Cast in Fury

by Michelle Sagara

  “Which was?”

  “He could make Sarabe his wife,” was the prompt reply.

  “Or what?”

  “There was no or.” Reesa grimaced. “Marcus wanted to anyway,” she told Kaylin. “He’d wanted to for at least two of the three months—believe that we could smell it. But he felt that Sarabe, with no Pridlea to barter for her, was not in a position of strength—he feared to take advantage of her situation. Sometimes he thinks too much.”

  “And Sarabe was okay with this.”

  Sarabe smiled. “I was overjoyed,” she said, and she looked it, just remembering. “I loved the Pridlea already, and I was terrified of the day I would have to leave it. I didn’t expect it,” she said, “but I wanted it. I wanted to stay with these women. I wanted to help build a home for that man.”

  Kaylin gave her a few minutes before she asked the obvious question, the one that would chase the memory away and leave shadows and fear. But she was here to ask that question, or ones like it. “What happened to your sister?”

  The quiet was subdued and, yes, shadowed by a different kind of memory. “Understand that with the death of my father, the Pridlea lost its focus,” was her reply. “He had only two wives, the others had either abandoned him or died.

  “But he had friends, some of them powerful, or we would never have lived beyond our birthing. My mother was gray,” she added, “and it was not known until we were born that she carried the taint.

  “When my mother died, my father had only one wife, a younger wife. When my father died, she was alone. But she was not without choices. We were. She could join another Pridlea, or she could seek shelter with her sisters in theirs—but she could do neither with both of us.

  “Marcus offered to help her, and she acceded. She allowed me to come to live here, while she attempted to find better arrangements.”

  “Which she knew she could never find on her own.”

  “I believe that was the way she thought. My sister, however, did not choose to accept Marcus’s invitation. She was excited,” Sarabe added, “because she thought she could find a Pridlea of her own.”

  “With who?”

  Sarabe was silent.

  Kayala was also silent. It wasn’t the same type of silence, but clearly, Kayala was waiting for Sarabe to break it.

  “A friend of my father’s. He did not, of course, visit—that is a human custom and it is an odd one to us—but there are public places in which we meet our father’s friends. It is often the same place in which we might meet our future husbands or wives.”

  “He approached my aunt and offered her a home for both my sister and I.”

  “But you came here.”

  “Marcus asked first,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “But…I had met both men, and I had also met Kayala and Reesa and Tessa. Graylin doesn’t leave the house much. I liked his wives,” she added.

  “And this friend you don’t name had wives you didn’t like?”

  “He had no wives.”

  The idea of an adult male Leontine with no wives momentarily deprived Kaylin of speech. Luckily, she was good at recovering from that particular setback. “He had no wives?”

  “He was not lucky,” she repeated with great care. “And he had lost two wives. He did not originally come from the city, but he was known here, among those who drift in from the outlands. He is respected,” she added, again with care. “And I would tell you his name, but I do not think you would recognize it.”

  “Fine. So, nameless male friend with no wives asks your aunt out of the goodness of his heart if you would like to live with him. Your sister says yes. You say no.”

  She nodded. “I tried to change her mind,” she added. “We argued. It was a bitter argument. In this Pridlea, they argue all the time, but…even though they argue, they still know they’re on the same side. They still have many of the same goals.

  “My sister and I never argued. We knew, growing up, that we had only each other. So when it came time to make the choice, it was…bitter.”

  “How bitter? Not speaking to each other bitter?”

  “She would not speak to me,” was the slightly more heated reply. “But I had everything, here. They treated me like one of their own. I was happy. I was afraid of the happiness,” she added. “Because sometimes you lose things, and it’s best not to want them too badly if you don’t also want the pain. But it’s hard to be afraid in this house.”

  “Say that to Marcus,” Kaylin replied with a grin.

  “I will. When this problem is sorted out, I will,” she said firmly. “I wanted her to have what I had. She wanted me to have what she had.”

  “So she went to live with this man, but not as a wife.”

  “No.”

  “And she was pregnant how?”

  There was a shocked silence.

  CHAPTER 6

  “And you blush at what Kayala says?” Graylin’s brows, already of a color with her fur, seemed to have disappeared entirely.

  “Did I just say something no one else knew about?”

  “No,” Kayala said, her voice as warm as winter rain. “We knew. Of course we knew. But…you do not understand her position. She has never formally been taken or accepted as wife. She has no Pridlea and she cannot begin to form one without that recognition. Even if everyone knew—and very, very few do—she would be shunned by mothers such as I, because to send your daughters into a house with no Mrryn is to send them into chaos.”

  “Mrryn?”

  Reesa laughed at Kaylin’s pronunciation, and Tessa chuckled, clucking. Given their reaction, Kaylin wondered what she’d actually said, because she was pretty certain it wasn’t what she’d tried to repeat.

  “Matriarch,” Kayala supplied in Elantran. “I don’t like the word—my wives are not my daughters—but I think it is as close as you Elantrans come to understanding my role.” By Elantran, she clearly meant human, but Kaylin didn’t bother to quibble.

