A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes)

by Ashura, Davis

  She smiled at the thought.

  Stronghold had no servants, at least not like the ones here. Her city was young and poor. Other than communal meals and bathhouses, which were maintained by a cadre of people whose job it was to service those areas, everyone was expected to do for themselves. If her family could see her now, they might have laughed at her worries about avoiding servants.

  The smile slipped away.

  She wished she could see her family now. She missed them. She prayed Cedar was safe. She hoped he had made it home and warned the city.

  He would have so many events to relate to the city Elders. The world was far different than they thought. Until Rukh had described it all last night, she hadn’t realized how many changes her people would have to confront. It was staggering. Who could have imagined all the sights Jessira Viola Grey would see since that eventful night on the Hunters Flats when the SarpanKum had offered Humanity the peace of fraternity?

  It was surreal, and if she hadn’t been witness to all of those events, she wouldn’t have believed them possible.

  There was a knock at her door, and when she opened it, she found Jaresh standing outside.

  “Nanna would like you to join us downstairs,” he said. “The Council is meeting.”

  She nodded acknowledgement, but before stepping outside, she made sure her hands were hidden within the folds of her shirt. Her Cherid skin did not match her Muran eyes. She shook her head in disbelief. The stupid lengths to which the Purebloods insisted people bend their features.

  Jaresh led her down an elliptical staircase, through the rear foyer, and to his father’s study, the same room in which they had all gathered last night. Waiting inside was Rukh. He looked relaxed and comfortable with a fresh shave and even a haircut. When had he found the time for either? It must be later than she realized. She silently scolded herself for sleeping in.

  She also noticed Rukh’s amma and nanna, as well as his sister and Mira Terrell. There were also two older men, both of whom gave her appraising and curious glances. She hid a grimace when she saw Rector Bryce and Sophy Terrell. Those two despised her and probably always would. Not that she cared. She’d be gone from Ashoka as soon as her shoulder was healed enough for travel. As far as she was concerned, it might as well be today.

  “Are you one of the so-called OutCastes?” one of the older men asked.

  Rukh’s nanna, Dar’El chuckled. “Pardon Durmer’s directness. At his age, he believes the accepted rules of decorum no longer apply to him.”

  “No reason to waste time on frippery,” Durmer said. “Well, girl…are you?”

  Rather than speak, Jessira simply unwrapped the shawl, letting them see the mixed heritage so obvious in her skin, her hair, and her eyes.

  Durmer glanced at Sophy, a puzzled expression on his face. “The way you described her, I figured her to be as ugly as a Bael turd. The girl is lovely.”

  The other old man laughed. “Lovely is the correct description for a spring day. The woman is beautiful.”

  Durmer rolled his eyes. “Speaking like a poet won’t get you anywhere with this one, Garnet, you lecherous old goat.”

  Jessira looked to Rukh in confusion, but he looked just as confused as she did. Had those two old men actually offered her a compliment? She would have wagered the sun stood a better chance of rising in the west than for a Kumma to call her beautiful or lovely.

  Durmer must have noticed her surprise because he started laughing. “We’re old, girl, but not cold.”

  “And as Dar’El says: at our age, the general rules of society aren’t so important anymore. We’ve lived long enough to find the circumstances of a person’s birth less important than the character of their heart.”

  Jaresh stirred and coughed into his hand. “Bullshit,” he muttered into his hand, clear and loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Other than when a Sentya is adopted into a Kumma House as the son of the ruling ‘El and wants to train as a warrior,” Durmer said somewhat caustically. “We may have had trouble with that situation, but we all know how it turned out, don’t we?”

  Garnet chuckled dryly. “Jaresh can’t fight as one of us, but his heart is Kumma. I’ve said it for years now.”

  Jaresh rolled his eyes, but he didn’t have a chance to respond because just then Rukh’s nanna spoke. “Sit down,” Dar’El said, gesturing for Jessira to take a seat.

  She had planned on sitting next to Rukh, but Bree patted the empty space beside her on the divan. Jessira hesitated, but Rukh wasn’t paying her any attention, so she sat next to his sister.

