by Davis Ashura
Jessira withdrew her hand. “How many times do I have to tell you? Rukh is just a friend. Nothing more,” she said.
Disbar studied her profile over the rim of his goblet as he took another sip of wine. He wasn’t sure whether to believe her. Since her return to Stronghold, he’d kept himself apprised of Jessira’s movements. On a few occasions, especially early on after her return to Stronghold, she had gone to the kitchens and areas where the laborers worked. She had sought out the Kumma, but at no time had she been alone with him. She’d seen the Pureblood in a few public places or in the company of family, but otherwise she had kept her distance from him.
“Then why the concern?” he asked. “He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need your help to find his way.”
“Because our treatment of them—Rukh and Farn—says something about who we are as a people,” Jessira said. “It makes me wonder if our culture is really any better than that of the Purebloods.”
“Of course we’re better,” Disbar replied, aghast. “Purebloods would kill our kind without a second thought.”
“And yet, I survived their city without harm,” Jessira reminded him. “Rukh’s family took me in and treated me as one of their own, even after their son was exiled on my account.”
Disbar fell silent, not having a ready response to her claims. He had trouble believing Purebloods could be as loving and generous as she claimed. It flew in the face of everything he’d been taught about them.
“We have to be better than before,” Jessira continued. “After all, the people of Ashoka never tried to murder me. I understand Rukh has already had a few run-ins with some of our young men.”
“Run-ins?” Disbar scoffed. “Just some youths with too much drink in them is what I heard.”
“They had knives.”
Disbar kept his face studiously blank. No one—especially Jessira—could know of his role in what had happened to the Kumma. And besides, none of it changed what was more important: Jessira’s ongoing interest in Rukh Shektan. She had been keeping up with the events in the Pureblood’s life. Disbar didn’t like it and made his feelings on the matter clear, including his frustration with their ongoing lack of intimacy. He was tired of waiting.
“I’ve chosen you,” Jessira said, answering his complaint. “No one will come between us. We will be together when we’re married.”
“But we will not be together now?” Disbar asked.
“Give me time.”
“Time for what?” Disbar asked, exasperated. “You leave for maneuvers soon and after that, it’s home for a week and gone for three more. When will you be ready? For mercy’s sake, we’re engaged. And in a few months, your body will be the temple through which our children will be born.”
Jessira stiffened. Her gaze locked on his, and Disbar involuntarily shrank away from the outrage in her eyes. “Is that what you think my role will be? To simply bear your children?”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“You didn’t mean to imply that I should feel some fragging guilt about bearing your children?” Jessira said in derision.
Disbar’s nostrils flared. How dare she speak to him like that? “It’s because of the Kumma, isn’t it? You and I never had these problems before you left. He is the reason we argue so much. You love him.”
“He has nothing to do with our problems.”
“Then what is it?” Disbar demanded. He noticed she hadn’t denied his accusation.
Jessira’s chin raised, proud and haughty as the mountains. “During all the time I was gone, I kept my vows to you,” she said. “And it wasn’t enough. You’ve made your distrust of me apparent.”
“I trust you,” Disbar said, knowing how mealy-mouthed his words sounded. He hoped she didn’t notice.
“I know you’ve had me watched,” Jessira hissed, leaning close. “Your cousins. They follow me everywhere.”
Disbar licked his lips, suddenly nervous. “So I asked them to look in on you a time or two. How else am I supposed to react when you tell me that this Pureblood of yours was exiled because of his relationship with you? You said you are only friends, but I find it hard to believe that he would have been banished for mere friendship’s sake.” He shrugged. “Besides, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. The Kummas, who knows what they might do.”
“I was with Rukh for months on end, and I was never unsafe in his presence,” Jessira replied.
Disbar’s jaw clenched, and his anger thudded against his skull. It stole his good sense, causing him to speak words he immediately regretted. “Were you safe in his bedrolls?”
Jessira’s face grew impassive, and she took slow, deep breaths. Her flushed face revealed her fury. “We’re done,” she announced, rising to her feet.
“Please don’t go,” Disbar said. “I apologize for my rash words.” He came to his feet as well. “What I said was thoughtless and spoken in the heat of the moment. Of course I trust you.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t,” Jessira said. “And I can’t abide a man who has so little faith in me and has so little regard for my intelligence.”
Disbar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What was Jessira saying? He gritted his teeth. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?” he asked, trying to mollify her. “We’re simply having a minor disagreement. Why don’t we talk about this later; when we’ve both calmed down somewhat?”
Jessira scrubbed a hand over her face before sighing heavily. “Yes, we’ll talk again later, but it doesn’t change the fundamentals of our situation,” she said. “I need someone who respects me, trusts me, believes in me.”
Disbar grimaced. “Somewhere in those words, I sense a threat.”
Jessira shrugged. “Interpret it however you wish,” she said. “I can only tell you what’s been growing in my heart since I returned to Stronghold.”
Disbar braced his fists against the table and leaned forward. “If you end our engagement, everyone will know exactly what kind of woman you are.”
