by Davis Ashura
She sighed as a Rahail gentleman meandered at length about how the penumbras and emanations of the Constitution allowed the presence of the OutCastes within Ashoka. Of course, based on his twisted logic, he had somehow managed to turn the straightforward meaning of the text inside out.
Bree shook her head in pity.
“Remember to aim your strongest arguments at Magistrate Belt,” Rukh said while the Rahail wound down his inverted dissertation. “He's the fulcrum.”
Bree nodded.
“You realize that after tonight, your name will be forever remembered by history?” Jaresh asked. He wore an encouraging smile. “What we've found could transform the entire world.”
Bree smiled somewhat sickly at Jaresh's words. “I know you're trying to be inspiring, but I've got enough pressure on me as it is.”
“If you're nervous, then let us help you,” Rukh said. His face tightened with concentration while Jaresh's grew slack. Lucency from both her brothers—during Stronghold's fall, Rukh and Jaresh had gained one another's Talents—calmed her nerves and settled her mind. She relaxed as her thoughts grew diamond sharp.
During all this, a Duriah matron had been in the midst of meandering rambling, but under the stern glare of Magistrate Brit Hule, she thankfully meandered to a halt. Bree was then called forward to the attestation stand.
Following close behind her was Rector Bryce. She shot him a bemused look, but immediately understood what he meant to do. Her warning to him hadn't taken hold. Rector must have come to realize a small part of what Bree intended and now planned on challenging her.
A cold anger roiled within Bree's mind, thankfully buried too deep to mar her equanimity—the Lucency from her brothers remained with her. Nevertheless, a part of Bree wanted to grind her teeth in fury. This would be Rector's final insult, his final betrayal. When this meeting was over, she would see him raked over the coals. He'd be run out of House Shektan with no hope of ever reclaiming his place in the city. She would see him ruined.
She briefly wondered what could have possessed Rector to go against her like this. According to Mira—and even Jaresh—Rector had grown in wisdom, becoming both more forgiving and understanding. Bree hadn't entirely believed their judgments, and as if to prove her perspicacity, here he was, living down to everything she thought about him.
When Bree reached the attestation stand, Magistrate Nacket peered down at Rector who had kept pace with her and now stood at her side. “You wish to debate Bree Shektan?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Rector replied.
“You were warned,” Bree whispered.
Rector shifted restlessly upon hearing her words.
Bree turned her attention back to the Magistrates. “My name is Bree Shektan. My brothers are Jaresh Shektan of Caste Sentya and Rukh Shektan, who is married to Jessira Shektan of Stronghold. I believe the OutCastes should be allowed to stay, and I make the case that our Constitution requires that they be granted refuge.”
“Everyone knows how you feel and why,” Rector interrupted before Bree could get into the meat of her discourse. “But the words of the Constitution most certainly do not require anything of the sort. In fact, it states the very opposite.” He pulled out a slim booklet—the Constitution—and made a show of turning the pages until he found what he was looking for. He theatrically cleared his throat before he began speaking. “Any Person born within the bounds of Ashoka's Oasis is automatically granted Citizenship. Those Persons who are born elsewhere and are unable to return home, will be offered refuge and granted the choice of Citizenship, with all the attendant rights and responsibilities, if he resides in Ashoka for an uninterrupted period of time of no less than seven years.” He set aside his copy of the Constitution. “I fail to see how the OutCastes fit into either category.”
Bree hid a smile. Rector's assertion was easily refuted and doing so now would allow her to build a bridge to her more powerful arguments later on. She wore what she hoped was an introspective expression as she turned to face Rector. “And I don't think anyone would argue that the OutCastes can return to their home since it was destroyed by the Sorrow Bringer,” she replied before turning back to the Magistrates. She aimed her next words at Poque Belt. “Thus, by the very words of our Constitution—Those Persons who are born elsewhere and are unable to return home, will be offered refuge. Not 'might be' or 'possibly', but 'will'. Therefore, we have a clear obligation of what we must provide. The OutCastes must be offered refuge as it is ordered in the Constitution.”
Rector wore a condescending smile. “If it were that simple, the Magisterium would have already ruled on behalf of the OutCastes,” he said. “Your assumption is that the OutCastes are Persons,” he said. “But the Constitution has a particular comment about the definition of Personhood.” He thumbed through his booklet and apparently found a spot he'd earlier marked out. “For all the purposes of Government and Citizenship, a Person is hereby defined only as an individual Human, whatever his particular Caste. As such, membership in any Caste is not a bar to Personhood. A Person cannot be any grouping of Humans, any type of Animal, or any inanimate object. A Person must be naturally born and is deemed to have Personhood, with all the rights and protections thereof, from the instant of his birth.” He looked to Gren Vos. “Whatever his particular Caste,” he emphasized. “The OutCastes have no Caste. Thus, they cannot have Personhood.”