  “Everyone here knows your status and knows what you and my son told us last night,” Dar’El began. “This information must be relayed to the Magisterium. They will meet with you in a few hours.”

  “And after that?” Jessira asked. “Will my presence still be required?”

  “Surely you aren’t considering leaving us so soon after your arrival?” Garnet asked. “Rukh says you were clawed by a Shylow, and you had to have stitches placed last night. Wouldn’t it be better to have one of the Shiyens make sure the infection isn’t lingering and have one of them take the stitches out for you?”

  Again Jessira was surprised. She would not have expected such hospitality from House Shektan, not based on how they had treated her last night. “I’m honored by the offer,” she said, “but I know none of you really want me here.” She looked at Rukh. “Your House has already done more for me than I could ever hope to repay.”

  “If it is for our sake you wish to leave, then put it out of your mind,” Dar’El said. “We will not have it said that House Shektan dismisses those in need.”

  Before she could respond, Durmer spoke. “Our world is changed. You are simply the most obvious and lovely…” he glared at Garnet, daring him to contradict him…“manifestation of the transformations we face.”

  “It would have been shocking enough to learn of your people,” Garnet said, “but then to hear of the Baels and the Shylows…”

  “Kesarins,” Rukh corrected.

  “Shylows. Kesarins. Who cares? I’m too old to learn new things,” Garnet declared. “The point is this: the information you’ve brought home has the potential to overturn Ashoka. Much of what we once believed may be false,” he said, an echo of Jessira’s earlier sentiments about her own people.

  “Rukh believes the Baels might be our allies,” Rector Bryce said, his tone openly mocking of the idea.

  Jessira’s jaw clenched. The prig just had to talk, didn’t he?

  “Maintaining a scoffing and sneering pose won’t lead a person to the truth,” Garnet said. “You would do well to remember this, Rector Bryce.”

  “Neither does giving serious consideration to fables,” Rector countered. “Or the fabulist who speaks them,” he said, looking straight to Jessira.

  Jessira found herself standing, heart pounding and full of a cold fury. She’d had enough of this arrogant bastard. Her thoughts were crystalline. “Am I a liar now?” she demanded, taking a step toward Rector. Bree tugged on her arm. Jessira yanked herself free. “You weren’t there, Bryce. You were here, safe and snug in Ashoka while better men died.”

  Rector roared to his feet. “If you were a man, you would face my challenge for such an insult.”

  “And if you were a man, I would accept,” Jessira shot back. “I was there. I’ve been out in the Wildness since I was sixteen. I’ve spent months in the field. I’ve survived ten of your so-called Trials. I know what I’m talking about. I heard everything the Baels said. I saw their commander, Li-Dirge, fight alongside your Ashokans against his own Tigons. I was there when Suwraith discovered the treachery of the Baels and killed them for it. I saw the Bael survivors fight with us against the Shylows. One even sacrificed his life so my brother could live. And another carried me to safety.

  “Stronghold doesn’t have an Oasis, so we have to be more cautious than you. I believe what I saw. I am no longer so sure the Baels aren’t telling the truth. I think perha
ps they have done their best to protect Humanity, even at the cost of their own lives, for centuries, ever since the fall of Hammer. We shouldn’t dismiss their work out of hand.”

  “Please sit, Rector,” Bree urged.

  He glanced at her, an unfathomable expression on his face. “This is wrong,” he muttered. “She is wrong,” he said as he resumed his seat.

  “Rukh said much the same thing as you,” Mira said. “It’s just so hard to believe. It sounds impossible.”

  “No different than Rukh Blending or Healing,” Jaresh said.

  “Yet he can do both,” said Rukh’s amma, turning to Jessira. “In the eyes of those without wisdom, he would be considered as Tainted as you.” She graced Rector with a brief glance, leaving no doubt as to whom she was referencing.

  “I have done nothing wrong,” Rector declared. “Before yesterday, all of us would have thrown her out of Ashoka. As well as any Kumma who can Blend or Heal, much less both.”

