“We talked about this,” Sain says slowly. “People need fetching and carrying. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, if you can’t do –”

“With all due respect,” Xiaodan interrupts. He hopes fervently this isn’t coming off as high-handed as it sounds in his head. “I understand what you’re getting at, but… I don’t think you really know what it is I can or can’t do.”

“So you’re sure?” Sain asks, loud enough their audience can hear.

There’s a few bored onlookers whispering, wondering what’s going on, and why the outsider’s after a public humiliation.

He and Sain are standing in the nearby square where children play. There are two statues, one at either end; the Little Prince, a caricature of Emperor Chen Shang – though Xiaodan couldn’t have spoken for its accuracy, even in broad daylight – and the Road, a stylised figure of a traveller striding forward with a lantern held up against the darkness. Unlit, of course.

Apparently this was the game he heard the children playing. They like to climb the Road, totter along the figure’s outstretched arm and plunge off, blindly, into the sandpit underneath. Xiaodan wishes the metaphor weren’t quite so appropriate.

There’s probably not going to be anything to cushion his fall, though.

“I’m sure,” he lies.

“You are not.” He can hear her teeth grinding. “You can’t echo, you haven’t had any training – you haven’t even been here two weeks –”

It took everything he had to get Sain to agree, and only to practice swords; she still hasn’t given his back.

“I am a swordsman,” he says evenly. “Four years Liǎng Zhī Niǎo, two years of Zhān style fist –”

“Training in how to listen,” Sain says wearily. “Six years chāquán sword style and I’m fifth level lightness ability. I disarmed you! Back in the tunnels! Remember?” She sighs. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to –”

“You won’t.” Xiaodan draws his sword, and lifts it. Heron stance, grip reversed, scabbard held out to ward her off.

“Fine,” Sain mutters. “I warned you –”

The force of her internal energy breaks over him like a wave as she charges.

So this is what the fifth level feels like –

“How did you do that?” Xiaodan demanded.

He picked himself up, rubbing his shoulder. The force of Tsang Wai Yi’s blow sent him stumbling back so far he’d lost count at ten paces, and yet she’d never even opened her eyes.

“Silly boy.” The little woman’s mouth curved upward. “You think I’m blind, just because I can’t see? You have other senses, don’t you?” She tapped the side of her head with her free hand.

“Yes, but,” Xiaodan began.

That was his best attempt yet at Swallow on the Wing, and she’d blocked every single strike before knocking him silly with the flat of her blade.

“It takes practice,” Tsang Wai Yi said. “But there are countless ways to hear what your opponent is doing. I can teach you the basics, at least. Not much more than fairground tricks, but…” She shrugged. “Could be you might need them some day.”

Sain charges across the square –

Listen, Xiaodan tells himself, concentrating on the sound of her footsteps, almost floating across the ground. Listen.

She feints to the right; he hears the air shudder as her sword flickers in that direction. Launches into a spiralling flurry of kicks, the snapping noises like a dancer twirling a long streamer of cloth –

Her sword comes down from high up on the right –

No –

Xiaodan can feel the tip of Sain’s practice sword resting on the left side of his neck. She’s swapped it to the other hand for the killing blow, and he never noticed.

“I told you,” Sain begins.

“Again.” Xiaodan steps back, takes up his stance.

She thrusts her sword out, swipes it back and forth, a painter wetting her brush. Xiaodan lunges, smacks her sword away, brings his scabbard down with his other hand; Sain sways, dodges, a tree bending in the wind, pulls her blade up; Xiaodan blocks the blow, but she kicks out at the same time, once, twice –

Her right foot catches him square on the chin and sends him stumbling backwards –

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Sain says in a low voice. She’s not even breathing hard.

“Again!” Xiaodan rubs his jaw with the back of one hand.

He lashes out without warning. Hawk Duels the Fox; feint with the sword, fight with the scabbard; Sain dances backwards, then stabs, left, left, a lightning-fast jab to the right; he bats them aside, one, two, three, then claws at her with the point of his sword and it connects –

He felt it connect –

He can hear her, Xiaodan realises. The impact of her boots against the rock, the faint whisper her clothing makes as she changes position, her breathing when she channels her strength into the next stance; he can hear it.

“Lucky,” Sain mutters. She spits off to one side. “That’s not happening again.”

“Want to bet?” Xiaodan says.

“Come on, then,” Sain says softly, and he can hear the heat in her voice. “Your third level against my fifth. Come on.”

And before he can respond, she’s running.

Not towards him, but away –

The pair of them dart towards the nearest building –

Xiaodan feels the power spill out of her as Sain charges up the wall –

No, he thinks. That’s what the fifth level feels like.

