”
Woo could see realization dawn across Amit’s features. He’d pierced his anger’s veil and allowed logic to enter; the boy could see the inevitable dominoes fall, one after another. There were many at the order who believed that training young men and women entailed exercises and practice; Woo knew the most important thing to train was the mind — especially in the young. If you could teach a person to think, fighting was rarely necessary. And if you could teach a person to think, the fighting, when it happened, proceeded more easily.
Woo reached down, gently took the sai by its tip, and pulled the weapon into his hand. Amit gave him the other without protest. Woo nodded to several adults, placed his hand on the boy’s back, and led him from the dormitory.
Amit’s head fell as they walked. His fury had dissipated, but shame scurried in its shadow. There was nothing wrong with fury, or shame, but both had come at the boy unasked.
They passed Suni at the door. He met Woo’s eyes with a steely glare, then looked at Amit. Almost imperceptibly, the abbot’s eyes flicked upward, toward Woo’s silver-white hair. Woo pulled Suni’s eyes back to his, and silently sent him a message: Not now. We will discuss the boy later .
They returned to the garden, alone. The compound’s rhythms settled to normal around them. Woo sat in Lotus on the grass. Amit, with a small effort, crossed his legs then pulled his own feet up, matching Woo’s position. The boy, with his own small shaved head, blue robe and saffron sash, looked up at his mentor.
“Am I in trouble?”
“With some, yes. In the coming weeks, you will have more practice allowing insults from the other boys to lay at your feet. They are Sri — many are old enough that they should be enlightened and know better — but they are still boys. Other weapons will be laid at your feet by adults like the abbot. Those will be more subtle and elegant, for flaying rather than beheading, but they are similar. If you do not allow the judgments of others to harm you, then you cannot be harmed by them. They are toothless snakes hissing around your ankles, full of menace but unable to strike.”
“I meant, will I have to leave?”
Woo shook his head. “I will not allow it. You are young, with a violent past that, for now, will give you an excuse. Pity is a weapon that you can lay at the feet of adults. They believe they are above such things, but are not used to pitying children. I can twist those knives for you — remind the others that you have great challenges to surmount, that you have no one else, that you need our help, that we may be the only ones capable of saving you. But you dull my knives with every new incident.”
“I did not create that incident. Sanjay and his group did.”
Woo frowned. The Sri were not supposed to form “groups”; only the order was supposed to matter, and the order always came above the individual. That was how it was supposed to work, and for the most part did. But boys were still boys, and still formed allegiances and traveled in packs. Among the adults, there were those who didn’t find idea of individuality beneath notice, like Woo.
“Of course, you did. Could you not deflect their barbs? Could you not walk away?”
“They nudge me. They knock me down. It was not only words.”
“Could you not fall when they nudged you? Could you not accept their attacks without retaliation?” Woo looked to his right and left, then leaned closer and almost whispered. “Could you not sneak up to Sanjay’s cot in the middle of the night, use a blade to draw a line down his middle, and allow him to wake and see it, knowing what might have happened — and what might happen next?”
The order’s official decree was to turn the other cheek until it could no longer be turned, but Woo felt that often, action resolved disputes faster by a subtle hand.
“I have told you, Amit. You came to us with great
Woo could see realization dawn across Amit’s features. He’d pierced his anger’s veil and allowed logic to enter; the boy could see the inevitable dominoes fall, one after another. There were many at the order who believed that training young men and women entailed exercises and practice; Woo knew the most important thing to train was the mind — especially in the young. If you could teach a person to think, fighting was rarely necessary. And if you could teach a person to think, the fighting, when it happened, proceeded more easily.
Woo reached down, gently took the sai by its tip, and pulled the weapon into his hand. Amit gave him the other without protest. Woo nodded to several adults, placed his hand on the boy’s back, and led him from the dormitory.
Amit’s head fell as they walked. His fury had dissipated, but shame scurried in its shadow. There was nothing wrong with fury, or shame, but both had come at the boy unasked.
They passed Suni at the door. He met Woo’s eyes with a steely glare, then looked at Amit. Almost imperceptibly, the abbot’s eyes flicked upward, toward Woo’s silver-white hair. Woo pulled Suni’s eyes back to his, and silently sent him a message: Not now. We will discuss the boy later .
They returned to the garden, alone. The compound’s rhythms settled to normal around them. Woo sat in Lotus on the grass. Amit, with a small effort, crossed his legs then pulled his own feet up, matching Woo’s position. The boy, with his own small shaved head, blue robe and saffron sash, looked up at his mentor.
“Am I in trouble?”
“With some, yes. In the coming weeks, you will have more practice allowing insults from the other boys to lay at your feet. They are Sri — many are old enough that they should be enlightened and know better — but they are still boys. Other weapons will be laid at your feet by adults like the abbot. Those will be more subtle and elegant, for flaying rather than beheading, but they are similar. If you do not allow the judgments of others to harm you, then you cannot be harmed by them. They are toothless snakes hissing around your ankles, full of menace but unable to strike.”
“I meant, will I have to leave?”
Woo shook his head. “I will not allow it. You are young, with a violent past that, for now, will give you an excuse. Pity is a weapon that you can lay at the feet of adults. They believe they are above such things, but are not used to pitying children. I can twist those knives for you — remind the others that you have great challenges to surmount, that you have no one else, that you need our help, that we may be the only ones capable of saving you. But you dull my knives with every new incident.”
“I did not create that incident. Sanjay and his group did.”
Woo frowned. The Sri were not supposed to form “groups”; only the order was supposed to matter, and the order always came above the individual. That was how it was supposed to work, and for the most part did. But boys were still boys, and still formed allegiances and traveled in packs. Among the adults, there were those who didn’t find idea of individuality beneath notice, like Woo.
“Of course, you did. Could you not deflect their barbs? Could you not walk away?”
“They nudge me. They knock me down. It was not only words.”
“Could you not fall when they nudged you? Could you not accept their attacks without retaliation?” Woo looked to his right and left, then leaned closer and almost whispered. “Could you not sneak up to Sanjay’s cot in the middle of the night, use a blade to draw a line down his middle, and allow him to wake and see it, knowing what might have happened — and what might happen next?”
The order’s official decree was to turn the other cheek until it could no longer be turned, but Woo felt that often, action resolved disputes faster by a subtle hand.
“I have told you, Amit. You came to us with great
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