A Warrior's Knowledge

by Davis Ashura

Nevertheless, Cedar had fallen in love with Laya and had refused to marry anyone else. After getting to know her vadina, her sister-in-law, Jessira could understand why. Certainly Laya was attractive enough — with lush curves, dark skin, and startling aqua blue eyes — but her true beauty lay in her gentle, infectious smile and personality. She had a rare quality, a serenity that allowed her to always say the right thing to ease a person’s mind and bring laughter to their heart. It was a rare talent, and Jessira secretly believed her brother had actually married above his station.

  Jessira gave her vadina a warm hug before turning to Cedar. Her brother appeared unchanged from all the other times Jessira had seen him, but on closer inspection, she could tell something was different. It was his eyes — soft and brown like Nanna’s — but now, whenever Cedar looked at Jessira, they seemed to warm as they never had when the two of them had been younger. He startled Jessira by pulling her into an embrace.

  Next to arrive was her oldest brother, Kart, fourteen years older than Jessira. In fact, she almost thought of him as an uncle. He was thin and wiry with Nanna’s brown skin and eyes and had also inherited their nanna’s crafting skills, working as a master mason. In his youth, he’d also taken on the job of laborer and field hand, and all his hard work had paid off. Two years ago, he’d been able to lease his own farm. He would soon be the wealthiest of them all. His wife, poor put upon Jeshni, wasn’t with him, though. Likely she was at home with their four young children.

  “Court plans on bringing both of the Kummas,” Nanna said, surprising Jessira as he came up alongside her. Sateesh Grey, was in his late fifties, but appeared almost seventy. He was of medium height — like Cedar — but slender like Kart, with skin the color of old leather, wrinkled and spotted with age. His brown eyes were rimmed with cataracts, but they were still sharp enough to read Jessira’s emotions. He picked up on her disquiet but mistook the reason for it. “I know you don’t like Farn, but it only seemed right to allow him to come given that he’s a close friend to Rukh Shektan. We owe your Kumma friend more than we can ever hope to repay.”

  Jessira glanced at her nanna. He was one of the few OutCastes who didn’t speak of the Purebloods with contempt or mocking superiority. He’d always met life and people with an open mind and an open heart. It was a lesson more Strongholders would do well to learn.

  “Farn Arnicep is not one of my favorite people,” Jessira agreed.

  “Well, for some reason, Court seems to think well of him.”

  Just then, Disbar Merdant entered her parent’s flat. Her fiancé was tall — only a few inches shorter than Rukh, but with a heavier frame. His dark, intense eyes were framed by thick brows while a goatee circumscribed his full lips. Disbar was a passionate man, but sometimes his passion could get the better of him. Then he became like a red-eyed bull, with his curly, ruddy-brown hair almost seeming to stand erect of its own accord. But judging by his smile tonight, he appeared to be in a good mood. He’d even brought fresh flowers, which he placed in Jessira’s hands.

  She was warmed by the romantic gesture. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

  “I know I saw you just this morning, but you have no idea how glad I am to be with you again. For months, I feared you dead,” he said solemnly. “And knowing you live, and being able to touch you again … it makes my heart sing with gladness. I thank the First Father and First Mother for bringing you home safely to us. And I vow you will never again need to place yourself in harm’s way. Stronghold is your home, and here you should remain.”

  Jessira was taken aback by his words. His sentiments were touching but so overwrought and, frankly, presumptuous. She didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended by his audaciousness.

  “Mercy. Laying it on thick aren’t you, Disbar?” Sign said, having just entered the flat and overhearing the words of Jessira’s fiancé.

  Disbar’s moods changed like the tides but were far less predictable. Sometimes when someone poked fun at him, he would storm off, growling over the supposed insult. Less often, he would throw his head back and bellow with laughter. One could never tell how he would respond, and after Sign’s gentle mockery, Jessira wondered what he would say. The last thing she needed was for Disbar to make a scene.

  Tonight, for whatever reason, rather than react with anger at Sign’s gentle ribbing, Disbar chuckled half-heartedly at her cousin’s words, although Jessira noticed his eyes still tightened in annoyance.

