by Davis Ashura
Rukh frowned as he struggled to understand the continually shifting nature of their conversation. First, Sign and now, Jessira. “I have no intentions for her,” he replied.
“Then why has she packed up her gear? We know she’s offered to accompany you when you leave Stronghold,” Mistress Grey said.
Jessira had offered to come with him, but Rukh had never planned on allowing her to make such a foolhardy decision. “I told her she couldn’t come, and I meant it,” he replied. “She shouldn’t throw her life away for me.”
“In this, we are agreed,” Mistress Grey said. “Have you considered taking Sign in her stead?”
Rukh couldn’t help it. Now his mouth did gape open in disbelief. Did Master and Mistress Grey not realize how dangerous the journey to Hammer was likely to be? It wasn’t a place to send one’s daughter, adopted or otherwise. “I’m not taking either of them,” Rukh vowed. “The Wildness is too dangerous.”
Mistress Grey smiled thinly. “Finally. You demonstrate wisdom.”
“But if you did leave, we aren’t suggesting that you take Sign because we love her less than we do Jessira. We make that suggestion because Sign can take care of herself, and with you accompanying her, she’ll likely be as safe as if she were amongst the Shadowcats,” Mistress Grey said.
Rukh didn’t know what to think. The Greys were lunatics to suggest such a stupid plan.
“We know your feelings for Jessira. And we know hers for you,” Master Grey began in a gentler tone. “But would it not be best if she were to remain here, with those who love her best. Would it not be best if she had an opportunity to defend her reputation.”
“That’s what I just said,” Rukh replied in exasperation. Why were they having so much trouble believing him? Not interfering with Jessira’s life, or even being a part of it was what he’d always intended from the moment he’d set foot in Stronghold. Her future should be as she wanted it. However, there was a question that bothered him. “Will Jessira take back Disbar?” Rukh asked.
Master Grey sighed. “Who can say? Given that the dowry has been paid, it would certainly be the easiest solution for her predicament, not to mention the least expensive. By doing so, her integrity and future would remain intact.” He gazed at Rukh through narrowed eyes. “And you promised me you’d never harm her honor.”
Rukh nodded. “Yes, I did. And I intend to keep my vow,” he said. “But I’ll leave Stronghold alone. No one will else be accompanying. Not even Sign.”
“Who won’t be coming with you?” Cedar asked, approaching them. Trailing after him were Disbar and Jessira, neither of them looking happy.
“It isn’t important,” Master Grey said.
“Is it true you plan on leaving Stronghold as soon as the Banquet is finished?” Disbar asked.
Rukh’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to punch this man, flatten his face. On both occasions, it had been Disbar’s cousins who had attacked him. There was no chance it was a coincidence. But now wasn’t the time for any accusations or confrontations. Rukh was determined to maintain his civility, and somehow, he managed to keep the feelings of disgust and anger from showing on his face. “I can’t think of a single reason to stay,” Rukh said.
Disbar nodded his head, appearing satisfied. “Just so,” he said. “It’s probably for the best. From what I’ve seen of you and your cousin, it doesn’t seem as though Purebloods and OutCastes can mix well. We’re both too proud. For instance, if you think we’ll ask for your forgiveness for some perceived notion that you might not have been treated fairly, you’re wrong. It will never happen, and — ”
“It already has happened,” Rukh interrupted, already tired of the smug bastard. “Three senators have apologized to me tonight for exactly that reason. And I’m sure they’ll now be willing to look into the matter of exactly who amongst your people attacked me.” He stared challengingly into Disbar’s eyes, and it was the other man who looked away first.
Asshole.
“You are just as much an OutCaste as we,” Jessira reminded him. “Remember, you were found Unworthy.”
Rukh shook his head. “No I’m not,” he said. “I am neither OutCaste nor Pureblood.”
“Why are all your bags packed?” Kart asked Jessira, arriving just then. “Jeshni mentioned it a few minutes ago. Are you going somewhere?”
Jessira groaned.
“It is an issue we’ve already settled,” Master Grey said. “It was misunderstanding. Nothing more.”