  “When the men are young, they fight, they want sex, but they care only for their own opinions of each other, and in the wrong mood, they pee on everything.

  “But when they are more mature, they come to understand the value of a home, and of cubs. They understand that we are not interested, in the end, in the opinion of their male friends—or in any male opinion that is not their own. And they choose to leave the world of men when they choose a wife. There are rituals that are still performed in older tribes, in which the men must prove their worth. Some do not survive it. Some do not complete the rituals because they are not yet ready to do so.

  “But those that prove worthy make a home, and they give it to us because they must trust us. We build it for ourselves and for our husband. What happens beyond the hanging is private, and I am sure that Pridlea differ widely. But the men are willing at that point to confine their behavior. They turn away from their youth. It is a statement of intent, Kaylin. It is a public statement.”

  “But you don’t even allow other men to visit—how public can that be?”

  “Never mind. That is a long discussion, for later. I’ll let Sarabe handle it, because she’ll certainly have to explain it to her daughters soon enough. I merely mention it because—”

  “This mystery male didn’t make that statement.”

  “No.”

  “And you think he’s still grandstanding or peeing on fountains.”

  Kayala grimaced. “Marcus told me to watch my tongue around you, kitling. It seems he knows you well. Of all the words to fasten onto, you choose those ones.”

  Graylin said, “Not all of our men marry. And no, the ones who do not choose a Pridlea do not, as you say, pee on fountains. Or in them. Or anything like it. But…it is not a world for a kit. It is not the world for one who wants a Pridlea. Do you understand?”

  “So wait, there are women who don’t want one?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they don’t have one.”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “S
ome are like your Marrin. They build family, rather than bear it. Marrin could not be wife to anyone, ever. She will not give up her adopted cubs, and she will not trust other Leontines with them. I think she’s wise,” Kayala added, “and I like her a great deal. But she has chosen a different life.”

  “She doesn’t kill men on sight, no.”

  “She doesn’t have to. Her kits are human, and they must live a human life; she makes certain they live well while they are with her, and she makes certain they are doing well when they are not. They are her only concern. She has no room for any other.”

  “What about the other women?”

  “Some of them live alone, in isolation, as many of the unmarried men do. It is…not an easy life. But some prefer it. Not all Pridleas are gentle—not all are sane. Some women have tried marriage and found that they felt trapped by it, suffocated by it. A good Pridlea is a blessing. A bad Pridlea is worse than none at all. And there is no way to determine which is which before you enter it.

  “You may, in time, meet women who are not married. I do not think Marcus will expose you to his friends, but I am not certain. You’re human,” she added, as if this weren’t obvious, “and their instinctive reaction to you is not the same as it would be to us.”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “No, kitling, you don’t. But we are relying on you. We speak to other wives, of course, but we cannot depend on them to travel or to talk to other men. When you do—if you do—take Corporal Handred with you.”

  “The one you wouldn’t let in here with his balls.”

  Kayala hissed. “I will watch my tongue around you, kitling. Or injure you. I haven’t decided which. Yes, that Corporal Handred. He would die for you. But he would also kill for you. He will not hesitate if he sees the need. Marcus will not be able to protect you here, for obvious reasons.”

  “I don’t need a lot of protection.”

  Reesa laughed. It was a lovely, growly sound. “None of us needs protection on our own, Kaylin. It’s not because you’re fangless that Kayala says this to you. But there are situations in which it is better to be surrounded by your kin.”

  “He’s not my—”

  “The Hawks are all your kin. We do not feel weak when we say we need the Pridlea. Do not feel weak when we say you need no less.”

  Kaylin nodded. “I’ll try,” she said. “Old habits. But Sarabe, your sister?”

  “She became pregnant. It was only then that she spoke to me.” Sarabe looked at the table, where several sets of claws were making new marks. Not that it was easy to tell, there were so many old ones. “I was shocked. But I was not entirely surprised.” She hesitated for another moment. “She begged me to tell no one, and I agreed.”

  “You told everyone here.”

  “Oh, that—that doesn’t count. She could no more ask me to keep secrets from my wives or husband than she could ask me not to breathe. She knew I would speak to them.”

  Kaylin thought for a moment. She chose her words as carefully as she could. “Sarabe, you and your sister were born—”

  “Yes.”

  “I mean—”

  “I understand what you mean. When I became pregnant, I was taken to the Elders, and the pregnancy was registered. There was some argument about it at the time. So many angry men,” she added. “But Marcus took the oath, and convinced the others that if his litter contained any boys, he would kill them and bring the Elders the body.”

  “Oh.” The idea of Marcus killing was nothing new; the idea of Marcus killing a baby was, and Kaylin didn’t like it. At all. She struggled to keep her voice even. “She didn’t do that.”

  “No. She didn’t. It would have been difficult for her to do so, given the circumstances—but even in these circumstances, it is required by our laws.”

  “She had her baby in secret.”

  “Yes.”

  “But she had a boy, Sarabe.”

  The silence was utter and profound. It robbed the room of color and movement.

  “Did Marcus know this?” Kayala asked at last, breaking the silence.

  Kaylin started to say yes and stopped. “I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t explain any of this to you.”