  But no matter his irritation, he also needed to understand the truth: Jessira was a warrior. While Disbar often spoke of how he looked forward to her discharge from the Home Army, for now, it was who she was. “The promise of safety is one none of us can offer, especially to a Silversun,” Jessira said, looking him in the eyes and hoping he wouldn’t grow angry.

  Once again, Disbar surprised her. He laughed, relaxed and generous, as the intensity fled from his eyes. “I love how easily you puncture my self-importance,” he said.

  Further conversation was interrupted when Court entered the by-now crowded flat. Trailing behind him, moving like Shylows were the two Kummas. Jessira had to remind herself not to stare at Rukh. Instead, she offered him a polite nod, one he returned in kind before he moved on to scan the others. Farn’s eyes moved just as restlessly, and surprisingly, he too offered her a polite nod before looking over the others. In her mind, she imagined the two of them were quickly assessing who here represented a threat, which ones were the most dangerous.

  Conversation trailed off when the three warriors entered. “You travelled with him?” Nanna asked, whispering to Jessira.

  She nodded.

  He shuddered. “He watches us like a predator, like a stalking snow tiger.” He eyed her askance. “Are you sure he isn’t dangerous?”

  Jessira smiled in wry amusement at Nanna’s words. “I never said he wasn’t dangerous,” she replied. “The two of them are deadly — more so than anyone you’re ever likely to meet.”

  “He wears an insufferably prideful mien,” Disbar remarked. “The taller one, Farn, was like this Rukh of yours but working as a laborer has taught him humility.”

  Her fiancé’s smug satisfaction irked Jessira. Who was Disbar to judge Rukh without first getting to know him? She was about to let Disbar know what she thought of his attitude, but embarrassed self-awareness halted her words. Who was she to judge her fellow OutCastes? Hadn’t she once felt the same as they, dismissing Purebloods with the same haughty arrogance? She was no better than anyone else.

  Jessira set aside her criticism. “He saved my life,” she reminded Disbar. “It’s why Amma and Nanna invited him here tonight: in order to thank him properly.”

  Disbar nodded, forcing a smile. “You’re right,” he said. “We will provide him an enlightened evening of comfort as his kind would never offer us.”

  “Except his parents, family, and House. And the Shiyen physician who saved my arm. And many other people in Ashoka,” Jessira replied.

  Her words earned her an irritated frown from Disbar, who didn’t bother responding to her final statement.

  The Grey family flat was large — a reflection of her nanna’s success as a carpenter and stone mason — with three bedrooms and a hearthspace easily able to accommodate the gathered party of ten. But not everyone could fit around the dining table and several people had to perch on the kitchen counters. However, two of the party had to eat at the sofa. Not surprisingly, those two turned out to be Rukh and Farn.

  “I still can’t believe you spoke to Baels,” Laya said.

  “Or went to Ashoka,” Kart added. “And managed to escape.”

  “I didn’t escape,” Jessira protested. “I’ve told you all this before. Rukh’s family treated me well. Their physicians Healed me and Rukh’s amma and nanna took me in. They treated me as one of their own. They didn’t have to do any of that.”

  “Perhaps they’re finally growing civilized,” Disbar said, a dismissive tone to his voice.

  Jessira bit back her annoyance. His words stemmed
from ignorance not malice, she reminded herself. However, she did wonder more and more how Rukh had managed to put up with her obnoxious attitude during their time in the Flats. If she had been half as conceited as the rest of Stronghold, she was surprised he hadn’t left her behind to rot.

  “Did the Kummas really fight Tigons like Cedar says?” Sign asked.

  Jessira glanced at the others around the table, noticing the disbelief evident on all their faces — everyone except for Cedar. “You mean like I’ve also said,” she finally replied to Sign. “If you choose to disbelieve … ” She shrugged.

  “No one can be that skilled,” Sign muttered.

  “They are, and I’ve already told you what they could do,” Cedar said, sounding tired. “I saw it.” He nodded toward Rukh and Farn. “None of our own warriors could hope to stand against those two.”

  Sign frowned. “I’ve yet to see any proof of what the two of you claim,” she said, a stubborn set to her jaw.

