Chapter 2

Being a Ninja is a lonely job.

Master Tomas was used to being alone and had learned to appreciate his own company. Ninjas do not form many long-term relationships with people, even other Ninjas, as someday the order just might come to kill them. It had happened before and Tomas was certain it would happen again.

Ever since picking up the wrapped dagger, he had the distinct feeling that he wasn't alone anymore. It was almost as if that pitiful mage's ghost rode along behind him...

"Ninjas don't believe in ghosts," he said quietly, hoping the sound of the horses kept that remark to himself.

Though unconcerned with the carnage occurring behind him, Tomas found himself uncharacteristically reminiscing over his past, the long years of study at the hands of his ruthless Masters and his inevitable ascension to power himself, culminating with those same Masters dying on his blade. Under his guidance, the Guild of Daggers or Ninjas, as they were commonly called, became the most feared assassins in all the Kingdoms.

As if his memory was being guided for the amusement of his ghostly companion, Tomas found himself recalling the events of his life, since his rise to power. He sighed remembering how the Guild slowly evolved into Prince Kija's secret police. Not that it was a bad life, he considered, being feared by everyone in the Kingdom, it just wasn't what he wanted for his Guild. Tomas had privately dreamed that someday he would spread his assassins throughout all the Kingdoms, from Buya to Kaya.

Then Gareth happened.

Tomas had spent many hours interviewing the people involved after that memorable visit, but the descriptions they left him with hardly matched any recollections he had of one that walked the Path of Do. Unlike most Nangen, Tomas had previously interacted with that northern sect.

It had happened right after the borders had opened; Tomas had attended a military sponsored Tourney. Although he was only there to observe, because of an unusual entrant into the Tourney, he had become involved.

As if telling himself a story for the sake of his ghost, Tomas found the events of that day playing back in his mind.

A Northern woman, judging from her simple peasant clothes, but it would not take a sage's wisdom to see she was no peasant. She watched the other contestants intently; openly cataloging with her eyes every stance, style and weapon. The Judges had brought her to his attention and he watched with growing amusement as she ignored the catcalls of the audience and the taunts from the other contestants, most of them seemed to assume she was simple-minded and had wandered here unknowing.

Tomas watched with a smile as the contestants entered the arena and the Judges finally stopped her.

"This is a test of weapons skill, woman," one Judge tried to explain, but the Northerner just stared at him blankly. "You haven't even got a weapon."

She touched her belt absently as if missing something that had been hanging there.

"No Northerner is allowed to enter your Kingdom armed," she explained, in passable Nangese. Then she bought out her pack and opened it. "I would be happy to buy or even pay to borrow a weapon if it is required."

The Judges conferred a moment, then with a several short glances up to where Tomas was sitting, finally decided that if one of the heavily armed and armored contestants wished to loan her a weapon, that they would allow it.

Not surprisingly, that although having taunted her up to this time with images of how badly they would beat her in the Arena, none of the other contestants volunteered a weapon.

The Judges shrugged and told her that it was out of their hands.

Tomas smiled and stepped into the Arena.

"Excuse me, madam," he hissed oily, with an irreverent bow. "If I knew what Path you followed, perhaps I could offer you a weapon suitable."

The Northern woman seemed to quickly take everything about Tomas in at once. Her eyes following the way he walked and stood, his hands and wrists and how he was outfitted. She nodded.

"Thank you, sir," she replied. "But as I am here only as a curious guest, not seeking honor or riches, the type of weapon hardly matters. I will observe, stand or fall as the Gods intend. As to my Path... I am Do."

Tomas nodded knowingly. This revelation explained a few things.

"Madam, my name is Tomas," he smiled as if somehow a tiny forked tongue was struggling to escape his lips to taste the air. "I have heard of the Do. They are warrior monks of a sort, originally from Shilla?"

The woman nodded back at Tomas.

"A better explanation than most, I suppose," she agreed, evenly. "We train the body with the disciplines of martial arts and the mind with weapons lore. Most go far past that to master the skill of creating weapons, studying not only the product, but also the production. My name is Hanna and I seek balance though weapons mastery, although many seek it in other ways."

One of the nearby contestants chuckled.

"Hey, guys, guess what?" he said derisively. "We have the honor of fighting a weapons master!"

The rest of the fighters laughed merrily.

Tomas glared at the young fellow.

"It appears we have your first opponent, Madam Do." He pronounced. "He seems well armed with sword, shield and tongue. Barehanded fighting would seem unfair. Could I offer you a bow?"

Hanna bowed, "It would be dishonorable to refuse your gift."

The youngster laughed quietly with some of his friends, and then entered the Arena. Hanna followed, not bothering to string the bow. In her hand she carried only two arrows selected from the quiver Tomas had offered.

Seemingly ignoring the loudly boasting young fellow, the Do carefully checked out the texture of the Arena floor. It was hard-packed sand and provided good traction. Around the fighter's circle was a low wooden wall, behind which were tiers of benches for spectators. There were no empty seats. Perhaps it wasn't everyday a Nangen warrior got to defeat a northerner.

"I understand that the Resurrection spell does not work in Nagnang?" she asked casually, addressing her adversary for the first time.

"Worried?" The youngster laughed. "No, our healers are the best in the world, but Resurrection is forbidden by the Prince. Don't fret, I will just knock you around a bit, not kill you."

Hanna ignored him again, carefully placing the two arrows in the dirt near her end of the Arena. Turning back to her opponent, she spoke again.

"I am ready," she said simply. "Please try to use as many different styles as you can. I am here to learn."

The young warrior laughed.

"The only thing you will learn is how to take a beating!" He boasted loudly, and then rushed at her, sword upraised.

Hanna stepped quickly away from her arrows, sidewise, putting the sun at her back. In her hand she still carried the unstrung bow.

When the youngster's blade descended, the Do simply wasn't there anymore. Passing inches from her unarmored side, the blade made a whistling sound as it missed.

Hanna stepped next to the surprised and overbalanced youngster and with casual grace, placed one foot behind his leg and with a gentle shove to his chest, toppled him onto his back.

He landed with a whoosh as the air was knocked out of him.

The crowd was absolutely silent.

"Perhaps you should practice falling more?" She said, with concern.

Hanna, seeing that the youngster was not moving, offered her hand to help him to his feet, but he ignored her and began clamoring his way back upright on his own.

"Unless you want me to record the first Nagnang fighting style I have seen," the Do chided good-naturedly. "As 'Rushing Opponent Wildly With Sword Upraised', I suggest we start again. This time, pretend I am your fencing instructor and that I am both more heavily armed and armored than you."

The red-faced warrior dusted himself off without a glance at the quiet crowd.

"But... you are defenseless!" He whined.

"Let me worry about that," Hanna replied gently.

What followed was truly the strangest duel Tomas had ever seen. The Northerner, armed only with an unstrung bow, managed somehow to dodge, parry and even riposte all of the sword attacks by the young warrior. Finally, as the crowd seemed ready to start cheering for the Do, Tomas stepped in to stop the fight.

"You are truly a great fighter," Tomas bowed slightly to the Northerner. "But this pairing does no one any honor. You obviously outclass this youngster. Perhaps we can find you a better opponent."