22 Old Gimper

"I suppose so," Wuyi muttered, a small comfort settling over him.

What Boluo said about fear was true; the Patriarch was worried about the future. That's why he decided to take better care of Wuyi, so Wuyi would be indebted to him. He understood properly what the patriarch wanted. If the Yuanjing clan doesn't claim him, the patriarch will use Wuyi as his henchman; a potent Yuanjing bloodline handyman would be a very powerful resource. If Yuanjing comes to claim him, he will owe a debt to the patriarch. It was a win-win for him, investing in some food and education for Wuyi.

The next fortnight brought a whirlwind of change. Boluo had him up at dawn, tubbed and scrubbed, his hair styled into a topknot. Dressed in his best, albeit outgrown, robes, Wuyi was led to the stables.

There, Boluo introduced him to his new mare, Suti—a gray, dappled beauty with a blackened mane, tail, nose, and stockings, as if she'd been playing in soot. Wuyi had hoped for a spirited gelding, but Suti was his mount instead. Sensing his disappointment, Boluo said, "You don't think she's much, do you? Well, how much of a horse did you have yesterday, Wuyi? She's with foal by Lord Tem's bay desert stallion, so treat her gently. Keben had been training her, but I think she'll suit you better."

Boluo had added an old cushion turned in to saddle for Wuyi, insisting that he prove himself a horseman before a new one would be made. Suti was responsive and smooth, a testament to Keben's training. Her temperament was like a quiet pond—calm and undemanding. Boluo watched closely, so Wuyi didn't dare try to know her mind through any means other than reins and knees. By the end of the first lesson, Wuyi was physically exhausted, but that didn't excuse him from the responsibilities of cleaning and feeding Suti, and tending to cushioned saddles and harnesses.

Only when every tangle was out of Suti's mane and the old leather shone with oil was Wuyi allowed to go to the kitchens and eat. Despite the whirlwind of changes, Wuyi had found a strange comfort in taking care of the mare, a sense of calm it brought to him. He understood why Boluo liked taking care of beasts; even in his free time, the beasts were good therapy.

Wuyi was about to dart away to the kitchen's back door to have his fulfilling meal when Boluo's firm hand landed on his shoulder. "No more of that for you," Boluo declared. "You eat in the hall with the nobility and their special servants now."

Boluo guided him into a dimly lit room filled with a long table and an array of foods. With the Lords and Ladies absent, the atmosphere was informal. Boluo nudged Wuyi to a spot on the left side of the table, above the midpoint but not by much. Hungry and undeterred by the gazes around him, Wuyi quickly devoured a large meal. His thoughts drifted to a sunny embankment where he often spent afternoons with the hounds, not doing anything after a hectic morning; he could use some rest between the hounds, but his reverie was interrupted.

"Master?" A boy, taller and older than Wuyi, stood behind him. "Have you finished eating?"

Confused, Wuyi nodded. The boy informed him that he was expected for weapons practice, sent by someone named Huo. Boluo appeared beside Wuyi, astonishing him by kneeling to straighten his robe and smooth his hair.

"Don't look so startled," Boluo said. "Did you think the Lord was not a man of his word? Hurry along with Bangte. Huo is a sterner master than I am."

With curiosity, Wuyi followed Bangte out of the hall. Once outside, Bangte's demeanor changed.

 "What's your name?" he demanded as they walked down the cobblestone pathway.

Wuyi pretended to be interested in the shrubbery, avoiding the question. Bangte snorted. "Well, they got to call you something. What's old Boluo call you?"

Surprised by Bangte's disdain for Boluo, Wuyi found himself blurting out his name. "He calls me Wuyi."

"Wuyi? As in Bastard?" Bangte snickered. "Direct spoken is the old gimper."

Feeling stung by Bangte's mockery, calling him gimper, Wuyi felt compelled to defend Boluo. "A desert beast savaged his leg," he explained, as if Boluo's limp were a badge of honor rather than a point of ridicule.

Bangte snorted disdainfully as they walked. "I know all about Boluo's leg. They say it was a low-grade spirit beast that nearly took the lives of young ones who were visiting from the noble north. Boluo was supposed to watch them in the desert, so he intervened. He took the bad fortune meant for the young nobles and turned it into a lame leg for himself. That's what the men say. The beast used its Qi, tainted with dark essence, to harm him; that's why the gimper is never going to heal fully."

Just as Wuyi was absorbing Bangte's words, the older boy suddenly rounded on him, causing Wuyi to stumble backward. Bangte laughed mockingly. "So, you're Boluo's new pet, eh? Why the sudden arms training and a horse?"

Wuyi got a feedback of rising hostility in Bangte, akin to entering a wolf's territory unannounced. Just as he was contemplating whether to run, a portly figure dressed in gray appeared behind Bangte, gripping the back of his neck firmly.

"The Patriarch said he's to have training and a horse, and that's enough for me, and should be for you, Bangte," the woman said, her voice stern. "Now go report to Master Gimi. He has errands for you."

Bangte's defiance melted into agreement. "Yes, my lady."

The woman turned her attention to Wuyi. "You, boy. Follow me."

Without waiting for a response, she set out across the open practice fields, her pace brisk. Wuyi had to trot to keep up. The desert sun beat down on his shoulders, and he began to sweat almost instantly. Yet the woman seemed unfazed by the heat.

She was garbed in varying shades of gray: a charcoal-hued robe, ashen leggings, and a slate-colored leather apron that extended almost to her ankles. Wuyi deduced she must be a caretaker of gardens or herbs, although her gray shoes, more akin to indoor footwear, perplexed him.

Wuyi panted as they reached the shade of the weapons pavilion, grateful for the respite from the sun's glare. "I've been sent for lessons... with Huo," he managed to say.

The woman nodded curtly and pushed open the door to the weapons pavilion, revealing a gentle half-light and a slight coolness that mingled with the smell of wood, sweat, and fresh strewn reeds. "Choose a weapon," she instructed, pointing to a rack filled with weapons.