A Warrior's Knowledge

by Davis Ashura

  When he noticed the approving mutterings of the ‘Els, he realized many must have already considered just such a possibility. It was a stunning surprise, and Dar’El struggled to control his dismay. How could he have missed something so potentially basic yet potentially devastating to Rukh’s future?

  A headache began thudding behind Dar’El’s eyes. “What you imply bears no resemblance to the truth,” he said. “My son and the ghrina … ” he mentally scowled at having to call Jessira such a name “ … were friends. Nothing more. Any seeming impropriety between them was my doing.” In a matter-of-fact tone, Dar’El explained all he’d done to Rukh and Jessira and the reasons why. “Rukh was doomed the moment his Talents became known. He was going to be found Unworthy no matter what I tried to do. The politics of the Chamber demanded his expulsion from Ashoka, but I could still save him. If Jessira took him to Stronghold, at least he would have a chance at a life. I manipulated both of them.” Exposing his deceit was painful, but necessary, and Dar’El tried to keep his voice smooth and measured, letting only a hint of his shame to shine through. Ragged penitence wouldn’t move these men, but restrained remorse might.

  “And what of the pregnancy?” Tol’El persisted.

  “There was no pregnancy,” Dar’El said. “Jessira remained in Ashoka because I lied to her. I led her to believe that she was the cause for Rukh’s banishment. She stayed because of the guilt she bore, and the House Seat was the safest place for her in Ashoka.”

  Tol’El stroked his beard, seeming both fascinated and repulsed by what he had heard. “It is an ugly story you present,” he said. “Cunning treachery and a father’s desperate love mixed in with equal measure. How can you prove this not yet another deception?”

  Dar’El glared at the ruling ‘El of House Suzay. “I cannot prove a negative, and you know it,” he said. “But if you don’t believe me, then believe Farn Arnicep. You all know what happened to him. He was there when Rukh and Jessira arrived at Stronghold. From what he saw, they are as I tell you: friends. Nothing more. In fact, Jessira was already engaged to a man of her city prior to meeting Rukh, and this arrangement was unchanged upon her return to Stronghold. It further proves my point: if my son and Jessira had consorted with one another, surely her engagement to this other man would have been dissolved when they made it to Stronghold.”

  “I believe Farn’s testimony has already been provided to the Chamber,” Tol’El said. “It confirms Dar’El’s claims with regards to his son’s relationship with the ghrina.” He turned to Dar’El. “Our Houses are allies. All here know it. And I believe you when you say you did what you did to save your son. It is noble, but the means you used to achieve your aims — dissembling to your family, this Chamber, even the ghrina — it is despicable. I would not have it in me to do the same, and I am troubled that you had no such qualms.” Tol’El sighed as if in regret. “Nevertheless, it is not you who is faced with our judgment, though in some ways, you should be. Instead, it is your son, Rukh Shektan, who seems to have simply followed the poor guidance you gave him.” He turned to the other ‘Els. “Based on what we’ve learned, I believe we should lift the judgment on Rukh Shektan and allow him to return home. He seems to have been nothing more than an innocent dupe in all of this, as much a victim of his nanna’s manipulation as we were.”

  Even before Tol’El finished speaking, satisfied mutterings had arisen throughout the Chamber, including from those most opposed to House Shektan. Dar’El couldn’t tell what the pleased nods and conversations might mean. Were his fellow ‘Els merely happy to see him humbled, or had they accepted Tol’El’s reasoning and were willing to exonerate his son? Perhaps it was a combination of the two. Dar’El could not say, but if it were the latter, he would be grateful. The damage Tol’El’s final testimony had done to his reputation would be a small price to pay for Rukh’s safe return.

  “Does the Supplicant have any response to give?” Lin’El asked.

  Dar’El hesitated. None of what had occurred thus far had been planned. The script he and Tol’El had come up with in the past few days, and even last night, had long since been discarded, but if anything, the resultant testimony had ended up being stronger. Rukh’s chances of coming home were better because of the risks Tol’El had taken. Dar’El owed his friend a large favor, but right now, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Should he say anything else? Or should he simply allow Tol’El’s work to stand on its own? “I have no defense against the findings of the Indicter,” Dar’El said, making his decision.

