The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  The drink was pale yellow, the color of nectar with a hint of honeysuckle aroma. Rukh took a tentative sip and let the wine rest on his tongue. It had a tart sweetness but a mellow aftertaste and was surprisingly good. He took a larger swallow and smiled. “Much better,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Sign replied, her dark eyes glittering. Her blue dress swirled about her knees as she stepped closer. “I wanted to congratulate you on your victory. It was…impressive.”

  Rukh shrugged. “Looks can be deceiving,” he said. “For impressive, you should have seen Kinsu Makren in the Tournament of Hume.”

  “Didn’t you defeat him?”

  “It was luck more than anything else,” he said with a smile.

  “And will. Jessira says that your desire to win carried you that day. Or at least that’s what your brother and sister told her.”

  “Will helped, but so did luck.”

  “I’ve been wondering about something,” Sign said, taking a sip of her wine. “Why didn’t you just show us what you could do? Show us how fast you are, your skills—your life would have been a lot easier if you had. Instead, you waited until the Trials.”

  “I could have done that, and a lot of times, I was tempted to do so,” Rukh answered. “But with the way things have been for me here,” he shrugged, “there came a point when I just didn’t care about impressing anyone.”

  “Court said you applied to join the Home Army.”

  Rukh nodded. “I did,” he confirmed. “Major Pile basically told there was no room for me in the Army and that there never would be, while Major Barrier at least wanted me to demonstrate some sword-forms. They just weren’t the patterns I’m used to.”

  “It didn’t go well?” Sign guessed.

  “I was terrible,” Rukh replied with a wry smile. “I can’t hold the stiff postures Stronghold teaches. I was always instructed to flow with balance and precision, to move like water and bend and shape myself to the world.”

  “You could have still done something to show us how good you are,” Sign persisted.

  “I suppose so, but after my poor outing with the sword forms, the major didn’t want to hear my explanations of why I couldn’t do as he’d asked. He just walked out. And the other warriors who’d been watching made sure I didn’t linger. They basically cursed me out of East Lock,” Rukh said with a scowl. “Pureblood bastard was one of the less offensive phrases I heard.”

  “So why not throw a Fireball and change their minds?”

  “By then, I didn’t care what they thought of me. I’d come to Stronghold thinking the people here were open and accepting, but most are just as bigoted as any Pureblood. And after the way the warriors treated me, the way Major Pile spoke to me, I had to wonder if joining your Army was really what I wanted.” He shrugged. “I needed some time to think, and in the end, I figured they weren’t worth impressing. Frag them,” Rukh said. He grinned a moment later. “Besides, surprising them all like I did in the Trials was a lot more fun.”

  Sign didn’t smile back. Instead, she looked dismayed and contrite. She reached for him and squeezed his arm. “Well, I’m sorry for how you were treated,” Sign said.

  “Yes. We should all apologize to you,” a new voice said, cutting through the nearby loud conversations. It was Senator Shun Morn of Crofthold Clannad. He was a tall man, almost able to look Rukh in the eyes, and he still maintained the military posture and build he’d earned from his twenty-five years of service in the Home Army. After his discharge, Senator Shun had become a wealthy crofter. “I’ve recently learned of your shabby treatment by those who should have known better.” His glance took in several nearby captains in the Home Army.

  Rukh listened with bemusement to the senator but was unsure whether to believe him or not. Was he sincere in his apology, or was he simply throwing the Home Army officers under a wagon in order to win Rukh’s trust? After all, the man was a politician; and he spoke like one. Lies and false promises could roll off his tongue as easily as water across a hot skillet.

  “Yes. Please accept our apologies,” another voice added. This time it was Senator Frame Seek of Crofthold Healed. Tall and spare of frame, he was an old man, well into his seventies. Unlike many others, his wealth had come from his work as a craftsman, specifically as a plumber. The old man blinked owlishly. “You should never have been left to work as a common laborer. The Home Army is your natural home.” He gripped one of Rukh’s biceps. “I would be more than happy to put in a kind word in the proper ears if you wish it. And as an aside, there are many fine flats in my Crofthold if you wish a change of residence.”

