“Ethics and morals, really? Then it’s not just a stereotype about warrior honor.”
“Well, if you’re born into the caste, you don’t have to pass the test. But I’ve been learning about warrior honor since my first class with Brasdo, so I think it’s part of everyone’s training. Mouse says my sense of honor is inconvenient.”
“Didn’t you save him from a pair of bullies the night you met him?”
“Yes.”
“He should thank Fahla for your inconvenient sense of honor.”
Rahel laughed. “I’m going to tell him that the next time he makes a comment.”
“Good, you should. Here comes your interviewer.”
She turned to see the tall warrior walking toward them, reader card in hand.
“I’ve completed my check,” he said. “I’m afraid you don’t qualify for a challenge.”
“What?” her mother demanded.
Rahel was too shocked to speak.
“Your daughter was incarcerated for theft. A criminal record of any kind is an instant disqualification for a challenge into our caste.”
“That was a mistake. The stolen goods report was cancelled and she was released. She committed no crime.”
“She confessed. It’s in the records.”
“A confession doesn’t make her guilty!”
“She confessed,” he repeated. “To the crime of theft. I noticed that the stolen goods report stood for twelve moons, but was cancelled within hanticks of her confession. And within hanticks of an attempted challenge into our caste. We don’t look kindly on manipulations of our entry process.”
“I don’t look kindly on clerical stupidity. This is ridiculous. I want to speak to your supervisor.”
“I’m the supervisor for this duty shift.”
“Then I feel sorry for the warriors who have to work for you. Give me the name of your supervisor. I know you’re not in charge of the whole damned caste house.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. You’re of course welcome to appeal, but I’m following standard procedure.”
“Yes, we want to appeal! Just tell me what we have to do!”
“I’ll have the form sent to your com code.” He turned to leave, but her mother caught his upper arm.
“No, you won’t have it sent. You will stand right there and send it to me now. I’m not leaving this caste house until I have it on my reader card.”
He glared at her and pointedly moved his shoulder. She let him go.
Rahel stopped hearing them as they argued back and forth. Her mind was stuck on the word disqualification, and it was all she could process until her mother interrupted the increasingly panicked thoughts.
“Rahel?”
She focused again. The warrior was gone.
“We’ll fix it, Rahel. This can’t stand.”
“It was a trap,” she whispered.
“What?”
“It was a trap. He knew. He knew this would happen. He ruined my future. It’s what he always does. He takes away my dreams.”
“I don’t—Rahel!”
She was running for the entrance, desperate to escape before she started crying. She would not cry in the warrior caste house.
She made it all the way to the bottom of the stone steps before the tears began to flow. It had begun raining while they were inside the caste house, and she hadn’t fastened her rain cloak, but she didn’t care. It flapped behind her as she ran, her vision blurred. On and on she went, splashing through puddles as she blindly followed the path deeper into the landscaped park. Not until she stumbled did she stop, afraid of falling and making a worse spectacle of herself.
Her hair was drenched, as was the front of her clothing. She tilted her face up to the dark clouds, letting the rain wash away her tears while she tried to keep the storm inside.
Her mother’s fury and concern reached her at the same time as the sound of her pounding footsteps. When she arrived, she was breathing hard and soaked to the skin.
“Rahel, don’t. Please, don’t take it like this. It’s a stupid bureaucratic issue and it can’t possibly stand up to review.”
“Why am I having to fight even now?” Rahel shouted. The tears flowed faster, and the sobs began to break free. “Two cycles! Two cycles I’ve been working toward this. First I didn’t have you, and then I didn’t have a sponsor, and they said I had to wait until I was eighteen and now it doesn’t matter! No matter what I do, I can’t get in! He did this on purpose! I hate him!”
Her mother wrapped her in a warmron as the sobs came in earnest. “I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for hating him. Right now I’m tempted to drop an alloy block on his head.”
“When did he stop loving me?”
“Oh, Rahel.” She held her closer, resting a hand on the back of her head. “We’ll get through this. I promise you. We will. I’ll get you into that caste if it’s the last thing I do.”
Rahel cried harder then, because her mother had not said she was wrong. She had not said her father loved her. She couldn’t, not when they were in skin contact.
It would have been a lie.
27
PROMISE
They stayed in the crafter caste house that night. Both of them were soaked, Rahel didn’t want to have to explain to Mouse, and her mother said she was not going home until she banged on a few more doors about their appeal.
At any other time, Rahel would have been more interested in the caste house. All she wanted to do now was get to their room, take a hot shower, and collapse on the bed in the colorful robe the caste house provided. She was barely aware of her mother speaking to someone in the corridor after her own shower, arranging for their clothes to be cleaned.
She drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the day’s emotions, and woke at the sound of a knock. It was their clothes, fresh and dry.
Getting up and dressed felt like moving underwater. She brightened once she got a few bites of food inside, and looked around the in-house tavern with curiosity. “Your caste house takes the prize for art.”
