A Warrior's Penance

by Davis Ashura

  The knowledge left Aia feeling smug, and she knew Thrum thought her insufferable. Yet hadn't he been equally as unbearable in his pride when he had boasted about Jaresh's intellect? Served him right to be humbled.

  *Be nice,* a voice warned.

  It was Rukh, and Aia stood up abruptly. He was near. Her ears perked forward, and her gaze shifted about, searching for him. She smiled when she saw him, a flick of her ears and a blink of her eyes. Jessira had accompanied him as well.

  *Why didn't Jaresh come?* Thrum asked.

  *He had other business to attend to,* Jessira replied, *but he promises to come by later.*

  Thrum rumbled his disappointment. *Humans and their business,* he muttered in disgust.

  Privately, Aia agreed with her brother's assessment, but for now, she was grateful that her Human didn't have business to attend to. She stepped forward. *It's good to see you again,* she said. *How is your amma?*

  *She's being moved back home,* Rukh said with a soft smile.

  *Will she walk again?*

  His smiled faded, and he didn't answer. Instead, in the way of his kind, he reached up and held her around the neck and hugged her. It was an uncomfortable position for Aia. To have another's mouth and teeth so close to her neck, even if it was Rukh. Mentally, she shuddered. It was too vulnerable a state, but Rukh seemed to take comfort in it, so she allowed his embrace. After a moment, her Human began rubbing her chin and Aia rested her head on his shoulder. Her eyes closed to slits as she purred contentment.

  *I wish Jaresh were here,* Thrum complained.

  Aia unshuttered her eyes upon hearing her brother's whining. Shon, as per his usual habit, had rolled over on his back, and Jessira was fiercely rubbing his belly while Thrum looked on in miserable jealousy.

  Rukh glanced Aia's way, a questioning look on his face. Over time, she had learned to decipher the myriad expressions on her Human's expressive face.

  *Go ahead,* she said.

  Rukh let go of Aia and approached her russet-colored brother. The two of them spoke for a moment before Thrum lowered his head. He regally accepted Rukh's ministrations as Aia's Human rubbed his forehead, the soft areas in front of his ears, and his chin. Just as Aia's ears were flattening in jealousy, Thrum lifted his head away. *Jaresh's fingers are more nimble,* he announced.

  *But my Human's are stronger,* Aia countered.

  *Jaresh's mind is sharper,* Thrum answered.

  *Rukh's will is mightier. He is the greatest of Humans since the First Father and First Mother,* Aia responded. *He fought the Demon Wind and defeated Her. No one else could do that.*

  Thrum mumbled something inaudible as he rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

  *What was all that about?* Rukh asked.

  *Aia insists on lauding your accomplishments as though you were the First Father reborn,* Shon explained, rolling over on his side. He blinked. *You aren't, are you?*

  Rukh laughed. *I'm just me. Just a man. Not a legend.*

  *But you battled the Demon Wind and defeated Her,* Thrum said, raising his head and taking note of the conversation. *My Human says that many in Ashoka wonder if you might be more than just a man.*

  *Of course he's more than just a man,* Aia said with a sniff. *He is my Human, which means he must be someone who is truly exemplary.*

  *My Human is his mate, so she must be exemplary also,* Shon declared.

  *And mine is his brother,* Thrum said. *Anyone related to Rukh must be special.*

  *Just as long as you understand that mine is the most special,* Aia replied. She noticed the tightening in her Human's eyes. Her conversation with Shon and Thrum bothered him. Rukh was uncharacteristically annoyed with her. *What did I say that has you so upset?* she asked.

  Rukh gave a slight shrug. *It's nothing,* he said. *I'll just have to get used to it.*

  *Get used to what?* Aia asked.

  *Wherever we go, people seem to expect Rukh to grow wings and fly, to offer up miracles at their need,* Jessira explained.

  Aia tilted her head in consideration. *You don't like that everyone knows who you are?* she asked.

  *I don't mind that,* Rukh said. *It's the rest that bothers me.*

  *He is uncomfortable by the expectations others have of him, of how they think he communicates directly with Devesh,* Jessira explained. *People have even fallen at his feet and prayed to him. It's hard. I think he's lonely.*

  *He will never be alone so long as I am here,* Aia vowed. *He is my Human.*

  *And he'll never be alone so long as I am here, either,* Jessira said.