Bree shook her head in disagreement. Although Rector's challenge merited thought, it was also one for which she was well-prepared. “An interesting point,” she conceded. “But I think it makes better sense if we break the passage into its component parts. First, the beginning: '. . . a Person is defined only as an individual Human . . .' The OutCastes are individual Humans. They petitioned the Magisterium as individual Humans; they seek Personhood as individual Humans. Thus, they meet the first criterion. Next, let us take the rest of the passage. '. . . whatever his particular Caste.' It is obvious the OutCastes meet this standard as well.” She gathered her thoughts. “The Constitution does not demand that a Person be born into a particular Caste. It simply states that a particular Caste is no barrier to Personhood. Therefore, it follows that having no Caste is also no barrier to Personhood since the Constitution is silent on the topic of Personhood with regards to ghrinas. Logically, since there is no evidence to the contrary, it seems obvious that since ghrinas meet the definition of a 'naturally born Human', they must also, therefore, be Persons.”
“She has a point,” Gren Vos said, leaning forward in her chair.
Rector tilted his head in bare acknowledgment of the Magistrate's words. His gesture could have been construed as a veiled insult. In the least, it was rude, and Bree shook her head in disgust. It was the height of arrogance to show such minimal courtesy to the oldest serving member of the Magisterium, but then again what else was Rector Bryce but arrogant?
“Perhaps this answers the issue of Personhood, but it is the least of the issues facing us,” Krain Linshok said. “You wish to allow ghrinas to remain in Ashoka when the law is clear on the matter: they are to either be executed or removed permanently from the city.”
“Exactly,” Rector said, sounding pleased. “The authors of the Constitution considered the topic of ghrinas to be so important that they devoted several passages to what should be done about them.” He held aloft his booklet and this time spoke from memory. “Those individuals who are judged to have had congress with someone not of his Caste or those born of such a union will henceforth be known as ghrinas. Any such individual must be judged according to the dictates of The Word and the Deed.” He smiled in triumph. “The unchanging verses of The Word and the Deed, the basis of all our law and morality, are the reason why ghrinas cannot make a home in Ashoka.”
Bree let slip a smile of triumph. This had been her plan all along—dispute the veracity of The Word and the Deed. But it would have always been a tricky matter to introduce such a topic in a manner that seemed organic to her presentation rather than merely argumentative. No
w she wouldn't have to worry about it. Rector had brought up the topic on his own, and because he had, her statements would merely be explicative.
The weight of her words would fall with greater force, and Bree briefly wondered if this might have been Rector's plan all along: to point out the flaws in traditional theology so she might more easily dispute them. As soon as she considered the notion, she dismissed it. Rector wasn't so subtle. She'd never known him to be. Despite what Mira had thought, Rector was as he'd always been: unduly sure that only his version of dharma led to morality.
Her mind settled, Bree returned to the matter at hand.
But as she realized the true import of what she was about to do, even through Lucency, her heart fluttered. She was about to challenge the very moral basis of Ashoka's laws. There would be many who would find her words heretical. They would be furious with her, and no matter how persuasive her rhetoric, their minds would be closed off by escalating anger. Bree only hoped the Magistrates would not be among those too outraged to listen without prejudice.
“The Constitution does indeed call for judgment of the ghrinas to be based upon what is said in The Word and the Deed, and therein lies the problem,” Bree began as she held up a sheaf of papers. “A little history first. These are notarized statements from the Head Librarian of the City Library of Ashoka. They confirm what I am about to say next. The first known edition of The Word and the Deed was said to have been published shortly prior to the fall of the First World. It is said to be the dictated words of the First Mother and First Father, but the earliest version we have only dates back to the Days of Desolation, decades after the Fall. We still have that edition displayed within the atrium of the City Library. I was given an opportunity to study a more recently printed copy of this version, and what I found is truly stunning. The Word and the Deed has changed greatly over time.”
Shocked intakes and furious conversation met Bree's pronouncement, and Fol Nacket had to gavel for quiet. “Silence!” he thundered. “We will have decorum here! We are the Magisterium of Ashoka, and we will not allow Ashoka to be ruled by a mob!”
When silence reigned once more, Magistrate Nacket gestured for Bree to continue.
She nodded appreciation. “I, too, was surprised by what I found, but here is a quote from that earlier edition from chapter two, verse fourteen, line three: . . . a marriage between a man and a woman of different Castes is not to be encouraged. It weakens us all. This is what is now said in our current edition in that same location: . . . an impure relationship between a man and a woman cannot be allowed. It darkens all our souls. It's a subtle difference, but nevertheless, it is a significant one.” She glanced up from the writing and was heartened to see that the prior boredom of the Magistrates was no longer in evidence. She had their rapt attention, and most of them wore airs of incipient hope.
“I fail to see how this changes the fundamentals of the situation,” Rector said, speaking into the hushed quiet. “The Word and the Deed is still clear about the nature of ghrinas.”
Bree stared at Rector in surprise. So far in his attestation, there had been cadences to his statements, a manner of his phrasing and presentation that had sounded utterly unlike his normal plainspoken self. If anything, his words and delivery reminded her of Nanna, which made absolutely no sense at all.
Bree shook off her confusion and returned to Rector's most recent declaration. “So all of us are taught,” she replied, “but after finding this discrepancy, I studied the history of The Word and the Deed itself. As I said before, it is reputed to have been written prior to the Fall, but what I, and probably most everyone else, didn't realize is that the version we study and use is actually an edited form of the original. This edition was put into its current form in approximately 350 AF.”