  We need to see past what we’ve always been taught. If we don’t our small-mindedness will doom us,” Jaresh said.

  “So now I’m small minded!”

  “In this instance, yes,” Jaresh said, refusing to back down. “And take your hand off your sword. Matters in this room aren’t decided by whoever is the finer warrior.”

  “Leave it be, Rector,” Bree urged. “These issues of philosophy are beside the point right now. We can deal with them later. Right now, Ashoka is threatened. Next spring, Suwraith might be leading three Plagues against us.”

  “Unless we strike first,” Rukh said.

  Jessira inhaled sharply. She knew what Rukh meant. He’d briefly spoken of it on the way back to Ashoka. “You mean to go after their breeding caverns,” she said. “You’d need five thousand or more for such an attack to be effective.”

  “Five thousand Strongholders. Fifteen hundred Kummas with enough Murans and Rahails to Blend them could do it,” Rukh said. “Two thousand would be better.”

  “What caverns? Durmer asked.

  “Before the Queen killed him, Li-Dirge told me where the Chimeras breed. It’s a cave system near the headwaters of the Slave River, where the water carves a steep canyon a few miles north of the Tripwire Falls. A fast moving strike force could kill their breeders and set them back for years.”

  “I am not sure we can afford to risk so many of our warriors on such a questionable cause,” Garnet said.

  “I think it’s a risk worth taking. Face them now or maybe face them in the spring. This would be first time we could do some real damage to their numbers.” Rukh shrugged. “The other Castes wouldn’t even be needed if the Kummas could Blend for themselves,” he joked half-heartedly.

  Silence greeted Rukh’s flip statement. Jessira could tell everyone in the room was actually taking his jesting proposal seriously.

  Dar’El was the first to break the quiet. “Can it be done?” he asked, softly. “Can you teach them?”

  Rukh looked taken aback. “No,” he replied without hesitation. “The only reason I learned was because I was Annexed with Brand Wall. It was a moment of desperation.”

  Bree and Sophy looked disturbed while Durmer and Garnet merely looked thoughtful.

  “A pity,” Dar’El murmured.

  Rector looked like he would be sick. “I want no part of this,” he said. “For the other matter I will give all I have, but for this…I must step aside.” His final words spoken, Bryce stood and walked out of the study.

  Jessira was privately glad the man had decided to leave. What a pain in the backside. He was worse than a needle in one’s undergarments.

  The room remained silent until Bryce had shut the door behind him.

  “Many will feel as Rector,” Jaresh warned.

  “The man is trouble,” Rukh’s amma warned.

  “He only follows what is in his heart,” Bree said, defensively.

  “And he never questions whether his heart is leading him astray or whether there is more to this world than what he has been taught,” her amma replied. “Our feelings do not produce the sum of our existence. We were also meant to reason.”

  “There are several other issues we need to discuss with you,” Dar’El said, turning to Jessira and interrupting the conversation between his wife and daughter. “First, I wish to apologize for how you were treated yesterday by those in my House.” He looked meaningfully at Bree and Sophy.

  “I’ve already apologized,” Bree complained.

  “I also offer my apology for my initial reaction to your presence,” Sophy said, her words perfunctory.

  Durmer chuckled. “And people say we’re tied to old ways.”

  Dar’El looked disappointed with Sophy, but he said nothing more.

  “What do you know of the Sil Lor Kum?” Rukh’s amma asked.

  “Only that they are vile and traitorous worshippers of Suwraith,” Jessira said with a curl to her lip. “Is there anything else to know?”

  “Are you sure you want to tell her this?” Bree asked.

  “She needs to hear it. Her people need to know,” Dar’El answered. He turned back to Jessira. “Several months ago, shortly after the caravan for Nestle left, we learned the Sil Lor Kum have been active once more here in Ashoka. There have been murders.”

  Jessira stiffened. “And you haven’t found them yet.”

  “If we had, they would have already been hung, drawn, and quartered with their bodies left to rot on the Isle of the Crows,” Durmer said, all humor gone from his voice. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t let Garnet and I know of your concerns from the beginning.”

