A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (12 page)

He hid a grin as an idea came to him.  “I’ll make sure to remember,” he said.  “And you have to promise not to tell Amma I told you her dinner two nights from now is only a ploy to get you together with your potential future husband.”

“What!” Bree said with an outraged squawk.  Onlookers turned at her shout.  She grabbed Jaresh’s arm in a painful squeeze.  “What do you know?” she demanded in a menacing whisper.

Jaresh carefully pried his arm free.  Bree feared marriage like most people feared falling from a great height; it might be survivable but the pain was
sure to be awful.  Up to a point, Jaresh sympathized with her.  Kumma women could only marry a man who had completed at minimum three Trials, which meant their spouses were at least ten years older than them. Bree claimed it must be a horrible fate – like being shackled to an old man.

“Just kidding, little sis,” Jaresh said grinning broadly.

“Not funny,” she said, glowering.

“Was to me,” Jaresh said with a carefree smile.  “Now, if you’re done with your tantrum, the crowd’s opening up.  We should get going.
”

“I wasn’t throwing…”

Jaresh grabbed her hand and yanked her forward, cutting off whatever she had was about to say.  “Come on before it closes up again,” he said.

They took a large thoroughfare branching off of Martyr Hall and headed deeper into Semaphore
Walk.  Another turn had them on a small street, close to their destination: the Blue Room.  It was an older playhouse, one more willing to take on a challenging project eschewed by most of the larger theaters.

Even here, the streets remained crowded.
Well-dressed men and women, perfumed and coiffed, mixed with rougher looking folk; most of whom were Murans coming in from the fields.  Restaurants and cafes opened out on the street, and the smell of sizzling meat and spices filled the air.  A mild spring breeze filtered through the crowd but did little to cool the warmth raised by the press of so many people.

Jaresh was soon sweating
.  He looked forward to the cool of the theater.

Tonight they meant to see
The Magistrate Divan
, an old comedic satire written two hundred years ago.  It chronicled a week in the life of a Cherid Magistrate of a fictional city and the foibles of the supposed ruling Caste.  Of course, no Caste had been spared by the author, Deside, and his humorous and cutting pen.  He had added everyone into the scope of his satire; from the arrogance of Kummas to the lickspittle nature of Sentyas to the earthy know-it-allism of Murans.  All were mocked, some more than others.  It was supposed to be hilarious, but Jaresh wouldn’t know.  He’d never seen it before since the last time
The Magistrate
had been produced was over a decade earlier.  Tonight was opening night of a fresh interpretation of a classic.

At they playhouse
they were to meet Mira Terrell, Bree’s friend.  The two women had always been close.  Both of them were Shektans and had gone to the same schools throughout their lives.  Couple this with the fact that she was the only daughter of Sophy Terrell, one of Nanna’s closest advisors in the House Council, and Mira had ended up spending a lot of time around the House Seat.  However, despite her frequent presence, Jaresh felt like he hardly knew her.  The two of them had never spent much time with one another.  On the few instances they had, Jaresh had found himself charmed by her wry, self-effacing humor.  He found her…interestingly unique.

He couldn’t say the same for Rukh.
His brother thought Mira a bit eccentric.

Rukh.  Jaresh sighed.  Where was he and how was he doing? 
He’d left six weeks earlier, but it felt like a lifetime.  Jaresh did some rough calculation.  Rukh was probably somewhere northwest of the Flats by now.  Jaresh sent a silent plea heavenward, praying for his older brother’s safe return. 

Jaresh still
remembered the first time he saw the young boy who would become his older brother.  Rukh.  It had been in the parlor of their original home, a large three-story house on a hill north of Scythe Cut with a view over Dryad Park.  Jaresh had entered his new home with trepidation, still teary-eyed and covered in soot from the apartment fire wherein his birth parents had died.  Rukh had greeted him at the door with open arms and a ready smile that promised a mischievous sense of humor.  The two had been close from the very first, driving Amma to distraction with their over-abundance of boyish energy.  There had been an episode when they had chased a nonexistent housefly all around the kitchen, pretending to smash it flat.  Jaresh could still recall Amma’s cry of horror when Rukh had pretended to promptly gulp down the imaginary insect.  And then there was the time he and Rukh had donned matching Tigon masks and walked in on Bree while she’d been brushing her teeth.  She had shrieked in fear and tried to flee; tripping on her own feet and promptly fell into the toilet.  Her howl of anger when she realized what had happened had been priceless. The switching the two of them had received was worth it.  All these years later, Jaresh still laughed over the memory.

