She grimaced. The Devesh damned Trials. At best, they were a necessary evil, always taking the best of Castes Kumma, Muran, and Rahail and bringing them home broken in body and often in spirit. Like most Kumma women, Mira hated the Trials. She didn’t necessarily like Rukh, but still she paused and said a quick prayer for his safety, even as she knew Devesh probably paid little heed to the concerns of Humanity.
“I think we should give those responsible for this disaster a boot in the ass,” Bree declared when she caught up with Mira. Bree’s forcefully voiced opinion didn’t surprise Mira. Despite being two years younger and only eighteen, Bree typically had strongly held views. She got her forceful personality from her nanna as well.
And Dar’El Shektan was a very forceful man. He was only the fifth ‘El of their young House, but he had already turned it into a prosperous one. Such a rapid ascent in fortune was bound to raise the jealous enmity of some of the older Kumma Houses. Some of them went so far as to hate House Shektan, especially after Rukh’s success in the Tournament of Hume. Mira believed it was a price worth paying. Through Dar’El’s skillful maneuvering and financial acumen, her own family, once all but destitute, had risen to become a respected and honored member of the rising power that was House Shektan.
“Maybe we should get the facts first before putting a boot up someone’s back passage,” Mira suggested with a smile.
Bree smiled back. “Never stopped me before,” she replied.
Mira rolled her eyes. “Which is probably why you kept getting switched when you were a child,” she said. “Speaking without thinking is not an attractive feature.”
“You may have something there,” Bree said with a laugh. “I’ll follow your lead and try to learn wisdom.” She bowed mockingly.
Mira rolled her eyes again. “I wouldn’t expect to learn too much if I were you.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Bree advised. “I think you’re quite clever.”
“Thank you. But that’s not what I meant,” Mira said. “I’m sure I could try teaching you something. Whether you can understand it…” Mira arched a questioning eyebrow before turning and walking off, smiling when she heard Bree’s squawk of outrage.
Bree quickly caught up and gave Mira a playful shove. “Nicely done,” she said. The two of them shared a smile.
One of the qualities Mira liked about Bree was the younger woman’s ability to accept some harmless ribbing.
They walked on, and the weather grew warmer. It was a fine spring day, and the sun blazed bright heat on the world below. Fluffy, white clouds occasionally eclipsed the sun, casting the world in temporary shadow, while heavier clouds, gray and pregnant with rain could be seen passing ponderously far to the southwest of the city. The two women topped a hill and Bellary ran straight to the water’s edge, offering a view of the harbor and the bay. Mira paused. She liked looking out at the water. It reminded her of the larger world beyond the borders of Ashoka’s Oasis. Many boats were out; some already near the horizon. The fishermen must have cast off early in the morning. Mira watched as several vessels slipped from view as they broached the terminator.
“We need to go,” Bree reminded her.
Mira nodded, and they walked in silence until they passed a pub named The First World.
“You think those old stories are true?” Bree asked, pointing to the faded sign over the tavern entrance.
Mira smirked, and spoke in a portentous, high-pitched tone, a dead-on impersonation of Mistress Volk, historian and headmistress of the Fan and Reed. “It was a legendary time of peace and prosperity when the First Mother and the First Father walked among the people, protecting them and bringing life to a once desolate and dead land. In those days, great works were raised; creations which we now believe to be the stuff of dreams. A grand civilization of enlightenment and culture arose and understanding of Jivatma reached its peak. Grace and elegance were the hallmarks of the era.”
Bree laughed. “Yes, that. Do you believe any of it?”
“I don’t have a firm opinion one way or the other,” Mira replied. She shrugged. “Besides, it doesn’t really make any difference to how we live our lives now, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Bree agreed.
