The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  “What have you learned?” Mira asked, changing the subject.

  “Nothing yet,” Rector replied sourly, still wondering about her relationship with Jaresh.

  “Nothing?”

  Rector shrugged. “I come from a House that is bitter enemies to House Wrestiva. How likely are they to trust me with anything of import?”

  Mira frowned. “What is your position with the Wrestivas? Surely you have one.”

  “I have financial oversight of one of House Wrestiva’s lowest warehouses. I command a small group of fanatical Sentya accountants. They wage brave, unceasing war on deficits and income allocation,” he said in sarcasm. “Thankfully, they must know their work since I don’t understand a single thing when they start speaking their accounting gibberish. They have some strange language of accruals, depreciation, prepayment, and long-term liabilities.”

  Mira laughed. “How awful it must be for you. Trapped amongst a group of lowly Sentyas.”

  Rector smirked. “I’m sure you’re more comfortable amongst Sentyas than I.”

  Mira reddened even as she held up a cautioning finger. “We are supposed to be young lovers getting to know each other. As far as the rest of the Caste Kumma is concerned, my Nanna seeks a lifeline into an ancient House in case House Shektan is brought down by the scandal of Rukh’s Talents. You, the honorable Rector Bryce, are meant to be that lifeline. As such, smirking and scowling at me won’t do. You need to pretend to feel something foreign to your way of thinking. You must demonstrate understanding and compassion.”

  Rector swallowed his angry retort. Suwraith’s spit. He hated when she was right. He forced a smile on his face, trying to relax his features into a semblance of good humor. “Perhaps I should take lessons. I am not as accustomed to hiding my feelings as you and Jaresh,” he said.

  Mira didn’t respond to his words, not with the slightest change in her expression or any movement. In its own way, it was answer enough.

  Rector’s disgust grew deeper. Was there anyone of House Shektan who held even the merest of honor?

  “You truly are a fool,” Mira said after a moment’s silence. She sounded sad rather than angry. “Jaresh is a man whose friendship I treasure, but because of bigots like you, even an innocent relationship like that has to be kept hidden and denied. But if you think there is more to us than that, so be it. I care little for your opinion or your perverse fantasies.”

  Rector gaped. Perverted fantasies?

  Now, it was Mira who smirked. “I saw how you stared at Jessira Grey, the OutCaste woman. You despised her, but you also found her attractive. Now you project your own disgusting imaginations on the relationships of others.”

  Rector didn’t know what to think or what to say. Jessira Grey—thankfully gone from Ashoka three weeks now—had been an attractive woman, but in no way, shape, or form had Rector ever desired her. For Mira to say otherwise suggested she might be trying to deflect the truth of how she felt for Jaresh.

  Or, more simply and plausibly, there was nothing to her and Jaresh; and she truly thought Rector a filthy hypocrite.

  “Just tell me what you want,” Rector growled.

  “I want information on House Wrestiva’s finances, and though you think your position as a low-level overseer is beneath your station, it is exactly what will help us.”

  “It isn’t work befitting a Kumma,” Rector complained, hating the petulant tone in his voice. “I had to give up my post in the High Army in order to do this bureaucrat’s work.”

  Mira chuckled. “Poor Rector. So many troubles you’ve had to endure.” Her laughter faded. “You do not have my pity.”

  “And I never asked for it,” Rector replied. “Nor would I want it, but believe me, when Dar’El is done with me, I will remember this conversation.”

  Mira chuckled again. Rector was really growing tired of her smug laughter. “Dar’El will never be done with you,” she said in a stern tone of prophecy. “For what you did to him, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t demand your compliance all the days of your life.”

  Rector gritted his teeth, fearing she was right. Dar’El could very well do exactly that. After all, look what he was already putting Rector through. What honor could Dar’El have if he was willing to do that?