Disbar’s eyes widened. He spun to face Jessira. “You were planning on leaving with him!” He thrust an accusing finger in Rukh’s direction.
“No, she wasn’t,” Rukh said. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Jessira flushed. “You aren’t my nanna or amma to tell me what I can do,” she declared to Rukh. “You are a stranger to our city, a man who demands respect and gives none.”
“I’ll give respect to those who have earned it,” Rukh growled back. How did she manage to make him angry so easily? And why couldn’t she agree to stay home with her family? Couldn’t she see how much better it would be for her? Even if she didn’t marry Disbar — and Rukh prayed she wouldn’t — at least she’d be safe.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Disbar said to Jessira. “Were you planning on leaving Stronghold with him?”
Jessira stared at Rukh for a moment before turning to Disbar. She lifted her chin. She still had her pride. “First, it is none of your concern. We are no longer engaged. And second, yes, I will be going. I owe him too much,” she said.
“Your life? Our future?”
“We have no future,” Jessira snarled. “You’re delusional if you believe otherwise.”
Disbar appeared stricken. “But your brother, Kart … I had been led to believe your heart had softened. I came here tonight with a generous offer. I am willing to overlook your — ”
Jessira sighed and shook her head. “It is over,” she said. “We are done. We have been for weeks. It is time you accepted it.”
The planes of Disbar’s face grew flat and inscrutable, but his narrowed eyes revealed his fury and embarrassment. “You will regret this,” he promised before turning on his heel and leaving the hall.
“Why can’t you ever behave in a respectable fashion?” Kart demanded after Disbar’s departure. “I had spoken to him, soothed his feelings. He was going to take you back, forgive you and overlook your indiscretions.” He glared at Jessira. “And this is how you repay me?”
Her parents appeared equally upset, and despite his annoyance with her, Rukh felt a flicker of sympathy for Jessira. She would be having a very uncomfortable conversation with her family. It was a discussion Rukh didn’t want to witness or be involved with.
Luckily for him, just then, an aide to Mon Peace, the Governor-General, approached and asked Rukh to accompany him to the dais set up on the far side of the banquet hall. The other combatants from the Trials were already gathered there, all of them standing in a long line. Rukh was the last to arrive, and the aide ushered him to the head of the list, directly behind Mon Peace, who stood before all of them at the front of the dais.
Like most of his predecessors, Mon Peace was former military. He was built like a bulldog and was a man of obvious vigor and energy. He appeared decades younger than his actual age, which was in his early sixties, and retained much of the handsomeness of his youth. His honey-brown hair had only a dusting of white at the temples, and his smooth-shaven face was relatively unlined.
“We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the Trials of Hume,” Mon Peace began. “As such, we should take a moment to honor all the participants!” He paused as the crowd politely applauded. “And we must also honor the victor: Rukh Shektan, the first Kumma to ever enter the competition. We’ve all heard the legends regarding the Pureblood warrior Caste, but how many of you actually believed them? I certainly didn’t.” He shook his head as though in rueful disbelief. “But the stories don’t begin to do justice to the truth of their abilit
ies.”
“I’ve never seen, or ever imagined I’d see such sublime skill. Words fail, but for me, it was like watching poetry in motion, as though The Hunter’s Jasmine was made flesh. As I watched Rukh Shektan dance through our warriors, cutting and defeating them with a single stroke, I laughed. That’s right, I laughed in joy. Even though it was our warriors he was defeating, I could not help myself. It is a rare gift and privilege to witness such perfection in the deadly arts of the sword.” He gestured Rukh forward and put his arm around Rukh’s shoulder in a proud, fatherly grasp. “We all know the prizes accorded the Champion, but those are too trite and too common for the warrior we saw last night. There is something more I wish to give him. As supreme commander of the High Army, it is something only a Governor-General can offer. Therefore, ladies and gentleman I present to you Lieutenant Rukh Shektan, of Army East. Our newest, and dare I say, greatest Trials Champion.”