“Crafters the world over compete to have their designs displayed in the big city houses.”
“Have you had anything shown?”
“One of my sculptures was displayed in the lobby of the Whitemoon caste house when you were . . . hm, you would have been twelve.”
“Really? Huh. My mother is famous. Why didn’t I know that?”
“Because you were twelve. And I’m not famous. It was just for one cycle.”
“I think you’re being modest.”
A slow smile stole over her mother’s face. “Possibly.”
They drank two full glasses of summer cider each, and Rahel wobbled a little on their way back to the lodgings upstairs. She lasted for another half hantick before crawling into bed.
Her mother pulled the covers up around her shoulders, just as she had cycles ago, and kissed her temple. “Tomorrow will be a better day,” she said.
“Mother?”
“Hm?”
“Today was . . . it wasn’t all bad. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I am, too.” Her mother rested a hand against her jaw. “I love you.”
Rahel smiled, soaking up the truth through her skin. “I love you, too.”
She fell asleep with that touch warming her senses, bringing comfort to the deepest parts of her subconscious. She never knew when her mother moved away.
Bureaucratic issues, it turned out, took much longer to fix than to create.
At least they were no longer dealing with the supercilious warrior of the previous afternoon. Rahel could not help smiling when they arrived at the warrior caste house entry desk to find her friend from two cycles ago. His round face, shoulder-length hair, and full cape were the same, but he seemed quite a bit shorter.
“Do I know you?” he asked. “You look familiar.”
“I was here two cycles ago, trying to challenge. You gave me a bed for the night.”
“He did?” Her mother turned to hi
m. “Thank you for showing my daughter a little kindness when she needed it.”
He stared at Rahel a moment longer. “I remember giving a room to a little girl—hoi! That was you! Good Fahla, look at you now.” A grin transformed his face. “And now you’re here with your mother, eh? So you took my advice.”
She nodded. It wasn’t technically a lie. She had taken his advice, just not the way he intended it.
“Then let’s get this challenge started!” He pulled out his reader card.
“We already did,” her mother said. “There’s been a problem.”
He listened with a sympathetic expression, then assured them that the issue was purely technical and should be easily resolved. “I’m afraid easily doesn’t mean quickly,” he warned. “It might take more than a moon. I wish it were different, but once this sort of thing is in the system, it has to go through several different departments for signatures. But I will personally make sure it doesn’t stall on anyone’s desk.”
“Thank you.” Though disheartened by the timeline, Rahel felt a burst of affection for this kind warrior. “I’ve remembered you all this time. You said back then that you had found your place in the caste, that you helped people. You really do. It meant so much to me then, and it means a lot now.”
He blushed and tried to cover his embarrassment with throat clearings and a few official-sounding bits of advice. Rahel just smiled more widely.
When they left the caste house, her mother elbowed her. “You have a fan.”
“He’s cute, isn’t he? I remember him being taller, though.”
“I’m sure he remembers you being shorter.”
The sky was gloriously blue, harboring no sign of the previous day’s rain other than the fresh-washed look of the landscaping and a few puddles still standing in some of the dips in the path. With no immediately pressing tasks, they took a hantick to wander through the park, following the path through stands of trees as thick as miniature forests, then popping out into beautifully landscaped meadows before going back under the trees.
“Two cycles I’ve lived here, and I’ve never walked through this park. Now I don’t know why.”
“You might have been more focused on working and surviving than sightseeing and relaxing.”
“No, I relaxed. I spent last summer at Dock One, swimming until I turned into a fish. I rode the magtran all over, exploring different parts of the city. And I had all those days with you. I just never came here.”
“Then perhaps you didn’t want to. Until you could.”
Rahel mulled that over. “I think you’re right.”
They emerged from another stand of trees and stopped to watch a pair of producers pulling dead foliage from a flower bed. A cart full of brightly blooming plants sat beside them, ready to be set out.
“Rahel,” her mother said in a serious tone. “You have at least a moon before we can get your caste ID. I want . . . I’d like you to let me support you.”
She appreciated the change in wording. “You don’t want me to work.”
“I would be much happier if I knew you weren’t meeting adults for illegal priming, yes.”
Rahel faced her. “I have two clients scheduled this nineday. I won’t cancel them. Not because of pride,” she said, stopping the interruption. “Because I made a commitment and these clients are . . . I know them, Mother. I’ve taken care of them for over half a cycle. They’re coming on business from Blacksun and Redmoon.”
Her mother closed her eyes, shook her head, and looked back at the producers. “You’re testing me.”
“No, I’m not.” Well, maybe she was. “I’ll stop after these two. I just wouldn’t feel right canceling them on such short notice.”
The chunk sound of the producers wielding their hand diggers was loud in the ensuing silence. Her mother watched in apparent fascination.
“These are your last two?” she asked. “Will you promise?”
“I promise.”