  “I’ve already explained why,” Dar’El said. “Both of you were suspects until we could clear up your whereabouts on the nights in question.”

  “Our bad luck to have dinner in Sunpalm on the evening of the first murder,” Durmer said. “I still think you should have…”

  “It’s over, Volk. Let it be,” Garnet interrupted.

  “Unfortunately, there is more to tell,” Dar’El warned. “The weapon used in the killings is something called the Withering Knife. Legend says it’s tied to the Sorrow Bringer Herself. She is said to have used it on the Night of Sorrows. It also seems to appear whenever the Queen has targeted a city for destruction. The Sil Lor Kum kill with the Knife, and through the use of it, they somehow undermine a city.”

  “They betray us, the Plagues attack us, and Suwraith destroys us,” Mira said.

  “Your city will want to watch for their presence as well,” Dar’El added.

  “You’ll need to leave if you don’t want to be late,” Jaresh reminded everyone. “The meeting with the Magisterium…”

  With his prompt, everyone stood to leave.

  Jessira wanted to talk things over with Rukh, but he walked past her, seemingly caught up in a conversation with Jaresh and ignored her completely. This time it was purposeful.

  She paused, upset by his avoidance of her. An instant later, she cursed her own stupidity. How could she have been so naïve? Of course Rukh wouldn’t want to be seen with her. Not now when he was home. He probably wanted as little to do with her as possible. No reason to sully his good name any further than it already was. She understood the reason for his behavior, but it still hurt.

  *****

  Rector sat at a table near the central fountain of the Martyr’s Plaza looking out over the large square fashioned in honor of Ashoka’s greatest heroes. This was the true heart of the city. It was located in an area relatively central to the many hills upon which Ashoka was built, and all along the perimeter, statues of men and women stood boldly, holding swords or hammers or musical instruments at the ready. But many, if not most of the figures, were Kumma, their swords held high and a defiant cry upon their lips. It simply reflected the unacknowledged truth as far as Rector was concerned: just as the Plaza was the heart of Ashoka, so too were Kummas the heart of Humanity. Even the Union Fountain, the large sculpture at the center of the Plaza, mirrored this fact. Standing atop stylized figurines i
n poses meant to emulate the best works of the other six Castes stood a Kumma, and it wasn’t just any Kumma, either. This was the only statue of someone who was not of Ashoka. This was the greatest of Kummas, Hume Telrest.

  The sculptor had chosen to give Hume’s statue a stooped appearance, with head bent and shoulders hunched. But despite his world-weary pose, there was no denying the man’s courage or his centrality to Kumma life and heritage. He was what all Kummas strove to be. And to hear the Baels supposedly honored him as well…Rector gritted his teeth. Some things should never be mocked or befouled. Baels as brothers to Kummas…the very idea was insulting.

  A series of sharp calls drew his gaze. Small groups of children raced about the Plaza, and the ever-present pigeons scattered at their approach. He watched the young ones for a moment longer and wondered if Bree would show. They had agreed to meet here after this morning’s council session and discuss the unsettling events of the past day. After the scene he had made in Dar’El’s study he doubted if she would come. If she chose to stay away he understood what it meant, and he would regret it. He had come to like and respect Bree Shektan. She was bright and warm with a vibrancy lacking in most beautiful women. More enchanting, she seemed utterly unaware of the effect she had on others. And she certainly wasn’t mannish like the ghrina woman her brother had brought home.

  Despite how he felt for Bree, and the risk he had taken by speaking out as he had, he knew it had been the right thing to do. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t. He had said something all of the others needed to hear. Surely none of them could believe this wild tale of Rukh Shektan. The events Dar’El’s son claimed to have witnessed and the Talents he now possessed…it was beyond nonsensical. It was blasphemous. If Rukh spoke the truth, and could Blend and Heal, then Bree’s brother had been Tainted beyond all redemption. The only proper judgment for the evil he represented was the Slash of Iniquity. It didn’t make Rector happy to say so, but he knew others needed to learn of this, even if it cost him his place in House Shektan and the heart of Dar’El’s daughter.