He missed Rukh.

“It’s right over there,” Bree said, breaking him out of his reverie.

Jaresh looked to where she pointed.  There, across the street and a few buildings down, stood the
Blue Room.  The area around the theater was congested as people milled about, waiting for their friends and family.  The three sets of double wooden doors leading into the playhouse were thrown open.  Attendants, young men and women, stood beside them, collecting tickets, ensuring no one tried to skip in for free.  A few hardy souls stood at the box office, hoping to find a seat even at this late date.  There might still be a few available, but they would be likely high up in the balcony.

“There she is,” Bree said, pointing out Mira.  Now it was her turn to pull Jaresh along.

“I’ve got the tickets,” Mira said to the two of them.  “You pay for dinner, and we’ll call it even.”

“
But that wouldn’t be fair to you,” Jaresh protested.  “You bought two tickets, and we’ll only be buying you one dinner.”

“You haven’t seen her eat,” Bree warned.

Mira wrinkled her nose at Bree before breaking out in laughter.  “Nanna says I must have a tapeworm.  He even had me tested.”

Jaresh smiled, charmed again by Mira’s self-deprecating humor.  “
Your joking, right?” he asked.

“
I wish she was,” Bree answered.

“Let’s go
find our seats,” Mira suggested with a gentle laugh.

Jaresh led them across the street.  He paused on the other side, grimacing when he saw someone he despised heading their way.  “Like flies at a banquet, so is Suge Wrestiva’s presen
ce,” Jaresh said.  “Don’t look now, but the bilge breather is heading our way.”

“Great,” Bree replied
sourly.  “Let’s get inside before he sees us.  He’s always drunk and looking for trouble.”

As the only remaining child of Hal ‘El Wrestiva, the powerful ruling ‘El of
his House, Suge had always been spoiled and overly indulged.  The leniency shown toward Suge had allowed him to skirt the very edge of what Kumma society considered proper decorum.  He had grown up into a coddled man-child, always protected from facing the consequences of his cruel actions – behavior certain to have earned severe censure for any other Kumma.

Jaresh cursed.  One of Suge’s sycophants,
the idiot identical twins, Han or Wan Reold – Jaresh could never tell the two apart – had spotted them and was pointing them out to Suge.  An ugly sneer appeared on the Wrestiva’s face as he moved toward them.  Suge hated Jaresh with a loathing bordering on the pathological.  In times past, it had only been Rukh’s swift sword that had stood between Jaresh and a beating from Suge.

“Let me handle this,” Mira commanded.

Jaresh’s jaw hardened.  He wasn’t a Kumma by breeding, but a horse would stand on its legs and sing before he hid behind a woman.  “No.”

Bree looked at him, surprise and worry in her eyes.  “Be careful,” she warned.  “He’s a wastrel, but he’s still a Kumma.”

“I’m not looking for a fight, but I won’t run from one either,” Jaresh said, infusing his words with more confidence than he felt.  “Let’s head on inside.  We only stop if we have to.”

They had taken but three steps when Suge’s challenging words reached them.  His voice was like the rest of him: thuggish and guttural.  “What’s this?  A dog escorting two women.”  He brayed as his hangers-on joined in the laughter.

Jaresh froze in place before slowly turning around.  There was no way to ignore such an insult.  It had to be answered.  His jaw clenched with resentment.  Why couldn’t the dung eater have let them be?  Jaresh had only wanted to enjoy a play.  There was no rational reason for this confrontation, but reason wasn’t a factor when it came to Suge Wrestiva.  The man was a bully.  He enjoyed throwing his weight around, spoiled and protected as he was by his wealth and position.  The man represented the worst of what it meant to be a Kumma.  He was a stain on the entire Caste.  Jaresh’s anger got the best of him, and he spoke without thinking.  “Speaking of animals,” he said to Bree, “look who’s here.  A talking jackass.”

