by Davis Ashura
“Just let it go,” Jessira growled. She ducked her head, flushing with embarrassment at her traitorous feelings as she gathered her gear.
“What if you hadn’t been engaged to Disbar? What would you have done then with the two of you alone in the Wildness?” Sign asked, waiting until they were alone in Hold Passage East.
“Then things between Rukh and me might have turned out very differently,” Jessira answered.
Disbar approached the bench upon which Jessira waited with a sense of hope and trepidation. They had agreed to meet in the courtyard of Crofthold Lucent, the site of their last conversation before she had left with the Shadowcats. Disbar hoped today’s discussion would go better than the last; that the time away had allowed Jessira to come to her senses. They couldn’t argue all the time, not if they wanted to have a happy marriage. And while Disbar could bend somewhat and find a way to trust her—he’d try—but she would have to as well.
She could start by disassociating herself from the Kumma. Just this afternoon, Jessira’s first day home after weeks in the Wildness, the first place she had gone was Crofthold Lucent’s dining hall. There, she had inquired about Rukh.
Disbar gritted his teeth. What hold did the Pureblood bastard have on Jessira? Why couldn’t he take a hint and leave her alone? His cousins had tried to deliver just such a message to the Kumma, but each time, he had apparently been surrounded by laborer friends of his. Disbar didn’t know all the details of what had happened, but clearly the situation had gotten out of control since a few of his cousins had ended up in a hospice.
Disbar scowled. One day the Pureblood would find himself alone and….
He wiped the frown from his face and forced a smile as he neared Jessira. He noticed when she took a deep breath, seeming to master some emotion, before she turned to him with a look of determination. Upon seeing her expression, a trickle of worry worked its way down his spine.
“You’re back,” Disbar said, recognizing too late how inane his words sounded.
He moved to kiss Jessira, but she rose to her feet and stepped away before he could deliver it. “We need to talk,” she said, her tone firm and business-like.
The trickle of worry thickened. Jessira was stone-faced and somber, and Disbar had to clear his throat before he could speak. “What do you wish to discuss?”
Jessira looked him in the eyes. “I am ending our engagement,” she said. Her voice and carriage were as certain as an avalanche and crushed into Disbar with the same impact.
It took him a moment to stop from gaping at her as he tried to make sense of what she was telling him. She couldn’t be serious. “What is this?” he demanded. “Some twisted jest?” His jaw clenched. “It is in extremely poor taste.”
“No jest,” Jessira said. “It is the truth. I no longer wish to marry you.” Her tone brooked no dissent.
Disbar studied her face, hoping to see some hint of flexibility; but her stolid features told him otherwise. “Why?” he asked. “What reason could you have to do so?” His voice rose and others in the courtyard turned to look at them.
Jessira shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Nothing I say will bring you satisfaction.”
“You owe me the truth!” Disbar hissed. His fists clenched. “Or should I guess? It’s about the Pureblood, isn’t it?”
Jessira’s only reaction to his question was to cross her arms. “This has nothing to do with Rukh,” she replied. “You and I would have never been happy in marriage to one another. I think you know that.”
“What I think is that you’re deceiving yourself if you believe I’ll simply accept this farce without an honest accounting. I will not be made to look a fool.”
Jessira sighed. “No one will think that of you.”
“If you truly believe that, you’re delusional.” Disbar snorted in derision. “Engagements aren’t ended in this fashion. People will talk. They’ll wonder. Ugly rumors will be said.”
“Not if we end things amicably.”
“That will only happen if I know why it has to end,” Disbar said.
Jessira hesitated. “We aren’t the people we once were,” she answered. “Why don’t we just leave it at that?”
Disbar sneered. “That is as vague as saying nothing at all,” he replied. “Have you considered what you’re giving up? What will happen to your family’s reputation if you leave me in this manner?”
Jessira nodded, appearing weary. “I have, but it won’t stop me. This is something I have to do for myself.”
Disbar scowled. “If you end our engagement, understand that I will protect what is mine. I won’t be made to look like a cuckold while you cavort with the Pureblood.”
Jessira’s detached expression finally cracked. She looked to be growing angry herself. “What are you saying?” she asked.
“I mean that I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of woman you are.”
“And exactly what kind of a woman am I?” Jessira asked, her voice growing low and threatening.
Disbar disregarded her warning tone and plowed on, the anger having a hold of him. He spoke without thinking, seeking to hurt Jessira as much as possible for what she was about to do. “All of Stronghold will know you for who you are: a faithless woman.”
Jessira slapped him, hard enough to rock his head. A faithless woman was the worst insult, even worse than that of ‘whore’. At least a whore had a sort of honor.
Disbar’s ears rang, and he tasted blood from where his teeth had cut into the inside of his cheek.
“I never broke my word to you,” Jessira said. “You were simply too craven and petty to believe me.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode away.
Rukh trudged down the hallway, looking forward to his bedroll. His day had begun early in the morning with a session of sword training. Afterward had come work—garbage detail for breakfast followed by latrine cleaning after lunch and supper. The labor had left him reeking like a wild boar, but even then, his day hadn’t been done. Afterward had come a final training session. He grimaced when he scented his own stink. All he wanted was a quick but thorough bath, a change of clothes, and some sleep.
