Sweep, sweep, sweep. At this rate, Sanav would be responsible for sweeping all of Xinyue. Another hour, another dojo to which he owed a week of service for sneaking a look at their classes. By the stars, what was the big deal? He just wanted to peek into that world where sweeping was a maneuver, not a broom boy’s job.
“Hey!”
Sanav’s head snapped up. Sweat-slicked hair intermingled with the dirt caking his bronze skin. He shoved off his straw broom and wiped the raven hair from his eyes.
The sensei stood with arms crossed and eyebrows drawn into a line beneath the dilapidated building’s archway. His crisp training uniform was cleaner than anything Sanav owned and his belly rounded like melon. The cracks in the walls and windows made it easy to see into the building, as well as out of it.
“Yessir?” Sanav kept his eyes low, counting the nails sticking up from the porch floor.
“If you’re done, get on your way.”
“Yessir.”
Sanav bowed, backed down the steps, and scampered down the darkened alley toward the straw-bale building he called home. He swung his broom, imagining it was an iron mace. He could see a helpless girl cowering just beyond the villains, pleading for a savior. WHACK! Down with the bandits! His broom became a katana, slicing his enemies clean in half. And just as he grabbed the girl, he heard the snickering behind him.
Sanav spun on his heels to see three broom boys with jagged snarls.
“Look, Snot thinks he’s a samurai,” Guo, the wider of the three, said while pointing a crooked finger.
Sanav’s ears burned. He tried to keep walking, eyes glued to the stone pathway, but the other two boys circled. They were skin and bones like Sanav, but they were older and taller. Their shaggy hair and bony knuckles reminded Sanav of the mangy street dogs that lurked in the shadows. Even the street dogs’ eyes held less malice than that look in Guo’s.
“Guo, leave me alone. Lord Jing will be angry if you—”
“If I what?” Guo stepped up to the boy, his belly pressing against Sanav’s. Guo had eyes like tar and was shaped like a pear. Sanav wasn’t sure how a broom boy got so fat. “You think Lord Jing will care if you get hurt? You’re worthless! You spend more time paying off new debts than earning for your lord.”
Sanav dug his heels into the ground. “I’m earning my meals in overtime.”
“And yet…no one will miss you, will they?”
Sanav clenched his broom tighter.
“Grab him,” Guo said.
Sanav thrashed from one grasp to the next, fighting tooth and nail for his life. Whatever happened, he wouldn’t be Guo’s latest casualty. Sanav clonked one of the boys over the head with his broom and turned straight into Guo, who lifted him off the ground. The other boy snatched his broom and beat him with it. The stars began to dance in a sickening display, and Sanav wondered why he fought back in the first place. No one would miss him. He was an orphan of the conquered who didn’t deserve the air he breathed. At least if he died, he’d nourish the ground he was buried in. Sanav went limp and absorbed hit after hit.
Soon, he lost himself.
###
He moaned as his head knocked against wood. Everything throbbed. His legs and back burned with scrapes, and bruises already pulsed in too many places to count. His head vibrated with pain as it bounced against another step.
“He’s waking up.”
“We’re almost there,” Guo shushed.
Sanav opened his eyes to the swimming of lantern lights. His head clunked against another step. At that moment, his eyes made sense of his surroundings. A tower of seven tiers curved toward the heavens above him, each layer glistening a deep red in the torchlight.
Oh, stars! If he were caught here—Oh blazing sun! Sanav hooked the last step with the back of his heels and struggled to free his hands. What was Guo thinking? If anyone saw them on the pagoda steps, they’d all be killed.
“Guo, help! He’s stuck!”
“I can’t keep a grip,” the other boy said.
“You idiots, shut up!” Guo bit, cinching Sanav’s wrists with his padded hands. Guo ripped him up the stairs. Sanav felt the skin scrape off his heel, and he hissed to keep from screaming.
They dragged him closer and closer to the massive, double door. Etched into either side, golden claws reached for him. He could already feel his flesh flaying.
“You can have every breakfast!” Sanav finally broke. Stepping foot on the emperor’s grounds was a death sentence and a quick one when it was also the Pagoda of Lineages where the masters resided. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to sneak into those training grounds.
Guo had a wicked grin as he whispered, “This will be too much fun.”
The other urchins heaved the door open for Guo. He threw Sanav into the entrance. Sanav’s broom slapped him on the head and clattered to the old, wooden floor. Sanav heard the thud of the grand door like the closing of his casket.
Sanav peaked his head up, looking for any way out. Light wooden columns spanned either direction. A low fence stretched between the columns, separating Sanav from the inner garden of sand and stones. Across from him, Sanav saw a set of stairs but no windows. He closed his eyes and sucked in the aroma of deep wood mixed with fruits. His heart hammered. Agarwood was sacred. He had no right to be enjoying its scent nor its sights.
“Who dares enter the pagoda unannounced?” A voice boomed from the stairs.
Sanav panicked and scurried back to the door. He fought and clawed at it, earning a splinter under his nail. As sure as the rising sun, he was a dead man. He felt the voice’s impending aura. The hair on the back of his neck stood razor sharp. His executioner was right behind him.
