The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  Later, when it came time to elect a replacement for an ailing Garnet Bosde, who had formally resigned his post on the House Council a few months earlier, Janos had been the natural choice. He'd accepted the honor, and as before, he'd embraced his new work with the same passion with which he'd hunted down the Sil Lor Kum. Despite the tragedy of a murdered wife and daughter, Janos had never threatened to retreat into a sheltered shell. He had remained vigorous and alive, an example from which many of the OutCastes could benefit.

  Jessira found herself wondering where the man found the time or the strength. Beyond tearing down the Sil Lor Kum and becoming one of the hardest working members of the House Council, Janos had also recently adopted an orphaned niece.

  “There's no need for alarm until we can verify the facts as they've been presented to us thus far,” Janos added.

  “I don't see how we can verify any of this information,” said Teerma Shole. “We can't go into the Wildness and interrogate the Baels or search amongst the Chimeras for Hal'El Wrestiva. Nor can we send a scouting force to the western breeding caverns to verify that they truly have increased their reproduction.” Her voice rose as she finished her statement.

  Teerma was the newest member of the House Council. She had been elected a few months ago to replace the fallen Sophy Terrell, but her relative inexperience had never caused her to curb her tongue. She was forceful to the point of being blunt or even abrasive. Perhaps her attitude came from being widowed in her late thirties and having to raise her children on her own. It couldn't have been easy for her.

  Of course, Teerma could have made her life simpler if she'd only chosen to marry again. She was young enough and pretty enough to have done so, especially with her ample curves and womanly features, attributes that left Jessira looking on with envy. However, either Teerma hadn't found the right person or she didn't care to look. Regardless, as far as her work on the House Council went, she was said to be diligent and dedicated. In fact, she had already earned a reputation for such devotion to her duty that some were calling her the next Shektan Hound. It was a reference to the late Sophy Terrell, a woman who had been equally admired and loathed by House Shektan's enemies for her unstinting hard work.

  “We can verify it,” Janos replied, his voice remaining collected in the face of Teerma's passion. “But instead of sending our warriors, we can simply ask the Kesarins to act as our eyes and ears. They can bring back the information we need.”

  “But do they have the intellect to do as we require?” Teerma challenged. “You're asking us to trust our lives and the lives of our children to what are essentially wild animals.”

  Her question was met with a reflective quiet by everyone in Dar'El's study. Jaresh and Bree sat at adjoining chairs before the fireplace and shared a brief whispered talk while Satha Shektan and Durmer remained quiet. Dar'El stood behind his desk, arms clasped behind his back and head bent in thought. Rukh, on the other hand, had arisen from his seat on the couch next to Jessira and paced to stand beside his nanna. He stared through the leaded glass windows at the gardens and wore an expression of longing.

  Jessira wasn't sure if he'd actually heard Janos and Teerma's debate.

  “They can do it,” Rukh said, answering her doubts as he turned back to face the others. “The Kesarins. There's a way.”

  Dar'El took a seat behind his desk and gestured for Rukh to return to his own as well. “Explain,” he ordered in his inimitably terse fashion.

  “The Kesarins are wild, but they're not simple animals,” Rukh began after he had returned to Jessira's side. “They can speak and reason. You've all read my after action reports. They're the reason I can Heal and the OutCaste warriors have the Talents of Caste Kumma. More importantly, some of you have spoken with Aia and her brothers. You know they aren't dull creatures.”

  “I haven't spoken with them,” Teerma muttered irritably.

  Rukh quirked a half smile. “Then you'll have to trust those of us who have.”

  “I still think you're asking us to give over too much of our future to creatures whose ultimate motivations we can't know for certain,” Teerma replied.

  “It is a lot to accept,” Satha Shektan, Rukh's amma, said in surprising agreement. “But I also think it's a dice roll we'll have to take.” She leaned back in her chair. “Do we really dare do nothing if what the Kesarins say is true? Or do we take the least worst measure possible and hopefully find a way to survive Suwraith's rage?”

  “I'm not proposing we do nothing, but as Janos said, we don't need to panic either,” Teerma said, sounding exasperated and rather impolite.

  Rukh's amma turned her gaze to the other woman and arched her eyebrows in a silent, challenging question. Though Satha was a beautiful woman who rarely raised her voice in ire, those same quiet qualities could sometimes lead a person to forget the truth about her. When needed, Rukh's amma could be as intimidating as a bared blade, and right now, when she stared a challenge at Teerma, it was the other woman who looked away first.

  “Then what do you propose?” Satha eventually asked Teerma.

  “Send out a troop of scouts to the Hunters Flats and learn the truth from the lips of the Baels,” Teerma replied. "There won't be as much risk for misinterpretation. And if we send our warriors in the company of the Kesarins, the other great cats of the Flats won't be as likely to attack our scouts.”

  “The Queen can see through our Blends,” Jaresh reminded everyone. “It happened to the warriors of Stronghold. Their scouts had no chance to warn the city.”

  “We only have the word of one Bael to corroborate such a fantastic claim,” Teerma said.