  Bree paused when she heard the mournful strains of a guitar echoing from the flower garden leading off the sunroom. She stepped outside. Jaresh sat upon a small bench with his back to her. This was a space Bree loved. It was Amma’s creation, a lovely sanctuary from the bustle of the city. Right now, the garden still held the last of summer’s blossoms with Autumn’s blooms of orange and red still to come. The ligustrum bushes that formed the tall hedge on all four sides would remain green even in winter.

  Bree stepped upon the winding path of chipped bricks, her footsteps crunching quietly. Her breath misted in the morning air, but she knew the day would eventually warm. She sat down next to Jaresh. The bench was warm, bathed in a splash of sunlight. Last night’s rain had ended early in the morning, and the rest of the day would likely be bright and sunny.

  Jaresh didn’t look up. He kept on strumming his slow song of lament.

  “I don’t think I’ve heard you play anything happy since Rukh left for the caverns,” Bree said.

  “There hasn’t been much to be happy about.”

  “No, there hasn’t,” Bree agreed, thinking about all the troubles that had caught up their family. She sighed. “I wish I hadn’t done what Nanna asked.”

  Jaresh paused and looked at her in confusion.

  “Encouraging Rukh to take Jessira to Dryad Park,” she explained. “He might not have been banished if I hadn’t done so.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Jaresh said. “The person who’s most to blame for Rukh’s situation is Rukh.”

  Jaresh’s attitude was unexpected. “You sound angry with him.”

  “I am angry. I’m angry, and I’m scared,” Jaresh said. “If it wasn’t for his stupidity and his hypocrisy, he’d be home right now.”

  “Hypocrisy?”

  Jaresh shrugged. “Maybe that wasn’t the right word,” he muttered.

  It was the right word and Bree knew why. “This is about Mira, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “What about her?” Jaresh asked, his features growing tight and closed.

  “I know how you feel about her, and how she feels about you,” Bree said.

  “Rukh told you,” Jaresh said sounding betrayed.

  “He didn’t have to,” Bree replied. “Before he left, I saw how upset you were with him. I also noticed that Mira no longer came by the House Seat as often as she once did. The two of you no longer spend any time together.”

  “We never did anything dishonorable.”

  “And even if you had, you would still be my brother.”

  “You’re not disgusted with me?” Jaresh asked, hope rising in his voice.

  Bree chuckled softly. “If you haven’t noticed, we have an unusual family, and our older brother, the one who was supposed to set a fine example for the rest of us to follow, brought home a ghrina and had the poor taste to like her.” This conversation about such intimate matters wasn’t one Bree had ever expected to have with Jaresh. It should have been Rukh’s job. The entire topic made her uncomfortable, but still, she also knew that if Jaresh needed someone in whom to confide, she would have to do.

  “Rukh spoke to me before he left,” Jaresh replied. “It’s why I don’t spend time with Mira any more.”

  “Do you still have feelings for her?” Bree asked.

  Jaresh shrugged. “I’ll probably always have feelings for her,” he said, “but they aren’t the way they once were.” He stared at his hands, silent for a moment. “Do Amma and Nanna know?” he asked.

  Bree shrugged. “I don’t know. But if they did, I doubt they would love you any less.”

  Jaresh set aside his guitar and gave a half-hearted smile. “I wish the rest of the city could be as forgiving.”

  “Wishes don’t wash
dishes,” Bree quoted.

  “No, they don’t,” Jaresh agreed. “Is that why you came out here? To remind me of the work I should be doing?”

  Bree quirked a smile. “Truthfully? I just came out here to talk to you. I needed my brother.”

  “We both need our brother,” Jaresh said. “I miss Rukh, and I wish I hadn’t been such an ass to him before he left. The last time I saw him, I was still angry and upset.” He sighed. “I wish I’d let him know how much I love him.”

  Bree silently commiserated with Jaresh.

  Jaresh forced a smile. “But at least I’ve kept busy,” he said. “I examined the three Houses Rukh said trained their warriors in the manner of the Withering Knife murderer. In their ranks, there are one hundred and seven suspects.”

  “One hundred and seven?” Bree said thoughtfully. “It’s a start.”

  Shun those who bring dishonor to their Amma or their Nanna. Such scoundrels should be stoned.