“This is old information,” Rector declared. “But the spirit of the original was kept intact. The editing you cite was simply record-keeping to correct some translational errors.”
“It was more than translational errors,” Bree snapped. “It was a wholesale changing of the intent of The Word and the Deed.”
“You have proof of this?” Poque Belt asked.
Bree nodded. “I do. In the Cellar, there are shelves of books documenting when this happened and the reasons for it. Apparently, our older version, the one in the City Library's atrium, isn't the same as those found in other cities. There needed to be a single version, and the one we know and use today was the result of a decades-long debate. In fact, one of the most controversial changes was to edit out a single line from The Word and the Deed: the first line of the first verse of the first chapter.” She read from a sheet of paper. “Above all else, honor The Book of All Souls, the source of all truth and morality, including this, the accumulated insight of the First Father and First Mother.” Bree set down the paper. “Based on this one missing line, it is obvious that the moral basis of our laws should be The Book of All Souls, not The Word and the Deed.”
More shocked intakes met her statement.
Fol Nacket rapped again for quiet. “Do you have anything to refute this claim?” he asked Rector, who shook his head in negation. Magistrate Nacket turned to Bree. “For the sake of discussion, we'll accept your claims. But what does The Book of All Souls say about ghrinas?”
“Very little,” Bree answered. “Remember, The Book of All Souls is generally pacifist in nature. It emphasizes the importance of service to others, the holiness of understanding, forgiveness, and the universal love of Devesh.”
“If that's the case, then the judgments against ghrinas, as prescribed in The Word and the Deed should remain in effect,” Rector loudly proclaimed.
“No it should not,” Bree proclaimed just as loudly. “Because again, you would be basing your judgment upon the version of The Word and the Deed that was edited and compiled from AF 350. However, if you go back to the original book that we have, it says only that ghrinas are unclean, and that they should be kept separate from the rest of society. But The Book of All Souls says the following.” She reached again for her papers. She shuffled through them until she found what she was looking for. “This is an important passage. 'Devesh sees no Castes, for a man's worth is not measured by the lowness or highness of his birth, but by how well he holds to this simple truth: all those he meets in life are his brothers.' Devesh sees no Castes,” Bree repeated. “Later, The Book of All Souls speaks of refuge, and how we are compelled to offer it to our brothers. This is similar to what is described in The Word and the Deed. We are compelled to take in the OutCastes because they are our brothers.”
A few cheers met her words.
“We need to examine your findings,” Poque Belt said, “but if they are accurate, then I know how I will vote.”
Similar murmurs from the other Magistrates met the Sentya's words.
“I think we have heard enough,” Fol Nacket said. “Please leave that packet of information,” he ordered Bree. “We need to further investigate this matter.” He rapped his gavel. “This meeting is adjourned.”
As Bree turned aside, she caught Rector staring in her direction. Very deliberately, he gave her a brief smile and a wink. For all the world, he looked pleased with himself. “Well done,” he whispered as he brushed past her.
Bree frowned. What was that about? Rector had spent the evening trying to sabotage her work, but just now, he'd seemed pleased with himself—and her. She stared at his retreating back in consternation, suddenly caught up in doubt and reconsidering her previous notion: had Rector brought up his questions as he had in order to bolster Bree's testimony and weaken his own? If so, it had been a master work of planning and subtlety.
Once more, as soon as the thought occurred to her, Bree tried to dismiss it. Rector Bryce had never been so canny and cagey and . . . her eyes widened and a grin came to her face.
But Nanna was exactly that canny and cagey. Could he have coached Rector and told him what to say? It made sense, and the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that it had
happened in exactly that fashion. Bree chuckled, pleased to have seen through Nanna's clever ploy.
Later in the week, she was even more pleased when the Magisterium rendered its verdict.
The OutCastes had been granted refuge.
Time, that unknowable element, ebbs our lives in still waters when the hours are hard and races us into rushing rapids when the world is rich and sweet. We would wish it otherwise.
~Sooths and Small Sayings by Tramed Billow, AF 1387
Six months later
“Why don't you put it down for now?” Jessira suggested.
Rukh glanced up from what he had been reading, The Book of First Movement. His face was scrunched up in a mixture of concentration and frustration, but it was mostly the latter. Ever since their return to Ashoka, he had sought to unlock the secrets of The Book, and while he could still read the first line—something no one other than Jessira and a few others could manage—the rest of the pages remained stubbornly blank and unyielding. In fact, other than the one time in the Wildness when The Book had cast him back into the mind of the First Father, the slim volume remained closed and indecipherable. Rukh couldn't understand his failure, and Jessira had watched in concern as he gradually grew more and more frustrated by his lack of success.
“I wish I knew what I was doing wrong,” he muttered. “I still remember everything that happened to Linder in those final hours of His life.”
“First Father,” Jessira corrected. She didn't like it when Rukh referred to the First Father by his first name. It sounded too familiar and somehow disrespectful.