by Davis Ashura
More roaring as Rukh threw more Fireballs.
Choke risked another fearful glance behind. The Fireballs hadn’t slowed the rats. Just like all the other animals in this cursed city, Death held no fear for them. The vermin chittered as they raced forward, picking up speed, and closing the distance.
“When I say jump, all of you jump, and I mean as high as you can!” Rukh shouted. Choke had no idea what the Human had in mind, but he’d come to trust him. “Jump!”
Choke bunched his muscles and leapt upward as high as he could, burdened as he was with Chak-Soon. Beneath them passed a wave of fire, white-hot, racing only inches off the ground. A Fire Shower. The air was suddenly crowded with the stench of burning flesh and fur.
“Run!” Rukh said. “There’s still more coming!”
Choke didn’t need further urging. He picked up speed, kicking aside a stray rat, smoking and dead as he outraced Jessira to the entrance. He burst out into the sunlight where a troop of baboons and a pack of wolves lay in wait. The animals howled with rage upon spotting him.
Choke’s heart thudded in his chest. Devesh save them!
*****
Jessira fired off two arrows as soon as she stepped outside. Two baboons went down. The rest held back, but it would only be for a moment. They were working themselves into a killing frenzy. Li-Choke had set the Tigon down. His trident and whip were at the ready. Good. The odds weren’t in their favor but if Rukh would hurry up, they could still make it out of here. She shot off another arrow, putting down a wolf this time. Choke snapped his whip, tearing flesh from a baboon. The animal howled in pain.
Rukh finally exited the library and slammed shut the doors. Without breaking stride, he fired three Fireballs, burning open a temporary path through the area where the baboons were clustered most thickly.
“Stay near me,” Jessira ordered Choke. “I’ll Blend us.” The Bael gave a tight nod and loaded Chak-Soon onto the packhorse, which stood placidly, unworried by the battle about to take place. The baboons and wolves barked in confusion when Jessira and the others suddenly disappeared.
She would have sighed with relief except that Rukh, somehow always forgetting his non-Kumma Talents, ran past them, still in plain sight. Jessira cursed vividly. If she called out to him, she’d give away her own position. Just as she was about to do so, however, inexplicably, first the baboons and then the wolves paused in their pursuit. They glanced around and shook their heads, looking confused. A few wolves still eyed Rukh, but their gazes simply held the measuring assessment of one predator eyeing another. As for the baboons, they hooted to one other and melted away into the ruins of the city. The wolves quickly followed, slipping away in silence through hidden alleys and vacant buildings.
Jessira let go of her Blend and stalked over to Rukh.
“I should have Blended,” he said before she could say a word.
“Then why didn’t you?” she snapped.
“I didn’t want to.”
“What!” He had known what to do and had simply chosen not to do it. She was about to let him know just how stupid his decision had been, but understanding came to her. She closed her eyes and prayed for patience. He’d left himself visible for her sake, so the animals would have a target to attack, all in order to save her. Her mouth shut with a snap. She didn’t need or want his protection — at least not as much as he seemed to think. What she needed was his respect.
“I respect your courage,” he said, reading her thoughts as he so often did. “But I was raised to give myself for those I love. I’d have done the same for Bree or Jaresh.”
She sighed in resignation. It was pure Rukh, and it infuriated her. He infuriated her, but she loved him, every part of him. She couldn’t ask him to go against his nature. “I know,” she said, pulling him into an embrace. “I just wish you would let me do the same for you.”
He tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear, and a faint smile creased his lips. “It’s who I am.”
The last of her irritation left her, leaving her smiling. Sometimes words were like chocolate on his lips, so sweet and wonderful. She would have kissed him, but just then, Li-Choke reminded them of the danger they were still in.
“We should leave before the animals decide to attack us once again.”
Jessira glared at the Bael, hard enough for Choke to step back. Even the Tigon seemed to sense her annoyance and wisely kept his muzzle shut. All she wanted was a few hours alone with Rukh. Was that too much to ask?
“I agree,” Rukh said. “But I think the animals only attack your kind.”