Though Mira’s words were spoken dismissively, they in no way reflected how she truly felt. In reality, she was a romantic, and she spoke as she did to shield her romantic heart from disappointment – whether from her own fears or the mockery of others, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. Mira had always had a deep longing for the glory found in the First World: a world of peace, tranquility, and beauty, where the highest goal of one’s art was to reflect the glory of Devesh. She had loved reading the stories of the First World. The tales from that time were a mix of legend, myth, and history spun into a wondrous fable. Mira wistfully wished it was all true. Her own era seemed so much emptier and gray in comparison.
And how the First World had ended, two thousand years earlier was still a mystery. Supposedly, it had died in a single night of blood and death, starting with the murder of the First Mother and First Father. It had been the Night of Sorrows when a demon desolated the world. A demon named Suwraith – the Bringer of Sorrows, the Queen of Madness. Those who survived Her appearance spoke of how She had raged across the land, unstoppable as a flood and powerful as a hurricane, sacking all the cities She came upon. Lightning and thunder had pounded a bruised earth with the fury of a cataclysm, leaving behind only rubble. The few people who had endured Her coming had huddled in their cities, sheltered in the unexpected embrace of an Oasis, a powerful manifestation of Jivatma unseen prior to Suwraith’s arrival. No one knew how the Oases had come to be, but some historians claimed they must have been the final, desperate act of the First Mother and First Father, a means by which to protect Their children before They perished. It might even be true, but if so, why then had They not protected all the cities in such a fashion? It was one of the great mysteries of time, but whatever the reason for their sudden appearance, the Oases proved impervious to Suwraith’s power, and the cities sheltered within them were able to ride out Her fury.
The legends spoke of how Suwraith had hurled Herself against the Oases, again and again, howling with greater anger each time She was rebuffed. They described a sky groaning under Her unceasing madness as thunder rolled in an endless peal, its roar an echo of Her rage. The deafening noise seemed to herald the world’s demise, but the Oases had stood, and with them the cities.
In the end, the Queen finally understood defeat, and after a century of merciless attacks – the Days of Desolation – a new civilization of sorts arose. The cities, widely scattered now, devised a means to maintain contact with one another through large caravans of wagons or ships: the first Trials. Initially, only goods and materials were sent from city-to-city, but it was the open exchange of knowledge and learning that proved to be the true impetus for the Trials. Hoarding information in a world made savage was a recipe for disaster. Advancements in every field, such as farming and medicine or philosophy and law were freely given. Even newly minted poetry, music, and plays were included. It was the only way to ensure Humanity’s survival.
Over time, the Trials had achieved the status of sacred but, given the imminent danger involved with leaving the Oases, a financial remuneration was needed. As such, those who volunteered and were chosen to guard the caravans were compensated with a percentage of the profit as payment for their protection. Such men and their Houses and Castes became extremely wealthy, especially the Kummas since they were the ones who provided most of the warriors. But for Mira, prosperity wasn’t measured merely by the number of coins in one’s pocket. In the ways that mattered most, Kummas, and to a lesser extent, the Murans and Rahails, were all impoverished. Too often their men died young to fulfill this so-called holy mission, and those left behind had to bear the burden of grief.
Bree glanced at her and must have noticed her expression. “What’s with the sour face?” the younger woman asked.<
br />
Mira shook her head. “Just thinking about the Trials,” she answered.
Bree sighed in sad acknowledgment. “Rukh won’t be back for at least two years,” she said. “And Jaresh wants to set out this time next year. Idiot.”
So the rumors were true. Mira was mildly disappointed. She had expected better of Jaresh. She thought he had more sense.
“He thinks going on Trial will make him more of a man in the eyes of my parents,” Bree finished.
“Will it?” Mira asked, hoping Dar’El wasn’t so shallow. As far as Mira was concerned, a boy did not become a man by simply surviving the Trials. A true man needed so much more than fighting prowess alone. Dying was often easier than the weight of living.
“Of course not,” Bree said, sounding offended. “Jaresh is loved for who he is. He always has been. It was his choice to continue his training as a warrior, not my parents.”