Bree’s hiss of dismay was distant in Jaresh’s hearing.  There was only the no
w.  He wouldn’t let this prick – this pig of a man – ever bully him again.

Suge’s face reddened as he scowled in ugly anger.  “Careful what you say, Sentya.  Your brother isn’t around this time.”

“He was never needed,” Jaresh said, stepping forward and getting straight in Suge’s mug.  “You need your friends to handle me coward?” he asked, glancing pointedly at the twins who were glowering in warning.

“Step away from him, Jaresh,” Bree urged, tugging on his arm.

Suge smiled, humorless and full of malice.  “You should listen to her, little bitch.  Hide behind her skirts.  That’s all you Sentyas are good for anyway.  Not a real man in the whole Caste.”  He snorted in derision.  “You Shektans are weak.”

“Maybe so,” Jaresh said.  “But I was called for Trial.  I leave in six months.  First one in my Caste ever to do so. 
That is
what it means to be a Shektan.  We breed champions and heroes.”

“You
?  A champion?” Suge laughed in contempt.  “You’re no more a champion than my dog’s ass.”

Jaresh smiled thinly. “No
, I’m not a champion, but soon enough, I won’t be a Virgin.  When I return from Trial, where will you be?” Jaresh asked.  “Still here with these two cretins?  Doing nothing, achieving nothing, and being nothing as you hide behind your nanna’s name.”

Suge lunged forward, swinging and missing.

Jaresh easily dodged the blow, surprised by how slow Suge moved.  Rukh was a blur in comparison.  Even Keemo and Farn were far faster.

By now a crowd had gathered.  Included was Rector Bryce.  What was he doing here?  Jaresh grimaced in annoyance when Bryce blocked Suge’s next blow.  He didn’t want or require anyone
’s protection.  Not anymore.  He had to stand on his own two feet.

“What’s going on here?” the lieutenant demanded
as he glanced at the two men.  Bryce was a member of both the Ashokan Guard and the City Watch, and the look on his face said he expected a swift answer.

Suge wrenched free his arm.  “None of your business, warrior,” he growled.

Jaresh was disappointed by Bryce’s interference. He knew it was foolish, but for a moment there, he thought he could have taken the thug.  “Suge was just demonstrating his many deficiencies,” Jaresh said.

Suge smirked.  “Deficiencies you say?  Maybe so,
but I’ll always be a Kumma, and you’ll always be a Sentya.  Never forget it.  You’ll always know I’m a man and you aren’t.”

“You would count yourself as a man?” Bree challenged, coming to stand next to Jaresh.  “You, who ha
ve never dared the Trials?”  She froze Suge with a look of scorn and loathing.  “You are no man Suge Wrestiva.  You are a weakling and a coward.”

Suge stiffened, outraged.  “F
rag you, whore.  You think you’re so prim, proper, and perfect.  We’ve all heard how you sell out your pretty pony, giving it up for any Kumma with a coin or smile.”

Jaresh
was incoherent with rage, fists balled. No one spoke to Bree like that – or any woman for that matter.  “Apologize now, you fragging bastard,” he demanded from between clenched teeth.

Suge drew himself up proudly, chest thrust out.  His stance was ruined by his sneer.  “Or what, Sentya bitch?  I’ve nothing to apologize for.
I’m just telling the truth.  Hell, I even heard how she gives you a free ride now and then, spreading her legs for your tiny prick.”  He thrust his pelvis rhythmically.

Shocked intakes of breath met Suge’s words.  Everyone had heard them.  The world stopped as all conversation ceased. 

Jaresh wanted to kill.  What Suge had said…it was an unforgivable insult, one demanding violent retribution.  Nothing less would do.  Rector Bryce must have felt the same way.  His face was a blank mask of hatred as he stepped forward, looking ready to attack.

Jaresh grabbed the lieutenant’s arm, pulling him back. “A brother has first right to satisfaction.”

Bryce paused, unwilling to pull back before finally nodding in grim acceptance and stepping aside.