“So it seems,” Choke replied.
“Then you should travel with us,” Rukh said. Jessira winced. Journeying with Chimeras was not something she wanted to do. “We can stay with you long enough until you’re safe,” Rukh continued. “After that, I suppose you’ll go back to the Eastern Plague?”
Choke nodded.
“What about him?” Jessira asked, nodding toward Chak-Soon who glowered at her and Rukh.
Choke shrugged. “He is still new to Hume’s ideals. He will learn.”
“If you say so,” Jessira replied, doubtful the Tigon would learn much of anything. “But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll sleep with my eyes open.”
Chapter 23: Knowledge in Ledgers
If we allowed those who follow Suwraith to speak, they would refuse our invitation and choose to remain hidden in the shadows. They are cowards.
-Our Lives Alone by Asias Athandra, AF 331
Rector and Mira were having lunch at a café near Jubilee Hills. It was a routine debriefing, and they sat outside at a small table, enjoying the sunlight and the unseasonably fine weather. While Ashoka’s winters were generally mild, even for the city’s warm climate, the past few days had been unusual. It had been like a blast of summer in the midst of winter, and the entire city felt more vibrant, more alive, like a need to sing and dance had been sparked in everyone’s blood.
Even Mira must have caught the fever. She had shed her typical winter’s garb of a heavy dress or skirt paired with a full-length blouse and in their place, wore a green, summer sari that left her arms bare. Rector thought it looked nice on her. It was a startling notion. When had he started seeing Mira as an attractive woman?
“Dar’El is still angry with you,” Mira said, drawing Rector’s attention back to the conversation at hand.
“Why?” he asked. “I found the man who attacked Bree.”
“And gave him an easy death,” Mira replied.
Her statement triggered a flash of hurt, and Rector blinked away unbidden tears. He turned away and stared at the passing crowd, his thoughts circling back again and again to Jaciro Temult’s workroom and the terrible events there. Those last few seconds just before Rector had taken the Rahail’s life had forever been branded into his memory, seared like a moth in candle wax. His knife had slid in smoothly, taking the Rahail in the heart. It had been a clean death, more than the man had deserved. Perhaps it had even been an easy one for him.
But not for Rector.
There were nights when Rector awoke drenched in a cold sweat, his heart thudding and tears springing from his eyes. But it wasn’t nightmares that interrupted his sleep. It was something far worse, something real and horrible that he’d witnessed; something he’d authored. It was something he could never forget. He could still see the light fade from the Rahail’s eyes like the sun setting on his life. That haunting image and the knowledge that he was responsible for another person’s death lingered with him like a curse.
An easy death? If only it were true.
Mira noticed his silence. “What is it?”
Rector turned back to her. “Ask Dar’El if he’s ever spilled someone’s blood. Ask him if he’s ever seen their hope die, their life flee. Ask him then if there is ever such a thing as an easy death.”
Mira studied him in silence. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.
Rector rubbed at his temples, hoping to soothe his incipient headach
e even as he sought to set aside thoughts of the Rahail’s death. “If given the same choice, I’d do it again,” he said.
“I know you would,” Mira said. “But I also know how hard it must have been for you.” Surprisingly, her voice held a tone of sympathy.
Rector appreciated her sentiment. Her compassion was as touching as it was unexpected. “It wasn’t … ” he grimaced “ … easy.”
Mira looked him in the eyes, concern on her face. “Will you be all right?”
“I don’t know. But there’s nothing to be done about it now.” Rector forced a smile. “I guess I’ll just have to get past it.”
Mira reached across the table and surprised him once again by giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “At least we know who ordered the attack on Bree and Jaresh. It was this Rahail woman, someone important in the Sil Lor Kum, a MalDin as they call it. She’s probably the same one who met with the Kumma on the night Drin Port was murdered.”
“We need to find her,” Rector said. “When we do, I think we’ll also find the Kumma.”
“Dar’El believes he might even be the Withering Knife murderer.”