  “Why would Cedar or I lie to you or exaggerate?” Jessira asked.

  Laya shuddered. “Why don’t we leave of all this talk of death and killing? We should be celebrating Jessira’s safe return.”

  “And thanking the man who saved her,” Cedar added.

  Jessira glanced at him in gratitude. She hadn’t expected his support. He met her gaze and winked.

  Nanna wore a grave expression. “You’re both right,” he said, turning to Jessira. “We should be thanking the man who returned you to us. If this Kumma of yours had the skills to keep you alive, then I’m glad for it.”

  Jessira looked at Rukh, noting the tiredness in his eyes and posture. “He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me,” she said softly.

  Disbar frowned, and Jessira could sense his mistrust, but whether of her or Rukh, she couldn’t tell. “What do you mean?” he finally asked.

  “Rumor says he was banished from his home for being befouled in some way,” Laya said.

  “Whatever that might mean to a Pureblood,” Disbar scoffed.

  Jessira turned away from Rukh and in a flat, inflectionless tone, one that didn’t hint at the guilt she still felt for Rukh’s circumstances, she described her time in Ashoka, explaining the events leading to Rukh’s banishment. “His people might have forgiven his new Talents, but his friendship with me was something they couldn’t overlook. Because of me, he was all but named a ghrina himself.” She glanced around the table. “I think we should honor his sacrifice and not disparage his name or his ancestry. Not after what he lost on my account.”

  Amma seemed to study Rukh in enigmatic speculation before shifting her eyes back to Jessira. “Call him over,” she said.

  Rukh must have sensed their regard. He stood, and when he did so, Jessira noticed his arm. It still hung limp and unmoving by his side. She had heard a Healer had seen him last night. So why wasn’t he able to use it? Why did he wince whenever it was jostled? Was it so badly injured that it couldn’t be Healed?

  Jessira prayed not.

  “My family would like to thank you,” Jessira said, careful to keep her inflection even and untroubled.

  He flicked a glance at those seated around the table before saying something to Farn who merely nodded in return. Rukh limped toward them. His leg was still giving him trouble.

  “This clumsy fellow is the slayer of Tigons?” Sign whispered to Disbar in a snide snicker. She met Jessira’s challenging look with one of her own. “You say he’s an amazing warrior. He needs to prove it.”

  “There’s no need to be cruel, Sign,” Jessira said. “You know he broke his leg and hurt his arm. He’s simply not Healed yet. Test him when he has his health.” She stared at her cousin in challenge. “Only make sure all of the Shadowcats are with you. You’ll need that many to take him on.”

  Sign opened her mouth to respond, but just then, Rukh arrived.

  “We wished to thank you in person for the safe return of our daughter,” Nanna said. “All of us are grateful beyond words.”

  “Yes. She is precious to all of us,” Disbar said, taking hold of one of Jessira’s hands.

  “Thank you for supper, ma’am,” Rukh said to Jessira’s amma with a polite nod. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a hot meal.”

  “During your travels, you must have had some warm food,” Kart said.

  “I did,” Rukh agreed. “But what we had wasn’t exactly fine dining. Not like this, anyway.”

  Jessira smiled at Rukh’s words. She still remembered Cook Heltin’s miracles of cuisine. Compared to what Rukh had grown up with, her own family’s supper, heavy on substance but light on spices, must have seemed bland and tasteless. Rukh was just too polite to say so.

  “Fine dining?” Nanna asked. “I’m glad you think so.” He glanced in Jessira’s direction. “My daughter spoke of how every meal in Ashoka was a work of art.”

  “Our food is different,” Rukh replied. “But it is the warm and generous spirit that transforms any meal into an expression of love. And the cold and cruel heart who makes even the most sumptuous of feasts taste like ashes.”

  “Where did you read that?” Jessira asked. The words couldn’t have been his own. Rukh was usually plainspoken, never eloquent like he’d just been.

  “Sooths and Small Sayings, by Tramed Billow.”

  “You’re a scholar?” Kart asked in disbelief.

  “Hardly. I just like to read sometimes.”

  “But only scholars bother with Sooths and Small Sayings. It’s too dense and philosophical,” Kart persisted.

