by S Kaeth
“We can pay the rent.”
Hardy smiled at Mettle. “We will be free of our debts in only a short time, my dear! And you, ebr, will remember your place next time, yes?”
Takiyah’s stomach turned. “You do not have to hit me.”
Hardy turned so he was suddenly nose to minimal nose with her. “Ah, but you cannot hit me. Do we understand each other?”
Takiyah clenched her teeth and nodded slowly. The ride was over, she realized. With Quandary, it was a challenge, a test of how far each could go without crossing that invisible line. But Hardy had crossed that line straight away, going for blood. This could not be forgiven.
“You obey orders from now on, understand?”
“I ran out of flame.”
“Liar!”
“If she had flame, would she not have used it when attacking you?” asked Mettle, the voice of apparent reason.
Hardy shifted, his features twisting, and he spun, tugging Takiyah along. “You will do more tricks tomorrow.”
“People will get bored, eventually,” she said.
Hardy grinned at her. “No they will not. Visitors will come from other Cities. Do not worry, your performances will be in demand long after your sentence is up—even if you behave yourself perfectly.”
The knot of apprehension went cold with fear. The rules she’d depended on—the rules the Kamalti seemed to prize so highly—had evaporated like mist. She was in deep trouble.
ÌTAL-BAE
Chapter Thirteen
There are many uses for an ebr. Violent or dangerous ebrs must be worked physically to rid them of the excess energy. Intelligent ebrs can help their household even as they pay their debt to society with bookwork and organization. And some ebrs, the very few, may be raised to bodyguard status—once they have proven their loyalty, of course.
-excerpt from Etiquette for the Modern Noble Family
Ra’ael hummed her song to the spirits as the warm soapy water splashed over her skin. She lifted the dish, inspected it, and set it aside, reaching back into the basin to scrub the peculiar utensil Dode called a “fork.” As she worked, her gaze rose to the unholy barrier of the cavern’s ceiling. She could imagine her song bouncing off it, just as captive as she was. Rinaryn were not supposed to be underground. How could the spirits see her under the stone? How could her song join theirs?
Lifting the fork, she gave it a shake to clear the water from the metal and dropped it to the side. She started work on Dode’s favorite cup next, scrubbing the metal clean. So much metal here! It was disgraceful, yet Dode seemed to think it was something of an honor to tear the metal ore from the ground. She scowled.
Her first captor had traded her like an object to an elderly woman named Dode. For all that Dode seemed rational—at least for a Kamalti—and even friendly, she was still her captor. In the beginning, when Ra’ael had flatly refused to prepare a bird for dinner—instead, committing the body to the flames with proper reverence—Dode had merely watched her with a faint smile. She hadn’t brought home a bird carcass since. Rather, she stocked the kitchen with vegetables, breads, and strange gelatinous cubes that apparently passed for food among the Kamalti
She’d been captive for a moon—the Kamalti called them “faces”—and hadn’t seen Taunos or Takiyah even once in that time. The worry weighed on her like a stone. They were her responsibility. She’d already failed in her duties, giving in to their ridiculous schemes that landed them all here. All she could do now was focus daily on her goals: find Eian and get him to safety. She’d even asked Dode, who suggested the boy might have been taken somewhere safe, out of the mountain. Ra’ael’s own future was ruined—she no longer had any chance of ever being made Great Mother, no matter how long she atoned for. It would be a miracle to regain a place in the kaetal. But Eian was only a child. She had to hope for him. He was the reason to continue her song—that and the nagging fear that if she should fall here, she’d never make it out of the underground and across the rim of the sky.
Ra’ael dumped the dirty water out the window into a chute that would take it down a system of pipes until it reached the ravine. After rinsing the dishes in a few ladles of clean water, she poured out that water as well, watching it flow away, the sacred held captive by that which had been ripped from the ground. Shaking her head, she dried the dishes with a clean cloth and pulled water from the bucket beside her to fill the kettle.
