by Davis Ashura
Rukh paced down the aisle, his gaze focused on her as if there was no one else in the world.
Jessira’s eyes welled. Life was so bright and luminous.
*****
His daughter was to wed tonight. Sateesh struggled to contain his emotions. He was overjoyed for her — Rukh was everything he would have wanted in the man who married Jessira. Still, there was also sorrow. Jessira would be leaving his home, building a new life with Rukh. It was the way of life — Sateesh knew it — but the loss still brought a bittersweet melancholy with it.
He sighed as he glanced at his daughter, marveling anew at how lovely she was. Rukh was a lucky man, and he seemed to understand that. Even a blind man could see the love and devotion the Kumma held for Jessira and she for him. If anyone deserved such happiness, it was the two of them. They had been through so much together, so many tribulations and dangers — enough for several lifetimes — but now they were both home. They were both safe. They should have a long, prosperous life ahead of them.
Sateesh forced himself to pay attention. His part would come soon.
Mon Peace looked ready to speak. The Governor-General wore a simple, unadorned black shirt and pants and stood on a raised dais decorated with rose petals and lilies. “Our world changes, evermore and always, and we with it. What more lovely expression of this truism can we imagine than this wedding between two such wonderful individuals; born of different worlds, yet uniting at the last?” He said more words, chanting the holy mantras from The Book of All Souls that bonded a man and woman to one another.
The Governor-General gestured and Sateesh’s wife, Crena, dropped her end of the antarpat — an embroidered, white, diaphanous curtain — while Sateesh still held his part of it. The gauzy fabric was meant to symbolize the separation of a bride from her groom, and only when her parents had dropped it, could she marry the man they had approved on her behalf. Crena dipped her fingers into the vermillion powder held in the silver chalice Mon Peace offered to her. She turned and applied a bindi, first to Jessira, and then to Rukh. She moved aside, standing behind their daughter.
Mon Peace chanted more mantras before gesturing again.
It was Sateesh’s turn. He let the antarpat slide to the ground and stepped forward. The Governor-General offered a silver platter. On it, resting on a bed of dried rice stained with turmeric was an unadorned wine-red, ironwood bracelet — Rukh’s kalava — and a necklace made of small, black beads the size of mustard seeds — Jessira’s thaali — her hallowed thread. The bracelet represented Rukh’s promise to work in all ways to keep Jessira safe and happy. The necklace, which would lie next to her heart, was Jessira’s vow to keep her love for Rukh sacred and for him alone.
Sateesh slipped the thaali around Jessira’s neck before placing the bracelet around Rukh’s left wrist. He moved aside.
More chanting while Rukh and Jessira held hands and faced one another.
“I love you,” Sateesh heard Rukh whisper to Jessira.
“I love you, too,” she whispered to him.
Sateesh blinked back tears as Mon Peace finished the ceremony and shouted his proclamation, announcing that Jessira and Rukh were wed.
*****
Dawn’s first blush streamed through the clear panes of the mullioned window, a shimmer of gold highlighting dust motes before it settled upon the four-post bed, covering it with a bright sheen. The light also shone against the glossy cherry finish of the armoire standing on the wall opposite the bed and even the door beside it leading out into a small front room and kitchen. Outside — visible through the window — lay a narrow sward, dewy and bordering Lake Tear, which sparkled in the early morning sunshine. The world was quiet within and without.
The wedding ceremony had been brief, but the reception that had followed had seemed to stretch on interminably. Eventually it had wound down, and afterward, Rukh and Jessira had made their way here, to one of the small eastward facing cabins nestled along the shores of Lake Tear made specifically for newlyweds.
Rukh laid his head back, resting it on a pillow as he tried to catch his breath. Jessira lay curled up beside him, breathing heavily as well. A patina of perspiration beaded her forehead as she clutched the thick comforter up to her chest. Just then, Jessira chuckled, soft and low, a fascinating combination of satisfaction and pleasure.
Rukh warmed to the sound with a smug sense of accomplishment. He grinned as he rolled over to face her. “Was it worth the wait?” he asked.
Her expression of disbelief was his first warning. His second was when she clutched the comforter to her mouth, hiding her laughter.
