by Davis Ashura
Amma stood and came to him. “The girl needs fresh clothes. She can borrow some of Bree’s. The two of them are about the same height.”
His sister frowned, looking less than pleased, but nevertheless, she agreed. “Fine,” she said, sounding irritated by the matter. “I’ll take her to my room and she can try on a few things.”
“Make sure to burn them afterward,” Rector muttered. At the looks of annoyance shot his way from Amma and Nanna, he threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Treat her as if she were a real person,” he said. “But the First Mother and First Father tell us what her kind truly are. As it is said in The Word and Deed: Suffer not those who have lineage from two Castes. Know them for the truth. They are Ghrinas, abominations.”
Jessira stepped out from behind Rukh, glaring with revulsion and fury at Bryce. “And The Book of All Souls tells us this: Across the world, the Lord stretched forth His hand and caused Life. And those whom he gave understanding, He named as brothers and sisters. I have knowledge, and I speak. According to Devesh’s own words, I am a sister to everyone here,” Jessira said, glancing around before focusing her attention back on Rector. “Or will you disobey the Lord Himself?” she challenged.
Bryce had no answer. He turned away, his teeth clenched in anger.
Bree rolled her eyes as she turned to Jessira. “Thank you for the philosophy lesson,” she said. “Now cover your face. None of the servants can know who you are yet.”
“You mean what I am,” Jessira snapped before turning to the others. “I don’t care if you approve or disapprove of me. Label me an abomination, a ghrina if you want to. My people long ago gave up any hope that the Purebloods would show us even the smallest amount of charity. Say the word, and I’ll be gone from this fragging city before sunrise.”
Someone, Mira maybe, inhaled sharply at Jessira’s words, no doubt scandalized by her use of vulgarity. It was considered undignified for a woman to speak like that. But Rukh was secretly proud of Jessira.
Rector was about to retort angrily, but Nanna merely glanced at him in warning, and he subsided.
“The girl certainly has courage,” Amma murmured.
Bree snorted. “If she wasn’t what she was, I think I might like her.”
Later in the evening, after a long soak in a bathtub and a change into fresh, clean clothes, Jessira felt better than she had in weeks. The Shiyen had cured her of most of the weakness and stiffness in her shoulder. Even the aching was gone and it was no longer infected– a minor miracle. Rukh’s boasts about the Shiyens had proven to be true. The cranky old physician had Healed her up and had even managed to save her arm. She was more grateful than words could express.
Her one concern – and it was a major one – was the city in which she found herself.
Ashoka. From what she had seen so far, it was lovely enough; far larger than Stronghold with wide streets and beautiful, expansive parks. None of it mattered, though. Not for her. The nature of the place couldn’t be hidden away beneath a patina of loveliness. In the end, Ashoka was still a city of Purebloods. For Jessira, it meant the place was a cesspool.
And then there were the attitudes of the people here. The Shiyen physician hadn’t seemed to care about Jessira’s background, but Rector Bryce and Sophy Terrell certainly had, and it had been in a hateful way. And apparently Rukh’s sister, Bree, shared their attitude. The clothes she had offered to Jessira had been given over without any pretense at good manners or courtesy. The woman had rummaged around in her wardrobe for a bit and pulled out a pair of pants, a shirt, and an undershirt, throwing them in Jessira’s direction with a haughty warning not to dirty them. Only for Rukh’s sake had Jessira held back from punching the girl.
How could two people share the same parents but come out so differently? Rukh was open and curious, and despite his obvious intelligence, humble. Meanwhile, Bree struck her as being the opposite: haughty, arrogant, and close-minded. She seemed the type of person who was certain of their own cleverness and everyone else’s stupidity.
Bitch.
Jessira flopped in the soft bed and tried to find a comfortable position. She sighed in annoyance. Her body must have grown used to the hard ground. She lay there for a while, hoping to get some sleep, but despite her fatigue, it stubbornly eluded her. She sat up with a frown. If she couldn’t fall asleep, she might as well talk to someone. But the only person she knew was Rukh. She wondered if he was still up. His room was near hers – she’d passed it on the way to the guest quarters – and it wouldn’t hurt to check.
She crept from her room. It was late at night and the house was quiet. All the servants were asleep, even Rukh’s parents, who apparently had stayed up late into the evening, discussing the information their son had brought home before finally retiring themselves.
