It got the breed's attention. "What is this?" he demanded, reached out one long arm and grabbing the little man on the shoulder. But before he could register what was happening he was flying through the air. He landed on his back on the deck a full ten feet away, with an audibleThunk! as the air blew out of him.
The yellow man had barely changed position. Now he turned to face the downed man, bowed, and asked in the politest of tones:
"Will you please do me the great service of letting this unfortunate one be left in peace? I wish you no harm." His yellow face showed no trace of mockery. The man was completely sincere. "Please do not force me into that which is unpleasant."
The half Greek lay on the deck for a moment, stunned. Then his breath returned, he got up, and with a growl threw himself at the yellow man, hands extended, going for the throat.
The slant-eyed one pivoted on one foot, turned his body away as if to run, and with a twisting motion swung his rear leg up and kicked the Greek in the throat, setting the man back down on the deck trying to breathe. When the breed came at him, so did the young blond. While the yellow man's foot was still in the air, the fair-haired youngster swung a fist at the yellow man's face-only to find it wasn't there. Slant-eye's hand made a pass, and the youngster's body did a complete turnaround, facing back the way he had come. By the time the Greek had hit the deck the yellow man had the youngster on his knees from the rear. With a sign of regret, he formed a strange fist and tapped the youngster just behind the ear. The young man fell forward onto the floor, unconscious. He would probably have broken his nose in the fall had not the yellow man caught his head and gently lowered him to the deck.
Slant-eyes turned to the other slaves. "I apologize for this unpleasantness, but it was unavoidable." Kneeling down, he put the scraps of food back in his bowl and, taking a scrap of rag, began meticulously cleaning the floor where his food had fallen. When he had finished, he stood, faced the others, and bowed.
Casca's mouth was hanging open. What the Hades was that? I have never seen anything like it. Gulping the rest of his food down, he wiped his mouth with the back of one hairy hand and made his way to the side of the yellow man.
Thumping himself down beside the yellow man, he asked: "What kind of man are you, anyway? I know I asked you that yesterday, but you didn't answer, and after what I just saw you do to those two bravos I think I would like to know more about you. Will you tell me?"
The little man looked long and steadily past Casca before he spoke. "I am Shiu Lao Tze." His voice was soft and gentle and lying in its undertones was a feeling of being pleased with himself that was oddly pleasant to hear. But abruptly his voice sharpened. "Why do you concern yourself with me, soldier?"
"I am no soldier!" Casca spat back. "I am a slave like you."
"You are a soldier… regardless of what your present state may be. We are what we are from the time of birth and cannot escape it. You are a soldier. You may be many other things also in your life, but, as the great wheel turns, you will return to what you really are." The gentleness was back, a timeless gentleness, yet he looked deep into Casca's eyes.
The gaze of Shiu Tze made Casca uneasy, and his own voice took on a sharp edge. "And what are you, little man, if not a slave?"
"I am a humble follower of the great sage Kung Fu Tzu, Kung the Philosopher-or, as your learned men call him, Confucius. I follow his teaching and rules of living."
"Not another religion," mumbled Casca. "That's all this world needs, another group of gods to finish driving man crazy."
Shiu Tze laughed gently. "No, my big-nosed barbarian. Kung Fu Tzu-or perhaps I should call him Confucius; that will be easier for you to say with your uneducated tongue-Confucius is not a god. He is a way of life that can bring peace and joy to all men."
Curiosity settled in on Casca. The little man had a magnetic appeal for him. "And what is that way, Shiu Tze?"
"It is the path of enlightenment. My master, the sage Confucius, has only one primary law to live by and that is not to do to others what you do not want them to do to you."
"Is that all there is to it?"
"There are the Analects and five Ching of his teachings, but it is not a religion as you have with your panoply of gods. The great sage lived and walked the earth over five hundred years ago. He is no god, but his teachings can give you peace of mind. My religion as such is that. The members of my order believe that the soul lives on as long as a man's descendants remember him, so as I honor my father, my sons must honor me until the time of my rebirth. And then, if I have achieved merit, I shall be born again as a man. If not, it will be as a lesser being, or beast, until I pay enough penance."
"Religion," Casca grumbled. "Enough of religion. I want to know how you did what you did to those two dummies over there." He indicated the two toughs who were even now consoling themselves with the idea that Shiu had hit them with a club when they weren't looking. In another hour they would believe their own lie.
Shiu laughed, a tinkling sound, as of wind chimes. His voice had a surprisingly lilting quality to it.
"Very well, O mighty warrior. What you witnessed was no more than the way of the open hand. It is an art many of those in my brotherhood practice. You see, our code forbids the use of weapons, but we are not so stupid as to believe that absolute passivity will solve every situation. So, when all else fails, we go the way of the open hand. It came to us from across the great mountains along with the teachings of another great sage, Siddhartha Gautama, called the Buddha. Many of his followers were masters of this art, and we learned from them and have changed it to suit ourselves."
"But," Casca broke in, "How does it work? You're so much smaller than those two, yet you handled them as if they were babes. How?"
Shiu laughed again. "I like you, barbarian. And because I like you and believe that basically you are a good man, I will tell you of the way of the great circle. For every movement there is a counter movement. You use your opponent's strength and weight against him. While this journey lasts I will instruct you in the Way, but in exchange for this, you must also let me tell you of the way of Confucius in the hope that I may attain greater merit for my efforts. Agreed?"
Casca was not particularly interested in the religion part, but that other. "Agreed," he said.
As he reached out to shake on the deal he noticed for the first time that Shiu's hands were odd looking. The two large knuckles on each hand were much greater in size than they should have been and were covered by a thick pad of callus. Another pad ran down the edge of his palm. And the little man's hand was as hard as Casca's-even after Casca's years in the mines.
For Casca, the rest of the trip was much too short. The time spent with Shiu taught him more about life and people than all his other years combined. Even the little man's philosphy of life would have been pleasant to believe in. However, Casca knew that it was not his way. His fate was forever merged with the sword. As for Shiu, Casca liked and respected the little man.
Shiu's hands and feet were faster than the eye could follow. Yet he claimed there were others even faster than he, that masters in this art in his home country of Khitai could snatch arrows from the air, such was their proficiency. But, laughing his tinkling laugh, he said, "Do not concern yourself with that, big nose, for you will not reach that level in the short time we have together. That is the undertaking of years, and I fear you are too old to begin. One must start as a child to learn properly, but you will learn enough to make you a master among your peers. For, is not a one-eyed man king in the land of the blind? You will not learn all, but perhaps it will be enough for your purposes."