  “A Bael who both my sons and Farn Arnicep happen to believe, and the events at Stronghold tend to confirm the Bael's claim,” Satha replied before looking to Dar'El. “But how much of what we decide tonight will really matter?”

  During most of tonight's meeting, as was usually the case, Rukh's nanna had listened without saying much. He had worn his typically inscrutable expression, occasionally stroking his chin or idly rubbing the ruby earring punched through the scar in his bisected left ear. Now, Dar'El rose to his feet, and while he lacked Rukh's consummate grace, he was still a warrior in the way he moved. He remained in fighting shape, but a different sort of battle, one not involving swords, obviously occupied his mind. It was a concern reflected in his brooding eyes.

  Dar'El cleared his throat and seemed to hesitate. “What we decide tonight may not matter,” he said, couching his words carefully. “We can shape the decision to come, but ultimately that decision is not ours to make. The Magisterium will be the final arbiter.”

  “But whatever it is that we decide is something they'll probably go along with,” Rukh said, rather than asked.

  Jessira nodded understanding as did a few others in the room, but other members of the House Council still appeared unclear. Among them was Janos.

  “I had thought we would be presenting our findings to the Chamber of Lords,” Janos said. “Our House has a high standing there, so it only makes sense. Now you're saying that we'll present our findings to the Magisterium. Why?”

  “Because the Magisterium has ultimate jurisdiction,” Dar'El replied.

  “True,” Janos agreed. “But I still fail to see why they would care what we suggest.”

  “Because the three Kesarins that have chosen Humans—” Jaresh grimaced. “I hate that they think they own us.”

  “They know they don't own us,” Jessira said with a faint smile as she recalled the one time Shon had tried to order her about. It had ended with him pleading for her to rub his chin.

  “At least not in the way you mean,” Rukh added. “Depending on the situation, they might treat us like we're an older sibling or a younger one. They can behave like we're a foolish friend who needs their protection and guidance or like an uncle or aunt who must be obeyed.”

  Bree shook her head. “They sound like giant, domesticated cats,” she muttered.

  Jessira laughed. “They actually
admire domesticated cats,” she said. “Domesticated cats live with us and among us, but in their hearts, they're still wild hunters.”

  “And because the three giant domesticated house cats”—Bree quirked a grin—”the Kesarins with whom we have close contact also happen to have only chosen members of House Shektan as their Humans, it follows that the Magisterium would base their decision on what we recommend.”

  “And what have we decided?” Janos asked.

  “I think we should do as you suggested earlier,” Jaresh said. “If the Kesarins will allow it, we should attach a small pouch with paper and pencil to their necks and have the Baels answer precise questions of the simple 'yes' and 'no' variety about the nature of the coming attack.” He glanced around. “We do trust the Baels now, don't we?”

  Durmer grumbled into his mustache but finally nodded an assent, and so did Satha.

  Dar'El nodded as well. “The Baels will write down their information, but we'll have the Kesarins to confirm those findings. Any objections?” he asked, glancing about the room. Nobody voiced further disagreement. “Then that is what we'll do,” he said, bringing the meeting to a close.

  Teerma, who had been perched on her chair, grinned in delight as she rose to her feet. Her even, white teeth flashed. “Has it always been this way?” she asked as the others prepared to leave. “Has this House always been on the cusp of history, or is it only a recent occurrence?” She gestured toward Rukh, Jaresh, and Bree. “With everything these three have done in the past few years, is this the type of excitement I can look forward to as a member of the House Council?”

  “Beware of a life lived in interesting times,” murmured Janos in response.

  Teerma threw her head back and laughed. “But what a grand life to live!”

  Jessira smiled at the other woman's excitement, amused at how quickly Teerma's mood shifted. A moment ago, she had been agitated and annoyed, but it hadn't taken her long to move on to acceptance and laughter. It was a rare and admirable quality to let go of irritation and anger so easily. Rukh had that same trick, and Jessira wished she did, too.

  “You're wrong,” Rukh whispered to her. “You and I are both too stubborn to let go of our irritation so easily.”

  Jessira smiled. “Some might even say I'm hot-tempered,” she said.

  “Not in my hearing,” Rukh replied with a smile. His eyes flicked to Jaresh, who seemed to be listening in on their conversation.

  There was a silent entreaty on Rukh's face, and Jessira grinned, understanding his design. She made sure to stare as soulfully as possible into her husband's eyes. She even fluttered her eyelashes. “I don't care what the world thinks of us, so long as we have each other.”

  Jaresh groaned in abject disgust.

  After the House Council concluded its meeting, Satha and Dar'El shared a cup of tea. He brewed it, and she stirred in the milk and sugar. It was a tradition that had developed early on in their relationship. Following any formal gathering, the two of them would afterward share a cup of tea and analyze how they thought the meeting had gone, or just as often, they would simply talk about their family. By now, it had become a decades-old custom.

  Satha settled into the couch and took a sip of her tea. “Rukh and Jessira's relationship is odd,” she noted.

  Dar'El glanced at her over the lip of his cup. “How so?” he asked.