Mira was relieved. She greatly admired Dar’El and Satha Shektan, not least because of their adoption of a child not of their own Caste. They demonstrated an open-mindedness far too lacking, not just amongst Kummas, but most Ashokans. She would have thought less of them had they forced Jaresh along the path of the warrior.
Their conversation dwindled, and they walked on, soon arriving at their destination. They carefully crossed the busy street before entering the squat, square warehouse in question. It stood on the western corner of Bellary and North Moon Street, a few blocks from the harbor where the smell of the salty Sickle Sea and drying fish from the day’s catch mingled with the rest of the Moon’s stench. The warehouse was a grimy gray color, faced in what might have once been white brick – a foolish choice given the nature of the Moon – with high, narrow windows along the top of the first floor and the lower part of the storage lofts above.
Mira glanced around after they entered through the raised front gate. The interior was a brightly lit open space with materials stacked in the corners while the center was left clear for wagons to be loaded before they exited on the far side of warehouse through the rear gate. All of the workers within were Duriahs or Sentyas. The Duriahs – typically engineers and builders – were easily distinguished by their bull-like build, olive skin, and midnight black hair and almond eyes. The Sentyas, in contrast, were slighter of frame and darker of complexion with aquiline noses and curly blond-brown hair. They sported their Caste’s customary even white teeth when they smiled. Great physical strength was not their forte, which was understandable since most Sentyas were employed in bureaucratic positions. Those here were unfortunate fellows, unable for whatever reason to gain a position more suited to their Talents and forced to do menial labor instead.
Upon seeing them, a Sentya, balding and thin, rushed over. He wore a yellow shirt stained orange and smelling of saffron. “Deal Welt,” he said, introducing himself without preamble. Mira had been told to expect him, and she eyed him askance. He was supposedly in charge, which meant he was the possible reason for the misfortune of Houses Suzay and Shektan. “Good news. We were able to isolate the infestation. It only affected twenty percent of the shipment. Some damn pest from Kush,” he grumbled. “We should charge them the cost of our expenses with the next caravan.”
Mira blinked, pausing a moment to take in his words. She smiled. Her work had just become much easier. “That is good news,” she said, wanting to shake the Sentya’s hand. She couldn’t, of course. Men and women of different Castes took pains to avoid touching one another.
Bree was frowning. “How do we know the pest in question was Kushian in origin,” she demanded. “It could have been you or your men who were lax.”
Mira winced. She preferred a light touch, especially since Deal Welt had just managed to recover a tidy profit for both their Houses.
Welt gave Bree a measuring assessment. “Your nanna tried that tone once,” he said. “I wasn’t scared then, and I’m sure not going to be frightened by some stripling filling out her bra for the first time.”
Bree squawked in outrage.
Deal Welt waved aside her indignation. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bind,” he said, only adding fuel to Bree’s fire. “The reason I know it was Kushian, Miss Shektan, is because I asked the Muran entomologist I hired. He believes he can salvage the infested saffron, and the insect in question is subtropical and native to Kush. Our winters get too cold for it to survive here.”
“Well done,” Mira said with a smile. She looked over at Bree, hoping the younger woman would follow her lead and give Deal Welt his just due.
Bree still glowered, and Mira had to hide her irritation and desire to slap the girl. Bree was reputedly brilliant, but right now, her actions and reactions were beyond foolish. The Sentya had taken the initiative and efficiently handled the problem. He had staved off what could have been a disaster. Bree was smart but apparently she still had a lot to learn about handling people. Either that or she would have to start liberally spicing her feet if she insisted on shoving them in her mouth.
It took them a little longer to settle the situation than Mira would have liked, especially since the main problem had already been dealt with, but Bree insisted on personally inspecting the saffron to verify no other portion of the spice was infested. She even stopped the Muran exterminator before he could depart, questioning him at length to learn what could be done to prevent such a problem in the future. All the while, she threw challenging glares in Deal Welt’s direction. The Sentya never showed any sign of intimidation, but the other workers in the warehouse caught the scent of an angry Kumma female on the prowl. They made themselves scarce.
