by Davis Ashura
Amma shifted in her blankets. “Time is not on our side,” she said in her soft rasp. “We want you all to know how much we love you. That's all. We don't say these things very often, and perhaps we should.”
By the barest of margins, Bree kept her eyes from filling up with tears. Her amma. Her nanna. Her family. She hadn't always appreciated them, but time and hard lessons had taught her wisdom. The people gathered in Nanna's study—she loved them so much.
Jaresh snorted, breaking the mood. “I don't think Rukh and Jessira have that problem.”
Nanna chuckled, while Rukh grinned. “It's not a bad thing to love your wife. Or your family,” he noted to Jaresh. “And Amma's right. We should say what we feel for one another more often.”
This time Bree couldn't stop it. The tears filled her eyes. “Well, I love all of you,” she declared.
Jaresh did a double take. “Our formidable sister has a soft heart,” he said with a warm smile even as he drew her into an embrace.
“I'll deny it if you tell anyone,” Bree vowed with an answering smile and shiny eyes.
“Love should never be denied,” Rukh intoned, his voice deep, measured, and powerful.
Bree shot him an uncertain glance. For a moment, Rukh hadn't sounded at all like himself.
Sign sipped her coffee and pondered the irony of her situation. Here she stood, leaning against the railing of a veranda as she stared out at the glory of the Sickle Sea. The risen sun glowed golden-rose, and the cries of seagulls mingled with the calls of drovers and the songs of early morning buskers. Lifting heavenward were the aromas from Ashoka's myriad restaurants as they competed with and complemented the scent of Sign's fresh-brewed coffee.
It was a lovely way to start the day, one she could have never imagined a year ago, and yet it left her feeling morose.
“What's wrong?” Bree asked, coming up alongside her.
Sign glanced at the taller woman, annoyed as only the tall can be when faced with someone taller. In Stronghold, other than Jessira, there were few women who outstripped Sign in height. In Ashoka, it seemed like every other Kumma did. And their grace and dusky beauty . . . why had Devesh blessed them so abundantly?
Sign mentally shook off the envious thoughts. They were unnecessary. She had her own gifts and her own worth.
“What are you talking about?” Jessira asked, coming to them as well. She held out a cup of coffee for Bree, who gratefully accepted it.
“Nothing,” Sign replied. “I was just thinking of what it means to have a home. After Stronghold's destruction, I never thought I could feel that way about a place ever again.” She gestured to the broad, beautiful city spread out before them. “This place is so seductive and charming. It's so easy to fall in love with it.” She smiled wistfully, sadly.
“And now you fear for its future?” Jessira guessed.
“We all fear for it,” Bree said softly. “My parents, my brothers. Everyone.”
Sign nodded. “I didn't think that I'd come to like this city and her Purebloods as much as I have.” She hesitated. There was one Pureblood—Jaresh—who she liked above all others, but now wasn't the time to bring it up.
“We may yet prevail,” Jessira replied.
“Against the Sorrow Bringer?” Sign challenged. “You saw what She did to Stronghold.”
“Stronghold didn't have an Oasis. We do,” Bree countered.
“I hope it's enough,” Sign said.
Jessira smiled. “It's too lovely a day to shed tears over what hasn't yet happened, and by Devesh's grace, may never happen.”
Sign looked at her and tilted her head in study. “In the past, you used to ask the First Mother or Father for their favor whenever you prayed. What's changed?”
Jessira's smile retreated. “A personal preference,” she said. “I'd just rather ask Devesh directly for His blessings rather than go through an intermediary.”
“I've come to feel the same way,” Sign said.
“And He blesses us with this glorious summer day,” Bree reminded them. “Who knows how many more of them we'll have? We should do our utmost to enjoy it.”
“Agreed,” Jessira said, lifting her coffee. “To sisters and those like us. May we all live loudly every day of our lives.”
Sign and Bree lifted their cups as well.
“To sisters,” they all gladly shouted.
The longing for peace is a desire that never fades.
