by Davis Ashura
Satha settled into the couch and took a sip of her tea. “Rukh and Jessira's relationship is odd,” she noted.
Dar'El glanced at her over the lip of his cup. “How so?” he asked.
Satha took another sip of tea as she formulated her thoughts. “Have you noticed how they'll say something or make a comment that is utterly nonsensical? It has nothing to do with the topic at hand and most often simply comes across as apropos of nothing. No one else understands what they're talking about, and yet there is a meaning to their words. It's just that they're the only ones who know what it happens to be. It's like they have their own private language.”
Dar'El smiled. “We have something like that as well.”
Satha shook her head. “We have something that approaches what Rukh and Jessira share, but it took us years of marriage to get to that point. Those two have only known one another for a couple of years.”
“But remember how much time they spent alone together in the Wildness,” Dar'El reminded her. “They've been traveling about like no one I've ever heard or read about, journeying from one end of Continent Ember to the other and back again in the space of a year. And most of that time, it was just the two of them. They had to rely on one another for everything. Such shared hardships are bound to form unfathomable bonds between two people.” He shrugged. “It was certainly the case between me and my brother warriors during my Trials.”
Dar'El's explanation made sense, but it still struck Satha as being incomplete. His words weren't enough to explain what she'd noticed about Rukh and Jessira. “I suppose some of that might be true,” Satha finally relented, “but I think Rukh and Jessira's bonds go deeper than what you're describing.”
Dar'El nodded. “Their bonds are deeper,” he agreed, “but the two of them have something I never had with my brother warriors: they've loved one another completely and totally almost from the first.”
“And it took us years to get to that point as well,” Satha reminded him with a half smile.
Dar'El chuckled. “I'm trying to imagine what we would feel for one another if we had also shared the dangers of the Trials,” he said. “Words fail.”
“Are you jealous?”
“No,” Dar'El said with a warm smile. “I have you. What need do I have to be jealous.” He drew Satha toward him, and she nestled against his chest. “Does this set your mind at ease about our son and his wife?”
“I was never worried about them,” Satha said
“You sounded worried.”
“Having interest in something inexplicable isn't the same as worry.”
“Then what were you worried about?” Dar'El asked. His eyes twinkled.
Satha let him see her eye roll. “I already told you,” she said in mild exasperation. “Rukh and Jessira have this innate ability to communicate, one that doesn't require words, and yet, it might even be more accurate than spoken language.” She frowned, unaccountably irritated with Dar'El. “You truly haven't noticed?” she asked.
Dar'El shook his head. “I suppose I might have noticed something,” he allowed. “But I also didn't pay it as much attention as you seem to have.”
“Watch them next time they're together, and you'll see what I mean,” Satha urged.
Dar'El nodded. “I will,” he promised. “Now tell me what you think about the Kesarins.”
Satha's lips thinned. She didn't share Janos and Teerma's uncertainty about the reliability of the Kesarins. She believed they had spoken the truth. “I think we're in trouble.”
“And yet, two summers ago, Rukh carried a very similar tale to us of Suwraith planning a strike against Ashoka,” Dar'El countered. “How do we know this isn't a similar false alarm?”
Satha snorted. “We both know your question is rhetorical,” she replied. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn't have so drastically reduced House Shektan's investments in the upcoming spring Trials. You made those reductions in funding even before the Kesarins came to us with their information.”
“It isn't just a decrease in investment,” Dar'El said. “We've also been stockpiling supplies.”
“You're certain that Suwraith can see a person's Jivatma?” Satha asked. “Even through a Blend?” It was a question they had both wrestled with accepting ever since they'd learned of the possibility from Rukh. If true, the information was devastating. Any Trial sent out would face sudden and immediate destruction from the Sorrow Bringer. There would be no chance for the warriors to defend themselves against Her devastating fury.
Satha shivered. If the Queen truly possessed such an ability, then it would mean the end of their way of life. The Trials would be over. The cities would become solitary and isolated with no more sharing of new knowledge and skills. It would be the end of their civilization.
“I am certain enough,” Dar'El answered. “You know as well as I that the Magisterium and Chamber of Lords have interviewed many of the OutCastes on the nature of their army in Stronghold. The only means by which the Chimeras could have approached so close without any warning would have been if Suwraith had killed all their scouts. And the only means by which She could have managed that is if She could, in fact, see through a Blend.”
“Which is also why you think She'll come here.”
“Yes.”
Satha sighed and kissed Dar'El on the forehead. “What a terrible future our children face.”
Mysteries of a man,
His voice a honeyed web.
Entraps you in his truths
Of offered devotion.
~Daylight and the Moon by Deside, AF 511
“Why don't we come here more often?” Jessira asked after the hostess had seated them at a small, private booth toward the back of Masala Pull. It was one of their favorite restaurants, and in her mind, it served the finest fare in all of Ashoka: a fusion of Muran and Rahail cuisine. The food at Masala Pull had never disappointed her.