Dode would return soon and want her tea. Then would come the questions. Yesterday, Dode had asked what Rinaryn did if a storm blew down their huts, and before that, she’d asked how they got enough metal to make things if they didn’t mine into the ground. The woman didn’t understand. How could she? Dode thought it amusing that Ra’ael preferred sleeping in the kitchen, unable to fathom the truth. The house of stone, divided with walls inside, was distressingly tangled and hopelessly removed from the flow of life. At least the kitchen was more proper, for it held the fire. Close to the hearth, Ra’ael could make sure the fire never went out—another thing her captor couldn’t seem to understand.
The door opened and Dode entered, thin and slightly hunched, her sandals scuffing lightly on the stone floor. She smiled at Ra’ael and gently closed the door gently. “Come, Ra’ael. I need your assistance carrying supplies.”
Ra’ael paused in the middle of lifting the steaming kettle. There was a consistent rhythm to Dode’s routine. After she came home, she had tea, asked questions, and then retired to her office until supper time. Foodstuffs had been delivered to her door three days ago, and it was another two days before Dode would go to the market for the morning.
Dode smiled. “Do not worry, we can converse on the way.”
“On the way where?” Ra’ael set down the kettle, following Dode out the door. Unease fluttered at her heart. The change in routine highlighted her lack of control these days.
“I find myself in need of a few books and some writing supplies.”
“Now? It cannot wait two days?”
Dode chuckled. “Am I so predictable?”
“Yes.”
The old woman gave her another smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and then her expression became serious. “Now, you have not come with me to the market before. There are things you must know, social customs you must follow. As an ebr, you must never pass me but always remain at least one step behind. However, you must be seen to be busy and move quickly.”
“How, then, will I not pass you?” Ra’ael challenged her.
“I expect you will have to shorten your stride.” The woman’s light tone and gentle expression only heightened the humiliation of the whole scenario.
Ra’ael glowered.
Dode turned, walking along the exterior corridor with one hand trailing on the lattice banister. “Come, Ra’ael, I think you will enjoy this. A Kamalti marketplace is a fascinating experience.”
Glaring at her back, Ra’ael followed, belatedly remembering to shorten her stride so she scurried like some rodent. The Kamalti were not better than Rinaryn. No marketplace could hold a drop of water against the rushing river of Rinaryn celebrations.
She was speaking before she knew it. “Why do you Kamalti not come out of hiding and help us if you’re so superior? My people never know when the Darks will attack. You could give much needed aid.”
Ra’ael could sense Dode smiling, even from behind her. She never should have asked a question! The old Kamalti had been waiting for this, hadn’t she.
“Our place is not that of the Outsiders. Our place is not for war.” Dode pressed a button on the wall. Chains rattled along the outside of the column, and a vertical platform lowered itself toward them.
The Kamalti pride, yet again. Ra’ael’s fingers twitched. “Our place is not for war, either. All these machines and inventions you have—they could save lives.”
“Not all Kamalti see the deaths of your people as a waste,” Dode murmured, lowering her gaze briefly.
Unclenching her fists and taking a deep breath
to settle herself, Ra’ael ground out the question that had been grating on her. “Why do you ask so many questions if you believe we’re so much lesser than you?”
Dode laughed. “I chose the Philosophers upon gaining my majority because I love the search for wisdom and truth. You cannot truly know a thing until you have looked at it from all of its sides,” she said. “Likewise, how can we claim to understand life until we know how others see it? Now hush a moment on the lift—it would not do for others to overhear such talk.”
Such foolishness! Ra’ael shook her head but pressed her lips together. The platform bumped to a stop, the button springing outward again, and Dode stepped on. Ra’ael hesitated, eyeing the five other Kamalti standing on the lift, but Dode’s hand snaked out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her onto the lift just as it began to descend again. They bumped to the ground and Ra’ael stumbled, the only one not holding on to a handrail. As the others stepped off, Dode ushered Ra’ael along the city streets.