  ~To Live Well by Fair Shire of Stronghold, AF 1842

  Jessira focused on her tasks, doing her best to ignore Rukh’s silent, uncomfortable scrutiny. She ducked to the other side of her horse to put distance between the two of them. It was the fragging kiss. That’s why he was staring at her. Her shoulders twitched involuntarily under his gaze. She didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, she wished she could just forget that it had ever happened.

  It had been a mistake, but at the time, it had felt so right. First Mother! She hid a shudder, trying to ignore how much she had enjoyed it.

  She couldn’t act on her feelings, though. Not now. Not ever. Jessira had promised herself to Disbar Merdant, and she wouldn’t disgrace herself or her family’s good name and standing by failing in what she had vowed; not for something as selfish and ephemeral as a kiss or whatever the kiss might have led to. Jessira liked Rukh Shektan, but what they had was fleeting, something forged during a time of common loneliness and struggle. It wasn’t the foundation upon which two people could form a long-lasting relationship. Not that she wanted such a thing. At least not with Rukh. She was to marry Disbar Merdant, after all.

  “Are we going to talk about it?” Rukh asked.

  Jessira’s shoulders tensed, and she kept her back to him, pretending to be busy as she unsaddled her horse. “About what?” she asked. She immediately winced at her cowardly response. Rukh deserved the truth, not some half-ass measure where she pretended not to know what he was talking about.

  Jessira heard his saddle drop to the ground, and she flicked a glance at him, but now his back was to her as he brushed down his horse.

  “I see.” His response was simple and direct.

  She frowned, mentally cursing her momentary weakness. The stupid kiss. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m promised to someone else. What we did—it won’t happen again.”

  “You think the kiss was a mistake?” Rukh asked, turning to look at her.

  He wore a bland expression, betraying none of the upset or disappointment she might have expected. Jessira was filled with the sudden hope that maybe the two of them could put this entire incident behind them with no lingering hurt feelings on either of their parts. It would be for the best. Not to mention it would let her off the hook for what had been a colossal blunder.

  Jessira nodded. “It was definitely a mistake.”

  Rukh seemed to consider her words. “It was a good kiss, though, wasn’t it?” he asked with a winsome grin. “I don’t think I’ll be regretting it too much.”

  Jessira’s nascent hope melted away. Wariness took its place. She had believed—however briefly—that Rukh hadn’t read too much into their kiss. But what was he saying now? What did he mean by not regretting it? She most certainly did. And, Rukh couldn’t think she would allow it to happen again.

  “Rukh, listen.…” she began.

  He held up a forestalling hand. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me how it will never happen again. That it should have never happened in the first place. How it only happened because we both got caught up in our emotions.”

  She nodded, no longer surprised at how easily he understood what she was thinking without her having to say it. Back in Stronghold, other than Lure, no one else could pick up on her thoughts and moods so easily. She sometimes wondered how Rukh did what he did, but now wasn’t the time for such musings. She needed to take care of this issue between them—the kiss—or it would fester, ruining their relationship.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Rukh continued. “You’re right. It was a mistake. When a woman makes a vow.…” he shrugged. “Kummas take such promises seriously. We don’t poach another man’s territory.”

  Jessira exhaled in relief as the tension building in her over the past few hours spilled out in a rush. It left her light-headed. “I’m glad we both feel the same way,” she said with a nervous half-smile.

  “Me, too,” Rukh said. “Let’s set up camp.”

  “Who gets first watch?” she asked.

  Rukh eyed her with such a hopeful expression that Jessira had to laugh. “I’ll take it,” she said.

  They pitched their bedrolls and while Rukh fed and watered the horses, Jessira made a small fire and heated up a warm meal of smoked beef in a potato stew. The rest of the evening passed quietly, but Jessira couldn’t relax. Despite their agreement to forget about the kiss, there remained a stiffness between them, a formality that didn’t allow for easy conversation or laughter.