  “He is of Crofthold Lucent,” a deep voice claimed. Rukh turned and saw another old man, about the same age as Senator Seek, but shorter and even slighter of build with thick glasses and a white, downy beard. It was Senator Thistle Rub of Crofthold Lucent. “Isn’t that right, Rukh?”

  Rukh smirked. Only a few days earlier, he’d been nothing but dirt beneath the fingernails of these fine senators. Now they were arguing over him like a pack of hyenas over a slab of meat.

  Sign had stayed nearby, and he was grateful when she saved him from the politicians. She took him by the hand and pulled him from the midst of the grasping senators. “Gentlemen. You can’t expect to monopolize all of the Trials Champion’s time. There are many more people who wish to meet Rukh. I’m sure you understand.” She smiled sweetly.

  Rukh waited until they were a distance away before pulling his hand free from hers. “Thank you for that,” he said. “I’m not good at handling politicians.”

  Sign chuckled dryly. “Neither am I.”

  Rukh thought he was safe from further grasping politicians, but a moment later, a new voice intruded. At least it was only Jessira’s nanna. “Might I have a word with the Champion,” Master Grey asked. “Alone,” he added pointedly.

  Sign nodded, but before she slipped away, she gave Rukh a look of sympathy.

  Accompanying Master Grey was his formidable wife. Neither of them looked happy. And their ire seemed directed at him.

  Rukh stifled a groan. What now? He forced a cheery smile on his face. “How can I help you?” he asked.

  “Rumor has it that you might be leaving us soon,” Mistress Grey said. “Is this true?”

  Rukh nodded. “You and Master Grey have been wonderful, but it’s time for me to go. As soon as this ceremony is over, I’m leaving Stronghold.”

  “Why?” Master Grey asked, sounding genuinely dumbfounded. “You could have a wonderful life here. A happy home.”

  “I’ve met some good people in Stronghold, but there are also some who don’t want me here,” Rukh answered. “They’ve made their feelings on the matter quite clear.” There was no reason to rehash his sense of betrayal at the justice he’d been denied. It was pointless to do so.

  “And there are also those who wish you to stay,” Mistress Grey said. “You have friends here, like Court and Cedar and Sign. You like her.”

  Rukh’s brows furrowed in confusion. Court and Cedar were friends, but Sign? No. He liked her well enough but not enough to call her a friend. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at,” Rukh said.

  “You and Sign. You like her. She likes you. The two of you would make a good match,” Master Grey explained.

  Rukh kept his mouth from gaping by the slimmest of margins. He and Sign? Matched? He could honestly say he’d never considered such an idea. It wasn’t preposterous, but Sign was Jessira’s cousin. It felt…wrong. Besides, he was leaving Stronghold. The Wildness was his future. There was no place for a woman in his life.

  “Don’t disregard our proposition so quickly,” Master Grey said, reading the antipathy on Rukh’s face. “Sign is a lovely young woman. You could do far worse.”

  “And you know Jessira should not be yours,” Mistress Grey added softly. “Her reputation has suffered enough on your behalf.”

  “Speaking of our daughter,” Master Grey began. “What intentions do you have
for her?”

  Rukh frowned as he struggled to understand the continually shifting nature of their conversation. First, Sign and now, Jessira. “I have no intentions for her,” he replied.

  “Then why has she packed up her gear? We know she’s offered to accompany you when you leave Stronghold,” Mistress Grey said.

  Jessira had offered to come with him, but Rukh had never planned on allowing her to make such a foolhardy decision. “I told her she couldn’t come, and I meant it,” he replied. “She shouldn’t throw her life away for me.”

  “In this, we are agreed,” Mistress Grey said. “Have you considered taking Sign in her stead?”

  Rukh couldn’t help it. Now his mouth did gape open in disbelief. Did Master and Mistress Grey not realize how dangerous the journey to Hammer was likely to be? It wasn’t a place to send one’s daughter, adopted or otherwise. “I’m not taking either of them,” Rukh vowed. “The Wildness is too dangerous.”

  Mistress Grey smiled thinly. “Finally. You demonstrate wisdom.”