“So do I,” Rector said. “There’s more I learned,” he added. “I was able to locate some older records from the warehouse. There were a few journals left in some old, discarded boxes. They indicate more missing poppy seeds and henna and also misplaced shipments of juniper and sourwain.”
“Then it was snowblood,” Mira breathed. “I never expected … ” She trailed off, lost in thought.
Rector scowled. “Meaning you were only guessing before and were prepared to ruin House Wrestiva based on rumors, lies, and innuendo.”
“Not House Wrestiva,” Mira corrected. “Only Hal’El Wrestiva. And it turns out to not be rumors, lies, or innuendo.”
Rector cursed softly. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had remained blindly ignorant.”
“Blindly ignorant is why you’re in this situation,” Mira reminded him. “You’re a better man for opening your eyes.”
“Maybe,” Rector said, mulling over Mira’s words. Some of what she said was true. He’d learned wisdom, but the cost had been so high; the loss of innocence and exposure to ugly truths he’d never guessed might be real.
“Was there anything else?” Mira asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Rector shook his head. “I just found the boxes a few days ago. Other than what I said, they seem pretty innocuous.” He chuckled. “Although the author has poor penmanship.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every so often, certain letters are capitalized for no reason.”
His words had Mira sitting up straight. “Have you transcribed them?” she asked.
Rector frowned, puzzled by her interest. “What are you thinking?”
“It could be a cipher,” she said, going on to remind him of the one Jaresh had solved and by doing so, had confirmed the existence of the Withering Knife.
“It was clever how he figured it out,” Rector said. He shifted in his seat, as a troubling thought came to him. “If there is a code, then the Withering Knife murderer has to be of House Wrestiva. It might even be Hal’El himself.”
Mira chuckled. “That would be too much to hope for,” she said.
They fell silent and Rector studied her over the lip of his glass of water, wavering over whether to ask her a question that had long since troubled him.
“What is it?” Mira asked. She smiled at his surprise. “You want to ask me something. It’s written on your face.”
“Do you think there is any honor left to our Caste?” Rector asked, unsure why her opinion mattered to him. “Or are we just a selfish and greedy shambles of what we were meant to be?”
“We have honor aplenty,” Mira said. “Too much in some instances.” She stared him in the eyes, letting him know without words exactly to whom she was referring.
Rector flushed. “How were you able to tolerate me?” he asked. “I was so self-righteous.”
Mira laughed. “Well you were most definitely self-righteous,” she replied, “but who says I tolerated you?”
Rector rolled his eyes before breaking into a grin. Six months ago, he would have scowled.
“She’s doing fine, by the way,” Mira said. “Bree,” she explained when he didn’t respond. “Since you didn’t ask, I thought I’d tell you. She should be fully recovered in the next few weeks. I thought you’d like to know.”
“So I heard,” Rector said, confused. “Was there some other reason you brought this up?”
“You were her friend once,” Mira said with a shrug. “That’s the only reason I meant.”
“Friends.” Rector gave a bitter chuckle. “Yes, I suppose so, but I’m sure it’s a friendship she regrets and one long since turned to dust. I made sure of that when I offered up her brother to the Wrestivas.”
“But knowing what you do now, given the same choice, I’m sure you would have decided otherwise.”
Rector nodded. “I would have.”
Mira smiled. “Just making sure you haven’t changed your mind again.”
“I haven’t,” Rector said. “A few months ago, I told you I would have remained quiet, but back then, I would have done so because it would have been easier on me. Now … ” He shrugged. “ … I would have remained silent because it would have been the right thing to do. The moral thing. Rukh was … is a hero. He should have never been found Unworthy.”
“And his relationship with Jessira?”
“I don’t know,” Rector replied, picking at the corner of the table. “Maybe that’s a bridge too far for me to cross. I know it’s Rukh’s business, but somehow, it still affects all of us.” He grinned suddenly. “But I don’t envy him trying to make peace with a woman like Jessira. Do you remember what she said to us? The quote from The Book of All Souls: Across the world, the Lord stretched forth His hand and caused Life. And those whom he gave understanding, He named as brothers and sisters.” He allowed admiration to tinge his voice. “In the heart of our home, the heart of her enemy and she claimed sisterhood. She was utterly fearless.”