Sanav spun and threw himself to the floor in a low bow.
He dared not let his eye linger, but he glimpsed an aged man wearing a robe that lustered like silk in the traditional black and gold colors of the dragon lineage. Sanav prayed this was a simple soldier. In his heart, he knew soldiers didn’t wear silk, but if it were the dragon master, his death was assured. Everyone knew the dragon master was ruthless.
Sanav clenched his eyes closed as the man stood above him quietly. Several moments passed with the weight of that presence pressing Sanav deeper and deeper. Only the flickering fires lighting the building dared move. Sweat glistened on Sanav’s bronze skin.
He finally gasped. “Forgive me, Dragon Master.”
“Who speaks for you, boy?” the man’s voice was calm but unyielding.
“I am Lord Jing’s broom boy. I have none to speak for me.”
The man knelt in front of Sanav and forced his chin from the forming puddle of sweat with one finger. Sanav’s eyes darted to look anywhere other than at the man in front of him. They caught on the broom with cracked, straw bristles the same dusty brown as his father’s hair.
The man’s voice rumbled as he questioned, “And you thought it wise to break into imperial grounds with no one to speak for you?”
“My…fellows, thought it would be funny.”
“Thought it amusing to sneak in?” the dragon master asked, his index finger hooking the back of Sanav’s chin.
Sanav closed his eyes, wishing for a different story. This man would never believe the truth, but his father always said, “Only a coward lies.”
“To throw me in.”
The dragon master abruptly let go and turned down the left corridor. Sanav was so shocked he almost missed the man order, “Follow.”
Sanav jumped to his feet and hastened to obey, following on the dragon master’s heels past the columns and fences. When the garden disappeared, and cherry wood marked a new section of the tower, the old man turned into a room with scrolls hanging unfurled along the walls. The scrolls were lined with crossed-out names and filled nearly every inch of the room that matched the size of his hay-bale hut. Paper lanterns offered a red hue to the room too dim to read any of the names. Were they trespassers like Sanav? Was his name about to join the list of the dead?
“The festival of heirs is in two years. I have found none among my ranks able to bear the burden of being my scion.” His scion. The master. Everyone knew the dragon master was too severe with his students to keep an heir. Looking at his towering figure, Sanav could see why. He stared at Sanav with arms crossed and a somber countenance. His piercing eyes felt like weapons unto themselves. “So, I will be watching for new prospects.” He turned, and Sanav ducked his head, refusing to disgrace the master with his gaze. “Look at me, boy.”
Sanav coerced his eyes to move to the dragon master’s feet. He fought to raise them, losing an inch for every two he lifted his gaze. Sanav decided he agreed with the rumors. This man was ruthless to make him cement his own execution. He finally made it past his long white beard, all the way up the long bridge of the master’s nose, breathing heavily. Sanav couldn’t look the dragon master in the eyes, but he clenched his fists and hoped that would be enough.
“Observe.”
The dragon master set his feet together and bowed. When he did, his eyes glazed over, and Sanav felt a stillness blanket the room. In a flash, the dragon master snapped his head a sliver to the right. Heat blasted from the man, charging into Sanav like an earthquake. The boy jumped back, desperately trying to escape the invisible force.
The old man stepped to the side. Both hands circled, jolting another blast of heat that crashed like a tidal wave. As the dragon master coiled his fist, Sanav slid back. The old man released a single punch that vibrated the room like the beating of a thousand wings.
As quickly as the heat came, it was gone. The dragon master bowed again, and his gaze fell on Sanav. The boy pressed himself into the wall, wishing he could slip through it.
The old man approached, and Sanav had nowhere to run. His ears rang and his heart refused to beat. The dragon master stopped in front of Sanav and knelt to look him in the eyes. Something gleamed in them.
“Practice what you’ve observed, then send for me. I will watch your match,” he said, grabbing one of Sanav’s hands. He placed an onyx signet with a golden dragon etched in a circle into Sanav’s hand and closed the boy’s fingers over it firmly.
Sanav stood in silent admiration until the dragon master grabbed his shoulder and pulled him from the wall. The old man kept a hand on his shoulder, lightly pressing Sanav toward the massive double door and shoved him into the crisp night air.
The cool air crashed into him as if he’d just reentered reality. His bruises ached anew and the scrapes burned like fire.
A muffled voice much softer than the dragon master’s spoke behind the door. “Your kindness will be your downfall.”
“He has good instincts,” the master replied, “He could make an excellent warrior.”
Not wishing to test his luck, Sanav scurried down the broad, stone staircase. He nearly stumbled over the last one as he realized he had forgotten his broom. He looked back at the pagoda, a tiered masterpiece in the moonlight. Fear and awe welled inside him. No going back.
###
Every day, he followed the same routine: work then practice, tweaking a motion here or there. He didn’t have time for sneaking around or making friends. He had the chance to be trained by the greatest master of all time and to earn his place in the empire. He would be a fool to focus on anything else. Even better, Guo seemed to steer clear these days. Time flew like this for months.