Rukh’s face reddened. Jessira stifled her mirth as best she could, but she shook convulsively.
It apparently hadn’t been worth it. As Jessira laughed, Rukh found himself getting annoyed. It hadn’t been that bad … had it?
Jessira must have noticed his rising embarrassment. She wiped away tears of laughter and got her hilarity under control. She hiccuped. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “It’s just your question … Was it worth the wait? Of course not.” She grinned, her teeth flashing in the soft light of sunrise. “I love you, but this is something we should have done two days ago. Two months ago.”
“So you enjoyed it?” After her laughter in response to his earlier question, Rukh needed to hear her say it.
She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “Yes,” she said. “And if you kiss me again, I’ll show how much.”
Rukh’s worry and embarrassment vanished. Instead, he gloried in the feel of her in his arms, the sparkle of her green eyes, the brilliance of her smile, and the warmth of her soul.
Chapter 32: Secrets Unearthed
Mother’s certainty is exceeded only by Her madness. But sometimes even in Her insanity, She has a means to perceive the truth. My heart grows fearful on those occasions.
-From the journal of SarpanKum Li-Dirge, AF 2062
Though the wind gusted about him, Li-Choke stood as still as an unmoving boulder. His face was composed, like the morning quiet following a snowfall. He waited, his hooves digging into the soft ground, wet after yesterday’s storms. Today looked to be similar. The scent of rain carried on the air, heralded by the gloomy clouds and the blustery wind. A few early blooms — pale, white flowers lying low to the ground — dotted the grass-covered hills. A single blossom lay tucked behind one of Choke’s ears.
He listened to his fellow Baels speaking softly to one another. A month ago, the western brothers had arrived, sent by the Queen to take control of the Eastern Plague. By the time of their coming — shortly before Choke and Chak-Soon had returned from their venture to Hammer — the Eastern Plague had almost completed its disintegration, falling into squabbling discord and dissension.
It hadn’t been easy, but the newly invested SarpanKum, the relatively young Li-Shard, and his capable, hard-bitten SarpanKi, Li-Brind, had worked diligently and speedily to gain control of the situation. It had taken all their efforts, as well as those of their western brothers, but eventually, Shard had succeeded. Through regimented and consistent discipline, the Eastern Plague had rounded back into fighting trim with the various Chims overwhelmingly glad to have the Baels once more in command. Even the Tigons had been relieved when the yoke of leadership had been taken from their shoulders.
As for Choke, upon his return, he had reported to his new SarpanKum and explained all he had witnessed since Mother had annihilated Li-Dirge and the other eastern Baels. Some of it, the western brothers had already known, but much was new, such as Rukh Shektan’s role in the caverns of the Chimeras; how he had risked everything on behalf of his supposed enemies, going so far as to plan for the Baels’ safety in the Hunters Flats. Choke’s recitation had raised gasps of disbelief and fervent awe from the assembled Baels, especially when he been bold enough to name Rukh Shektan a friend. One young brother had even wondered if Hume’s heir had finally been found.
It was a question the others ha
d laughed off — Hume was a legend and no Human could ever measure up to the man or his myth — but Choke wasn’t so sure. Rukh Shektan was special.
So Choke had remained quiet as the others chuckled over the young Bael’s embarrassment. His silence had been noted and he was asked to continue his narration. Choke went on to describe the final destruction of his eastern brothers when Mother had re-discovered them. Then, came the long journey to Hammer and falling in once more with Rukh Shektan and Jessira Grey. He spoke of how the Humans had protected and Healed them, both he and Chak-Soon, a Tigon who had grown to accept the truth of fraternity.
By the end, all the Baels had fallen quiet, shifting about, unwilling to break what seemed a holy silence.
“His heir is found,” Li-Shard had declared. “Two of them.”
“Three,” Li-Brind corrected, looking dumbfounded and amazed. “Chak-Soon as well.” The older Bael, so world-weary and cynical, had sounded amazed. He wore the guise of one whose faith — buried beneath heaped up mountains of skepticism — had been unexpectedly redeemed. “Humanity has heard us.”
At that moment, Li-Shard had shouted, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy, a cry echoed by their brethren. “Never did I think such a miracle could come to pass. Li-Dirge’s sacrifice shall never be forgotten!”
