The Initiate Brother Duology Read Free Page A

seems probable, Sister Morima.”
    “He chose from among the objects offered?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “And you say it is
probable
that he was a monk?”
    “Wouldn’t you agree?”
    “Huh.”
    The Supreme Master realized he was revealing more than he intended. The truth was that he had no idea who the boy had been in his former life. As a child, when Shuyun had come to the Order he had been tested in many ways. One of these tests was to choose, from among a random array of objects, those commonly used by members of the Order. Shuyun had chosen all the correct objects—a feat almost unheard of—but subsequent tests to discern who the boy had been were unsuccessful. This had never before happened. Perhaps Shuyun
had
been a Sister! The Supreme Master found this thought unsettling.
    “When will you give up this meddling in the affairs of the world, Brother, and concern yourself with the perfection of the spirit, as my own Order does?”
    “I assure you, Sister Morima, that we are as concerned with the spirit and its perfection, as you are.”
    “But you are more concerned with perfecting the spirits of the wealthy, yeh?”
    “Our temples and retreats deal with the less fortunate also, Sister, or have you forgotten? It was our Order that found the cure for the Great Plague, saving peasants, merchants, and peers alike.”
    Footsteps sounded in the hall, and then came a tap on the shoji.
    “Please enter.”
    Two Neophytes bowed and came into the room carrying trays.
    “I will serve the cha,” the Supreme Master said.
    A small wooden table was moved to the center of the room. The servers moved with studied precision, anxious not to bring shame to the Supreme Master or the monastery.
    The Supreme Master prepared the tea according to the practices of a thousand years, while the servers laid small platters of rice and vegetables on the table.
    “Please, serve our guest first,” the ancient monk instructed, and then, with fascination, he watched the nun select from each dish offered, her pupils wide with pleasure. Such a foolish weakness, the Supreme Master thought. If she were a Brother of our faith, she would be required to live on water and air three days out of seven for the rest of her life to show mastery of her desire. He dismissed the servers and poured the steaming cha, offering the first cup to his guest.
    “I am not deserving, Brother. Please take this cup yourself.”
    “Your presence honors me; please, I insist.” He proffered the cup again and this time she received it with a bow which he returned. Outside, on the small, private porch, a cricket began to chirp. The chi quan training continued in the courtyard. The Supreme Master poured his own cha and tasted it. Perfect! The cha leaves were grown in the monastery’s own garden and overseeing the cultivation of the cha plant was one of his continuing pleasures. He ate a small portion of rice, to be polite, and watched the nun as she tried to hide her gluttony…and failed.
    The Supreme Master knew that, when the food was gone, Sister Morima would reveal the true reason for her visit—and he wouldn’t need to guess what that reason was. He sipped his cha.
    He could hear the swallows building a nest under the roof of his balcony. They would make a terrible mess, but he loved to watch them and make friends with them. Such beautiful fliers!
    Looking at the running time glass on its stand, the Supreme Master beganto exercise chi ten, stretching his time sense until the sand appeared to slow as it fell. He looked down at the steam rising from his cha in languid swirls, like impossibly fine curtains moving in a breeze. He smiled inwardly.
    What if this young one
could
stop the sand, as the nun had asked? What if he could do more? Since Lord Botahara, no one had stopped the sand—not in a thousand years! Why did they all fall short of the Perfect Master? The old monk’s own teacher had had more highly developed chi ten abilities than any of his students and