Chapter 12

The wind cut across the high peaks and whipped down into the mountain valley.

August Fenwick, now known as two, staggered under the weight of his burden.

Master Roshan had dispatched him to gather fuel for the fire, no mean feet in this high country,

and Fenerick had scoured for hours to assemble the unwieldy collection of brambles and kindling he now bore.

As he reached the steep slope of the path that led down into the Sadhus Kuti,

the uneven footing seemed to get the better of him. He found himself

cast off balance, and he pitched forward toward the jagged rocks that shielded the path on either

side. In an instant, the skills born of his long training burst to life. The kindling

scattered as he threw his arms wide to counterbalance his fall. Acting against the instinct of a normal man,

he turned his forward pitch into a dive, pulled into a tight somersault in mid-air, and landed on the

flat edge of a protruding boulder with the agility of a monkey. He barely had time to complete

the landing before he heard the sound of slow, mocking applause from a short distance away.

His head shot around to face the source of the sound. Seated on a ledge to his right was the

master's other student, the man who now insisted on being called, one.

Very nice, the elder student said,Very deft for one so clumsy.'

August felt his ears redden and his pulse quicken.

He stepped down from his newfound perch quickly, and with as little fanfare as possible.

"'You are full of surprises, my young friend,' one smiled,

though there was little change to his hawk-like countenance.

"'Just lucky,' Fenwick grimaced,

"'regarding the scattered pile of wood and feeling anything but.

...