“Through Devesh all things are possible,” another Bael intoned prayerfully.
“Perhaps,” Brind had said. “Or it may be that a Bael of uncommon courage and decency simply saw the moment and seized it.”
“And found a willing heart in Rukh Shektan, and eventually Jessira Grey and Chak-Soon,” Li-Choke reminded them. The role of the Humans and the Tigons shouldn’t be forgotten or diminished.
“Two Human friends.” Li-Shard spoke the words as though tasting them. “It is truly a time of miracles.” He turned to Li-Choke. “And you are a Bael of destiny to be able to claim such an attribute.”
His brothers had murmured similar sentiments, but Choke found himself troubled by their adulation. He had simply done as he had been taught to believe was right. Was living a moral life really worthy of such praise? Should it not simply be an expectation, rather than an exception? Or perhaps Choke was simply misreading the situation. Perhaps by praising him, his brothers were reaffirming their own faith and teachings; as though Choke’s accomplishments were the final expression of everything their ancestors had struggled so mightily to achieve.
Regardless, Choke wasn’t sure where the truth lay, but Li-Shard had apparently not suffered as many qualms. The SarpanKum had insisted on elevating Choke from Levner — leader of a Fracture — to Vorsan — commander of a Shatter, fifteen thousand Chimeras. Choke was now a senior commander of the Eastern Plague, but he wasn’t sure he was worthy or ready for such a promotion. There were so many details and responsibilities he was now required to manage.
For instance, as a Vorsan, he was expected to attend senior staff meetings, offer his thoughts on the organization of the Eastern Plague, and evaluate the Baels junior to him. And then there were times like this, when the senior staff had to assemble far from the rest of the Fan Lor Kum, in preparation for Mother’s arrival. It was a supposed honor Li-Choke would have gladly foregone. His brothers stood in postures of nervous tension, shuffling about restlessly as they spoke to one another, sometimes laughing too loudly. Choke seemed the only one unaffected by anxiety. He stood alone and unmoving. Mother wasn’t to be feared. She was to be scorned.
“Has Chak-Soon found any other Tigons worthy of instruction?” Li-Shard asked as he approached.
“Thus far, he’s found seven others,” Choke replied.
“Impressive. I would never have suspected that so many of the cats would have the wit to understand Hume’s instructions,” said the SarpanKum.
“Hopefully there will be more, but it isn’t easy for them. They are pure carnivores. Their minds are those of a hunter. A predator. It is hard for them to see the world through the eyes of their prey.”
The SarpanKum idly stroked one of his horns. “You raise an interesting concept. Is empathy best found amongst those who are herbivores?”
Choke tilted his head in thought. He had never considered the basis of empathy in such a light.
The SarpanKi, standing nearby, laughed. “I find such an idea dubious, at best,” he said. “After all, how hard is it to understand the mind of a leaf, or a blade of grass?”
Choke stiffened, disliking the older Bael’s derisive tone.
The SarpanKum didn’t seem to mind, though, giving no hint he was offended by Li-Brind’s mockery. “Omnivores then?” Li-Shard asked.
“More likely,” Brind said.
“Humans are omnivores,” Choke reminded them.
“And they also understand empathy. Like your friends Jessira Grey and Rukh Shektan,” the SarpanKum noted. Shard shook his head in amazement. “No matter how many times I’ve heard it, I still find myself in awe of Dirge’s accomplishments,” he said. “We lost a great Bael when the Queen murdered him and the others.”
Choke studied Li-Shard askance. In their time together, he had found the SarpanKum to be a strong, kind, and patient leader. It seemed Shard also possessed the mind of a scholar. And while he wasn’t as wise as Li-Dirge, he was also much younger. With age, even that might change to Shard’s favor.
Li-Choke nodded. “The SarpanKum used to speak of how the Lord often grants us opportunities to understand His will, but it is for us to decipher His intent. Only then, when our footsteps walk the path He intended for us will our hearts be at peace.” Choke was glad for the renewal of his faith. Even in the best of times, it wasn’t easy to believe in a just God, and following Dirge’s death, his faith had worried away like a riverbank before a spring flood. Li-Choke had gone so far as to become indifferent to the proposition of whether Devesh even existed. Into that time of destitution had come Chak-Soon and the holy act of a Human Healing a Tigon. Apparently, Choke’s faith had never truly been extinguished, and he found he was the happier for it.
