by Davis Ashura
Sign was proud that in each instance, her people had risen up and chosen the latter path, the better one. Without fail, those who had the strength to spare had generously offered it up to those in need. The OutCastes had created ever-deeper bonds of community and caring, and the ties of fellowship and love that Sign had seen forged—had been a part of—left her humbled and in awe. She had never been more proud to be a daughter of Stronghold.
She was also grateful to the Purebloods who had pitched in to help reclaim the old buildings. Rukh, Jaresh, Bree, and Farn had done what they could, but they weren't skilled at the work that had needed doing. Instead, they had been the loving hearts who had searched out those with the willing hands to help. They had found a number of Duriah master craftsmen to aid Sign's people in their work, and together, the OutCastes and Purebloods had repaired all the damage done by settling foundations and wearing wind, water, and time.
The result was a small cluster of structures that, while not beautiful, were sturdy and weather-tight. More importantly, they were a place of safety, a place where the OutCastes could rebuild their lives.
“I know you think I'm imposing by walking you home,” Jaresh said.
Sign startled. They'd walked in silence for so long that she'd forgotten he was there.
After dinner, the others had headed to their respective homes in wealthy Jubilee Hills, and Sign had expected Jaresh to go with them. Instead, he had insisted on walking her to her flat. He had explained that while violence was unlikely to come her way—especially since the immolation of the Sil Lor Kum—given the lateness of the hour, common courtesy dictated that he should accompany her and see her safely home. Farn and Rukh could have done so, but it made more sense for Jaresh to take care of the matter.
“You're not imposing,” Sign said, responding to his statement.
“Are you sure?”
“I'm sure,” Sign said, flicking him a glance. “But I don't want to take up too much of your time. You don't have to walk me all the way to my front door. You can return to your own home if you wish.”
“Jessira would not be happy if I did that,” Jaresh replied.
Sign's brows lifted in surprised amusement. “Don't tell me you really are afraid of her.”
“You're not?” Jaresh challenged.
Sign was about to respond with a shake of her head and tell him 'of course not', but instead, she paused and truly considered Jaresh's question. She realized a moment later that while she wasn't afraid of Jessira, she did fear disappointing her.
Jaresh nodded. “You see what I mean.”
Sign gave a wistful half smile. “My cousin has grown forceful,” she said. “She wasn't always so, but after Stronghold's death, any velvet softness around the ironwood mettle of her core seems to have burned off.”
“She isn't quite that hard, but she's also not a woman I'd want to risk angering,” Jaresh agreed. “I think even my nanna treads lightly around her.”
“Truly?”
Jaresh smiled disarmingly, a surprisingly winning grin. “No. I was just exaggerating for effect,” he answered “But the truth is I think Rukh might be one of the few people who isn't the least bit intimidated by Jessira.”
“Then he is a fool,” Sign said, still smiling to take the sting out of her words.
“Maybe love makes him foolishly brave,” Jaresh suggested.
Sign chuckled. “Perhaps so,” she agreed. They walked in silence before Sign voiced a question that had been bothering her since dinner. “Why did Rukh seem so upset when he spoke to you about loving another?” She realized the question might be impertinent the instant the words left her lips. She put a hand on Jaresh's arm. “You don't have to answer,” she said in contrition.
Jaresh gave her a tight-lipped smile. “It's fine. You're likely to hear about it sometime. There was a woman I once loved. Her name was Mira.”
“Was?”
Jaresh nodded. He then told Sign a tale of forbidden love, unrequited and unspoken. It was so typical of the Purebloods. If not for the backwardness of their society, there was no reason why Jaresh and this woman he had so deeply loved couldn't have married and lived out a life of joy. Instead, that love had been stillborn, killed before it ever had a chance to flower, and ultimately murdered by an evil that had its origin in the same foul demon that had destroyed Stronghold: Suwraith.
The Queen had much for which to answer.
“I'm sorry,” Sign said, somehow feeling closer to him because of his loss.