Rukh was stunned. He turned to the Governor-General, who gave him a nod and a wink before stepping aside and leading the crowd in an enthusiastic cheer. Many of the other combatants from the Trials shot Rukh looks of speculation while others simply smiled and nodded their congratulations as they clapped just as readily as the Governor-General.
Rukh had to admit: Mon Peace was an excellent politician, and what he’d just offered was a masterstroke. Rukh couldn’t easily turn down the Governor-General’s offer, at least not without destroying all the burgeoning goodwill his victory in the Trials had apparently engendered. Earlier this evening, Rukh wouldn’t have thought he would have cared what the Strongholders thought of him, but it turned out that maybe he did.
As the applause died down, the Governor-General took the time to introduce the rest of the combatants. Seeing his role finished, Rukh prepared to step off the stage, but his movement was arrested by Mon Peace’s next words. “As everyone knows, the Champion typically chooses his favorite dish to share with all those in attendance at the Gala. It might surprise all of you to know our newest Champion has provided his dish by baking it himself.” The Governor-General was certainly using the word ‘our’ quite a lot when describing Rukh. “I believe it is called a chocolate cake?” He looked to Rukh for confirmation. “I’ve not tasted it, but I’m told it smelled divine as it was baking.”
The cake, or cakes in this case — ten of them — had required all of the unsweetened chocolate and vanilla Rukh’s nanna had sent to him by way of Jessira. Until this afternoon, Rukh had never had the time to use it.
It was odd. Though Rukh was a terrible cook, baking was another matter. Maybe it was because baking had none of the messiness of cooking, where half the time the chef seemed to add spices and ingredients for no apparent reason other than a hunch or a feeling. Baking, on the other hand, required exquisite precision. With baking, exacting measurements were the difference between a culinary work of art and a stinking pile of manure.
The laborers were already walking amongst the crowd, passing out slices of cake on small, white plates.
The Governor-General moved to stand next to Rukh. “I know you have struggled here, and you haven’t been as happy as you might have wished,” Mon Peace said. “And I know much of it was our own doing.” He smiled faintly, as if amused by a secret only he knew. “What I did for you tonight … consider it an apology.”
Rukh studied Mon Peace. The man sounded sincere. Rukh nodded acknowledgment. “Thank you for your kindness,” he said.
The Governor-General gave him a companionable clap on the shoulder. “Think nothing of it. If there’s anything else I can do for you, let me know,” he said before moving on. Mon Peace had other people to greet and compliment. He was a politician after all.
“You have a powerful ally,” a woman said in hoarse voice as she came to stand by Rukh. It was Senator Brill River of Crofthold Jonie. She was an ancient woman — by far the oldest senator in Stronghold — an old dodderer who leaned heavily on her cane. Her hair was wispy and white, and her face was wrinkled like a crumpled piece of parchment. With her puckered lips — she’d lost her teeth decades earlier — she had a perpetually sour appearance, but behind thick glasses, her eyes were kind.
“I’m not sure what to say,” Rukh said, still confused by the turn of events.
“The Governor-General was a fine warrior in his time, but he has always been an even better leader,” Senator River said. “And one thing he cannot abide is false pride and useless people. I was with him when he saw you fight in the Trials.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him so upset.”
“He didn’t like seeing his warriors defeated?” Rukh guessed.
“No,” the senator said. “He was angry with the officers of the Home Army. He knew you had applied for both the Army East and West, and had been summarily turned down without even a demonstration of your abilities. He demanded to know why they hadn’t accepted you into their ranks. And later, when he learned what some of our more foolish warriors might have attempted to do to you … he was incensed. He’s ordered an investigation into the matter.” Senator River chuckled. “I’m glad I’m not an officer of the Army.” She peered at Rukh over the edge of her perched glasses. “Your commission was made upon his direct order.”
Rukh didn’t know what to say. He was heartened to know that justice would finally be administered to his attackers, but it had taken too long, and it shouldn’t have required his victory in the Trials. He also had trouble believing in everyone’s sudden change of heart toward him. It was too neat and tidy.
Senator River chuckled again. “We probably seem unreliable to someone in your position,” she said. “But Stronghold did not grow from fifty-five souls to the city you see now without making accommodations.”