She hesitated at his door. If anyone saw her, this could appear most inappropriate. She was about to slip away when she heard voices from within. Good. He wasn’t alone. She tapped lightly on Rukh’s door.
“Come in, Jessira,” he said.
She muttered a curse. How did he know it was her? She eased the door open. Inside, Rukh was sitting on the lip of his bed. Sitting on several chairs near him were Jaresh and Bree.
Great.
Jessira was about to back right out. “If I’m disturbing you…”
Surprisingly, it was Bree who called her back in. “Stay,” she said. “You don’t need to go.”
“What are you doing here so late?” Jaresh asked, suspicion tinging his voice.
Jessira shrugged, feeling self-conscious before their scrutiny. Stopping by Rukh’s room had been a mistake. “I couldn’t sleep, and I heard voices, so…”
“Well Rukh was just telling us all about you,” Bree said.
“There isn’t much to tell,” Jessira said. “I’m a scout. I got caught. I was injured. Your brother saved my life. The end.”
“That’s plenty more than I could say about myself,” Bree replied. “In Ashoka, women aren’t allowed to fight. We’re considered too important for Humanity’s survival.” She snorted in derision. “We’re animate wombs if you ask me.”
Jessira wasn’t sure how to respond. Did Rukh’s sister expect her pity? Not fragging likely. If Kumma women didn’t like their role in this world, then they should stop whining about it and change it. They were as much a part of Ashoka’s culture as the men, and they had it in them to decide what was in their best interests. Nothing was stopping them except their own fear and laziness. Or were Bree’s words supposed to help the two of them form some kind of sisterly bond? Again, not very likely, especially after Bree’s earlier boorish behavior.
Jessira shrugged and was about to turn away when Bree spoke again.
“I know I wasn’t kind to you earlier, and I’m sorry about my poor manners,” she said. “I’m sure you know how we view ghrinas – I mean OutCastes – and your sudden appearance…it had me off-balance. I’m not at my best when I’m surprised, but Rukh straightened me out.”
The words gave Jessira pause. She faced Rukh’s sister, and studied her, wondering if she had misread the woman. The apology had sounded genuine, and Bree’s expression was one of regret. Jessira had learned to trust her instincts about a person, but they had failed her with Rukh. Perhaps they had failed her in this instance as well.
“You’re forgiven,” Jessira said to Bree. “And don’t feel too bad. Your brother wasn’t much kinder when he and I first met. He wanted to kill me on sight.”
Bree startled and turned to Rukh. “Is this true?”
Rukh shrugged uncomfortably.
“Rukh!”
“I wasn’t really going to,” he said. “At the time, I was just thinking about what was said about ghrinas in The Word and the Deed.”
Jaresh chuckled. “And this is what we have to put up with,” he said to Jessira. “A stickler for rules is our brother.”
“But he has his uses,” Bree added.
Despite their teasing tones, the love and affection was evident in
both their voices.
Jessira smiled. “Yes he does.” She glanced at Rukh. “For the most part, he’s worth keeping around,” she said, surprising herself by the fond tone in her voice.
She noticed the look of speculative concern shared by Rukh’s brother and sister. They were probably wondering if their brother had sullied himself with an OutCaste. He hadn’t, and he never would, but if Jaresh and Bree could wonder about it, then others would as well. Jackholes like Rector Bryce, and what they might say, could be ruinous to Rukh’s good name. After all he had done for her, it was the last thing she wanted.
There was something she could say to help quell any sudden rumors, though. She could tell the truth. “When I get home, I imagine my fiancé will be grateful for all his help,” she said.
“You’re engaged?” Jaresh asked.
Jessira didn’t miss the look of relief he shared with Bree.
Rukh laughed. “Five weeks travelling with her, and this is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“His name is Disbar Merdant,” Jessira said. “We were engaged over the winter, and our marriage is to take place next spring.”
“Congratulations,” Rukh said, sounding sincere. “But why did you decide to stop by my room so late in the night? I know it isn’t for my sparkling wit or dazzling company.”
Jessira wasn’t sure herself. She had gotten used to Rukh’s presence next to her after their time in the Wildness. He was comforting somehow.