  “But if you did leave, we aren’t suggesting that you take Sign because we love her less than we do Jessira. We make that suggestion because Sign can take care of herself, and with you accompanying her, she’ll likely be as safe as if she were amongst the Shadowcats,” Mistress Grey said.

  Rukh didn’t know what to think. The Greys were lunatics to suggest such a stupid plan.

  “We know your feelings for Jessira. And we know hers for you,” Master Grey began in a gentler tone. “But would it not be best if she were to remain here, with those who love her best? Would it not be best if she had an opportunity to defend her reputation?”

  “That’s what I just said,” Rukh replied in exasperation. Why were they having so much trouble believing him? Not interfering with Jessira’s life, or even being a part of it was what he’d always intended from the moment he’d set foot in Stronghold. Her future should be as she wanted it. However, there was a question that bothered him. “Will Jessira take back Disbar?” Rukh asked.

  Master Grey sighed. “Who can say? Given that the dowry has been paid, it would certainly be the easiest solution for her predicament, not to mention the least expensive. By doing so, her integrity and future would remain intact.” He gazed at Rukh through narrowed eyes. “And you promised me you’d never harm her honor.”

  Rukh nodded. “Yes, I did. And I intend to keep my vow,” he said. “But I’ll leave Stronghold alone. No one else will be accompanying me. Not even Sign.”

  “Who won’t be coming with you?” Cedar asked, approaching them. Trailing after him were Disbar and Jessira, neither of them looking happy.

  “It isn’t important,” Master Grey said.

  “Is it true you plan on leaving Stronghold as soon as the Banquet is finished?” Disbar asked.

  Rukh’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to punch this man, flatten his face. On both occasions, it had been Disbar’s cousins who had attacked him. There was no chance it was a coincidence. But now wasn’t the time for any accusations or confrontations. Rukh was determined to maintain his civility, and somehow, he managed to keep the feelings of disgust and anger from showing on his face. “I can’t think of a single reason to stay,” Rukh said.

  Disbar nodded his head, appearing satisfied. “Just so,” he said. “It’s probably for the best. From what I’ve seen of you and your cousin, it doesn’t seem as though Purebloods and OutCastes can mix well. We’re both too proud. For instance, if you think we’ll ask for your forgiveness for some perceived notion that you might not have been treated fairly, you’re wrong. It will never happen, and—”

  “It already has happened,” Rukh interrupted, already tired of the smug bastard. “Three senators have apologized to me tonight for exactly that reason. And I’m sure they’ll now be willing to look into the matter of exactly who amongst your people attacked me.” He stared challengingly into Disbar’s eyes, and it was the other man who looked away first.

  Asshole.

  “You are just as much an OutCaste as we,” Jessira reminded him. “Remember, you were found Unworthy.”

  Rukh shook his head. “No I’m not,” he said. “I am neither OutCaste nor Pureblood.”

  “Why are all your bags packed?” Kart asked Jessira, arriving just then. “Jeshni mentioned it a few minutes ago. Are you going somewhere?”

  Jessira groaned.

  “It is an issue we’ve already settled,” Master Grey said. “It was a misunderstanding. Nothing more.”

  Disbar’s eyes widened. He spun to face Jessira. “You were planning on leaving with him!” He thrust an accusing finger in Rukh’s direction.

  “No, she wasn’t,” Rukh said. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  Jessira flushed. “You aren’t my nanna or amma to tell me what I can do,” she declared to Rukh. “You are a stranger to our city, a man who demands respect and gives none.”

  “I’ll give respect to those who have earned it,” Rukh growled back. How did she manage to make him angry so easily? And why couldn’t she agree to stay home with her family? Couldn’t she see how much better it would be for her? Even if she didn’t marry Disbar—and Rukh prayed she wouldn’t—at least she’d be safe.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” Disbar said to Jessira. “Were you planning on leaving Stronghold with him?”

  Jessira stared at Rukh for a moment before turning to Disbar. She lifted her chin. She still had her pride. “First, it is none of your concern. We are no longer engaged. And second, yes, I will be going. I owe him too much,” she said.

  “Your life? Our future?”

  “We have no future,” Jessira snarled. “You’re delusional if you believe otherwise.”