“You've suffered a lot more than I have,” Jaresh noted.
“Should we compare who hurts more severely?” Sign asked, her head tilted in challenge.
Jaresh ventured a smile. “I suppose not,” he said. “Grief hurts no matter how seemingly small the cause.”
Sign nodded agreement and gestured up ahead. “We're almost there,” she noted. The buildings had grown familiar. One more turn, and they would be on her street. “Home,” Sign replied. A tingle in her fingers, a dryness in her mouth, and a quickening of her heart let her feel the weight of the word, the longing for it to be true.
“Is it home?” Jaresh asked.
“It's not the home I wanted—that one was destroyed by the Sorrow Bringer—but it is a home,” Sign replied. She sighed a moment later. “I only wish Jessira could have lived here also. I miss her.”
“They had to move back to Jubilee Hills to help the House,” Jaresh said. “It was never because of any petty reason to have a bigger flat or separate themselves from the rest of the OutCastes.”
Sign had heard this before, and while she vaguely understood the reasons, it wasn't the same as accepting them. “I know. Rukh's marriage to Jessira diminished his status as a Kumma within his Caste. And by extension, it diminishes the status of your parents and House.”
Jaresh shrugged apology. “Right now, in some ways, Rukh needs to prove that he's still a Kumma at heart. It was thought that moving back to Jubilee Hills might help him do so.”
Sign smiled even as she mentally shrugged off his explanation. There were currents to Ashoka's politics that escaped her, and she reckoned they always would. It was simply too foreign to her way of thinking. “Whatever the reasons, I'm just glad they're happy in their new home,” she said before pointing to the building at which they'd arrived. “This is mine,” she said. “Good night, Jaresh.”
“Good night, Sign.”
The days of a man's life are as the leaves of an autumn tree—bright and bold but finite. And the Lord will shelter you long before the last leaf has fallen.
~The Book of All Souls
As Bree travelled along the gravel path, she lightly gripped her scabbarded sword with one hand while her thumb rested on the hilt to keep the weapon in place. It was the proper way of walking with a belted blade, and over time, such a technique had become second nature to her. The swaying of the sword against her left hip and the rise and fall of the sageo-tied-scabbard were now simply a part of who she was.
Of course, it had taken months of hard work and training for Bree to become so comfortable at having a blade by her side. Her ambition had required long hours of tutelage by the Great Duriah, Durmer Volk, with sweltering days under a hot summer sun and chilly afternoons beneath a cool winter wind. All the time spent, though, had achieved its desired outcome. Bree had managed to achieve a certain competence with the sword, and though she strived for more than mere mediocrity, at least now she no longer felt like a helpless weakling. She could defend herself against anyone who was not a Kumma and feel confident that she would survive the encounter.
Some might have wondered why she worked so tirelessly to master such an odd skill for a woman, but the truth was actually quite simple. Never again did Bree want to feel as useless as she had during that terrible conflict when she had almost died. It had been in an otherwise unremarkable alley in the Moon Quarter, and the fight had nearly cost Bree her life. It would have—probably should have—if not for Jaresh's swift sword. Bree, on the other hand, had merel
y watched as a panic-stricken observer. She had stood frozen with fear as her brother had fought for both their lives.
It had been a terrible lesson that she'd learned—of her fragility and inability to protect herself—and it was a mistake she vowed to never repeat or forget. Never again would she allow herself to be caught so defenseless, and Mira's murder had merely steadied and hardened that resolve. Bree would master the blade, and all the other Talents of her warrior Caste, and while she might not ever have the sublime skill of her brother, Rukh, or even Jaresh, at least she would be able to fight if needed. More importantly, no one else would ever again need die because Bree was incapable of protecting herself.
“How much farther?” Jessira asked, interrupting Bree's thoughts of swords and strength.
“Not far,” she answered. “We should be there soon.”
Bree quickened her pace, and Jessira and Sign, who were accompanying her, increased their stride to keep up. The sound of their feet crunching along the lonely gravel drive sounded vaguely martial.