“Like I said: I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I think it’s being here, in this house and this city, so I thought I’d come by and see if you were awake.” She shrugged. “Besides you haven’t told me how you won the Tournament of Hume.”
Rukh groaned. “That again.”
“How did it happen?” she asked. “I mean, how does someone so young defeat a city full of battle-hardened Kummas?”
“You know of the Tournament?” Jaresh asked, surprised.
“Stronghold also holds a martial contest,” Jessira explained. “Only we call it the Trials of Hume.” She nodded. “We honor him just like you do.”
“His influence stretches far and wide, from Purebloods to OutCastes to even the Baels,” Rukh added.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Jessira said to him.
Rukh sighed. “Fine. Come in and have a seat, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. Prepare to be underwhelmed. I won the final contest by luck more than anything…”
“Start with the first one,” Jessira interrupted. She settled into a chair, hoping Rukh’s stories about the Tournament would take her mind off her worries.
Foolish is the man who turns aside from the woman who might complete him. He deserves our contempt.
~Sooths and Small Sayings by Tramed Billow, AF 1387
The next morning, Jessira woke much later than usual. Her sleep had been restless and filled with nightmarish visions of Rector Bryce chasing her through a dark alley, laughing maniacally even as he hurled vulgar promises of how he would brutalize her. In other dreams, rampaging crowds, their faces distorted with blind hatred, raced amongst the streets of an Ashoka destroyed by fire and ruin. Rukh had been amongst the rioters, and the mob had been baying for her blood. She shuddered in remembrance.
Perhaps sunlight would help her forget the nightmares.
She went to the double-doors leading out to the balcony. They were paneled with small, rectangular windows and curtained with thin, white diaphanous drapes, yet still thick enough to keep hidden the view outside. She unlocked the doors and drew them open, pausing on the threshold. Holy Father…this was Ashoka? She gripped the door handles tightly, and her mouth opened in stunned surprise. She had to force herself to breathe. She had seen some of the city yesterday, but it had been late when Jessira and Rukh had arrived. She’d also been in pain and hadn’t noticed much more than cursory details. She had thought the city attractive enough, but when seen like this, in the morning…
The city was huge. Much, much larger than Stronghold. And so loud. There were so many sounds. Everything from people shouting to animals bellowing and the noises of traffic competing with lovely voices and instruments raised in song and music from several nearby buskers. It was a cacophony, but not an unpleasant one. Then came the aromas: the wonderful, delicious smells of various foods and spices drifting on the clean salty air.
But what took her breath away were the sights greeting her. Jessira found her gaze darting around as she tried to take it all in at once.
Steep, verdant hills – upon which were perched lovely homes in colors of salmon-pink, lavender, sky blue, or sunny yellow – tumbled down to the blue water, only to re-emerge here and there as rocky, green outcroppings far out in the deep bay. She had never seen the Sickle Sea before. How could so much water exist in one place at the same time? Throughout Ashoka were ornate buildings with lintels and columns carved into fanciful figures. They fronted or surrounded numerous courtyards or large private gardens where families and couples gathered for meals or a stroll. Jessira saw lines of wide, paved streets with medians of palm trees as they crisscrossed the city. Where the boulevards intersected were busy traffic circles. Somehow the ox-drawn wagons, mounted horsemen, rickshaws, and pedestrians managed to get through the tumult without anyone getting hurt. She traced one street until it ended at a large plaza with numerous fountains spraying water in the air. Near it was a giant stadium, larger than any building in Stronghold. She faintly remembered they had passed it last night. Jessira wondered if it was where Rukh had won the Tournament of Hume. To the south of her balcony was a park taking up most of the valley floor where several hills met. It was open and spacious, filled with trees, grassy fields, meadows, and even several small ponds. The park ran up to a rocky cliff and offered a glorious view of the bay.
Ashoka was stunning, and for an instant, Jessira was flooded with intense jealousy. It seemed so unfair for the Purebloods to have a place of such beauty and safety while the OutCastes were forced to squat in what amounted to caves. Would there ever come a time when her kind could walk the wide, lovely boulevards of Ashoka without fear of harassment or harm?
Jessira doubted it…at least not in her lifetime. But Holy Mother, she wished it could be so.
Eventually, she went back inside and donned her scarf. Couldn’t scandalize the servants with her shabby OutCaste self.
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.”