  Jessira took Rukh's hands in her own, and for a moment, Aia wished she had hands like the two of them. It was fleeting thought. Silly really. What would she do with hands? She certainly couldn't run on them. And a Kesarin who couldn't outrace the wind was no Kesarin at all.

  In the dead of night, Ashoka was quiet, hushed and peaceful, something she never was during the day. The furnaces and industry of the Moon Quarter were stifled, and the bustling stores and streets were stilled. It was perfect for Hal'El's purposes. He could travel about the city with no one the wiser. His only company was a light mist, a drizzle that worked to his needs. It allowed him to pull forward the hood of his cloak and further shroud his features with no one to question why. He didn't even have to Blend.

  In the near week since his return to Ashoka, Hal'El had learned much. The first piece of information he had desired had to do with the standing of the Wrestivas. Unsurprisingly, the fortunes of the House had been decimated. It was to be expected. After Hal'El's actions had come to light, the scandal had been too hard for the House to bear. Many members, some with ancient ties to House Wrestiva, had quit in disgust. Their abilities and reputations were irreplaceable, and Hal'El doubted the House could survive in the long term. The damage was simply too extensive.

  He shrugged a moment later. It was no longer his concern.

  There was other information that had also been of interest to Hal'El. For instance, the Sil Lor Kum had been shattered. Their ranks had been ruined when that venomous viper, Ular Sathin, had disclosed everything he knew of them. The man had sent a journal detailing all the works and members of the Sil Lor Kum to Dar'El Shektan, who had quickly acted on the information. Every MalDin but one had been tracked down and executed.

  The one who survived, though—her name must not have been in Ular Sathin's journal. Nonetheless, Hal'El knew who she was. Somehow Pera Obbe had escaped the scourging hand of Dar'El Shektan. Somehow, that potato-faced wretch still lived.

  Hal'El's jaw clenched at the knowledge. It was said that Karma had a rich sense of humor, but that Justice was more dour. And there could be no Justice in a world where Pera Obbe lived while Varesea Apter was dead. It was almost as revolting as the notion that an imbecile like Pera should escape punishment when others far more clever had become food for the crows.

  “But not nearly so revolting as the fact that a cretin like you still breathes when those far worthier do not,” Sophy spoke into his mind.

  Hal'El shook his head, wishing he could rid himself of the infernal woman. The others began murmuring also, and he tried to ignore their vile mutterings. He had to focus on the here and now, for in the here and now, there was work to be done. In the here and now, there was murder to commit.

  Hal'El returned his attention to the streets when he realized he was approaching his destination, a large home sitting on a corner lot. It wasn't the most sizable house in the neighborhood, but there was an elegance about it, one that spoke of subdued, subtle wealth and good taste. It was so unlike its owner.

  The house was two stories tall with a large wraparound porch, and a single firefly lamp lit the walkway leading up to it. The dark granite making up the bulk of the home shimmered in the rain as did the slate roof tiles. From memory, Hal'El knew that gardens filled the grounds to the rear. He took a moment longer to study the house. This late, all the windows were darkened. There were no lights on.

  Perfect.

  H
al'El's footsteps fell soft as a fawn's and carried him swiftly across the street. He glanced about. There was no one about, and no one was watching. He clambered a low compound wall and stepped into the gloom of the gardens in the back. A few seconds of dull scrapings, hushed and barely heard, and he was inside.

  The wolf amongst the potato-faced sheep.

  Shur Rainfall was glad the room in which the Heavenly Council of the Virtuous met was in a cellar. It was cool down here, which helped prevent nervous sweat from beading on his brow. Had the temperature been even slightly warmer, Shur was certain he would have been covered in a waterfall of sweaty rivulets.

  He took a deep breath. Tonight's meeting of the Virtuous wouldn't be easy. It was their first since the disastrous attack on House Shektan almost a week ago now. That they hadn't been able to meet sooner had much to do with the Watch tearing the city apart trying to find them.