~The Sorrows of Hume, AF 1789
Shur Rainfall was certain of very few things in his life, but among them was the idea that the OutCastes were a stain upon all Humanity. That Chimeras were unalterably evil was another. And, finally, that only Devesh Himself could bring about the Sorrow Bringer's death.
Rukh Shektan had challenged all those certainties, and now Shur was certain about nothing, but he was comforted by his enduring faith. He still had belief that Devesh had marked him to carry out His word and His deed.
Shur paused as he reconsidered his thoughts. His word and His deed. It was a sentiment so like the title to The Word and the Deed, the holy text from which he had drawn so much instruction and solace. Shur grimaced a moment later because even there, Rukh Shektan's touch had tainted what he had once believed to be unalterably true.
He paced the brick-walled cellar where the Heavenly Council had first formed. They'd been so innocent then, fierce in their determination to return Ashoka to the path of righteousness. It was odd that here in this dank, dark room, such brilliant truth had been revealed; how in this moldy place, such purity of thought had been birthed.
And this was a place of purity. A fourth certainty.
Shur felt his resolve firm as his doubts fled. He could do what was needed.
“We need to go,” one of the Virtuous said, entering the room. It was one of his old lieutenants from when Shur had been in the High Army.
“How many answered the call?”
“Fifty-seven.”
“Fifty-seven,” Shur repeated in disappointment. He still had trouble believing the Virtuous had been so riven by what Rukh Shektan had supposedly done when he had supposedly battled Suwraith. The Virtuous had once numbered in the hundreds, and even after the disaster against the Shektan women, there still should have been many more than fifty-seven to answer the call to battle.
“After today, I'm certain those who have fallen from the fold will return,” his lieutenant said.
“To what shall they return, though?” Shur wondered. “This will be our final battle.”
“Fifty-seven against two?” the lieutenant said doubtfully. “Some of our men are warriors.”
Shur felt a brief stab of hope. “Kummas?”
“Only a few,” the lieutenant replied, dashing away Shur's hopes. “But none of them are too old to fight.”
“I suppose we should accept the good news even when it isn't excellent.” Shur noted.
“If we fight with everything we have, victory will be ours,” the lieutenant averred.
“And everything we have will be needed,” Shur replied. “Remember. The ones we seek to kill have Talents sourced in evil.”
“It won't save them,” the lieutenant said. “And when we kill them, everyone will know that Devesh's touch never graced their souls.”
Shur nodded agreement and gathered himself together. He took hold of his faith, gripping it like a line that kept him from drowning. “The Virtuous will ride today,” he said, his voice infused with confidence, “and though this will be our final ride, the ideals we fight for shall live on.”
“We will survive the battle—” the lieutenant began.
“We'll win the battle and the war itself, but the traitors who we once named brethren will betray us. They'll tell the Magisterium who we are. I fear this day will be our last.”
“Then we will make sure it is one worth living.”
“What do you believe your Magisterium will decide at today's meeting?” Li-Choke asked. He glanced between the three Humans: Rukh, Jessira, and Farn. Their fa
ces, usually so expressive, were now utterly inscrutable, but just then, they shared a knowing glance, and Choke felt his hopes wither. “You think they'll deny us.”
“Will we ever not be thought evil?” Chak-Soon asked, his ears drooping in disappointment.
“No one thinks they'll deny you,” Rukh said, his face breaking into a look of concern. “We just can't say for certain what will happen.”
“This won't be an easy decision for the Magisterium,” Farn added, “but as things stand right now, I think we can say that the odds are slightly in our favor.”
Jessira squeezed Choke's arm. “We'd rather not see your hopes crushed if we turn out to be wrong,” she said.
“Hope is all we have,” Choke said softly. “We will never again serve Mother, and we can never go back to the Plague, not after Li-Shard's actions.”
Jessira's green eyes suddenly bored into him. “What actions?” she asked.
“It wasn't just him,” Choke explained. “It was many others, but ultimately, the plan belonged to Li-Shard.”
