“She’s not accusing anyone of anything,” Jiang interrupted serenely. It was the first time he’d spoken since the start of her exam. Rin glanced at him in surprise, but Jiang just scratched his ear, not even looking at her. “She’s merely attempting a clever answer to an otherwise inane question. Honestly, Yim, this one has gotten pretty old.”
Yim shrugged. “Fair enough. No further questions. Master Jiang?”
All the masters twitched in irritation. From what Rin understood, Jiang was present only as a formality. He never gave an exam; he mostly just made fun of the students when they tripped over their answers.
Jiang gazed levelly into Rin’s eyes.
She swallowed, feeling the unsettling sensation of his searching gaze. It was like she was as transparent as a puddle of rainwater.
“Who is imprisoned in the Chuluu Korikh?” he asked.
She blinked. Not once in the four months that he had trained her had Jiang ever mentioned the Chuluu Korikh. Neither had Master
Yim or Irjah, or even Jima.
Either Jiang was posing a riddle, or he just wanted to throw her off.
But she didn’t want to admit defeat. She didn’t want to look clueless in front of Irjah. Jiang had asked her a question, and Jiang never asked questions during the Trials. The masters were expecting an interesting answer now; she couldn’t disappoint them.
What was the cleverest way to say
And Jiang hadn’t asked what the Chuluu Korikh
What kind of prisoner couldn’t be held in the Baghra Desert?
She pondered this until she had an unsatisfying answer to an unsatisfying question.
“Unnatural criminals,” she said slowly, “who have committed unnatural crimes?”
Jun snorted audibly. Jima and Yim looked uncomfortable.
Jiang gave a minuscule shrug.
“Fine,” he said. “That’s all I have.”
Oral exams concluded by midmorning on the third day. The pupils were sent to lunch, which no one ate, and then herded to the rings for the commencement of the Tournament.
Rin drew Han for her first opponent.
When it was her turn to fight she climbed down the rope ladder and looked up. The masters stood in a row before the rails. Irjah gave her a slight nod, a tiny gesture that filled her with determination. Jun folded his arms over his chest. Jiang picked at his fingernails.
Rin had not fought any of her classmates since her expulsion from Combat. She had not even watched them fight. The only person she had ever sparred against was Jiang, and she had no clue if he was a good approximation of how her classmates might fight.
She was entering this Tournament blind.
She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, willing herself to at least appear calm.
Han, on the other hand, looked very disconcerted. His eyes darted across her body and then back up to her face as if she were some wild animal he had never seen before, as if he didn’t know quite what to make of her.
He must have heard the rumors that she had studied with Jiang. He didn’t know what to believe about her. Didn’t know what to expect.
What was more, Rin was the underdog in this match. No one expected her to fight well. But Han had trained with Jun all year.
Han was a Sinegardian. Han
Sunzi wrote that one must always identify and exploit the enemy’s weaknesses. Han’s weakness was psychological. The stakes were much, much higher for him, and that made him insecure. That made him beatable.
Han blushed furiously.
Good. She made him nervous. She grinned widely, baring teeth. “Lucky you,” she said. “You get to be my first.”
“You don’t have a chance,” Han blustered. “You don’t know any martial arts.”
She merely smiled and slouched back into Seejin’s fourth opening stance. She bent her back leg, preparing herself to spring, and raised her fists to guard her face.
“Don’t I?”
Han’s face clouded with doubt. He had recognized her posture as deliberate and practiced—not at all the stance of someone who had no martial arts training.
Rin rushed him as soon as Sonnen signaled them to begin.