Jessira glanced around. It was still early in the evening, but already the restaurant was alive with young couples and a few families. In this, its popularity, as well as its appearance, Masala Pull was the same as it had been when she'd first visited Ashoka almost two years ago. The walls were a warm terra cotta wash, and a high ceiling with its multitude of chandeliers provided a light, airy feel. The tabletops consisted of vibrantly colored mosaic tiles arranged into various scenes of Ashokan life, but what Jessira appreciated the most were the mouth-watering aromas filling the air.
“We come here often enough,” Rukh said. “But I thought tonight could be special. No family. Just the two of us.”
“But why tonight?” Jessira asked. “Did I forget an anniversary?” Rukh had a habit of celebrating even the most inconsequential of events. It was a sometimes aggravating habit, but generally Jessira found it sweet and sentimental.
Rukh's eyes tightened for the briefest of instances in response to Jessira's question before he seemed to force a smile. “No. I just wanted some time alone with you. We've both been so busy. Me with getting the Trims ready for the Wrath and Hellfire Week, and you with settling in the OutCastes. I just thought it would be nice if we could have an evening together.” He tried to affect a nonchalant expression, but his face appeared pinched and tight.
Jessira's eyes narrowed. Rukh was a terrible liar. She had forgotten something. He had brought her here for a specific reason, but for the life of her, she couldn't imagine what it was. And she could tell her lack of understanding was disappointing to Rukh.
Before she could divine what she'd forgotten, dinner arrived. It was cubed chunks of chicken swimming in a spicy, buttery sauce with mustard seeds and served upon a bed of fragrant jasmine rice. A sweet, white wine with a slight hint of lemon zest served as an accompaniment.
Jessira would have enjoyed simply immersing herself in the lush meal, but the reason why she and Rukh were at Masala Pull grated on her thoughts. She couldn't enjoy herself without knowing why tonight was so important to Rukh. It had to be something significant, or he wouldn't have tried so
heroically to hide his disappointment.
She tried to see things as he might. His last consequential anniversary had been a few months ago. He'd gone out with Farn to celebrate the the anniversary of the two men's very first Trial, the one to Nestle when they'd marched forth from Ashoka as Virgins, and all their lives had changed forever.
Jessira inhaled sharply. Was that it? Some months after Rukh had left for Nestle, might mean . . . “Tonight is the anniversary of the first night we met,” she said.
A brief smile stole across Rukh's face. “And,” he prodded.
Jessira glanced at her food, and the rest of the answer came to her. “And this meal—even the wine—is the same as I had the first time you brought me here,” Jessira said in a rush.
Rukh's sunbeam smile of happiness was her answer that she had guessed correctly.
Jessira couldn't believe he had remembered the anniversary of their first meeting or had arranged for tonight's wonderful meal at Masala Pull. For a moment, tears threatened to fill her eyes as she was overcome by Rukh's thoughtfulness.
He took her hands in his. “Happy anniversary,” Rukh said. He held her gaze with his. “And Jessira?”
He continued to hold her hands and stare into her eyes, and her heart beat faster as Rukh leaned forward. “Yes?” she replied, knowing she sounded a little breathless.
He kissed her, soft and tender before pulling away. “Try not to make those . . . noises you make when you really like your food. We don't want to overwhelm the delicate sensibilities of some nearby matrons.”
Jessira's eyes widened with shock. What the—? She remembered what Rukh and Bree had said the first time she'd eaten here. Rukh had leaned back in his chair and was wearing an insufferable smile. Jessira threw her napkin at his grinning face.
Rukh laughed, and Jessira tried to glower at him, but he just laughed harder. Eventually, she couldn't help but laugh with him. “Happy anniversary yourself,” Jessira said in mock irritation.
“I'm sorry,” Rukh said, sounding not the least bit contrite. “But the look on your face was priceless.”
“Well get used to this look,” Jessira said, still affecting annoyance. “Especially when we get home and you want to celebrate our anniversary properly.”
Rukh took her hands again. “I'd rather take a walk in Dryad Park with you,” he said.
His statement was like a douter, snuffing out the last of Jessira's lingering irritation. She found herself smiling. “You're not worried about what people might say?” she teased.
Rukh smiled. “Let them,” he said. “I think we can handle anything that might come our way. We have so far.”
“And we always will,” Jessira promised. When Rukh leaned forward once again, she met him over the middle of the table and kissed him.
After dinner, they left Masala Pull and strolled to Dryad Park. Jessira let Rukh lead the way into Ashoka's green soul. They found themselves cupped within the embrace of low-lying hills on all sides, except to the east where the Adamantine Cliffs plunged to the Sickle Sea. Though it was twilight, there was still a small group of elderly men finishing up a final round of chess. On past them, Jessira and Rukh walked beneath firefly globes hanging from the broad branches of the thick-trunked trees lining the winding walkways. The lights softened the paths with glorious hues of rose, gold, lavender, and violet.
Deeper into the park, the trails were all but empty, except for a few other couples taking an evening stroll. However, a few more twisty turns later, there was no one else about. Jessira exhaled softly in happiness. The setting was romantic and exactly what she needed. Her relationship with Rukh had so often been marked with danger and strife, so much fear and worry. It was good to share a moment where it was just the two of them, and there was no impending danger or incipient terror.