Chak-Soon's ears perked up, and he shuffled closer, his expression intent and curious.
The Tigon's interest wasn't surprising. In teaching the cat-like Chimeras of fraternity, Choke had also discovered that they loved stories. Who would have guessed such a thing?
“From Mother's reaction, he and the others must have been successful.”
Rukh sighed with impatience. “Choke, what did Shard do?”
Choke smiled. “He did what we should have long ago done,” he said, drawing himself up. “The SarpanKum redeemed all of us with his masterful plan.”
Farn turned to the other two Humans. “Is he always like this?”
Chak-Soon growled in warning. “Let him tell story!”
“Oh, hush,” Jessira said to Soon. “We want him to tell the story, but he keeps pausing and stalling like he always does.”
“Like all Baels do,” Rukh added. “Will this help us with the Magisterium? If so, tell us what Li-Shard did. And do it quickly. If it won't help, then just tell us later.”
Choke hated when the Humans made him rush his stories. It ruined the flavor of what he was saying. Upon seeing their impatient expressions, he sighed in disappointment. “Fine,” he agreed. As quickly as he could, he outlined the plan Li-Shard had urged upon the other SarpanKums. He described the incandescent rage Mother had experienced a few days ago. “I've never felt something like that from Her ever before.”
“Even compared to when She destroyed Li-Dirge and his command?” Rukh asked.
Choke nodded. “Even more than then,” he said. “Shard's plan must have worked. The attack on the breeders has to be the reason for Mother's fury. Nothing else makes sense.”
Farn was frowning. “You're certain of this?” he asked. “Think carefully.”
“If we can't prove what actually happened or what caused the Queen's anger, then what difference does it make?” Jessira asked. “It's the plan itself that's important, and what the plan means.”
“I agree,” Rukh said. “We tell the Magisterium about what Shard and the other SarpanKums tried to do and their likelihood of success given Suwraith's reaction.”
“How is this any different than lying?” Choke brought up hesitantly. “Won't the Magisterium be furious with us if we're proven wrong?”
Farn shrugged. “They might be, but I think Rukh and Jessira are right,” he said. “We tell them about Li-Shard, and if you're wrong, at least you'll be in Ashoka to beg for forgiveness, rather than camped outside begging to come inside.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about what happened to Li-Shard and the other Baels?” Rukh asked.
“Mother order all Baels killed,” Chak-Soon brought up. “Every Bael but those near Ashoka. She spoke in our dreams like sometimes does.”
“He's right,” Choke said. “That's why I'm sure Li-Shard's plan must have come to fruition.”
“Which means you and your brothers here might be the last Baels left on Arisa,” Farn noted.
“But the Bovars in Ashoka and the hundreds wandering outside the city walls—as clear a sign as any that the Fan Lor Kum is coming—can be the means by which my kind do not go extinct. And if the Baels sent to these other cities on Continent Catalyst were also granted sanctuary, then our odds for survival increase even further.”
“What about the Tigons and the other Chimeras?” Jessira asked.
“Mother created the original breeders,” Choke said. “She can recreate them. But it will take Her many decades to replace what Shard and his fellow SarpanKums destroyed.” He grinned, the only joy he could receive from Shard's desperate gambit. “The final part of Shard's plan was to have each Plague positioned around a Human city and attack it. Without Mother's help and the leadership of the Baels, the Plagues will be destroyed.”
Farn settled back on his heels. “Well,” he began, looking pensive and pleased. “This certainly might change things.”
“Suwraith was careless when She birthed Her breeders,” Rukh said. “Spawning male mules was a clumsy error. She should have known better.”
Choke's ears perked. His Human friend's voice had sounded distant, deep, and powerful. So unlike his usual voice.