The three of them marched alongside the fields between Ashoka's Inner and Outer Walls. The wheat and corn had already been planted and showed as thin, green growths while a warm wind blew an earthy aroma of loam and manure. The breeze carried across the fields and bent the crops, causing the shoots and leaves to weave and bob in sinuous waves. It reminded Bree of waves ebbing on the ocean, especially as they broke around the rocky shoals of oaks and maples that grew in the midst of the crops. A small herd of cows lowed from a nearby meadow while songbirds trilled their melodies from their roosts amongst the branches of the trees.
“Do you really think the Murans will let us sharecrop their fallow land?” Sign asked.
“Rukh seems to think they might,” Jessira answered. From her tone, Bree could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.
“I hope he's right,” Sign replied, doubt also suffusing her voice.
Bree briefly glanced over at the other two women. She, too, had uncertainties about whether an agreement could be obtained with the Murans. Of all the Castes, the Murans were the most religious, and they had also been the ones who had been the most offended by the Magisterium's decision to grant the OutCastes sanctuary. They were especially incensed by the questions raised about validity of the The Word and the Deed.
Ultimately, Bree's uncertainties didn't matter, and she set them aside. The decision would be made, and the OutCastes would have their answer one way or another.
“We'll know soon enough,” Jessira said, her words an echo of Bree's thoughts.
The gravel road they followed began a slow ascent and on the descent, they had to step aside for a wagon loaded with hay. The Muran drover tipped his hat to them as he passed.
“Do you think we're asking the Ashokans for too much?” Sign asked after the wagon had passed.
“I think you should get used to saying that you are Ashokans,” Bree answered.
“I think I'll always think of myself as a Strongholder first,” Sign replied.
“I can understand that,” Bree replied. “But you're also an Ashokan now. And no, I don't think you're asking for too much,” she said, hoping her own doubts didn't creep into her voice.
Sign smiled wistfully. “What a wonderful thing if the Murans feel the same way.”
“But even if they don't, we have our lives and a chance to give our children a future,” Jessira said. “We weren't certain we'd be able to have either a few months ago.”
“No we weren't,” Sign agreed.
Jessira turned to Bree. “No matter what the Murans say, I want to thank you for convincing them to meet with us. You've done so much for our people.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Sign said. “I don't know what we would have done without your help.”
Bree reddened, touched by the words of both women. “You're welcome,” she said.
Jessira chuckled. “I think we've embarrassed you enough.”
Bree smiled. “Oh no. Keep going. I have two older brothers who seem to think that teasing me is the height of entertainment. It's good to be appreciated for once.”
“Well we definitely appreciate you,” Jessira said. She surprised Bree by drawing her into a warm embrace before breaking out into glad laughter and throwing her arms wide. “What a wonderful, fine day it is!”
Bree took in Jessira's display with bemusement.
“Spring fever,” Sign explained. “She's always like this when the weather warms up.”
Bree nodded in understanding. “Rukh's the same way.”
Sign rolled her eyes. “The two of them are bad enough as it is with all their kissing and secret smiles,” she said. “Toss in spring fever . . .” She shook her head. “Devesh save us. They'll probably strip naked and bay at the moon.”
Jessira laughed when she heard Sign's description of her and Rukh. “Bay at the moon?” she asked.
Sign grinned back at her and howled an example of what she meant.
“You're one to talk,” Jessira said with an arch of her eyebrows. “I grew up with you, remember? I know how you made a tradition of swimming naked in Teardrop Lake on the morning of the summer solstice.”
Sign wore an air of long-suffering patience. “Yes, but I didn't bay at the moon. And I didn't stare lovingly into the eyes of my lover and make everyone around me uncomfortable.”
“Husband,” Jessira corrected even as she considered Sign's words. She glanced at Bree, who appeared to be trying her best to hide a smile.”Rukh and I aren't really like that, are we?” she asked.