“All right. Then I agree, on one condition.” She pinned Rahel with a no-nonsense stare. “You will call me before and after each client. You’ll tell me where you’re meeting them and at what time. If I don’t hear from you within ten ticks of the time you’re supposed to be done, I’m calling the City Guards.”
For a moment, Rahel wanted to say no. She had never had to be accountable before and didn’t appreciate what felt like controlling demands now.
Then she thought about Mouse walking out their door without even telling her that he was going to the worst place on the bayfront. With a start, she realized that they should have had a safety system in place from the moment she got her own com code. It seemed so obvious now. Why hadn’t they?
Because Mouse never had the option until she came along. He probably never even considered it once it did become an option. It certainly hadn’t occurred to her. They had just been doing what worked.
Fahla, they were idiots.
“That’s fair,” she said.
“Good. Then we have a few errands to run.”
They spent part of the morning setting up a joint bank account, then went to the library to ask Deme Isanelle to transfer Rahel’s savings into it. Her mother looked incredulous upon seeing the amount.
“No wonder you don’t want to stop,” she said when they left the library.
“Not all of that is from work. Deme Isanelle gave me a birth anniversary gift.”
“Goddess above. Do I owe everyone in this city for taking care of you?”
“I think Deme Isanelle would be insulted if you thought of it as owing her.”
“I’m going to have a hard time thinking of it any other way.”
“Maybe you can donate a sculpture to the library,” Rahel suggested.
That brought out a faint smile. “Maybe I should.”
They went to the market next, stocking up on goods, and brought home as much as Rahel could fit in the cooling unit and cupboards. Mouse was not home, but he had left a note expressing his hope that everything had gone well.
“You’re gone all night with no explanation and he assumes you’re fine?”
“He knew I was with you.” It was a weak defense.
“He didn’t know I stayed in town overnight. Rahel—”
“I know.” She slumped onto their couch. “We haven’t kept watch on each other that way. I usually go with him when he’s running errands, but we, um, we never set up any kind of system for work. He’s been doing this since he was fourteen.”
Her mother sat beside her. “I know you know how dangerous that is.”
She hadn’t felt this young and stupid in a long time. “Honestly? Not until you told me your terms in the park.”
This close, she could sense the forcible control of anger and fear.
“When I get home, I’m going straight to the temple. I’m lighting an entire rack of oil bowls in thanks to Fahla for keeping you safe this long. Maybe two racks.” Her mother took a deep breath. “That was reckless, Rahel.”
“I know,” she said miserably. “I mean, I know now.”
“Is he servicing a client right now?”
She winced. “Probably.”
“Ugh. I just want to pick him up and take him home with me.”
“I can’t imagine anything that would upset him more. I’ve tried, Mother. He’s old enough to challenge any caste on his own. He knows he could go into the merchants and get legitimate work. But this is all he’s ever done.”
“I assume you won’t let this continue? At least know where he is and when he should be finished.”
“I will. I was already planning on it.” Though she didn’t know how she would convince Mouse.
Their farewell was wrenching. After two cycles of meeting in shannel shops and talking about everything but what mattered, these last two days had been a revelation. She had her mother back and did not want to let go.
Judging by the length and tightness of their warmron, she was not alone in that.
“Call me. Not just whe
n you have to. I want to know how you’re doing. I want to hear about your friends.”
“I will, I promise. Mother . . .” She squeezed more tightly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You’re my daughter. You don’t have to thank me for being your mother. I’m just grateful you’re giving me the chance.”
Rahel had never felt so alone as when the apartment door closed. She raced to the window, waited for her mother to appear on the street below, then leaned out and waved. Her mother smiled brightly, waved back, and set off toward the magtran station. At the next curve, she turned and lifted a hand.
That she had known Rahel would still be watching was a sweet kind of pain. Not until she vanished did Rahel lower her arm, wipe her eyes, and look around her very empty home.
Five ticks later she was striding down the bayfront road toward Dock Thirty-One. She needed company. A chat with Jacon over one of his salterins sounded just right.
28
LAST CLIENTS
Mouse was not only unimpressed with Rahel’s proposal for safety calls, he was downright hostile.
“I’m happy that your mother finally decided to come back into your life,” he said, though she sensed no such thing from him. “But just because she’s tightening the straps on you doesn’t mean I have to fall into line, too. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“She is not tightening the straps!”
“Oh, so it was your idea to call her before and after each client? The two clients she’s letting you have?”
“That’s not fair and you know it. I was worrying about you before she came. I stood in front of that door and wouldn’t let you leave until you told me where you were going.”
“Yes, but you weren’t holding your com unit in front of my face and demanding check-ins. I’m two cycles older than you, and I taught you how to live in this city. I don’t need to be checking in with you every time I walk outside.”
“That’s not what I’m—Mouse!”
He had already gone out the door in question. She stood staring at it, not understanding. She had known he wouldn’t be delighted by the suggestion, but this felt like an attack. As if she and her mother had insulted him by wanting him to be safe, and he was striking back.
Outcaste: Book Six in the Chronicles of Alsea Page 18
