If Hatu dwelled on this intervention, he could easily start to resent his friend, and knowing this unsettled him, for among the male students, Donte was his closest friend and one of the few for whom hed risk his life. Hatu hadnt fully accepted the lesson that he might one day have to choose to complete a mission over saving a friend. When asked to envision it, he had little difficulty forsaking most of the other students but he could never reach the place in his imagination that permitted abandoning Hava and Donte to a lonely death. But there were moments where his friends antics got on Hatus nerves so much that he felt like killing Donte himself. He knew he was letting his deep seething anger rise up and forced himself to practise a calming exercise silently while he ate.
He finished his food and put down his plate. The orders had been simple: silence until everyone had finished eating and then they were to wait for instructions.
He looked around the room, avoiding Raj, and saw only a few faces he recognised in the scattering of strangers. Hava was now leaning against the back wall with her eyes closed. Hatu admired her profile and felt a stirring. He pushed aside the sudden emotion and felt an unexpected rush of foolishness and then anger at himself. He saw Donte also scanning the room for someone to cajole, bully, or bribe for extra food, so he was oblivious to what Hatu thought must have been an obvious display of his reaction to Hava. Donte could usually read Hatus moods easily.
Hatu settled back against a crate, finding scant comfort. He tried to calm his mind and failed; instead his impatience grew. The students were often kept waiting; Hatu suspected it was designed to stem their restlessness. When they were little, students would often act up, unable to abide the silence. Hatu quickly realised that repeat perpetrators of such behaviour disappeared from the school.
Thinking of the school made Hatu recall his earliest memory. It was a painful one, a sudden startling sting that quickly faded. It was a memory that had been repeated many times since the first birch had struck the back of his hand, a sharp memory of correction rather than punishment.
He remembered his first experience vividly: he had reached for a carp, golden in the afternoon sun, swimming just below the surface of a pond, and had fallen into the pool when one of the matrons had been distracted.
Perhaps the odd combination of sensations, the metallic burn of water in his nose, his sudden blurry vision, and his heavy coughing, was why he remembered that moment so vividly, but hed only been a toddler and had cried until the sharp sting of the birch wand had shocked him into silence. He recalled every second: standing there dripping wet, shivering with the sudden cold, and struggling to understand what had happened.
Hatu shifted slightly while those around him finished eating. As usual old emotions rose with the memory, a mixture of anger and fear. He could even feel an echo of that first flare of shock and it reverberated within him.
The experience had marked Hatu: from that moment to this, hed had a deep need to know what was expected of him, to understand all aspects of any situation he faced. He was content to rise or fall on his own ability, but when he failed due to lack of information, Hatu flew into a rage often at himself for not acquiring the knowledge, or at others for not providing it. Unreliable information was what he hated most.
He was told he had been a difficult baby, prone to tantrums and fits of violence, and even now his constant frustration often put him at odds with the demand of the clan for obedience and silence. Hatu had learned to stay silent when there was need; to keep the building rage inside, away from others. He held his anger deep, rarely allowing it to reach the surface, but for most of the time, he was on edge.
No matter what caused his anger to rise, it always felt the same: a burning, seething tension that formed as a tight knot in the centre of his body. Only after many lessons, and many beatings, had he learned to control it. But it was always there, a burning just below the surface of his skin, like a fire that would not he quenched. The thrashings he received for fighting had taught Hatu to keep his retaliation in check, though from time to time the instinct bubbled to the surface. It had been months since his last brawl, sparked by a casual remark from a student at the end of a particularly gruelling day of training, when his temper got the better of him.
A sharp poke in the ribs brought Hatu out of his reverie. He glanced at Hava, who had come to sit beside him and now regarded him with a half-smile, an expression very familiar to Hatu. He had been so lost in thought he hadnt noticed her come over.
What? he snapped, keeping his voice down lest he draw unwanted attention.
Youre doing it again, she whispered.
What?
That thing where you go inside your head and get angry.
I do not he began.
No! she cut him off, raising her voice slightly. You do it. You know you do. Ive seen you, many times, go back and remember something and get angry over it, all over again, for nothing! Now, stop it! she hissed.