  So many of their members had been killed in the conflict or captured. And for what? A handful of dead Shektan women? The cost to the Virtuous had been too high. Even worse, the entire reason for the attack was now under question. And who would take the blame for these various disasters but he, the leader of the Virtuous. If he wasn't lynched by the six remaining members of the Heavenly Council, it would be a miracle.

  Shur took another steadying breath. “Let us bow our heads and prayer for guidance that we may see Devesh's will more truly.”

  “His will was easily seen a week ago,” said the Rahail. “We need no prayer to give us guidance, not when He sent us as clear a vision as possible last week. We should never have attacked the Shektans.”

  “Rukh Shektan fought the Queen and lived,” said the Cherid. “He bled Her and drove Her away. He is touched by Devesh.” Her voice was filled with fervent passion.

  “And what of Jessira Shektan?” the Sentya asked. “If Rukh has chosen her to be his wife, and Devesh still showers him with grace and glory, what do we make of her?”

  “Nothing has changed,” Shur said with utter certainty. “The OutCastes remain ghrina. Their presence pollutes us all.”

  “Everything has changed. Devesh's touch lingers upon Rukh Shektan's brow,” the Rahail avowed. “And if the Lord accepts someone so polluted, someone who has had congress with a ghrina, then what does that mean for us?”

  “One battle, and you're willing to disregard millennia of teaching?” Shur asked in disgust.

  “You're so sure of yourself that you're willing to disregard something not seen in millennia?” the Cherid sneered. “No one, not even the First Father or the First Mother, the greatest of Devesh's servants, were ever able to oppose the Queen. She slayed Them, and whether They were Her Parents or not, it doesn't matter. We saw a miracle, one that alters everything.”

  “The Word and the Deed has been our guide for all the years of our lives, and those of our forefathers,” Shur began, trying to hold rein on his frustration. “And you're willing to cast it aside because of one supposed battle?” He sneered. “You're like a child seeing a pretty bauble and not recognizing the true worth of a humble hammer, a tool that can raise monuments.”

  “And where has your guidance led us?” the Cherid demanded. “We lost how many of the Virtuous in that disastrous attack?”

  “Their martyrdom will see them safe in Devesh's loving embrace,” Shur spoke piously.

  “Unless the attack wasn't sanctioned by Devesh,” the Rahail said.

  “It was sanctioned!” Shur disagreed. “We did holy work.” He shook his head in disbelief. The splintering of the others' faith was worse than he thought. “When I saw Rukh Shektan defy the Queen, I, too, took it as a sign of Devesh's blessings upon him. But later I realized the truth: it was all a ruse. Think about it. What makes more sense? That Rukh Shektan, a man who is all but a naaja, is touched by Devesh's grace? Or that this same man is secretly of the Sil Lor Kum? That everything we saw was meant to convince us that he was in mortal danger from the Queen? But all along, he knew She wouldn't kill him.”

  “To what purpose?” the Rahail asked.

  “To allow entrance into our city those who are even worse than ghrinas: Chimeras.”

  A silence met his words.

  “You think this might be possible?” the Duriah asked.

  Shur nodded, couching his words carefully. The Virtuous couldn't be forced to the truth. They had to arrive at it on their own. “A day after Rukh 'battled' Suwraith, Baels and Tigons suddenly arrive at our doorstep and are granted a place to stay while the Magisterium dithers over their fate. And who was it that spoke so forcefully on their behalf?” He glanced around. “It was none other than Jessira Shektan, a ghrina who must have poisoned Rukh's mind to the foul teachings of her kind. Why, I bet all the ghrinas are secretly of the Sil Lor Kum.”

  “You're wrong. For reasons known only to Him, Devesh considers Jessira Shektan to be a worthy companion for His Chosen One,” the Rahail disagreed. “After the battle, it was she who went down with the basket to haul Rukh to the top of the Outer Wall. She would allow no one else to go in her place. She loves him, and he loves her. I saw it. It was obvious. And such love cannot spring from the minds of evil.”

  “It is said that Hal'El Wrestiva loved his Rahail consort, Varesea Apter,” Shur reminded them. “To love is to be Human, and even those who are evil can love.”