Li-Brind, still cynical, obviously believed otherwise. “I am not as religious as Dirge must have been, nor am I certain Devesh is worthy of our worship. Why has he never done anything about Mother? As far as I am concerned, He should make His intent more obvious.”
“Or maybe it is more obvious and we walk around with blinders. We do have His words from The Book of All Souls,” the SarpanKum said.
“Li-Dirge believed as you, and so to did Jessira,” Li-Choke said.
Li-Brind laughed. “Whether Devesh is real or a fable, why does it matter? We will soon come face-to-storm when Mother arrives. My faith in our Lord would be firmed if He did something about Her.”
“Eight Tigons who adhere to tenets of fraternity aren’t enough?” Li-Shard asked. He turned to Choke, letting the SarpanKi mull over the question. “And what has become of these eight new brothers?”
Choke smiled. “They’ve formed a claw. Chak-Soon believes all of them will eventually come to believe as he does.” He bowed slightly. “By your leave, I’ve already moved them into my own Shatter.” By tradition, disbursement of various units and warriors of the Fan Lor Kum was generally initiated by one of the Sarpans or even the SarpanKi. While Choke had wide discretion as a Vorsan, by pulling Chak-Soon’s newly formed claw into the ranks of his own Shatter, he had bypassed the usual channels of command. He wasn’t sure how Li-Shard would take his action. Or even Li-Brand, who was known to be a stickler for rules and protocol
“And from this seed, Chak-Soon hopes to lead others to the truth?” the SarpanKum asked, apparently disregarding Choke’s breach of etiquette.
Choke nodded, letting out a soft exhalation of relief, but not daring to look toward Li-Brind, who was probably scowling in anger. “It is what I hope. There are a number of other Tigons in the Eastern Plague who might also come to believe as we do — given time and patient instruction.”
Li-Brind snorted in derision. “Patience is not a virtue for which our Tigon brethren have ever been well known.”
“Perhaps. But maybe it is one they can be taught,” the SarpanKum answered. “We have never tried to instruct their young, always believing they couldn’t learn our lessons.”
“It goes against their nature,” Brind countered. “They are what they are. Chak-Soon and his cadre of fellow Tigons are an anomaly.”
The obdurate edifice of Brind’s skepticism had been momentarily cracked when he had heard Li-Choke’s account of the events in Hammer, but over time, that firm foundation of cynicism had slowly been rebuilt, brick-by-disbelieving brick.
“You may very well be right,” Li-Shard said. “But would you want to be right in this matter?”
His question had the SarpanKi discomfited.
Choke found himself impressed by Li-Shard. He hadn’t refuted Brind’s premise, but he had done something nearly as useful: with a single query, he had challenged the SarpanKi’s cynical nature. He had gently urged the older Bael to give up his scornful doubt and embrace hope. Li-Dirge could not have done better.
“Do you know why the Queen has called for us?” Li-Brind asked, turning to Choke as he sought to change the subject. “She demanded your presence in particular.”
Choke shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll find it abhorrent.”
“She comes,” a young Bael said, pointing to the heavens where a wildly swirling cloud the color of an old bruise raced toward them.
“Bend knee and speak the Prayer of Gratitude,” Li-Shard commanded. As one, the Baels fell to their knees, foreheads pressed to the wet ground.
Within moments, Mother was there, hovering above them and bearing a soft, spring shower. Thunder rumbled, but it was sporadic and distant, not nearly as frequent or loud as in times past. Choke would have preferred a raging torrent to this gentle rain. Ever since Mother had learned how to pour Her madness down the throats of the Fan Lor Kum, She was so much calmer, and as a result, so much more dangerous. The Plagues of Continent Ember didn’t carry the stain of Mother’s insanity, so most likely it was being borne by the Chimeras of Continent Catalyst. Regardless, on the few prior occasions when the Queen had housed Her madness within Her children on Continent Ember, She had always excluded the Baels. They had often wondered as to why and prayed their brothers on Catalyst had been similarly spared.