  “Well, no.”

  She uttered a single Leontine word, which Kaylin thought was men. “What exactly did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even certain he knew—I received the call from the midwives guild, and I went to the house in the Quarter. I helped a small Leontine woman named Arlan deliver a single live cub. I licked birth fluids off its eyelids, and I left.” She held out her hands, palm up. “I didn’t know, Kayala.”

  “Arlan is not her name,” Sarabe said. “Maybe you are thinking of the wrong—”

  “She had your coloring.”

  Silence.

  “Was the birth difficult?” Kayala asked softly.

  “Yes. I’m not sure why.”

  Sarabe made an almost subvocal sound, pushed herself away from the table and walked out of the room. Kaylin started to follow, and Tessa grabbed her arm. “Leave her,” she said quietly. “She needs time.”

  “Marcus must have known,” Kayala said. “He must have.”

  “I honestly don’t remember—Marcus considers off-duty time my own problem, and he never asks. Well, unless I’m hungover and he’s trying to make a point, in which case he doesn’t care what he says, he only cares that he says it loudly.”

  “How was the mother?”

  “She was…odd. But she said the child was very important.”

  “Oh, he is. He will be.”

  “From the sounds of it, it doesn’t look as if he’ll survive.” Even saying it made her tighten up. And Kayala noticed. Nothing happened under this roof that she didn’t know about. Kaylin let the silence continue until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “How does Marcus fit into this?”

  “Marcus went to see her on Sarabe’s behalf.”

  “Recently?” Kaylin continued.

  “Very recently.”

  “Kayala—the Leontine who was killed—”

  “He was one of the Elders,” she replied.

  “His name?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I can’t exactly ask questions if I don’t know at least that much.”

  “Gorran.”

  “He was married?”

  Both of her brows rose. “Of course! You can’t be an Elder without being married. If our ways are lax in the city, they are not that lax.”

  “Got it.”

  “Did Marcus kill him?”

  Kayala turned away.

  “Kayala?”

  “It was not murder,” she said at last. “Of that, I’m certain.”

  “But you’re not certain he didn’t kill him.”

  “There were witnesses, Kaylin. Many witnesses.”

  “Yes, but the death didn’t occur in the Leontine Quarter, and to non-Leontines, you all look the same. Well, if your fur is the same color.”

  “Some of them were Leontines.”

  Kaylin frowned. “Say that again?”

  “Some of the witnesses were Leontines.”

  “So…we have not one, but two, Leontines outside of the Quarter—the murderer and the victim—and then we have other Leontines to bear witness? Kayala, Leontines almost never leave the Quarter.”

  “This one did.”

  “Did Marcus know him?”

  There was a pause. “I cannot say for certain if the Leontine he killed was the Leontine he went to meet—but yes, he knew Gorran. They were friends of long standing.”

  “He agreed to meet a Leontine outside of the Quarter.”

  Kayala nodded. “It was unusual.”

  “I bet. And the Leontine died, and Marcus—apparently—killed him. Can I speak with Marcus?”

  They looked at each other again.

  “Is that a no?”

  “Marcus must agree to meet with you,” Kayala replied.

  “None of you
have seen him.”

  “No.”

  “Spoken with him?”

  “How?”

  “Mirror.”

  “Ah. No.”

  “Let me guess. Caste jails don’t have mirrors.”

  “No.”

  “Was he injured?”

  Kayala finally hissed. It was a brief, angry sound. Kaylin immediately lifted her chin, exposing her throat.

  The hiss died. “Kaylin, kitling,” Kayala said wearily. “It is tiring for me to explain so much. You are part of my Pridlea, but you are not Leontine, and you do not understand our customs.”

  “But I need to,” Kaylin said. And then she paused for a moment. “Kayala, if there are tribes of your people who exist outside of the city, why are your people here?

  “I understand why the Tha’alani are here,” she added. “They’re just as isolated as you are, but they seem to…suit life in a city. The Barrani and the humans wander the whole city at will, and they get into whatever trouble they get into—the Aerians fly it, and they come to market from time to time. They also interact with some of the other races, in the human Quarter.”

  “The humans don’t really have a quarter,” Tessa answered, when Kayala did not. “They get into everything.”

  “You could say the same about rats.”

  “I have.”

  Kaylin grimaced. “Thank you.”

  “Kitling—”

  Kaylin lifted a hand. “I’m going to talk to Severn,” she told them all. “Since my guess would be he’ll have to ask for access to Marcus as no one will listen to me.”

  “They may listen,” Graylin said quietly. “They may just kill you out of hand, or try to take you home.” Her expression hadn’t changed at all; if she was joking, she gave no sign of humor.

  “They could try.”

  “Kitling,” Kayala said, also lifting a furred hand, “we make no jokes here.”

  “Neither do I. If they tried, you can damn well bet it wouldn’t be a case for the Caste Courts.”

  “Only if you survived.”

  “Do you doubt it? Marcus trained me, Kayala—do you really doubt it?”

  At that, Kayala let out a small burst of sound—a truncated chuckle. “I understand why he loves you,” she said.