His words must have sparked Jessira’s anger once again. Her eyes flashed in warning. “Somewhere in those words I sense a threat,” she noted. “And I never said anything about ending our engagement.” Her own fists were balled.
“Interpret my words however you wish,” Disbar snarled. “But I can only tell you what’s been growing in my heart since you returned to Stronghold. I won’t be made to look like a fool.”
Jessira stood straight, her posture rigid. “I’ve said all I need to,” she said. “I’m done here.” She paused, glancing back at Disbar. “And if I see any of your cousins following me, I’ll break their legs.” With that, she was gone, striding away, the fury obvious in her posture.
“What did you say to her?” a young boy asked Disbar after Jessira left. “People come here to make kissy-faces, not fight.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Rukh sat on a weatherworn outcropping upon the lower slopes of Mount Fort and stared out into the dark depths of the Croft. Last week’s snow still covered the fields, leaving them looking like a strange desert of gray and white. South of the valley and standing tall were the gnarled, pitted heights of Mount Axe and Mount Salt, anchoring the borders of Tear Drop Lake. At night, the water sparkled like scattered diamonds under the light of the moon.
“You ready to head inside?” Farn asked, his breath misting in the cold.
“Not yet,” Rukh said, his voice sounding loud in the quiet winter night.
Since his Healing a month ago, Rukh had spent almost all his free time helping Farn get back into fighting trim. The drills were essential in order for his cousin to survive the journey back to Ashoka. Unfortunately, for most of that time, all Rukh had been able to do was watch and advise as Farn practiced. It had been frustrating, but finally the day came when Rukh’s injured arm was strong enough to allow him to participate fully in the practices as well. It had been exhilarating to wield a sword once again, even if he had to use his off hand—his strong arm was s
till too weak to tightly grip any weapon, but day-by-day, it was improving.
He was determined to reclaim his lost skill and become again the warrior he had once been. It would take hard work, but it was work Rukh relished. It was certainly better than serving in the kitchens or cleaning the latrines. Farn, of course, felt the same way, so every day, before and after work, they headed out to the flat lands of Tear Drop Lake or the steep slopes of Mount Salt and Mount Axe and honed their skills and bodies as they had when students at the House of Fire and Mirrors.
While they would have preferred to practice within the warm confines of Stronghold, it had simply not been possible, not with the attitude of the Home Army warriors. They had greeted Rukh and Farn’s request to train amongst them with flat-eyed, unwelcoming stares. ‘There’s no room for your kind here,’ one particularly abrasive lieutenant had told them. Fragging jackholes. Karma had a way of dealing with people like that, and their refusal had actually turned out to be an unexpected blessing. Practicing outside on the slick stones and ground had taught him and Farn a different kind of balance and also inured them to the cold. It was something his cousin would find critical once he left Stronghold.
For Rukh, returning to the rhythms of his youth had also been a cool balm to his troubled heart. The exertions were like meditation, helping him set aside his troubles for a time. They reminded him of a peaceful period in his life when the future had seemed certain, and he had been innocent.
On some nights, like tonight, Cedar and Court would accompany them. They wanted to learn how Kummas fought.
“Is something wrong?” Court asked Rukh. “You seem distracted.”
“I’m fine,” Rukh lied.
“You don’t seem fine,” Farn said. “Even with your left hand, you should have shown better than you did tonight.”
Rukh hesitated, not wanting to share his worries.
“Tell us,” Court urged.
“I can’t join the Home Army,” Rukh finally admitted. “All the slots for the next five years are filled.”
Cedar frowned. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Did you speak to the majors?”
“Just today, and they both say the same thing. The only way I can earn a commission is by winning the Trials of Hume,” Rukh replied. “And even then, it isn’t a sure thing. My victory has to be spectacular.”
Court rubbed his chin. “Left-handed you’re good, but not that good,” he said. “Even I’ve been able to take you a few times.”
“He’s at his worst right now,” Farn said. “Give his leg and arm a chance to Heal fully, and no one here would last a breath against him.”
“It won’t matter,” Rukh said. “I don’t have a Home Army officer to sponsor me, and I can’t afford the entry fee for the Trials.”
“Do you think you’ll be ready by then?” Cedar asked quietly.
Rukh shrugged. “It depends on how strong my arm is by then, but, yes, I should be.”
Cedar smiled. “Then your problem is solved. I’ll sponsor you, and my family will pay the entry fee.”
Rukh blinked, touched by Cedar’s generosity. “It still may not matter,” he said with a shake of his head. “The warriors of Stronghold may not let me enter the Trials.” He lifted up his shirt. The left side of his chest sported a large bruise. “It’s not broken,” he said at their sharp intakes of shock.
“What happened?” Farn asked, outraged.
“Some warriors had a message for me,” Rukh said.
“Some message,” Court said, disgusted. “Did anyone see what happened? Do you know why they attacked you?”
“No,” Rukh said with a scowl. “Of course not. I was simply walking back to the flat after meeting with Dru Barrier when a couple of thugs came out of nowhere.…”
“Probably Blended,” Cedar interrupted.
“Probably,” Rukh agreed. “Anyway, next thing I know, I’m getting kicked in the chest before I can Shield, and.…” he shrugged again. “They attacked. I defended.”
