by Davis Ashura
-The Warrior and the Servant (author unknown)
Jaresh held the door open as he and Bree entered the Blue Heron, the pub that Drin Port, Felt Barnel, and Van Jinnu had all frequented. As soon as he stepped inside, his nose wrinkled in disgust. The air was ripe with the stink of smoke, stale beer, and vomit. A man’s loud guffaw came from what Jaresh guessed was probably the kitchen while a few patrons sat quietly at the long bar, nursing their ales. Even this early — mid-afternoon — most of them appeared drunk as rats in a vat of wine. They looked up with bleary eyes, giving him and Bree desultory looks before returning their attention to their mugs.
“Lovely,” Bree murmured.
Jaresh echoed her sentiment. The Blue Heron was a seedy dive, but there had to be something to the place; something to connect the three murdered men; something that had ended up marking them for death. Perhaps someone here could tell them what it was.
As they stepped further into the pub, Jaresh carefully eyed the two, large Duriahs tasked with keeping peace within the place. If these were the guards, then the Blue Heron must be a rough place. They sat on stools, almond-shaped eyes staring into the nearly empty pub with identical expressions of dull boredom. Sometimes, their hands stroked the truncheons tucked into their belts. They seemed the kind of men who enjoyed cracking skulls because they had nothing better to do and had the toughness to put down any challenge.
However, when Jaresh examined the Duriahs more closely, he reevaluated his initial assessment. The guards looked hard and dangerous, but they had an air about them, something that said they were mostly all bark and bullying. Most of their bulk was fat, and they had the slow-gazed appearance of thugs, men who allowed their size to intimidate others. It had likely been years since either one had truly been tested.
Jaresh would have dismissed the guards as a threat, but the way they eyed Bree, like dogs salivating over a piece of meat. Such disgusting behavior couldn’t be left unchallenged.
He was about to say something, but Bree must have noticed their vulgar stares as well. “Move your eyes,” she snapped, withering the Duriahs with a contemptuous look.
Both guards stiffened, their faces red with either anger or embarrassment. “And you should watch what pub you enter, little girl,” one of them threatened. He reached for a truncheon.
Bree stared at the Duriah as his hand curled around the handle of his weapon. She very deliberately allowed her hand to fill with a Fireball.
“Are we going to have a problem?” Jaresh asked, his hand on his sword. Most of the time, he hardly ever walked around Ashoka with anything more than a dagger. There was no need. The city was safe, but some parts, like the Moon Quarter, could be a little rough. And the Blue Heron, located as it was in a poorer district, likely catered to an even harder clientele. It seemed like he had been right to be cautious.
“Leave off, or she’ll burn the whole place down,” the other guard — probably the smarter of the two — said to his partner. He pushed the other man’s hand off his truncheon before turning to Jaresh and Bree. “What do you want?”
“A drink,” Jaresh said with a bright smile. “And you’re welcome to join us if you’re allowed.”
The words earned him a grudging nod from both guards.
“A drink sounds fine,” the smarter guard — name of Drog — said. He called over a waitress and ordered four ales.
It arrived shortly, and while Jaresh managed to hold the swill down, Bree took one sip and pushed hers aside. “We are looking for some information,” she said. “About three men: Felt Barnel, Drin Port, and Van Jinnu.”
The duller guard, Crode, furrowed his brows, looking either confused or ignorant. “They’re all dead,” he said. “Two of them were murdered by that Withering Knife,” he added with a shudder. “Nasty business. Whoever it is going around killing people, I hope they find the fragging bastard and string him up on the Isle of the Crow.”
“So do we all,” Bree agreed. “Did you know them? The men, I mean?”
“We knew them,” Crode answered. “They were regulars. Used to gather here and drink all night. Or at least they did until Drin got himself drowned in the harbor.”
“They were friends,” Jaresh said, trying to mask his rising excitement.
“Didn’t I just say so?” Crode replied. “They drank together near every night.”
“Was there anything else to their relationship?” Jaresh asked. “Were they business partners, maybe?”
The dull guard laughed. “Business? Drin worked in one of the warehouses here in the Quarter. He was as poor as they come.”