Straight up the wall, Sain somersaults backwards, just before reaching the roof; Xiaodan can hear her coat fluttering as she pirouettes overhead –

She lands right behind him –

You think I’m blind, Tsang Wai Yi says, just because I can’t see?

Xiaodan doesn’t bother turning, just holds both sword and scabbard over his shoulders, fending off Sain’s attacks –

She moves to kick him in the back and he drops to the ground, lying prone for a split second before he twists his legs to propel himself up –

Sain’s already running again, back across the square. Xiaodan can hear the onlookers hastily moving out of the way. There’s more people watching, now, and he can hear them talking, bursts of excited conversation –

Sain’s fighting the outsider –

She’s heading for the Road; another ripple of internal energy and she drops, sliding on her knees; the sand beneath the statue showers everywhere and Xiaodan shields his face; Sain catches hold of the statue, digs her sword in, uses it as a pivot and curves, rounding the base of the statue, coming back towards him –

She brings her legs up, still sliding, and rises off the ground, spinning like a top –

Seagull Rides the Storm; Xiaodan thrusts sword and scabbard out, catches Sain’s assault in mid-air; he feels the impact travel up his arms, and the sheer intensity of the energy she’s pouring into this, like the wind at the very tip of some towering mountain peak, snatching at his clothes –

Sain stops, falls to the ground and twists, like he did moments ago, to get up; Xiaodan steps backward and Sain comes straight for him once she’s on her feet, left, right, up; he blocks all three but then right after the last blow she strikes, her free hand driving forward; Sain grabs his scabbard, there’s another burst of power and she’s –

Sain is rising off the ground –

She pushes off using her grip on his scabbard where he held it aloft, using her internal energy to get that first boost; she literally climbs up him and for long, vulnerable seconds Xiaodan is too shocked to react; Sain reaches his shoulders and backflips in place, the force driving him to his knees –

The crowd gasps –

Sain descends like a lightning bolt, legs apart, sword straight down –

Sometimes you have to improvise, Tsang Wai Yi says.

Rather than try to get up or dodge as she falls from overhead, Xiaodan lets himself fall backward, swings both legs out to one side then brings them up, like two fists clenched together, to swat Sain out of the air and it connects –

It connects. It feels as if he just sprained an ankle but he can hear Sain skidding across the square, tumbling over and over –

People are cheering.

Cheering him –

Xiaodan scrambles to his feet, charges straight for the place he heard Sain come to a stop, and catches the sound of her running towards him in turn –

Hawk Eludes the Hound, just before they reach each other; he spins, swaps sword and scabbard from hand to hand, punches her with the scabbard as he twirls around her, swaps them back; aims for the back of Sain’s head with the blade, but she’s not there; the first blow didn’t connect; she’s already turned and –

She presses the advantage, hammering on his defence; Xiaodan’s left arm is beginning to throb from the effort of fending her off and –

As he stumbles backwards, Sain brings her sword up, a strange, ragged swing like a knife tearing through a sheet of paper, and Xiaodan frantically moves to block it –

No –

That wasn’t an attack; she literally tossed her sword straight upwards –

As Xiaodan’s attention shifts to the sound of the blade spinning overhead Sain punches him in the face and for several seconds there’s nothing but a furious ringing in his ears –

Then she snatches her sword out of the air, and Xiaodan’s senses return just as she’s placed the point in the hollow of his throat.

Sometimes, Tsang Wai Yi observes, you need to know when you’re beaten.

Silence from the audience scattered around the edge of the square.

Xiaodan can hear Sain, the ragged saw of her breathing, but she’s holding the practice sword rock steady, as if she really could run him through with it at any moment.

He closes his eyes and steels himself for another withering putdown, or worse, yet more quiet disappointment. The worst of it is he has no more comebacks; he’s bigger and stronger, most likely, but Sain is clearly the better swordsman, even without that control she has over her internal energy.

But she merely takes the sword back, brusquely sheathes it, turns, and walks off without a word.

What’s going on? Xiaodan wants to call out, but he can’t find the energy. There’s no strength left in his legs. He sinks to his knees as the onlookers crowd around him, offering their congratulations.

“Now that was a show,” one woman says, in a cheery, almost maternal voice. “You need some water? Something stronger?”

“I know I do,” an old man offers, and people start laughing.

“Hasn’t been anybody gave her that much trouble in a while,” another man says. “Other than her father.”

And there’s another clue, but one Xiaodan is too exhausted to ponder. He accepts a mug of water from a passing porter and sits down, weakly sipping from it with his back to the legs of the Road. The children waiting to play on it whisper incredulously to each other from a safe distance.

No sign of Sain.

Finally, after the clock tower has chimed once more, Xiaodan can’t deny it any longer. She’s not coming back.

Has he offended her? Let her down? What happened?

He stands, wobbling unsteadily and, clutching the practice sword, trudges wearily homeward.