Fragging unholy hells he was tired, especially of living here. There were friends he had made, good people like Cedar and Court and their family as well as many laborers; but overall, Rukh was ready to move on.
Farn was gone, a week now, and every day since, Rukh had worried about his cousin. Hopefully, Farn was snuggled up somewhere safe and warm tonight. Rukh took a moment to send another quick prayer to Devesh on Farn’s behalf. Likely the Lord didn’t listen to those of little faith like himself—after all, when had Devesh ever listened to the faithful?—but it never hurt to ask.
Thinking of Farn reminded him of Ashoka, his home. He missed it, more homesick now than at any other time since he had been found Unworthy. Perhaps it was because he was more alone than at any other moment since he had been found Unworthy.
Rukh tsked, annoyed with his self-pity. Whining was an unbecoming habit in even the best of men. He made himself think about something else, something happy like what he would do after the Trials of Hume. The thought drove away some of the melancholy, but it didn’t bring cheer to his heart. He really had hoped to make a home here in Stronghold, but it wasn’t to be. The attacks, the lack of justice—Stronghold wasn’t safe for him.
His thoughts were distracted, but the moment he opened the door to Court’s flat, he knew he wasn’t alone. Someone was in there, someone not Court. He Shielded almost at the same time that the scent of cinnamon came to him.
Jessira.
She flicked on the firefly lantern on the end table next to the couch and rose to her feet. “I understand you’re entering the Trials,” she said to him, speaking without preamble.
Seeing her again, Rukh froze, unsure what to do. What was she doing in Court’s flat? He didn’t want her here. He’d worked too hard to save her reputation for her to ruin it now. Rukh glanced down the hallway, half-tempted to walk ou
t on her. They couldn’t be discovered alone like this.
“Don’t go,” she called out. “I only wanted to see how you were doing.”
Rukh glared at her, but she never flinched from his gaze or looked away.
Jessira still had her courage. He’d give her that much. She’d always been one to stand her ground. Even the cesspit reek coming off of Rukh hadn’t caused her to flee. “I know I should have checked up on you more often, but every time I did.…” Jessira shrugged an apology. “You acted like you didn’t want me near you.”
“I didn’t. I still don’t.” His response was curt, and he hoped she would take the hint and leave.
Instead, her brows furrowed in hurt. “Why are so angry with me?” she asked.
“Why do you suppose?” he asked, knowing his lack of explanation would irritate her.
Jessira paced the room. “You wanted everyone to think that we aren’t really friends, that we were only companions traveling together when we were in the Wildness. You were trying to save my reputation.” She turned to face him. “And you think I went along with it? That I abandoned you?”
“Only you can answer that,” Rukh replied, “but you’re ruining it all by being here now.”
“I don’t care about any of that right now,” she said, moving aside as he stepped toward his bedroll and packs piled up next to the couch. Her nose wrinkled. She must have finally caught a whiff of his odor. “I care about how you’re doing.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Rukh said, pulling out a change of clothing from his bags and walking to the front door. “But I’m fine. Go back to Disbar and forget about me.”
“I’m not with Disbar any more,” Jessira said. “I ended our engagement yesterday afternoon.”
Rukh turned to her in surprise. “Why?”
“He’s not the man I thought he was,” she said with a shrug. “We wouldn’t have made one another very happy.”
Rukh shook his head in disbelief. What had she done? Her reputation would be ruined, especially if anyone saw Jessira here with him tonight. They’d believe that Rukh had seduced her, that he was the reason she had ended her engagement to Disbar. It would lead to even more problems for him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Rukh said as he stepped outside the flat and closed the door before she had a chance to answer. He was too tired to think about any of this right now. All he wanted was a bath and laundry. And he wanted Jessira gone by the time he was done.
He went down the hallway to the washroom and stripped off his filthy clothes and scrub them as thoroughly as possible. It took a while to get rid of all the grime and grossness, and while there were still some stubborn stains that wouldn’t come out, at least his clothes didn’t reek anymore. After he finished, he laid out his wet pants, shirt, and underclothes on the racks above the hot stones in the parching room where they would be dry in a few hours.
Only then did he take his long deserved bath, cleaning himself off as thoroughly as possible. By the time he finished, his palms and soles were as wrinkled as raisins. And given the time he’d spent washing his clothes and himself, he figured Jessira would have long since left Court’s flat.
He was wrong.
She was still waiting for him when he returned, seated once more on the couch and thumbing through a book. She looked up when he entered. “Are you done being a martyr, or will you let me explain why I’m here?”
“Martyr.…” Rukh clamped down on the furious words he wanted to blurt out. By the barest margins, he held on to his temper. Usually it took a lot to make Rukh angry, but somehow Jessira had the trick of getting a rise out of him without even trying. “What do you want?” Rukh snapped.
Jessira took a deep breath. “I know things haven’t been easy for you here,” she began. “I just wanted to find out if there’s anything I can do to make it better.”
“I’m fine. The Trials are coming up in a few days and afterward, I should be able to do whatever I want.”