  Rukh turned in early, looking worn out. There was wanness to him, a tiredness of his soul. It was so different from how she was used to seeing Rukh, but it was also to be expected. If even half of the rumors about what he had been through during his time away from Ashoka with the expedition were true, he should have fallen over from exhaustion long ago. And then, just this morning—had it only been this morning?--he had to deal with the shock of being found Unworthy. She wondered how he was able to keep going with such a heavy heart. If the circumstances were reversed, she’d be a puddle of sobbing sorrow.

  The night waxed long, and the fire burned down to coals. A restless flame ignited now and then setting the wood to crackling. Jessira shivered as a cool wind blew down from the Privation Mountains, carrying a promise of snow. Down here in the lower elevations, the promised snow would probably melt into a dismal autumn shower. A particularly blustery gust of wind blew dust and debris across the camp. It lit the coals to brightness and flame, sending sparks flying into the darkness beyond the firelight. Jessira shivered again and clutched her cloak more tightly.

  She must have grown soft in Ashoka’s comfort and warmth.

  Hours later, Jessira stood when she felt herself nodding off. She should have awoken Rukh by now, but she didn’t have the heart for it. Let him rest a while longer. She stamped her feet to get some circulation back into them and paced around the campsite, making sure to maintain her Blend, the thin membrane keeping the two of them hidden from Suwraith.

  To keep her mind busy, Jessira stared out into the night’s darkness. A crescent moon provided a sliver of light, barely giving shape to the treed hills surrounding them on all sides. She and Rukh had chosen to make camp amongst a half-circle of tumbled, gray boulders nestled along the shores of a pencil thin lake. Most of the rocks stood higher than Jessira could reach and were jagged and sharp, like they were the chipped fangs of some monstrous beast. They seemed to warn the trees back from the small open space they encompassed.

  Jessira stepped closer to the water’s edge, past the muted light offered by the campfire. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness.

  Cattails and reedy grass swayed in the breeze as the moon’s ivory light sparkled against the water’s ripples. A few lonely cicadas droned into the night. Their sound rose and fell, melding with the croaking of bullfrogs hiding in the rushes. Itinerant clouds scudded across the face of the moon, and the smell of moss growing on the boulders mingled with that of wild lilac, somehow still blooming this late in the season.

  Jessira stared out over t
he lake, all the way to the far shore, but the light was too weak to allow her to make out any details. Perhaps Rukh could have seen something. His senses were more acute than hers.

  Her thoughts on him, she drifted back toward the campsite, making sure to avoid looking straight at the fire so as to preserve her night vision. Jessira sat near Rukh and faced out into the night. She heard him shift in his slumber, rolling over so he was now facing her. She glanced down at him and a half-smile slipped over her face. At least the fatigue and pain he’d worn so openly throughout the day was smoothed away by the peace of sleep. She studied his features more closely, and her smile changed into a slight frown. There was a small scar above his right eyebrow. She’d never seen it before, and she wondered if it was new. Possibly from the battle in the caverns? And was that a strand of white hair hidden amongst the black ones? She leaned closer and realized it was more than just one. It was a whole village of them, growing haphazardly along both his temples. But Rukh’s hair had been coal black when he’d left Ashoka for the caverns a few months back. She was certain of it. The scar, the white hairs, the emotional wounds—Rukh had been visibly marked by his time in the expedition, and now, he would never have a chance to regain his honor. It had been forever denied to him. While he had been risking his life in the Wildness, the Chamber of Lords had deemed him Unworthy. He’d never again see his family, his loved ones, or his beloved city.

  And it was all her fault.

  Jessira stared out into the trees, peering through the gaps between the boulders. She hoped Rukh could find it in his heart to forgive her. Earlier in the day, he had said he didn’t blame her for what had happened, and she was grateful to hear it, but she also had trouble believing him. After all, Jessira had yet to forgive herself.

  She glanced back at Rukh, running her eyes along the ridge of his brow, the curve of his nose, and the firm line of his jaw. She paused when she reached the smooth softness of his full lips. She found her own lips slightly parted and dry as she unconsciously reached for him.