  “Does the Indicter have any further questions to ask?” Lin’El asked, turning to Tol’El, who shook his head.

  “I have nothing else to offer. My post is relinquished,” he said in a formal tone.

  “Are there any more challenges to be offered?” Lin’El proposed to the Chamber. A hand shot up. Dar’El groaned. It was Hal’El Wrestiva. “You wish to serve as the Indicter?” Lin’El asked.

  Hal’El stood. “I do.”

  “Are there any objections?” Lin’El asked.

  The Assembly remained quiet, and Dar’El gritted his teeth. He wanted to object to Hal’El’s choice as Indicter, but he had no further standing to do so.

  “Then by acclamation, Hal’El will now serve as the Indicter,” Lin’El said. “Take your post and proceed.” Lin’El indicated the lectern that Tol’El had given up.

  Hal’El limped his way forward. When he was in place, he cleared his throat and began speaking. “The ruling ‘El of House Suzay has done a marvelous job interrogating Dar’El Shektan, has he not? His testimony has ruined the reputation of his good friend and close ally. I’m sure all of us were suitably impressed by Tol’El’s righteous indignation. I certainly was. Well done.” He clapped his hands slowly and derisively. “Nevertheless, this has all been a sham, a charade practiced for weeks prior to today’s meeting. And it was executed brilliantly. Even I almost believed it and possibly would have except for one modest fact: Dar’El thinks long and deep on all matters. Tol’El inadvertently reminded me of this truth.” He stabbed a finger at his fellow ‘Els. “Don’t be fooled by this playacting you’ve heard, this farce. Everything Dar’El and Tol’El told you was rehearsed. It is a means to trick you, to fool you. Their words are like a magician flaunting a handkerchief so we never see when he hides the card under the table. We’re so focused on Dar’El’s shame, his lies and deceptions, that we never noticed when Tol’El hid Rukh Shektan’s infamy under the table. We think him innocent. He is far from it. He was found Unworthy, and the judgment should stand. I’ve heard nothing to tell me otherwise.”

  “Then you are as foolish as I always suspected,” Dar’El said. He had never liked Hal’El Wrestiva and liked him even less now. “You hear nothing and learn less. It wasn’t my testimony alone that the Chamber heard. What of Farn Arnicep? Without coaching or pre-knowledge, he said the same as I regarding Rukh and Jessira’s relationship.”

  “Who is this Jessira?” Hal’El asked in exasperated confusion. “The name of the ghrina? Why not name a pig? They have the same worth.”

  “As you would know given your son,” Dar’El interrupted. His anger was getting the better of him, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Hal’El bristled in outrage. “Then let us speak of Farn Arnicep,” he growled. “He lived amongst the OutCastes for months. By blood, he is a member of your House, and as such, perhaps he is Tainted as well.”

  Loud hisses of anger arose at his words. It was one thing to insult someone personally, quite another to impugn an entire House. Many had relatives in House Shektan.

  Dar’El saw the opening and took it. “Farn Arnicep is tied to seven Houses along his lineage and through marriage. According to the Indicter, all those Kummas are Tainted as well.” He stared Hal’El in the eyes, freezing him with a snarl. “Including members of House Wrestiva.”

  “Obviously, it was not my intent to call into question the honor of your entire House,” Hal’El said, appearing chastened. “I simply note the coincidences
so prevalent in House Shektan: a Sentya adopted by the ruling ‘El and relations between the natural son of the same ruling ‘El and a ghrina. Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Thrice is a conspiracy. Farn Arnicep makes thrice.”

  “If this your logic, then it is as sloppy as your wisdom,” Dar’El said scornfully.

  Hal’El rolled his eyes. “Then try this,” he challenged. “As it said in The Word and Deed: ‘Suffer not those who have lineage from two Castes. Know them for the truth. They are Ghrinas, abominations’. You know this dictate as well as any of us, yet you harbored a ghrina within your home for months.”