“Because of the prize winnings awarded to the champion?” Jessira guessed. “With it you could move out from Court’s flat and rent one of your own. Is that what you have planned? You want to win the Trials and move out?”
“Close enough. Is there anything else?”
His answer didn’t seem to satisfy Jessira. Her jaw clenched in irritation. “There is something else,” she began. “I know you’re friends with Court and Cedar, but they say you haven’t told them anything about your plans following the Trials.”
“I wasn’t aware I was under any obligation to let them know my plans,” Rukh said.
“You owe them common courtesy,” Jessira replied tartly. “Court has been kind to you, letting you stay in his flat these past few months. If nothing else, they are your friends. I thought I was your friend—”
“Friends don’t abandon one another,” Rukh said. He wasn’t being fair to her, but his situation had him frustrated and disillusioned. He couldn’t control the bitterness. The Home Army had denied his application out of hand; men had attacked him and paid no price for their assault; many Strongholders treated him like the mud on their shoes; and for all this, he was expected to be grateful to them for allowing him to stay in their perfect city. Suwraith’s spit but he was tired of their hypocrisy.
Jessira twisted her hands in agitation. “I already apologized for that,” she said.
“No you haven’t.”
“Then I apologize,” Jessira said, not sounding apologetic.
“For what?” Rukh asked. “I was the one who came up with the idea that we aren’t friends. You were simply smart enough to go along with what I started. So don’t worry about saying sorry. I understand why you did what you did.”
“You don’t understand anything,” Jessira spat. “I already told you: I looked in on you, and you were humiliated and miserable. The horror! The indecency! The great Kumma has to work as a laborer. It’s unconscionable!” She glared at him. “Well understand this: we all have to do what you do. Every fourth week, I’m expected to serve in the barracks. I cook, I clean, even down to the latrines. So I don’t care what you think of your work. It’s honest, and there’s nothing shameful about it.”
“You are the one who doesn’t understand,” Rukh said, his voice soft as a whisper. He kept his composure and didn’t allow his anger to show. “I do my work here without complaint. I dislike it, but that isn’t why I don’t respect this city or her people.”
If anything, his relatively calm demeanor in the face of her anger seemed to outrage her even further.
“Unbelievable! We take you in, and this is how you behave? Like an arrogant Kumma!”
“It is who I am,” Rukh said, wearing a sarcastic half-smile.
“You are insufferable!” she shouted.
“The door’s right there.” Rukh pointed. “If you don’t want to be here then leave.”
“I thought you needed a friend. That’s why I came here.”
“Nothing I need is to be found in this city.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means perhaps you should wonder why justice is absent in Stronghold. If you ask around the hospices, you might learn of some recently injured men. A broken jaw, broken ribs, and a broken arm. Ask these men how they came to be hurt.”
“Did someone attack you?” Jessira asked, her anger suddenly blowing over and replaced by a look of concern.
Rukh didn’t feel like explaining what had happened. It no longer mattered. “The powerful in this city think they can assault the powerless with impunity,” he said, knowing his words were enigmatic. Frag it. Let her figure it out on her own.
Jessira stared at him, apparently trying to fathom what he meant. “You were attacked, and no one did anything about it,” she said. “But if you win the Trials, your position in the city is assured. You can have your justice then.”
Rukh shrugged, not bothering to respond. He no longer cared if those who had assaulted him were punished. The law should apply equally to
everyone, no matter their status or wealth. It shouldn’t take victory in the Trials for him to receive justice. Besides, there was no way he was going to let Jessira learn of his plans to leave Stronghold. She’d only waste his time by trying to talk him out of it.
Jessira sighed, an expression of resignation on her face. She stood. “Good luck in the Trials,” she whispered before brushing past him, close enough for him to feel the cinnamon breeze of her passage. She paused at the open front door. “For what it’s worth, this hasn’t been easy for me either,” she said.
She closed the door with a soft click.
Only a fool searches for a four-leaf clover when opportunity is waiting at his front door.
~Sooths and Small Sayings by Tramed Billow, AF 1387
“We have a problem,” Varesea said the moment Hal’El appeared at the door. She appeared agitated, clutching at her skirt and muttering incomprehensibly.
Hal’El’s glad smile fell away, and only with effort did he keep his shoulders from slumping in disappointment and dread. He had hoped Varesea’s ‘episodes’ would eventually resolve on their own, but they hadn’t. At least not yet. They were certainly less common than they had once been, but they still occurred frequently enough to cause Hal’El’s teeth to grind with worry. Her fits were a challenge for both of them. When caught in the midst of her madness, not only did Varesea fear her dead husband’s wrath; but she also believed all sorts of odd notions. Just last week, she had been certain that Hal’El was seeing another woman. It had taken most of an afternoon to convince her otherwise, and afterward, Varesea—his Varesea—had returned to him as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Hal’El carefully shut the door and turned to face her. The room in which Varesea waited for him took up the top floor of an unoccupied building in Stone Cavern. It was a place they had made their own and taken to calling The Tryst Palace. It was a sardonic title, given in jest to a meager space with boarded over windows—one of its key features—a few broken-down chairs, a cheap pine table, and a plush sofa.