“It seems more like being hypocritical,” Rukh said.
“Perhaps,” the senator replied. “I prefer to think of it as being pragmatic.” She clutched Rukh’s hands. “Turn your heart aside from anger. Some of us may deserve it, but it will only harm you in the end. You can still find a purpose and joy here.”
“What is this … food?” Sign asked, bouncing into Rukh’s line of vision.
“Think on what I’ve said,” Senator River said, as she hobbled off.
Sign was pointing to her cake. “What is it?”
“Chocolate cake,” Rukh said. “The Governor-General told you.”
“It’s divine. Did Jessira really have this every day in Ashoka?”
Rukh nodded. “Pretty much. I was worried she might have become addicted to it.”
“Can that happen?” Sign asked, looking stricken.
“No,” Rukh said with a laugh. In that moment he remembered what Sign’s peddananna and peddamma had earlier offered to him. The laughter died, and a wariness took its place. He looked about, seeking a graceful way to leave Sign behind.
“If you’re looking for my family, they left after the Governor-General’s speech,” Sign said.
He hadn’t been looking for them, but it was the excuse Rukh himself had wanted to hear. “Am I expected to stay any longer, or can I go?”
“This isn’t a gaol,” Sign said, speaking as if he were a simpleton. “You can leave whenever you want.”
Rukh nodded acknowledgment. Just as he was about to go, he paused. “Why is everyone behaving so differently toward me?” he asked. “Is it really because of my performance in the Trials?”
Sign gave a crooked grin and dimples formed on both her cheeks. “We had a crisis of conscience?”
“Is that a question or an answer?”
The smile left her, replaced by a fleeting look of guilt. “Most people won’t want to admit it, but it was your victory. The way you destroyed our best — it opened a lot of eyes.”
Rukh’s jaw clenched. “Meaning without it, I’d still be the Pureblood bastard? Not worthy of respect or justice?”
Sign grinned again. “You’re still a Pureblood bastard, but now, you’re our Pureblood bastard. Didn’t you hear the Governor-General say so?”
Rukh couldn’
t help it. He laughed. “Have you always been so incorrigible?”
“Only if it gets me what I want,” Sign said, still grinning.
“And what do you want?”
“A chance to train with you.”
Rukh recalled again what Master and Mistress Grey had suggested for him and Sign, and his smiled faded. After learning their purpose, her presence made him uncomfortable. And for some reason, laughing with her felt like betraying Jessira. “Is this the famed Stronghold pragmatism at work?” Rukh asked. “Admit your faults, only so long as you get something back in return?”
“If I say ‘yes’, will you train me?”
“No. I’m still leaving for Hammer.”
Sign frowned, looking serious for once. “We’ll just have to figure out a way to bind you to us then.”
Chapter 18: Reconciliation
Teach them to long for the vast and endless sea. Only then, while caught in the teeth of a storm, will a child remember humility.
-Humble Offerings by Suran, AF 205
Snow crunched as Jessira walked the steep incline of a mountain’s ridge. The sun burned harsh in the heights, and she squinted against the reflected glare. It had taken three days to reach the top of this final mountain pass, but afterward, the going should be easier, more downhill than up. Jessira paused a moment, panting as she gasped the thin air. Her breath steamed as she looked to see how much further she had to go.
Just another few hundred yards. First Mother be praised!
She pressed on, making her way past broken spires of gray rock, thrusting through the crust of snow and ice like the jagged remnants of ruined towers. She shivered as a knifing wind cut through her heavy garments before it moved on to moan restlessly through the ravines.
Rukh broke the trail ahead of her, leading a packhorse. His snowshoes crabbed forward in a regular cadence of lift and fall. Lift and fall. He, too, gasped the thin air. Jessira stared resentfully at his back. If he wasn’t so damn proud, they could be safe and warm back in Stronghold. A few days ago, Rukh had won the Trials of Hume, and despite the generous offer made by the Governor-General, he had still decided to leave her home behind. And Jessira had held firm to her commitment to go with him.
