*******
Pagan dined with Xiang Tse that evening. After a sumptuous meal of roast pork, roast duck, fragrant rice, black mushrooms and yard long beans, master and student sipped flavoured shaojiu – a spirit distilled from sorghum – from shallow bowls.
Xiang Tse walked to the window and looked down at the workmen dismantling the royal enclosure. Turning to look at Pagan, he took another sip from his bowl before speaking. “You have come a long way in the last couple of years. I am proud of you for the way you have adapted to life in a foreign land far away from all you knew.”
Pagan flushed with pride at Xiang Tse’s acknowledgment of his efforts. But truth to tell, he enjoyed life at the Jade Castle, Chan Ki-Hon providing the sole dark cloud.
As if reading Pagan’s mind, Xiang Tse continued. “Chan Ki-Hon may be an unpleasant young man, but he is very capable. You have done well to stand up to his bullying, and you will come across many like him in life. No matter how strong they may seem, they are generally weak men trying to compensate for some inadequacy.”
Pagan stood and joined his teacher by the window. He shook his head. “I don’t see many inadequacies. He is very fast and very skilled, and I am ashamed he beat me. I wanted to…kill him, stuff those insults down his throat.”
Xiang Tse nodded. “And therein lies the reason he beat you. You let your anger and hatred get the better of you. You saw him tottering and ready for the headman’s axe, neh? So, you lost zhi – self-control, and chose a devastating, but risky attack.”
Pagan nodded. “I was aiming for his head.”
“I know,” Xiang Tse acknowledged. “Good thing you missed then, neh? Your kick would have smashed his skull, and the consequences would have been dire indeed.”
“Why? Full contact was permitted, and he would have killed me, given the chance.”
“Maybe. Seok-Ah – the adjudicator, – had to prise his arm from around your neck after you lost consciousness. But you cannot base your actions on what Chan Ki-Hon might have done, given the opportunity. Each man is responsible for his own actions. Besides, killing the son of the Emperor’s closest adviser would have brought big problems, including your own death.”
“But it was a fair contest.”
“Indeed, it was, but there has never been a death in these contests, and much face would have been lost if a gwai-loh not only won, but killed the only son of a highly-placed member of the Emerald Court.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Perhaps not, but know you have made a dangerous enemy in Chan Ki-Hon. Although he beat you, you cracked three of his ribs and came very close to humbling him. He will not forget that.”
Pagan nodded. But he wasn’t overly concerned about incurring Chan Ki-Hon’s enmity.
Xiang Tse turned away from the window and placed a hand on Pagan’s shoulder. “The next stage of your education starts now. Gather your belongings and return here tomorrow. I have set aside a room for you. Now, go and get a good night’s sleep, you need it after today’s exertions and excitement.”
To Grasp a Breeze
The slate-grey sky, devoid of sun, moon, or stars made it impossible to tell whether it was day or night. There wasn’t the barest hint of a breeze. The ground was reddish-brown and rocky.
Pagan looked around and wondered how he came to be in this desolate place. He couldn’t see any trees or plants, or any signs of life.
Perplexed, he walked toward a hill he could see in the distance. Reaching the brow, he looked down the other side and saw a mass of figures. Some were sitting on the ground, some squatting, and others simply standing.
He made his way down the hill, and walked toward a white-robed figure standing apart from the rest. As he reached him, the figure spoke. “It’s good so see you again my boy, but I am saddened by your appearance.”
The figure flipped back his cowl.
“Sagayetha!” Pagan blurted in relief. “Where am I? What is this place? Why does my appearance sadden you, and who are all these people?”
The former shaman glanced at the silent mass of figures before turning back to Pagan. “So many questions, so many questions! I brought your spirit here while you slept. When you wake, all this will seem like a dream, but pay heed my boy, for it is not. This is the Ethereal Plane. Some call it the Place between Places. We must all pass through here after we die…after our time on the mortal plane is over.”
“Those are the lost and blighted souls,” he explained, gesturing at the silent mass of people. “Some are lost, not knowing why they are here, and others committed such evil deeds when alive, they are doomed to wander this dead place until they are granted an opportunity for redemption. Some are scaled like reptiles and others worse than that. Look at your hands, my boy.”
Pagan raised his hands and gasped in horror. The back of his hands were scaled like a snake or lizard’s. Reaching up he touched his face and it felt scaly. “What’s happened to me?” he asked, his voice quivering.
“On this plane of existence, our appearance reflects the nature of our souls,” Sagayetha told him. “Killing all those Crocodile people was a foul deed that blemished your soul.”
“But they deserved to die.”
“Perhaps so. But surely not the women and children and old ones? They had no hand in killing our people and Amla. Tell me, how did you feel after you took your vengeance?”
Pagan bowed his head, his voice low, as he replied. “You are right Sagayetha, but my anger consumed me. In my hate, I wanted to kill them all, but afterward, I felt sullied...dirty. I felt ashamed. I was no better than them.”
Sagayetha moved closer and placed a hand on Pagan’s shoulder. “Hmm... and there lies your path to redemption. You realized you’d committed a great evil.”
“So, what should I do? I cannot undo what I have done.”
“You are already on the right path, Pagan.” Sagayetha smiled. “I call you...Pagan, for that is who you are. Nnwanowa – the name your father gave you, is no more. You chose the name Pagan, and it is fitting for the world in which you now travel. Heed the words of your teacher, Xiang Tse. He is a good man, and you will learn much from him. Don’t sully your soul with unworthy thoughts, words or deeds. Fight evil where you find it, and protect the weak from those who seek to harm them.”
“I shall try my best.”
“That is all any man can do.”
Pagan glanced at the silent figures and shuddered. “Where is Amla? I hope she isn’t amongst them?”
Shaking his head, Sagayetha smiled broadly. “Of course not, Pagan. Amla was a child of kindness and good thoughts, and has a light soul. She has passed through to a higher plane of existence.”
“Will I ever see her again?”
“Perhaps Pagan, Perhaps. If your soul is unburdened when your time comes, the Laws of Creation may draw you together again. But not yet, not yet, eh? You have many years left and much to accomplish on the physical plane.”
Suddenly, Sagayetha performed a pirouette, stopped, and held his arms out wide. Gone was the white robe, to be replaced by the familiar cloak of ostrich feathers.
Pagan laughed at the sight. “I much prefer my old cloak to that white robe.” Sagayetha said. “But it takes too much effort to keep it on here. It disappears when I lose concentration, and is replaced by the boring robe. It so lacks colour!”
As if to lend credence to his words, the proud cloak disappeared and the shaman was once again clothed in the plain white robe.
“One of the things I dislike about this place,” he exclaimed. “It doesn’t allow for the vanity of an old man!”
Smiling, Pagan shook his head. Sagayetha hadn’t lost his sense of humour.
“I sometimes miss the grasslands, and it has been good talking to you again,” Sagayetha said. “I am not certain if we will see each other again, but I will look down on you when I can. Remember my words, Pagan. Live a long life and don’t sully yours
elf with unworthy deeds. Now it’s time for you to return. Farewell my boy.”