  “And what of the beams of light?” the Rahail demanded.

  “A trick. Something that has no power but is brilliant to look upon. It is no different than the light of a firefly. Likely Rukh Shektan learned it, either from the Queen, or as part of his naaja-born gifts.”

  “You truly believe everything we saw was a feint?” the Shiyen mused.

  Shur nodded. “I think there is more going on here than any of us realize. Something deeper and more dangerous.” From their thoughtful expressions, he was relieved that they appeared to be returning to his way of thinking. “Our mission is unchanged.”

  “If so, then how do we execute it? Many of our warriors are dead or imprisoned,” the Duriah said. “And the reason for our grievous losses is on your head. It was your plan that led us to such a calamity.”

  “I take full responsibility for what occurred,” Shur said with a twist of his lips. “But in the middle of a storm, it is foolish to change the captain of the ship.”

  “Unless the captain is incompetent and threatens to see his crew drowned,” the Duriah countered.

  Shur gritted his teeth. “You want leadership of the Virtuous?” he asked.

  There was a pregnant pause. “No,” the Duriah said, “but your own leadership needs to be curtailed. We are the Heavenly Council, and we had little to no input on the plan to attack the Shektans.”

  “The plan was good,” Shur averred, knowing his statement was stupid the moment the words left his lips.

  “If that was a good plan, then I'd hate to see a poor one,” the Shiyen said with a frown.

  “Who could have known that so many of the Shektan women would be armed, or that they would take up the swords of our fallen?” Shur asked.

  “A canny commander would have known,” the Duriah said. “Next time we attack the OutCastes, or the Shektans, or even Rukh Shektan, we need to be better prepared.”

  The Rahail's chair scraped as he stood. “I am done here,” he said. “What you do goes against Devesh's will. Rukh Shektan is touched by the Lord, and we almost killed his wife. And now we think to attack Devesh's Chosen? You will be forever condemned for such a grave sin. I will have no part in it.” He stood to leave, as did the Cherid and the Sentya.

  A dead quiet commanded the room.

  “Let us discuss this,” Shur pleaded. He hated the whiny tone of his voice. “Surely we can come to an agreement. We are brothers in seeking righteousness.”

  “Then you must accept that what we did was wrong. You must accept that Rukh Shektan is the Chosen One of the Lord. You must accept that our true purpose should be helping him with his divine mission.”

  “Blasphemy!” the Shiyen hiss
ed.

  The Duriah called out as well.

  The Rahail turned to them. “If you believe so, then we have nothing further to talk about.”

  “We do have one final thing,” Shur said, regretting what he next had to do. He nodded to the guards who drew their swords.

  'I would not do that,” the Cherid said, speaking swiftly. “My solicitor and others in my employ have damning information about the Virtuous.”

  Shur held up his hand, halting the guards.

  “If I die in suspicious circumstances, they will mail everything I know about all of you to every Watch captain in the city.” She paused. “And Dar'El Shektan.” She stared Shur in the eyes. “You won't last a day.”

  Shur ground his teeth. He couldn't tell if the woman was bluffing, and if she wasn't, there was nothing he could do to stop her. “You leave us little reason to keep you alive,” he said. “When you leave you will likely tell the authorities all about us anyway. Why shouldn't we have our vengeance on you first?”

  “You can do as you wish, but I'll promise to give you one week to get your affairs in order before I say anything to anyone.” She glanced around the room. “You know we're all marked men and women. The Watch has many of the Virtuous in their custody. The amma of the Chosen One was almost killed. Several members of House Shektan were killed. The Watch and the entire city won't rest until everyone who was responsible is dead.”

  Angry, fearful mutters met her words.

  “Is this true?” the Shiyen asked.

  Shur held still, hating to have to answer. “It's true,” he finally forced out. “Even with all our precautions to keep our names from those who serve below us, a week—maybe a little more—is all we have left before the Watch learns our names.”

  The Rahail glanced around the room. “In that week, I plan on making my peace with House Shektan and the Chosen One while I still can.” He looked to the guards before turning back to Shur. “Do not go against Rukh Shektan or his family. If you do, our swords will be there to meet you.”