“Not the Magisterium, too,” Rukh said in exasperation. The self-important air of the Cherid Magistrate, Fol Nacket, was nowhere in evidence. Instead, he stared at Rukh with the head-tilted expression of a dog watching a cat swim. Jone Drent of Caste Duriah, and Poque Belt, the Sentya, studied him with narrow-eyed, unblinking gazes. They appeared worried while Gren Vos, the elderly Shiyen Magistrate—bless her—merely glared at him. Rukh preferred her annoyance to the unalloyed awe shown by Krain Linshok of Caste Kumma, Brit Hule of Caste Rahail, and Dos Martel of Caste Muran.
“What about the Magisterium?” Farn asked.
“Nothing,” Rukh said. He hoped that over time, with familiarity to breed some contempt, some of the awe-full attitude—really it was just awful; he smiled at the terrible pun—aimed at him would eventually dissipate.
Jessira flashed him a knowing, sympathetic smile.
“Rukh Shektan,” Fol Nacket began, sounding stern. “Why doesn't it surprise me that you come before this body once again, and once again, you mean to upend our way of life.”
“My wife would tell you it's part of my charm,” Rukh answered. Several years ago, he would have never dared reply to a Magistrate in such a flippant fashion. Time and events had changed him.
“Well, I don't find you charming,” Gren Vos groused. “I find you annoying.” Krain Linshok and Dos Martel shot the small Shiyen a look of offended disbelief, and Gren noticed. She turned to the other two Magistrates with a waspish expression. “Don't you two eye me like I just spat in your soup,” she barked. “You may be in awe of the boy, but that's what he still is to me: a boy.” She settled in her seat. “One who should be taken to the woodshed for all the problems he keeps dropping in our laps,” she muttered.
Rukh had to suppress a grin at the small Magistrate's fearless display.
Poque Belt cleared his throat. “What would you have us do with the Chimeras in Ashoka?” he asked.
“You're out of order,” Fol Nacket said, “but the question remains. What would you have us do with the Chimeras?”
Farn stepped forward. “Perhaps you will allow me to—”
“You will speak when we decide to allow it,” Fol Nacket said in an unexpectedly blunt tone. “We know who you are, Farn Arnicep. We also know Jessira Shektan. But of the three of you, only one has driven off Suwraith. He is the one whose voice carries the most weight amongst us, and he is the only one with a chance to convince us to allow Chimeras permanent residence in Ashoka.”
“Not true,” Dos Martel, the Muran Magistrate said. “Jessira Shektan is his wife. By that reason alone, she has importance amongst my Caste and those who believe as I do.”
“I accept that of the three of us, Rukh is the most important,” Jessira said. “I love him and am proud of him, b
ut I respectfully ask that you don't assume that my only worth is because I am his wife.”
“I didn't mean to offend you,” Magistrate Martel said. “If I did, then you have my apology.”
“There was no offense taken,” Jessira answered.
“Good. Now that everyone's apologized and not taken offense, let's move on,” Fol Nacket said curtly. “I still would like to hear Rukh's reasoning regarding the Chimeras.” His tone was atypical for him. Usually Fol was smooth and weaselly, even unctuous—not blunt and brusque.
Rukh took in the Cherid Magistrate's impatient expression and mentally shrugged. He explained once again the history of the Baels since the time of Hume Telrest, going over how they had come to believe in fraternity and had secretly aided Humanity all these centuries.
“You're wasting our time,” Fol snapped. “We know all this.”
“There is no need to be rude,” Brit Hule, the Rahail Magistrate admonished. “We might know it, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again given the momentous decision with which we are faced.”
Rukh nodded 'thanks' to Magistrate Hule before continuing with his explanation. He reviewed how he had learned of the Baels' secrets. Finally, he described the plan Choke said had been developed by Li-Shard and carried out by the SarpanKums of the other Plagues.
“They killed all the Chimera breeders?” Krain Linshok asked, leaning forward with the intent look of a leopard about to leap.
Rukh nodded. “So we believe.”
“Does Choke know whether the plan was successful?” Poque Belt asked.
Rukh scowled. He had hoped no one would ask him that particular question, but he had also known it would be foolish not to expect it.
“Choke believes the plan was successful,” Jessira answered.
“You haven't been given the floor,” Fol interrupted