Mira gritted her teeth. The girl was a hammer when a helping hand was needed.
After they finished, Bree turned to Deal Welt. “My father will send for you,” she said in a haughty tone. “He’ll want a full report on this issue in person. If satisfied, he may even offer you direct employment by House Shektan.” She said the words as though offering a grand position before turning to Mira. “That is, if House Suzay has no objections?”
Mira shook her head. “I’m sure Tol’El will voice no concerns on the matter." After Bree’s treatment of Welt, there was no chance the Sentya would hire on with House Shektan, but fine, he could say ‘no’ in person. Besides, setting aside his fine decision-making with the saffron, Deal Welt couldn’t be any great prize. He was still a free agent after all, and at his age, he should not have been. Any Sentya worth his salt would have found a posting in a ministry office or hired on with a high House by their late twenties at worst. Welt had not been able to do so, which meant despite his good work in the warehouse today, something else was wrong with the man. His competence had to be lacking.
“I await his word,” Mr. Welt said with a fractional nod. A brief smile flitted across his face.
Bree smiled back, all her previous hostility gone as she tilted her head in brief acknowledgement before turning aside and making her way out of the warehouse.
What was that about? Mira wondered as she followed Bree outside into the bright sunshine. She suddenly felt as if she had just overlooked something important.
Before Mira could ask anything, Bree spoke first. “He’ll do well,” she said, sounding smug.
Mira frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? What just happened back there?”
Bree glanced at her sidelong. “Nanna wanted me to test him, so I threw a tantrum to see how he’d react. He did fine. No cowering in fear. Mr. Welt has a spine, just as Nanna said he would.” She nodded. “We need smart, tough, efficient people, not gibbering morons in House Shektan. The only reason Mr. Welt’s still working the docks is because he lacks the family connections for a higher post.”
Mira’s mouth dropped open. She should have realized. The nepotism of Caste Sentya was legendary. She shook her head. Deal Welt wasn’t where he was because of incompetence. He was where he was because he had no one who could speak for him and place his name in the ears of those who might further his career. But despite the setback with which he had been born,
he had done his job well enough for Dar’El Shektan to learn of the man’s abilities. And Dar’El hadn’t held Mr. Welt’s lack of lineage or connections against him as some might have. He’d looked past it and likely just hired someone who would help his House – her House again soon enough – become even wealthier.
Mira whistled in appreciation. First Mother, the Shektans were subtle.
And upon the completion of her internship in just a few days, she would be expected to live up to that level of proficiency.
She gulped in trepidation.
At least Tol’El should be happy about the saffron.
*****
She and Bree went their separate ways once they entered Jubilee Hills, the exclusive and wealthy area where most Kummas made their homes. Unlike Bellary and Ashoka’s other main thoroughfares, which were made of crushed rock bound with Cohesion and stone dust, the quiet streets of the Hills were paved with long red bricks laid out in a herringbone pattern. The raised sidewalks on either side were lined with live oaks draped in wispy strands of gray moss. Street lamps atop tall, black posts, evenly spaced every hundred feet or so, added to the loveliness of the area. A number of cherry trees had been planted along the median, and right now, they were in bloom, fragrant with pink blossoms. Mira inhaled deeply, taking in their perfumed aroma. It was a distinct pleasure after the stink of the Moon Quarter.
The houses in this part of Jubilee Hills, hidden as they were behind large compound walls, were similarly beautiful. They sat on long, narrow lots and were built of cement blocks faced with stucco and painted vibrant shades of blue, red, yellow, or green. Most were two or three stories with tall, peaked roofs tiled in slate or terra cotta. All had a multitude of covered porches, balconies, and wide windows to take advantage of the views out to sea and over the rest of the city, including Mount Bright looming in the near distance.
A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) Page 7