Heart pounding from the experience, Ra’ael twisted as she walked, looking for landmarks. She nearly missed Dode’s nod of permission as the streets thinned. Again, the foolish Kamalti ideas of what was proper!
Her tone sharpened more than she planned. “You cannot simply stand by, ask a few prying questions, and then claim to understand a people. You must live among them. This is important no matter your position—Great Mother, priestess, hunter, or Kamalti.”
Dode’s smile looked suspiciously triumphant. “Yes, I suppose one would have to live with one of you,” she mused with twinkling eyes. Then her browridge raised. “Priestess, you say?”
She hadn’t meant to let that slip. Still, why shouldn’t she be proud? “My role among my people.”
Surprise and delight glowed on Dode’s face. “Oh! So you guide your people in their beliefs?”
Ra’ael’s brow knitted. “I make sure the traditions and ceremonies are conducted as is proper. How can any guide another’s beliefs?”
Dode had the gall to look disappointed. “I see. Here, a priest has a vital task. He guides the sacred rituals, but he also guides the people to the sacred truth, away from the lies seeded by selfish thought, cowardice, and laziness. This is the job of a proper priest.”
“In the end, the spirit must make its journey alone. How can we expect that it’s proper for another to guide that spirit? We celebrate and live life as a community except in one thing—each practices his or her faith in solitude. Only alone can we see Eloí unencumbered by the expectations of others.” Ra’ael found herself warming to the debate. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed arguing with Takiyah, the way they kept each other’s mind strong through opposition. Conversation with Dode would have to do as a substitute for now.
“And the journey up the mountain?”
“We worship separately except for twice a summer.”
Dode laughed. “I will introduce you to your Kamalti counterparts one day. Among my people, we have no priestesses, only priests. They are very important, though not everyone listens to them.”
“Who do your Storytellers and Great Mothers confer with? Who settles disputes of philosophy and morality? Who helps your Storytellers guide your people into the future?”
Dode’s browridge crinkled in confusion, and she gestured toward a man standing on the next corner, waving his arms in the air as he told tales to the crowd around him. “Storytellers? No one listens to them, not seriously. They have nothing of wisdom to say, merely frivolity to amuse the poor. As for guiding my people, that is for the nobles, not the priests.”
Ra’ael watched at the man on the corner. Such a man was not a Storyteller, not a leader. Once again, Dode didn’t understand. She didn’t know what she didn’t know. A group of Kamalti “nobles” glided past in a bubble of serenity, all draped in their finery, while ebrs scurried about, invisible to those better off. Even those who entertained others, like the man playing music, were only visible as novelties.
The commotion increased as they entered the market, and Ra’ael’s skin prickled as she strove to watch for danger. Machines were displayed and demonstrated, but for the most part, sellers stood quietly except to speak with customers. Bits of metal flashed as people exchanged coins for goods, and Dode explained everything as they walked, though Ra’ael tried to maintain an uninterested expression. There was an order to it all, and Ra’ael hated that she appreciated it. Those who called out for attention tended to wear coarser garments and less jewelry. The crowds they attracted also appeared to be of humble means. It baffled her, such distinctions between those with wealth and those without.
A commotion to her left drew her eye. A child bolted from a stand, apple in hand. Shouting, the vendor caught the boy by the collar, striking him on the shoulder with his free hand. Rage bubbled up in her like the steam the machines belched. Didn’t these savages know how to treat children? Any child should be able to eat freely, offered food and comfort by any nearby adult. This situation showed, once and for all, that the Kamalti system was broken.
She took off toward the man and boy. Dode, moving faster than she’d ever believed the elderly woman could, blocked her path.
“Stop, Ra’ael, stop now!” she demanded sharply.
“No adult should strike a child! Are you a race of bullies and cowards, only able to—”
Dode’s hand cracked over her mouth, and Ra’ael stopped, stunned.
“Home. Now.” Dode ordered.