  Dar’El had heard enough. “And also according to The Word and the Deed: ‘Those who seek wives in a Caste not their own should forever be shunned. They are as the children of their perverse unions: ghrinas, abominations in the eyes of the Lord’. That verse should hold particular poignancy for you given the life led by your son, Suge Wrestiva. Perhaps if you’d spent more time searching out sin in your own home instead of in mine, your iniquitous son might have amounted to something more than a snowblood addict.”

  “You dare!”

  Dar’El waved aside his anger. “Don’t pretend to be shocked. If you’re going to speak such vile words about my House and family, don’t faint away if I respond in kind. Are there any other questions?”

  Hal’El glared at him before turning back to the Chamber. “None of Dar’El’s petty insults are important. This is the truth: Tol’El tried to distract us from Rukh Shektan’s various sins. He has Talents not of his Caste. For this, he was rightly judged Unworthy. He had a relationship with a woman not of his Caste. For this, he was also correctly found to be Unworthy. Worse, this woman was a ghrina. For this, Rukh Shektan should have been marked with the Slash of Iniquity. He should have been killed and his body left to rot on the Isle of the Crows!” He slammed his fist on the lectern. His words produced shouts and catcalls from the other ruling ‘Els, and Hal’El waited for the sounds to die away before continued on. “Instead, we were merciful. We allowed Rukh Shektan to walk away with his life. But now, months later, we are told that these sins were not of the son but of the father.” He shook his head, looking sorrowful. “All-too-well do I know what it means to disregard or explain away the sins of a son. I know the consequences of doing so. Every day I relive them. And I tell you this: everything you’ve heard from Dar’El Shektan is a nanna’s attempt to assuage his guilt. He doesn’t want to admit the kind of man he raised. The kind of man I, to my everlasting shame, also raised.”

  Dar’El ground his teeth. Hal’El’s last statement had hurt, tying Suge Wrestiva to Rukh. It was a clever ploy. He looked out at his fellow ‘Els, too many of whom stared back at him with what appeared to be hostility. Dar’El could feel Rukh’s future slipping away. It had been so close, but once again, here came Hal’El Wrestiva to crush all hopes of happiness. Would the man never leave them be? He glanced to the other side of the Arbiter’s dais, and Hal’El smirked at him, victory reflected in his eyes.

  Dar’El’s eyes swam with red and just then, he almost bellowed out what he knew about the Wrestiva warehouse and snowblood. By the barest of margins, he held his tongue. He had to hold onto that secret. It was too important. The city needed Dar’El to find what was really happening with the murders and the Sil Lor Kum, even if the cost was Rukh’s future.

  Dar’El sought to recapture his poise, taking deep, even breaths to work out his anger. It didn’t work. Calmness wouldn’t remain. It broke apart like a thought in a room crowded with shouting people. No matter how hard he tried, serenity eluded his grasp. It kept slipping away, so he decided to use the anger instead.

  “You have all heard how my son obtained his Talents, and what you have heard is the truth,” he began. “Or do you wish to hold false everything we’ve spent two millennia defending? All the blood spilled cannot be for nothing! Look into you hearts and find where Rukh sinned. Was it because of his unsought Talents? In that case, what would you have him do? What wisdom would you offer? According to The Warrior and the Servant, ‘A warrior must always choose the path of righteousness, but if one isn’t visible, then on his own, he must forge it’.” Dar’El glared about the room, challenging those he knew might vote against him. “Where was the righteous path my son should have taken? What path would you advise your sons to follow if faced with such a situation?” He glared about a moment more before answering his own question. “There is none!”

  Sweat beaded on his brow, and Dar’El wiped it with a handkerchief. “We are told that death is the greatest gift a Kumma warrior can offer to someone in need,” he said. “I think this is wrong. The greatest gift is life. We all know what happened to Rukh in the Chimera caverns. He was left to die. It was shamefully done. Even his lieutenant, in the after-action reports, indicated this was true. But I ask you to think of what this means from Rukh’s perspective. He carried the burden of his shame. He accepted the abuse and hatred of his brothers. He suffered betrayal, but he fought on. He never quit. Duty demanded no less. Rukh held steadfast, never letting the treason of others defeat his heart, the sin of his unwanted Talents ruin his soul. He lived — with all the pain and loneliness that implies — because he is a Kumma. He lived so your sons didn’t have to die. Think of the courage it would take to endure in the face of such abuse, and ask yourselves if you possess similar bravery. I do not.”