She smiled, remembering the first time Rukh had brought her here. How could he not have realized that showing her this place so late at night would have been interpreted in the worst possible way by everyone else? She glanced at him.
Rukh looked at her with eyebrows raised. “What was I thinking bringing you here?” he asked, guessing her thoughts. “You mean now, or the first time?”
“The first time.”
He laughed. “Apparently, not much,” he replied. “Otherwise, I might have actually realized what people would say when they learned we'd taken a late night stroll through Dryad Park.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Not anymore,” he said with a smile.
It was the right answer. Jessira took Rukh's hand, put it on her waist, and pressed herself close to him.
Rukh took her to the center of the park, stopping at the crest of a small bridge spanning a gurgling stream. Lichen-covered stone pillars held up the span, and croaking frogs crooned into the night. A breeze carried the salty scent of the sea.
“This is the same bridge, isn't it?” Jessira asked.
Rukh nodded. “It's the same one I brought you to during our first walk here.”
Jessira leaned against the wooden railing. “It's still like a dream,” she whispered.
“It took decades to make it look like this,” Rukh replied.
“I remember what you told me about this place,” she replied with a grin. “I also remember wondering what it would be like to kiss you that night.”
“You did?” Rukh asked, sounding surprised.
“I wondered,” Jessira clarified. “But only a little. I was engaged, after all,” she said primly.
Rukh looked into her eyes. “And now?” he asked.
Jessira laughed and put her arms around his neck. “And now, I'm married.”
“Can you still hear Aia?” Jessira asked.
Rukh cocked his head and sent out a calling to the Kesarin. There was no answer. “No,” he said. “Can you hear Shon?”
Jessira shook her head. “The furthest I can hear him is about a half day's travel away.”
“I can hear Aia a little further than that,” Rukh said. “Closer to a full day's journey.”
“Really?” Jessira asked.
Rukh nodded, wondering why Jessira was suddenly eyeing him like he'd said something stupid or offensive. “She and I have been together longer than you and Shon,” he explained. And Aia was also smarter and stronger than Jessira's Kesarin.
“You know it's not a competition?” Jessira asked.
“I was just telling you how far away I can hear Aia,” Rukh protested. “It's called being accurate.”
“Uh huh,” Jessira said, not sounding convinced. “I think what you mean to say is that it's called bragging.”
“I wasn't bragging. I was just telling you how far my bond with Aia reaches,” Rukh continued to protest. Jessira still wore a look of skepticism. “You asked,” he said.
Her lips turned down into a frown. “Forget I said anything,” she muttered.
Rukh rolled his eyes. What had Jessira so bothered tonight? He was about to return to his fruitless study of The Book of First Movement—as usual, the slim tome refused to give up its secrets—but something in Jessira's posture told him that whatever had her upset had little to do with what he had just said. “You're worried about Shon,” he guessed.
She nodded. “He's young, and I know he's come far this winter, but I'm worried about him.”
“He is a Kesarin. He's one of the deadliest hunters in all of Arisa. He'll be fine. There's nothing he needs to fear.”
“He should fear the Queen.”
Rukh was about to launch into a series of comforting but meaningless bromides when he realized how asinine and useless they would be. Something more serious was bothering Jessira. “Why would She even notice him?”
“Because of the pouch of papers around his neck,” Jessira said. “If it catches the Sorrow Bringer's notice, She'll know some of the Kesarins are allied to Humanity. Who knows what She'll do to them afterward.”
Rukh rose from the dining table and walked to where Jessira sat on the couch. He settled next to her. “Ai
a has an identical pouch,” he said softly.
“And you should be just as worried for her.”
“I am,” Rukh said.
“Then why did you allow her to carry something that could be traced back to Humanity?” Jessira cried, turning to face him.
“If you haven't noticed, the Kesarins have their own minds. They aren't ours to command.”
“But we didn't have to tell them what the Magisterium planned,” Jessira argued. “It's why I didn't mind when the House Council made the suggestion that they did. I figured we just wouldn't tell the Kesarins, and that would be that.”
“But they found out anyway,” Rukh said. “Aia and the others speak to us, mind to mind, but I think the bond that each one shares with us is deeper than we realize. It might even be deeper than the Kesarins themselves understand. I think when Aia says I am her Human, there's something much more profound at work.”
“What do you mean?” Jessira asked.
“I think when a Kesarin chooses a Human, they bond more closely with us than even they realize. I mean, before Aia, none of them had ever sought out a Human's company.”
“What does this have to do with the Kesarins learning about the Magisterium's decision?”
“I think the Kesarins can understand what we're thinking even if we don't 'speak' it to their minds.”
“You think Shon knew my thoughts even when I didn't mean to tell him what the Magisterium wanted?”
“I never told Aia, and Jaresh never told Thrum, and if you didn't tell Shon, then it only makes sense that they must have somehow learned it on their own.” Rukh answered.
“I'm still worried about them,” Jessira said.
“I wouldn't be,” Rukh said. “Their kind has hunted the Flats for two thousand years, and the Queen has never sought them out before.”
“I suppose not,” Jessira murmured, sounding somewhat mollified. “What if someone else spoke to them?” she asked, returning to her original area of concern.