Inwardly seething, Ra’ael followed, holding one hand over her reddened cheek. Dode had… she had struck her? The walk passed in a daze, for while the pain was minor, she could not fathom the reason for this. Dode had seemed so meek, so gentle, even frail. Right until she struck. Dode remained silent all the way back, not once looking at her as the rattling contraption lifted them up the column to the level of Dode’s home.
Once the door was shut and latched behind them, Dode sighed, sagging a bit. “I apologize for striking you. I needed to stop you before you caused greater harm.”
Ra’ael clenched her teeth and glowered at her. Dode’s secret was out—all Kamalti were awful people with no sense of justice or morality. Dode was not the sweet elderly lady she appeared.
“As for the child, how else is he to learn what is acceptable behavior?” Dode asked.
“Through instruction! Children should always be treated gently—they’re precious,” she seethed. “If one adult cannot handle a child’s antics any longer, another should take over so the child is always treated with patience. Every Rinaryn knows this.”
“Regardless of your views, I cannot have you acting so foolishly in public. It reflects poorly on me, and that can be dangerous for you.”
A knock interrupted, and Dode frowned at Ra’ael. “You did not see the Scout in the marketplace.”
It was not a question. The hair on the back of Ra’ael’s neck stood up as Dode answered the door, revealing a Scout in all his regalia. The Scout stepped inside, scowling at Ra’ael.
Dode, however, smiled smoothly. “Ah, my lord, may I make you a refreshment?”
“Of course, Lady Dode,” he returned easily. Dode gestured to Ra’ael, who narrowed her eyes but turned, setting the kettle on its hook and swiveling it over the fire.
“Send the ebr away, please.”
Dode laughed. “What, my lord Scout, am I to make you tea with my own hands? That would be a breach of etiquette, given our positions. My ebr must do it.”
“Your ebr was seen rampaging through the marketplace.”
“I would hardly call that minor slip a rampage.”
“I will not accept food or drink from her hands.”
“Then I am afraid I will not be able to offer you a refreshment, and as it would be unseemly for you to visit without a refreshment, you must go. What awful manners!”
The Scout stiffened, hesitating long moments before he finally turned to the door. “Keep a sharp eye on this ebr of yours. Should she… slip… again, she will find her life forfeit.”
&n
bsp; Dode nodded, still smiling, as she shut the door behind him. Once the door was latched again, she turned to fix Ra’ael with a frank look.
Ra’ael folded her arms.
“The Scouts have something against you. You must tread lightly, or I will not be able to save you.” Dode took a slow, deep breath and gave her a gentle smile at odds with her stern words of before. “No Kamalti interferes with another’s children unless they break the Law. In such a case, one could rebuke the child and administer a little slap to help the lesson sink in.”
Ra’ael stared her, a storm raging within, but held her tongue. She turned to dump the water from the teapot, but Dode stopped her. “Put the kettle on. I think some tea would do us both some good after that misadventure.”
“Misadventure” was a mild word for it. Even so, Ra’ael brought out two mugs and dropped the tea leaves into the kettle.
Dode sat in silence for a while before asking, “How do your people handle children?”
Ah, a chance to prove her people’s superiority. Ra’ael straightened, brushing her hair back behind her shoulders. “In Rinara, all adults in the kaetal parent all the children except inside the family home. Lessons are taught by explaining the consequences of actions and what to watch for or by telling ancient stories to illustrate the hazards of certain actions and highlighting virtues. If needed, the Elders are called in to talk to the child, and if nothing else works, the older child may be briefly submerged in water to wash away willful disobedience.” She was quite put off when, after finishing her explanation, Dode laughed.
“Oh, child. You are so blinded. Do not look so cross—so am I! But Kamalti would interpret what you have said by saying, ‘You are so lenient with your children that when their willfulness takes hold, you must threaten them with drowning to persuade them to behave!’”
“That isn’t it at all!” Ra’ael protested.
Dode laughed again. “I know, child, I know.”