“Didn’t have two coins to rub together,” Drog added. “Half the time it was Van and Felt paying for his drinks.”
“But he had a mouth on him,” Crode said. “He was always going on about how he had some scheme that would bring him all the coin he could ever want, like he knew someone rich to help him out.”
“Which made him an even bigger fool than he already was,” Drog added. “Why would someone rich help someone poor? Makes no sense. What does the rich person get out of it?”
Jaresh didn’t bother pointing out the benefits of investment, not just in businesses, but in people, which was far more important. Such advice would have been lost on these two. “Was there anything peculiar that might have happened on the night Drin died?” he asked.
The dull guard laughed. “That was a long time ago,” he said. “Probably just a night like any other.”
“You remember that Kumma who nearly kicked Drin’s tenders up his throat?” Drog asked his partner. “Remember? Drin comes in here all full of vinegar and venom, staring around like he could throw thunder, and this old Kumma didn’t like it. He was pissed, and he comes walking over — ”
“He had a limp,” Crode said. “The Kumma. He was using a cane — ”
“Which side was the limp?” Bree interrupted.
The Duriahs looked at her in confusion.
“How the frag should I know?” Crode asked. “He was just an old Kumma with a limp. Anyway he walks over, all cold and deadly, looking like he was going to kick Drin’s nuggets through his skull.” He cackled in laughter. “I thought old Drin would piss himself.”
Afterward, the guards had nothing else to add, so Jaresh and Bree left the Heron.
But just outside the front door, they were hailed by Drog. They waited as he ambled forward. “There was one other thing. This fine Rahail woman was here the night Drin died. Never seen her before or since, but she had business with the Kumma.”
“What did she look like?” Jaresh asked.
“She wasn’t old, but she wasn’t young,” Drog said, “but still easy to look at. Can’t really describe her any better than that.”
An older Kumma man and a Rahail woman. Was there a connection between them? Jaresh looked to Bree, who shrugged minutely.
“You think Drin was murdered, don’t you?” Drog asked, speaking into the quiet his words had caused. “That’s why you’re here. You think it was this Kumma who did it, maybe doing all the killing.”
“We’re just asking questions,” Jaresh said. He lowered his voice. “It’s best if no one knows we asked them.”
“But — ”
“If you really think this Kumma might be a murderer, do you really want your suspicions getting back to him?” Bree explained.
Drog gave a brief grimace of distaste. “I think I’m seeing the wisdom of keeping my mouth shut,” he said.
*****
Bree felt eyes upon her. She and Jaresh had reached the heart of an alley, which they’d planned on using to bypass the heavy traffic of Bellary Road. She glanced behind her and frowned. Two men stood at the alley’s entrance, darkening it. They were large and wore angry scowls. Bree looked forward. Dimming the opposite end of the alley were two more men, similarly large and rough in appearance. All four men walked forward with a forbidding purpose. As they continued their steady advance, Bree tried to fathom what they might want. What was their intent? Surely n
ot to attack her and Jaresh? Assaults like that simply didn’t happen in Ashoka. Her home was civilized, a place of beauty and learning.
But the expressions on the faces of the advancing men was anything but. If anything, their scowls had grown deeper, uglier and more threatening. Their jaws firmed in what Bree finally realized was a promise of violence. Deadly intentions were clearly written on their faces.
Bree took an involuntary step toward her brother. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and her heart raced. These men had to be Sil Lor Kum. Who else would have reason to attack her and Jaresh? She had the sudden realization that she and her brother might die in this alley.
Jaresh must have come to the same conclusion. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword and worry lit his face. “This isn’t training,” he warned Bree in a whisper. “Those men mean to hurt us. Have your Shield up and be careful with your Fireballs. We don’t want to burn down this whole block.”
Bree glanced at the wood-clad buildings all around them. One errant Fireball would send the entire alley up in flames. She cursed. She couldn’t readily use her greatest weapon. Whoever these men were, they’d chosen the site of their ambush well. Bree wished she’d been wise enough to bring a weapon with her instead of simply trusting to Jaresh’s sword.
“Stay calm,” Jaresh said. “We can survive this if we’re smart. Deep breaths. Remember what you’ve been taught.”
