap a kick at Umasi’s chest with his right. Umasi moved his right arm in a circle that brushed the attack aside. Not discouraged, Tack aimed a punch at Umasi’s head, which was similarly brushed aside.

  “Falling into a pattern invites defeat,” Umasi warned as Tack moved as if to kick him again.

  Seized by sudden inspiration, Tack stopped halfway through his kicking motion and launched himself into a dive, caught the weight of his fall with his outstretched palms, and performed a somersault. Coming to a rest beside the wooden sword that Umasi had cast aside, Tack seized the sword, turned towards a surprised Umasi, and then hurled the weapon through the air the way he’d been taught.

  The sword-turned-projectile caught Umasi right in the center of the chest. The sword fell to the ground and Umasi gasped, as much in surprise as in pain. As Tack smirked at him, Umasi grabbed his chest, stared at it for a moment, and then looked up at Tack.