  Disbar appeared stricken. “But your brother, Kart…I had been led to believe your heart had softened. I came here tonight with a generous offer. I am willing to overlook your—”

  Jessira sighed and shook her head. “It is over,” she said. “We are done. We have been for weeks. It is time you accepted it.”

  The planes of Disbar’s face grew flat and inscrutable, but his narrowed eyes revealed his fury and embarrassment. “You will regret this,” he promised before turning on his heel and leaving the hall.

  “Why can’t you ever behave in a respectable fashion?” Kart demanded after Disbar’s departure. “I had spoken to him, soothed his feelings. He was going to take you back, forgive you and overlook your indiscretions.” He glared at Jessira. “And this is how you repay me?”

  Her parents appeared equally upset, and despite his annoyance with her, Rukh felt a flicker of sympathy for Jessira. She would be having a very uncomfortable conversation with her family. It was a discussion Rukh didn’t want to witness or be involved with.

  Luckily for him, just then, an aide to Mon Peace, the Governor-General, approached and asked Rukh to accompany him to the dais set up on the far side of the banquet hall. The other combatants from the Trials were already gathered there, all of them standing in a long line. Rukh was the last to arrive, and the aide ushered him to the head of the list, directly behind Mon Peace, who stood before all of them at the front of the dais.

  Like most of his predecessors, Mon Peace was former military. He was built like a bulldog and was a man of obvious vigor and energy. He appeared decades younger than his actual age, which was in his early sixties, and retained much of the handsomeness of his youth. His honey-brown hair had only a dusting of white at the temples, and his smooth-shaven face was relatively unlined.

  “We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the Trials of Hume,” Mon Peace began. “As such, we should take a moment to honor all the participants!” He paused as the crowd politely applauded. “And we must also honor the victor: Rukh Shektan, the first Kumma to ever enter the competition. We’ve all heard the legends regarding the Pureblood warrior Caste, but how many of you actually believed them? I certainly didn’t.” He shook his head as though in rueful disbelief. “But the stories don’t begin to do justice to the truth of their
abilities.”

  “I’ve never seen, or ever imagined I’d see such sublime skill. Words fail, but for me, it was like watching poetry in motion, as though The Hunter’s Jasmine was made flesh. As I watched Rukh Shektan dance through our warriors, cutting and defeating them with a single stroke, I laughed. That’s right, I laughed in joy. Even though it was our warriors he was defeating, I could not help myself. It is a rare gift and privilege to witness such perfection in the deadly arts of the sword.” He gestured Rukh forward and put his arm around Rukh’s shoulder in a proud, fatherly grasp. “We all know the prizes accorded the Champion, but those are too trite and too common for the warrior we saw last night. There is something more I wish to give him. As supreme commander of the High Army, it is something only a Governor-General can offer. Therefore, ladies and gentleman I present to you Lieutenant Rukh Shektan, of Army East. Our newest, and dare I say, greatest Trials Champion.”

  Rukh was stunned. He turned to the Governor-General, who gave him a nod and a wink before stepping aside and leading the crowd in an enthusiastic cheer. Many of the other combatants from the Trials shot Rukh looks of speculation while others simply smiled and nodded their congratulations as they clapped just as readily as the Governor-General.

  Rukh had to admit: Mon Peace was an excellent politician, and what he’d just offered was a masterstroke. Rukh couldn’t easily turn down the Governor-General’s offer, at least not without destroying all the burgeoning goodwill his victory in the Trials had apparently engendered. Earlier this evening, Rukh wouldn’t have thought he would have cared what the Strongholders thought of him, but it turned out that maybe he did.

  As the applause died down, the Governor-General took the time to introduce the rest of the combatants. Seeing his role finished, Rukh prepared to step off the stage, but his movement was arrested by Mon Peace’s next words. “As everyone knows, the Champion typically chooses his favorite dish to share with all those in attendance at the Gala. It might surprise all of you to know our newest Champion has provided his dish by baking it himself.” The Governor-General was certainly using the word ‘our’ quite a lot when describing Rukh. “I believe it is called a chocolate cake?” He looked to Rukh for confirmation. “I’ve not tasted it, but I’m told it smelled divine as it was baking.”