  Satha took another sip of tea as she formulated her thoughts. “Have you noticed how they'll say something or make a comment that is utterly nonsensical? It has nothing to do with the topic at hand and most often simply comes across as apropos of nothing. No one else understands what they're talking about, and yet there is a meaning to their words. It's just that they're the only ones who know what it happens to be. It's like they have their own private language.”

  Dar'El smiled. “We have something like that as well.”

  Satha shook her head. “We have something that approaches what Rukh and Jessira share, but it took us years of marriage to get to that point. Those two have only known one another for a couple of years.”

  “But remember how much time they spent alone together in the Wildness,” Dar'El reminded her. “They've been traveling about like no one I've ever heard or read about, journeying from one end of Continent Ember to the other and back again in the space of a year. And most of that time, it was just the two of them. They had to rely on one another for everything. Such shared hardships are bound to form unfathomable bonds between two people.” He shrugged. “It was certainly the case between me and my brother warriors during my Trials.”

  Dar'El's explanation made sense, but it still struck Satha as being incomplete. His words weren't enough to explain what she'd noticed about Rukh and Jessira. “I suppose some of that might be true,” Satha finally relented, “but I think Rukh and Jessira's bonds go deeper than what you're describing.”

  Dar'El nodded. “Their bonds are deeper,” he agreed, “but the two of them have something I never had with my brother warriors: they've loved one another completely and totally almost from the first.”

  “And it took us years to get to that point as well,” Satha reminded him with a half smile.

  Dar'El chuckled. “I'm trying to imagine what we would feel for one another if we had also shared the dangers of the Trials,” he said. “Words fail.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “No,” Dar'El said with a warm smile. “I have you. What need do I have to be jealous.” He drew Satha toward him, and she nestled against his chest. “Does this set your mind at ease about our son and his wife?”

  “I was never worried about them,” Satha said

  “You sounded worried.”

  “Having interest in something inexplicable isn't the same as worry.”

  “Then what were you worried about?” Dar'El asked. His eyes twinkled.

  Satha let him see her eye roll. “I already told you,” she said in mild exasperation. “Rukh and Jessira have this innate ability to communicate, one that doesn't require words, and yet, it might even be more accurate than spoken language.” She frowned, unaccountably irritated with Dar'El. “You truly haven't noticed?” she asked.

  Dar'El shook his head. “I suppose I might have noticed something,” he allowed. “But I also didn't pay it as much attention as you seem to have.”

  “Watch them next time they're together, and you'll see what I mean,” Satha urged.

  Dar'El nodded. “I will,” he promised. “Now tell me what you think about the Kesarins.”

  Satha's lips thinned. She didn't share Janos and Teerma's uncertainty about the reliability of the Kesarins. She believed they had spoken the truth. “I think we're in trouble.”

  “And yet, two summers ago, Rukh carried a very similar tale to us of Suwraith planning a strike against Ashoka,” Dar'El countered. “How do we know this isn't a similar false alarm?”

  Satha snorted. “We both know your question is rhetorical,” she replied. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn't have so drastically reduced House Shektan's investments in the upcoming spring Trials. You made those reductions in funding even before the Kesarins came to us with their information.”

  “It isn't just a decrease in investment,” Dar'El said. “We've also been stockpiling supplies.”

  “You're certain that Suwraith can see a person's Jivatma?” Satha asked. “Even through a Blend?” It was a question they had both wrestled with accepting ever since they'd learned of the possibility from Rukh. If true, the information was devastating. Any Trial sent out would face sudden and immediate destruction from the Sorrow Bringer. There would be no chance for the warriors to defend themselves against Her devastating fury.

  Satha shivered. If the Queen truly possessed such an ability, then it would mean the end of their way of life. The Trials would be over. The cities would become solitary and isolated with no more sharing of new knowledge and skills. It would be the end of their civilization.

  “I am certain enough,” Dar'El answered. “You know as
well as I that the Magisterium and Chamber of Lords have interviewed many of the OutCastes on the nature of their army in Stronghold. The only means by which the Chimeras could have approached so close without any warning would have been if Suwraith had killed all their scouts. And the only means by which She could have managed that is if She could, in fact, see through a Blend.”

  “Which is also why you think She'll come here.”

  “Yes.”

  Satha sighed and kissed Dar'El on the forehead. “What a terrible future our children face.”

  Mysteries of a man,

  His voice a honeyed web.

  Entraps you in his truths

  Of offered devotion.

  ~ Daylight and the Moon by Deside, AF 511

  “Why don't we come here more often?” Jessira asked after the hostess had seated them at a small, private booth toward the back of Masala Pull. It was one of their favorite restaurants, and in her mind, it served the finest fare in all of Ashoka: a fusion of Muran and Rahail cuisine. The food at Masala Pull had never disappointed her.

  Jessira glanced around. It was still early in the evening, but already the restaurant was alive with young couples and a few families. In this, its popularity, as well as its appearance, Masala Pull was the same as it had been when she'd first visited Ashoka almost two years ago. The walls were a warm terra cotta wash, and a high ceiling with its multitude of chandeliers provided a light, airy feel. The tabletops consisted of vibrantly colored mosaic tiles arranged into various scenes of Ashokan life, but what Jessira appreciated the most were the mouth-watering aromas filling the air.