Bree held a wide-eyed look of innocence on her face. “Not at all,” she answered with a slow shake of her head. “You and Rukh are paragons of quiet reflection when it comes to demonstrating your affection.” Her overly slow and deliberate tone left no doubt that she meant the exact opposite of what she was saying.
Jessira frowned. “Do we really make others uncomfortable when we're together?” she asked, repeating her question. “I thought Jaresh was just teasing.” She looked them in the eyes. “And I want the truth this time.”
Bree hesitated. “It's not so much that we're uncomfortable, but . . . sometimes it feels like everyone else might as well not be there when the two of you are with one another.”
“I had no idea,” Jessira said. She and Rukh had survived many troubles together, but it didn't excuse the behavior Sign and Bree were describing. It gave Jessira an uncomfortable remembrance of newlyweds she knew, couples who acted like their love was so special that the very sunlight was merely a reflection of their perfect union. It was horribly treacly, and Jessira had always mocked those who behaved in such an absurd fashion.
To find out that she and Rukh were exhibiting those same foolish traits . . . Jessira dropped her head in embarrassment, hoping to hide her blush of humiliation.
“It's not as bad as that,” Bree consoled as she laid a hand on Jessira's arm.
“Thank the First Mother for small favors,” Jessira muttered.
“The two of you are just unusually close,” Bree added.
“You mean more than two people in love?” Jessira asked, forcing droll amusement into her voice, although in her heart she was still mortified.
Bree gave Jessira a squeeze of sympathy. “You and Rukh don't have any reason to be embarrassed. We really were just teasing.” She smiled. “A little anyway.”
“Or a lot,” Sign added with a grin meant to take the sting out of her words. “At least you're not like some of those couples who act like everyone should stand back and admire their love.”
Sign's words did little to sooth Jessira's embarrassment. She'd been thinking the exact same thing only moments earlier. Nevertheless, she managed a half-hearted smile.
“I really was joking,” Sign said, the teasing grin fading from her face. Now it was she who appeared abashed. “Don't read too much into what I said. You know how I like to tease. Please don't be upset.”
Jessira's smile grew less faint.
“Better,” Sign said.
&nb
sp; “When did you become the one who offers others encouragement?” Jessira asked, her embarrassment fading as amusement took its place.
“It took some time and the patience of a loving cousin,” Sign said, offering a surprisingly sweet sentiment. A moment later, her cousin turned away and threw her arms wide. “Just look at those fields,” Sign exclaimed, sounding joyful as she changed the subject and gestured all around them. “Compared to them, the Croft was a barren wasteland. Look at how green the crops are. I doubt this color even existed back home.”
Jessira found herself laughing at Sign's excitement. It was good to see her cousin so enlivened and happy. In the weeks since Sign had gone out with them to see Down the Street, more and more often, the carefree woman, the one who had once lived her life with joyous abandon, seemed to be resurfacing. Sign was finally emerging from her angry shell, engaging with the world once again. And while there were crow's feet at the corner of her eyes that hadn't been there last summer, at least the haunted quality Jessira had grown used to seeing on her cousin's face was no longer present so frequently. That sense of heartache might never fully resolve, but at least for now, Sign's smiles were genuine.
“I just can't get over how beautiful this place is,” Sign continued.
Jessira smiled wryly. “I hate to say 'I told you so,'“ she said, “but I told you so. I'm pretty sure I described Ashoka's beauty on more than one occasion, and you doubted me every time.”
Sign shrugged. “I'll admit it. I should have believed you. Ashoka is just as beautiful as you said it was, more beautiful than I ever imagined,” she said. “But remember, at the time, you were also going on and on about how Kummas were these otherworldly warriors, but the only ones I knew were Rukh and Farn. One of them couldn't hold a sword, and the other one couldn't walk a straight line without falling over. Given that, I think I can be forgiven for holding some reservations.” She sniffed. “Besides, with your taste in men, who can tell what that might mean for your judgment of an entire city.”