Rector laughed at Mira’s open-mouthed shock at his words.
*****
In a nondescript room in a nondescript building, somewhere to the south of Semaphore Walk, the Council of Rule held a meeting. There were no windows there, and a dim light emanated from several turned-down firefly lamps. It was always thus with the Sil Lor Kum. They were creatures of shadows and deceit.
Or so Ular Sathin believed. The knowledge brought him neither comfort nor guilt. It was simply an unimportant truth, an inconsequential fact to be accepted and forgotten.
He looked at the others seated around the table.
As always, his fellow MalDin wore stylized masks, a means to maintain their anonymity. Despite the precautions, Ular knew the names of nearly everyone here.
Only the SuDin remained unidentified. Ular hated his lack of insight into the Kumma. He had always been an enigma, and in all the years Ular had known him, he had yet to divine the SuDin’s true name. It was maddening. In all spheres of life, knowledge was power — even more so amongst the Sil Lor Kum — and to have such a vital piece of information elude his grip for so many years caused Ular no end of grief.
As for the others, at least their names were not a mystery.
There sat the slimy cretin, Moke Urn, the MalDin for Caste Sentya. His skill with numbers and profit made him useful, but his lust for the decadent Mesa Reed made him pathetic. Mesa, the MalDin of Caste Cherid, was a vicious woman, her cruelty masked by her lush beauty and abundant womanly features. Only a fool would bed such a serpent, and such a fool was Yuthero Gaste, the Shiyen MalDin. He was a man rightly lauded for his brilliance — his professorship at Alminius College of Medicine spoke for itself. Nevertheless, Yuthero was a young man with a young man’s lusts. Mesa had him by the tenders.
Then there was Varesea Apter, the lovely Rahail MalDin. Ular tapped his chin as he considered her. W
hat had happened to Varesea? She was no longer the quietly competent woman she had once been. She was reticent now, barely speaking a single sentence in the Council meetings. And her eyes — there was a haunted quality to them. Some might assume it was because of her husband’s death, but Ular knew better. The man had been a wife-beater. Varesea had little reason to mourn his passing. Why then did Varesea appear so troubled?
Ular didn’t know — at least not yet. But he aimed to find out.
The final MalDin, Pera Obbe of Caste Duriah, was a woman Ular wished he could leave unconsidered. She was as unpleasant in demeanor as she was unlovely in appearance, a near incompetent collection of pride and vitriol. And her significance as a MalDin barely merited mention. In fact, her ascension to the Council spoke volumes about the worthlessness of others from her Caste who were also members of the Sil Lor Kum.
Ular Sathin drew back from his speculation and listened more closely as the SuDin began speaking.
“There is a method by which Shiyens can cause an individual to appear dead, but in reality they are merely in a deep slumber.”
Ular had never heard of such a drug or method, but it didn’t mean such a procedure didn’t exist. He noticed Yuthero nodding as the SuDin spoke. Mesa as well. Their expressions of agreement had Ular wondering. Was the drug real, or were the other two somehow involved in a secret plan concocted by the SuDin?
He didn’t know, but in his decades as a MalDin, he’d learned to trust his instincts. And he didn’t trust the SuDin. Therefore, he couldn’t trust Yuthero or Mesa either.
The SuDin continued. “There are Trials scheduled to leave in the coming months. There will be others of our kind, fellow Sil Lor Kum, who will help spirit us away from Ashoka.”
“And I suppose you will be the first to leave,” Pera said in a sarcastic tone.
The SuDin smiled. “No. It will actually be you,” he replied, surprising Pera into silence. “Every arrangement has been made. By next summer, you will be safely ensconced in your new home in Kush.”
“Hmm,” Pera mused, her eyes hooded in thought. They brightened a moment later. “I like it. Kush. A warm city with a view of the water. Well done.” She offered the praise as if she were commending a particularly clever dog.