  “I’m no scholar. I just like to read, and that particular phrase from Sooths just happened to stay with me.” Rukh said with a smile.

  Jessira shook her head and hid a smile. She thought she knew him so well, but he still managed to surprise her.

  “Court tells me you’ll be working the kitchens as soon as your leg is Healed,” Disbar said, changing the subject.

  “So I’ve been told,” Rukh said. “I still hold out hope I might be accepted into the Home Army.”

  “You think laboring is beneath you?” Laya asked. She appeared insulted by Rukh’s words. “To serve and maintain home and hearth is not a meaningless use of a person’s time and energy.”

  “Kummas serve,” Rukh answered in a calm, even tone. “It is the guiding principle of my Caste. We serve by defending those whose lives are placed in our hands. It’s a holy trust. It’s who we are. Without it, our lives have no meaning.”

  Upon hearing his statement, Amma stood and came around the table. She gave Rukh a warm embrace. “I hope you find the meaning you seek,” she said. “As for me, I’m simply grateful to have my daughter back.” She gave Rukh’s hands a final, thankful squeeze.

  He nodded acknowledgement before turning to Farn. “I think it’s time for us to go and let these fine people celebrate without strangers interrupting them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Farn said, coming to his feet.

  “You’re not a stranger,” Jessira protested, rising as well. “The dinner was in your honor. My family wanted to get to know you better.”

  Rukh glanced her way and smiled. “I appreciate that, but it’s still time for me and Farn to go.” He hesitated. “We’ve got a lot to sort out.”

  Just before Rukh stepped outside, Jessira called out to him. “Rukh,” she said, bringing him to a halt. “Thank you for keeping me safe,” she said, infusing her words with shades of meaning only he would understand.

  “It was my honor,” he said. With that, he pulled the door shut. It felt like the metaphorical closing of a very different future she might have had.

  *****

  “You see what I mean?” Farn asked. “You and I are Purebloods, which in the eyes of many OutCastes makes us ghrina.” He barked in laughter. “Ironic, is it not?”

  Rukh nodded though his mind wasn’t focused on Farn’s words. He was thinking about Jessira. He’d never seen her looking so lovely, so feminine. Her hair was usually pulled back in a severe ponytail, but tonight it hung free, fr
aming her face and softening her beauty. And the green dress she had worn — it had been the same shade as her eyes, clinging to her like a sinuous wave.

  When he had first seen Jessira tonight, he had wanted to do nothing more than drink in the sight of her. But he couldn’t. They were acquaintances who had travelled a long road together. Nothing more.

  “It’s the woman, isn’t it?” Farn asked.

  “What woman?” Rukh asked, finally focusing on his cousin’s words.

  “Jessira. The OutCaste woman. The one you love.”

  Rukh startled. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only to those who know you.”

  “And my feelings for someone not of my Caste — they don’t disgust you?” Rukh asked, taken aback by Farn’s mild response. This was not the same cousin who had left with him on the Trial for Nestle so many months ago.

  Farn shrugged. “It would have at one time, but I’ve been in a city of OutCastes for months now. I find my prior unchallenged understanding of morality no longer serves.”

  Rukh was surprised by his cousin’s growth during his time in Stronghold. “Please don’t tell anyone else how I feel about Jessira,” he said to Farn. “It would cause problems for her and her family.”

  “I’ll keep it to myself,” Farn promised. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Farn spoke again. “They are an odd people, these OutCastes,” he said. “Prior to marriage or even engagement, they are so free in what they can do, even the women, but once wedding vows are exchanged, their lives become rigid. Within their families, the men lead, and their women follow.”

  “And are all of them so arrogant?” Rukh asked.

  “No. Not all. Court, Cedar, Laya, and most of the laborers are decent people. Many of the others, though … ” he shuddered. “I won’t miss them once I get home.”

  Home. Rukh stared ahead, remembering Ashoka and his family. There would never be a homecoming for him. Whatever Farn had been experiencing for the past five or six months was something Rukh would have to endure for the rest of his life.

  “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear that,” Farn said. He must have realized what Rukh was thinking.