Sanav awoke on the first day of the festival. He wasn’t ready. The air hadn’t so much as flinched before him. By midday, the streets would be crowded with people from across Xinyue. When night fell, the master lineages would stand proudly under the rain of colorful explosions. Tomorrow he would fight for a future he could hardly imagine. A broom boy as an heir?
He rolled off a cot that was little more than piled straw and stuck his hand into the hay. He felt for his old, cloth sack that held his two most prized possessions: his father’s stone ring and the dragon signet.
“No, no, no!” he panicked, rifling through the pouch. The signet was gone.
Sanav burst out of the haybale hut to see Guo turning a corner with the signet in the palm of his hand. Sanav ran after him. Both boys passed the servants’ gate out of the manor grounds at a forced walk. As soon as he passed the threshold, Guo bolted as fast as his pudgy legs could carry him. Sanav darted, gaining ground, but Guo ducked into a dojo at the street corner with two spiral columns and a roof of curved, glazed tiles.
Now, the dragon master will watch Guo’s match instead of mine… Sanav kicked the dust and knocked his fists against his temples. He had to think of something. Even if he managed to get a dojo to let him, a broom boy, sign up for a duel, the dragon master wouldn’t be there. The signet was his key.
Sanav turned and ran back to his lord’s estate. He abandoned any feigned posturing, bumping against servants and shouting his apology on his way to the manor at the center of the estate.
“May I speak to Lord Jing?” he asked the attendant at the door.
“What business does an urchin have with my lord?” the woman asked.
“Someone stole my signet—”
“Speak to your taskmaster.”
“It was a lineage signet,” Sanav pleaded.
That gave her a pause. She held out a finger to Sanav and slipped inside. After a moment, she returned with two other servant boys who patted Sanav clean of the loose dirt and ushered him inside.
The stout lord in a flowing green robe gazed down from atop a staircase that reflected the colors glittering through massive, stained-glass windows.
Sanav knelt into a bow on the porcelain floor. “Thank you for seeing me, Lord Jing.”
“What is this about a lineage signet?” he asked.
“The dragon master gave me a signet to fight with tomorrow, but another boy stole it. He already used it to be let into a match. I was hoping you would sponsor me?” Sanav clenched his fists and forced his breath to steady.
With an amused grin, Lord Jing replied, “Your taskmaster has informed me that you ceased breaking into dojos and repaid your debts. In reward, I will have my attendant enter you against this other slave, but I do not wish to hear any further about this fairytale.”
Before Sanav could offer thanks, the lord disappeared beyond the staircase.
Though she refused to look at him, the young woman followed Sanav to the dojo and entered him against Guo.
###
Sanav could have sworn an eternity passed before the time of the match came. With too many people on the streets to sweep them, he sat on his straw bed, swirling his father’s stone ring around his thumb until it went raw. The other boys would be out begging, but Sanav couldn’t think about anything other than the wave of white heat flashing from the dragon master.
Guo wisely avoided the broom-boy hut that night. He waited until the next day when the gong rang to stand in front of Sanav again. They faced each other on a bamboo mat the size of their hut, but only the two of them occupied the space.
A crowd of men in robes and white training uniforms watched from the edges of the mat with crossed arms. He scanned their faces and robes, but none of them were the dragon master. Had Guo not used the signet?
“You made this too easy,” Guo taunted.
Every insult and injury burned under his skin. He wasn’t just another orphan of the conquered. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. Guo could call him snot, worthless, weak, useless, or whatever he wanted, but Sanav would make his life mean something. He would make sure that when he died, someone would miss him like he missed his father every second of every day.
Sanav followed his training. He bowed, and one by one, the men’s faces turned to shock. They bowed back, but it wasn’t to Sanav. Behind him, he felt a warmth enter the room. The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge like that night in the pagoda. The dragon master had come.
Before Sanav could fully turn to confirm this, Guo charged.
Sanav’s head snapped back to Guo, and it clicked. He understood the movements as more than empty training motions— they were maneuvers meant exactly for this moment. He slid to the side, just off Guo’s target line. He circled the first hand, blocking the incoming strike. The second fist followed, slapping Guo across his face. Sanav’s coiled hand shot like a bolt of lightning into Guo’s sternum, cracking and breaking. Immediately, he crumpled.
As Sanav bowed again, a hand grabbed his shoulder.
“Welcome to the dragon lineage,” the dragon master said.
Sanav looked up and saw the dragon master peering down with a smile in his piercing eyes. Sanav spun around, eyes like plates.
“I—uh, thank you, thank you for coming!” Sanav tripped over his words and snapped into a bow.
The old man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him upright. “That’s enough of that. We have much to do.”
Speechless, Sanav let the dragon master lead him out of the dojo. They stood between spiraling columns underneath an array of colorful explosions. Sanav took it all in… the fireworks, the smell of coming rain, the sea of people staring up at them from the street, the dragon master’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, and the hope of a brighter future.
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