  Until this moment, Dar’El had never given full measure to Rukh accomplishments. Now, hearing the words spoken aloud, he was forced to do so. A tear leaked down the corner of an eye, and he had to take a shuddering breath before he could speak again. “Knowing all this,” he began in a quavering voice, “is it really possible that a man of such nobility would desecrate himself in any way, especially with a woman not of his Caste? He would not, and he didn’t.”

  Silence greeted his final statement.

  Shortly after, the vote was taken. In the end, eighty-five percent voted in favor of House Shektan’s petition.

  Rukh was coming home.

  Chapter 26: An Unwritten Book

  A willingness to listen to and understand those with whom one disagrees is not enough. One must also offer acceptance.

  -Sooths and Small Sayings by Tramed Billow AF 1387

  “Where go next?” Chak-Soon asked.

  Jessira shrugged, worried more about her footing then answering the Tigon’s question. Along the eastern edge of the Creosote Plains, the land rose quickly, and the terrain became rough and uneven. Add in the wet, slippery ground — it had rained for the five days since their departure from Hammer — and it wouldn’t take much to turn an ankle. Even the packhorse had sense enough to step carefully through the thick, green grass. It made for slow going, but at least this morning the sun had broken through the clouds and brought with it much needed warmth and a return to spring.

  Spring.

  It wasn’t something Jessira could smell so much as sense. There was a vibrancy to the sky and clouds, to the sound of water and birds, even the way the fish ran in the streams. All of it seemed to reflect what she knew: spring was coming. Hopefully, last week’s rain and cold would be the last of winter’s icy grasp. Then the world could start to come back to life.

  Her smile of anticipation faded as she plotted their course.

  Soon would come the Soulless River. Passage would be difficult if it was already spring-swollen.

  “Where go next?” Chak-Soon repeated.

  Jessira shot him an irritated glance. Now he wanted to talk to her? A week after she’d saved his miserable carcass? Not once, had the fragging Tigon offered any kind of acknowledgement of what she’d done for him. She often wondered if Healing the unholy beast had been the right thing to do. Rukh seemed to think so, but Jessira wasn’t sure. During their time together, all Chak-Soon had done was keep to himself. He glowered as he watched and listened to the others but offered little in return.

  “We’re going home,” she said. “I have no idea where you and Choke are heading.” Of cou
rse, she wasn’t about to tell Chak-Soon where home was. As far the Tigon was concerned, she and Rukh were on their way back to Ashoka. There was no chance she would trust Chak-Soon with the secret of Stronghold’s existence. Not even Li-Choke could know of it. Stronghold survived because no one knew to look for it.

  The Tigon grunted. “You Heal. Not thank you. Should say so.”

  Jessira studied the Tigon. His ears stood erect and faced forward. His eyes were wide open, the pupils narrow slits against the sunlight. But his cat-like features, so like a jaguar’s, were indecipherable. Typical. She’d never liked domestic cats either. “Are you saying ‘thank you’ or are you saying ‘you’ll never thank me’?”

  “Thank you.”

  If a boulder had fallen on her head, Jessira doubted she would have been more stunned. Chak-Soon was thanking her? Even after hearing the words, she struggled to believe that a Tigon was capable of feeling any sense of obligation or gratitude. While Li-Choke had said this Tigon was different, that he was learning to understand about the ideals of brotherhood and peace, even love, Jessira hadn’t believed the Bael. Not really. Rukh had been willing to give the creature the benefit of the doubt, but that’s because he did so for nearly everyone. Jessira wasn’t so generous. Perhaps it was because the Tigon was so quiet and withdrawn. In a Human, such an individual would have been described as being sullen or taciturn, ready to explode at the slightest provocation, and it didn’t take much to set off a Tigon. Yet here was Chak-Soon, offering honest appreciation for what she had done for him.