Fedrahn and Garin didn't discuss the events at the kitchens the next day. They acted like nothing had happened, and it was almost like nothing had.

Only now Garin noticed the other boys watching him every time he went to town in the afternoon. They never got spending money unless they did something extremely useful like work three shifts a day for ten days straight.

They had to wait to earn money until after they'd done enough during training to earn merits. But even those apprentices advanced enough to have a personal mentor didn't get ten coppers on a daily basis. They'd maybe get one copper a month a month if they were really impressive.

It wasn't like money was important in their insular life style, but buying new clothes or other small niceties was still enticing. The only reason there was a market was to teach the inhabitants of how the outside world worked.

In the first place, only a few apprentices learnt enough advanced techniques to become masters. Only masters didn't have to do anything on the island, dedicating themselves to improving and teaching others.

The rest had to give back to the island. They were sent out at times, as hired help in the outside world. It was them who ensured the island had a steady supply of necessary resources, including young orphans to train, live stock, food. It was them who ensured the island was hidden, but not cut off from the outside world.

It was also them who maintained a certain island prison for very powerful criminals, but that was something Garin never thought of, doubting he'd ever get to see it.

Garin too didn't receive ten coppers on a daily basis, but the others would never believe it. They were way too tense around him for him to learn anymore interesting gossip he could give Fedrahn.

Fedrahn was busy for a few days, but then when he wasn't he went to the kitchens and stocked the fires of his nefarious plans. On those days, Garin could almost cut the envy that flew towards him.

It got bad enough that now Garin spent his afternoon free time in the woods, doing nothing important but trying to learn the earth dance. Or at least that was what he told himself.

It was just not possible to be immovable as a rock, especially when he was so light.

The heart wood was a weird forest, at least according to some of Fedrahn’s books. He found it hard to imagine a forest where all the trees were similar and the weather was uniform for kilometers on end. It only made sense that some regions should have gigantic trees with canopies and others be full of swamps. Others impenetrable and others so sparsely populated they had scraggly grass as long as cows in the rows. Even some regions should be perpetually dark and some filled with impassable mist. That's just how forests were supposed to be.

Sometimes he thought maybe he'd been thinking of it in the wrong way. Maybe he could take some inspiration from the heart wood. For example he could try and emulate this thing he'd read about called a reed. After all, the description had seemed to fit his hands almost perfectly, especially now that he was looking at one.

He was small and short and... He saw a smooth stone on the ground. Probably an off shoot from a rock. He held it in his hand, flipped it up a few times.

He was like a small man, as the stone was like a small rock. He threw it, and this time he noticed many things about it as it glided through the air, then landed on a pond and skipped once, twice, three times before sinking.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

A smile curved his lips. Something had finally clicked, but he wasn't sure what. He needed more information. He looked around for more things to throw, all the while seeing how they curved through the air, how they impacted the earth, the water.

His peers, the ones he'd arrived onto the island with had started training. He wasn't called for. The arch master had kept his word and spoken to the friar about exempting the crippled boy from training.

"So this is where you've been hiding these days, little pest?" a familiar voice asked.

Hob was turning almost thirteen this year, and he and a few of his friends had been stuck at the intermediate stage for almost three years. It had been a source of ridicule for them for a while now, and had recently earned Garin a beating.

"So, where are you hiding the coins then?" Hob asked.

"They aren't here," Garin replied carelessly, knowing this was all part of Fedrahn's plan. "Where are your two hangers on? I think you're not scary enough on your own."

"Shut up, little weed, or you won't like what'll happen. I didn't invite them because I didn't want to share. Besides, Odo's recently moved up, and I hear he's got a mentor now. Arch master Goesh of the fire arms."

"Well great for him. So even idiots can move up if they put in the required effort."

Garin was trying to provoke the boy, although that was hardly necessary given he'd come looking for him. He was trying to act confident, but this couldn't have been a worse development.

Fedrahn's plan hinged on them fighting in an open area where the events of the duel would be public.

"I think you want to die, kid," Hob said as he rubbed his knuckles together.

He was so confident in his superior physique, he didn't even think to use his dance techniques. Garin was trained in standard combat, and Hob learnt it the hard way after a brief exchange which ended with a small foot in the centre of his groin.

A kind of coloured aura started to spread from him as he fell onto his belly screaming. It was his eyes that showed Garin how much trouble he'd gotten himself into.

It might have been muddled, but Garin couldn't mistake that phenomenon. A requirement for a dancer to transition from a novice to an intermediate level warrior. They could enter the right mind space for a dance without the induction exercise, and their eyes would glow like stars for light dancers.

Garin backed away even as slowly by slowly Hob's agonised cries started to fade. He stared up at the retreating boy with hatred, before his glare turned into a wolfish smile.

"Did I forget to tell you I advanced too?"

Garin did not hesitate, turning and starting to dash like crazy. In a moment, he could feel something hot descend toward his back, and he thought he was done for.

Still, he could try and side step, just a little bit. He had to time it right so his chaser didn't have time to recover. He hopped to the side like a rabbit. Only he ended up hopping much further than he'd intended, colliding with a tree a whole ten meters from the well worn path he'd been following.

When his head stopped swimming, he looked up just in time to see a formerly perplexed Hob shrug and then vanish from sight. His face appeared in front of Garin's, and then a punch he wasn't ready for took him in the gut.

It was one of the basic forms, the light step. It was just a trick of the light, but then that was the point.

Even though he'd advanced to a kind of advanced level skill range, he'd just gone there, and he wasn't yet too far for Garin to be helpless.

He took a deep breath through screaming lungs, the other boy was not giving him a lot of time, but it was enough. Suddenly his movements weren't too fast anymore. It was just those moments when his hand would appear to be coming from up only to take him in the midriff that were hard to deal with.

He tanked some, dodged those he could, all the while trying to get out of the woods. Getting into the induction state was not impossible even with all this distraction, but then he had to focus on trying to navigate through previously unexplored brush.

He had to modify his movements at times, make sure his legs never left the earth, because for some weird reason he could sense a kind of connection, like they were in sync, like he reasonated with the earth.

He blocked a jab with his forearm, reacted just fast enough to parry a kick, and jumped back in time to avoid a knee drop. Despite all the grace of the dance, once the tricks were ineffective, it was up to the warrior's other skills to make up for it, at least at the early stages.

Too bad for Hob Garin was an experienced brawler by now.

Garin completed his patchwork induction. Normally he'd go into high concentration, be able to see the motes of light flickering through the trees, though he'd yet to learn to manipulate them.

He'd reached this stage weeks ago, and he'd been unable to continue because his theoretical knowledge could only take him so far.

Now though, he felt his focus heightened, but it was not the light he could feel. Instead it was...he didn't know what it was, but when Hob delivered a jaw cracking hook, Garin dodged the impact with the barest of motions.

He countered with a small kick to the other boy's calf, and it was too fast even for him to follow. And there was a thud, like a stone hitting muscled flesh.

Hob looked at Garin in confusion, but Garin was even more bewildered. He ran, somehow knowing the right way back to town. Somehow he felt like he was riding the wind itself.

Then the pain started from some place near his kidneys a little behind his belly.