“It makes no sense,” Court said, looking troubled. “Who would do something like this?”
“They didn’t exactly stop and explain themselves,” Rukh said. “All they said was something about staying away from their women and their Army.”
“The Army part I can understand since you had just met with Major Barrier, but the women….” Cedar frowned in confusion. “You don’t have any romantic-type relationships with any women here do you?”
“None,” Rukh said without missing a beat.
“Then it was probably just a couple of louts with too much to drink,” Cedar reasoned. “I’ll ask around and make sure their lieutenants discipline them.”
Privately, Rukh doubted the officers would do any such thing; but he kept his misgivings to himself.
Court shivered just then. “I’m done. You three can stay and freeze if you like, but I’m going inside.”
“I’m heading in, too,” Cedar said.
After Cedar and Court left, Farn turned to Rukh. “It was about Jessira, wasn’t it?”
Rukh nodded. “I recognized one of the warriors who attacked me. He’s one of Disbar Merdant’s cousins.”
Farn whistled softly. “Jessira’s fiancé.”
“Jackhole doesn’t deserve her,” Rukh said with a scowl. “And the thing is, I hardly ever think of her anymore. Or at least I hadn’t until today.”
“Truly?”
“Truly,” Rukh replied, infusing certainty into his words. Sometimes he wondered how Jessira was doing, but it was a fleeting thought, gone before he had a chance to really consider it. As he repeatedly reminded himself, it was best that way.
“This is unlike you,” Farn said. “Given how much you cared for her, I wouldn’t have expected you to forget about her so easily.”
“I never said it was easy,” Rukh said. “Besides, I promised her nanna to stay out of her life, which is what I’d always planned on doing anyway.”
“When will she get back to Stronghold?”
Rukh spoke without thinking. “Not for another three weeks,” he answered. He wanted to bite his lips the moment the words left his mouth. If he wasn’t thinking about her, then what was he doing keeping track of her comings and goings?
Farn gave him a wry look. He was probably thinking the same thing. “Thought so.”
Rukh reddened. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten her as completely as he had hoped, but in the end, it didn’t matter. “Let’s go on in,” he suggested. “I’m tired of being out here.” He unlaced the leather Constrainers from his wrists. Farn had a matching pair—gifts from Nanna. At that moment, thinking about his family, Rukh missed them with a fierceness that brought tears to his eyes.
“What is it?” Farn asked.
“Nothing?” Rukh asked with a shrug. “You’ll be gone in two weeks and when you are, I’ll be alone in a city full of people who think Stronghold represents the epitome of civilized behavior. They see no contradiction in how they behave compared to what they claim to believe. When was the last time you heard of someone being ambushed and attacked on the streets of Ashoka?”
Farn studied him through worried eyes. “What will you do when I leave?” he asked.
Rukh wasn’t sure. All he knew was if he couldn’t join the Home Army, then there was no chance he’d stay in Stronghold for the rest of his life. The prospect held absolutely no appeal. He might as well slit his wrists and save himself the trouble of a slow and painful death. “If Cedar and his family are willing to sponsor me, I’m going to enter the Trials of Hume,” he said. “I’m going to enter, and I’m going to win. After that, we’ll see.”
Farn smiled, a predator’s slow grin of anticipation. “You’ll crush them.”
Rukh smiled in return. “I’ve seen their best. I doubt they would last more than three or four strokes against either of us.”
“Two,” Farn said. “Make them eat dust in two strokes. You can do it.”
“I’m thinking of using my weak hand for the first match; toy with
whoever I’m facing before putting him away.”
Farn laughed. “Serve the arrogant fraggers right. Let them see what an unfettered Kumma can really do. Maybe they’ll even let you join the Army once they see your skill.”
“Whether they do or don’t, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, not after what those warriors did to me,” Rukh said.
Farn looked shocked. “What do you mean?”
“It means after the Trials, I’m thinking of leaving Stronghold for a while. I’m going to take Nanna’s advice and go to Hammer.”
“You mean the one about recovering The Book of First Movement?” Farn asked sounding doubtful. “I know legends say it was supposedly written by the First Father, but you realize most scholars don’t believe that, right?”
“I know,” Rukh said, but it didn’t matter. Retrieving a long, lost treasure from a dead city—the idea alone held appeal.
“Then maybe you should rethink this plan.”
Rukh shrugged. “What would you do if you were in my place?”
“I would find a way to make this place work for me,” Farn answered.
The Shadowcats hunkered down for their evening in a small, lonely canyon north of Stronghold. It was a dismal place of muted grays; seen in the stark granite cliffs thrusting skyward; the cheerless clouds moving listlessly across the heavens; and a waterfall ending in a small pond the color of slate. Most of the ravine’s floor was covered in shale except for a thin strip of sand next to the water.
Several Shadowcats stood watch while the rest relaxed and had their supper next to a reedy fire. They huddled near the flames, enjoying its warmth on the cold winter night. The Shadowcats had been on patrol for a week now, and with them was Jessira Grey. She’d been temporarily assigned to their unit until her own, the Silversuns, were fully re-constituted.