Bree nodded and did her best to set aside her fear. She tried to do as Jaresh had suggested. She took deep breaths, slow and steady, exhaling fully and willing the terror to leave her. Reason told her there was no point to being scared, but right now, reason was an empty solace.
The breathing exercises helped, or so she told herself, and while her heart no longer pounded, her legs still trembled. Bree continued breathing in and out, slowly and controlled. She focused her mind on the details that might help her survive the looming fight. She studied the approaching men, the way they walked and carried themselves. They weren’t like Drog and Crode, the guards at the Blue Heron. These men moved with wary grace and coiled energy, like trained warriors. Soon enough, their features became clearer. Two Rahails and two Murans. Bree cursed again. The men coming toward them might be able to Blend.
Jaresh must have realized the same possibility. “We can’t wait on them,” he said. “We have to be the ones to attack. We take out the ones up front and then deal with the ones behind us.”
“What do you need me to do?” Bree asked, trying to work some moisture into her dry mouth.
“Stay behind me,” Jaresh said. “I’ll divert one of them to the center of the alley. Take him with a Fireball, and I’ll deal with the other.”
Bree managed to nod, an icy lump of dread lodged in her stomach. It was growing stonier and colder with every step the men took. The terror she had hoped to banish surged back to life. Incipient panic bubbled to the fore.
“We’ll be fine,” Jaresh said.
He took her hand, and Bree felt a calm come over her. Lucency. Jaresh’s Talent. It soothed her terror-stricken thoughts, and her mind cleared. The fear faded, still present, but no longer overwhelming.
Jaresh looked her in the eyes. “Ready?”
Bree nodded.
“Wait for my signal,” Jaresh said. He stared at the men coming their way, waiting an impossibly long moment. “NOW!” Jaresh flowed forward, his sword flashing.
Her brother had engaged the enemy. He fought a Blended Muran but seemed to know where the man would be. Jaresh delivered a stroke against the empty air, but a ringing clash marked where his sword met resistance. Jaresh pushed his hidden opponent away before turning to face the still-visible Rahail.
Bree sent a Fireball screaming the short distance to where Jaresh had diverted the hidden Muran.
A terrible cry of pain echoed throughout the alley, and her opponent was visible, wreathed in flames. The stench of burning flesh made Bree gag. She held down her gorge even as Jaresh finished the Rahail he had been fighting. Together, they turned to face the other two men.
Jaresh rushed past her. His sword cleaved an arc, hammering onto the blade of a Blended opponent. Jaresh fought air, but somehow he always knew where the other man was. Two more strokes and a Muran flashed into view, gasping with pain as he flopped to the ground.
Bree watched, clear-eyed from Lucency, but she had yet to see the Rahail. Where was he! Bree had lost sight of him. A distortion in the air directly before her. The Rahail! Bree stumbled back. Usually, she was so graceful, but in that moment, she was clumsiness personified. She tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground, smacking her head. Her Shield disintegrated. Bree desperately tried to get it back in place. Too late. A tearing pain ripped across her stomach. Bree cried out.
Someone else’s deep-voiced shout of pain was the last thing she heard before she lost consciousness.
*****
As soon as Mira heard of Bree’s injuries, she set off for the Moon Quarter hospice where her friend was being treated. She arrived out of breath — she’d literally run the entire distance. All the while, she had been praying for Bree. Let her be all right.
Jaresh was already there, alone in the waiting room. He looked as distraught as Mira felt. He numbly explained the brazen attack that he and his sister had barely survived just a few blocks away.
“How is Bree?” Mira asked. “What does the doctor say?”
“She’s stable, but the sword cut deep,” Jaresh replied. “He thinks she’ll be fine, but she’ll need more surgery if any infection sets in.” He wouldn’t meet Mira’s eyes. “I wasn’t fast enough to protect her.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Mira said. She wanted to offer Jaresh some semblance of support; to hold him, even just squeeze his shoulder, but she couldn’t. She had to keep her distance. They were of different Castes, and as a result, physical contact between them was impermissible. It was a sin, and just as important, Mira had worked too hard to suffocate the feelings she had once held for Jaresh. But looking at him now, seeing his anguish, she realized those feelings had yet to entirely fade.
“The Rahail who did this got away,” Jaresh growled, drawing her away from her thoughts about their relationship.
“They were Sil Lor Kum?” Mira asked.
“Who else?” Jaresh said. “The sooner those fraggers get staked out on the Isle of the Crow, the better for all of us.” He fell into a sullen silence, and Mira left him to his thoughts.
They sat quietly in the waiting room, a white-walled room with a narrow windows and old landscape paintings meant to brighten the space.
Minutes later, the door to the hospice opened. It was Mira’s amma. “What happened?” she asked.
Jaresh described the attack in the alley. “Where are my parents?” he asked after he finished his explanation.
“Dar’El and Satha weren’t at the Seat when your message arrived,” Mira’s amma said. “I’m sure they’ve been informed by now. They’ll be here soon enough.”
Jaresh sighed. “I wish Rukh was here,” he said. “He could have protected Bree from all of this.”
“On this, we are agreed,” Amma muttered. Jaresh stiffened, but Amma continued on, overlooking the offense she had delivered as if it had never occurred. “If your brother had only shown the good sense to protect his reputation, his honor would have never been challenged.” She cast a glance in Mira’s direction, who reddened in embarrassment.
Mira knew what her amma really meant. She bowed her head and waited for the next verbal blow. How could she have been so stupid as to discuss Jaresh in front of her? Embarrassment built into shame. Apparently, Amma had nothing further to add, and Mira dared look her way. Her mother was staring at a painting, and Mira felt like she should say something, apologize, or at least find a means of mollifying her amma.
Instead, Mira held silent as Bree’s words from several weeks ago came to her.
Her friend had been right. Mira had always been the sort of woman who sought to please everyone else, even at the expe
nse of her own happiness. Her annoyance rose. So many times she had accepted her amma’s criticisms. Annoyance became anger. Mira had spent her life trying to placate Amma. Anger built as if stoked in a furnace. She had sought to become the perfect, hard working daughter.
“His sister lies gravely injured,” Mira said to her amma, trying to contain her rage. “And you would cast aspersions on him? Now is not the time.”
Amma’s expression of stunned disbelief would have been comical at any other time and on any other person. But not now. Jaresh stirred in his chair, sensing a brewing argument. Amma recovered her shock. She turned her basilisk gaze at Mira, who held firm, refusing to look away from her amma’s quivering anger.
“Now also isn’t the time for an argument. Not when my sister is recovering from surgery," Jaresh said forcefully as he rose to his feet. “She needs quiet.” Mira and her amma both glared at him, but he refused to back down. “I mean it. If you plan on shrieking like scalded cats, then you can leave. I don’t need Bree bothered by your yelling, and my parents don’t need to hear it either.”
Mira and her amma both nodded reluctantly and took seats opposite to one another in the small waiting room.
They waited and several minutes later, Dar’El and Satha arrived, their expressions full of bleak fear.
Jaresh rushed to his feet. “She’s recovering,” he said before they could ask the question. “The doctor will let us see her when she’s ready.”
“Thank Devesh,” Satha murmured in sudden relief. Tears came to her eyes as she and Dar’El moved to embrace their son.
Mira felt like an interloper. She glanced at her amma, who gave her a tight nod and a gesture. It was time for them to leave, and have a discussion of their own. Mira swallowed down a small lump of trepidation.
*****
News of the attack on Bree whipped through Ashoka like a firestorm. The news was shocking: a Kumma woman nearly murdered in the Moon Quarter with her attacker or attackers still free. Information was unreliable and soon, a thousand rumors sparked to life as everyone offered up their own competing theories as to what might have happened. Some claimed it had been the Withering Knife murderer. Others said it was members of House Wrestiva, seeking retribution for the death of Suge Wrestiva. Others were certain it had been the Sil Lor Kum. A dozen of them had sought Bree Shektan’s death, but thankfully, a passing Kumma had heard her cries for help and defeated them all. But in doing so, he had bled out his life in the protection of hers. It was a scandal that had everyone outraged.