A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (9 page)

The legends spoke of how Suwraith had hurled Herself against the Oases, again and again, howling with greater anger each time She was rebuffed.  They described a sky groaning under Her unceasing madness as thunder rolled in an endless peal, its roar an echo of Her rage.  The deafening noise seemed to herald the world’s demise, but the Oases had stood, and with them the cities.

In the end, the Queen finally understood defeat, and after a century of merciless attacks – the Days of Desolation – a new civilization of sorts arose.  The cities, widely scattered now, devised a means to maintain contact with one another through large caravans of wagons or ships: the first Trials.  Initially, only goods and materials were sent from city-to-city, but it was the open exchange of knowledge and learning that proved to be the true impetus for the Trials. Hoarding information in a world made savage was a recipe for disaster.  Advancements in every field, such as farming and medicine or philosophy and law were freely given. Even newly minted poetry, music, and plays were included.  It was the only way to ensure Humanity’s survival. 

Over time, the
Trials had achieved the status of sacred but, given the imminent danger involved with leaving the Oases, a financial remuneration was needed.  As such, those who volunteered and were chosen to guard the caravans were compensated with a percentage of the profit as payment for their protection.  Such men and their Houses and Castes became extremely wealthy, especially the Kummas since they were the ones who provided most of the warriors.  But for Mira, prosperity wasn’t measured merely by the number of coins in one’s pocket.  In the ways that mattered most, Kummas, and to a lesser extent, the Murans and Rahails, were all impoverished.  Too often their men died young to fulfill this so-called holy mission, and those left behind had to bear the burden of grief.

Bree glanced at her and must have noticed her expression.  “What’s with the sour face?” the younger woman asked.

Mira shook her head.  “Just thinking about the Trials,” she answered.

Bree sighed
in sad acknowledgment.  “Rukh won’t be back for at least two years,” she said.  “And Jaresh wants to set out this time next year.  Idiot.”

So
the rumors were true.  Mira was mildly disappointed.  She had expected better of Jaresh.  She thought he had more sense.

“He thinks going on Trial will make him more of a man in the eyes of my parents,” Bree finished.

“Will it?” Mira asked, hoping Dar’El wasn’t so shallow.  As far as Mira was concerned, a boy did not become a man by simply surviving the Trials.  A true man needed so much more than fighting prowess alone.  Dying was often easier than the weight of living.

“Of course not,” Bree said, sounding offended.  “Jaresh is loved for who he is.  He
always has been.  It was
his
choice to continue his training as a warrior, not my parents.”

Mira was relieved.  She greatly admired Dar’El and Satha Shektan, not least because of their adoption of a child not of their own Caste.  They demonstrated an
open-mindedness far too lacking, not just amongst Kummas, but most Ashokans.  She would have thought less of them had they forced Jaresh along the path of the warrior.

Their conversation dwindled, and they
walked on, soon arriving at their destination.  They carefully crossed the busy street before entering the squat, square warehouse in question.  It stood on the western corner of Bellary and North Moon Street, a few blocks from the harbor where the smell of the salty Sickle Sea and drying fish from the day’s catch mingled with the rest of the Moon’s stench.  The warehouse was a grimy gray color, faced in what might have once been white brick – a foolish choice given the nature of the Moon – with high, narrow windows along the top of the first floor and the lower part of the storage lofts above.

Mira glanced around after they entered through the raised front gate.  The interior was
a brightly lit open space with materials stacked in the corners while the center was left clear for wagons to be loaded before they exited on the far side of warehouse through the rear gate.  All of the workers within were Duriahs or Sentyas.  The Duriahs – typically engineers and builders – were easily distinguished by their bull-like build, olive skin, and midnight black hair and almond eyes.  The Sentyas, in contrast, were slighter of frame and darker of complexion with aquiline noses and curly blond-brown hair.  They sported their Caste’s customary even white teeth when they smiled.  Great physical strength was not their forte, which was understandable since most Sentyas were employed in bureaucratic positions.  Those here were unfortunate fellows, unable for whatever reason to gain a position more suited to their Talents and forced to do menial labor instead.

Upon seeing them, a Sentya, balding and thin, rushed
over.  He wore a yellow shirt stained orange and smelling of saffron.  “Deal Welt,” he said, introducing himself without preamble.  Mira had been told to expect him, and she eyed him askance.  He was supposedly in charge, which meant he was the possible reason for the misfortune of Houses Suzay and Shektan.  “Good news.  We were able to isolate the infestation.  It only affected twenty percent of the shipment.  Some damn pest from Kush,” he grumbled.  “We should charge them the cost of our expenses with the next caravan.”

Mira blinked, pausing a moment to take in his words.  She smiled.  Her work had just become
much
easier.  “That is good news,” she said, wanting to shake the Sentya’s hand.  She couldn’t, of course.  Men and women of different Castes took pains to avoid touching one another.

Bree was frowning
.  “How do we know the pest in question was Kushian in origin,” she demanded.  “It could have been you or your men who were lax.”

Mira winced.  She preferred a light touch, especially since
Deal Welt had just managed to recover a tidy profit for both their Houses.

Welt gave Bree a measuring assessment.  “Your
nanna tried that tone once,” he said.  “I wasn’t scared then, and I’m sure not going to be frightened by some stripling filling out her bra for the first time.”

Bree squawked in outrage.

Deal Welt waved aside her indignation.  “Don’t get your undergarments in a bind,” he said, only adding fuel to Bree’s fire.  “The reason I know it was Kushian,
Miss
Shektan, is because I asked the Muran entomologist I hired.  He believes he can salvage the infested saffron, and the insect in question is subtropical and native to Kush.  Our winters get too cold for it to survive here.”

“Well done,” Mira said with a smile.  She looked over at Bree, hoping the younger woman would follow her lead and give Deal Welt his just due.

Bree still glowered, and Mira had to hide her irritation and desire to slap the girl.  Bree was reputedly brilliant, but right now, her actions and reactions were beyond foolish.  The Sentya had taken the initiative and efficiently handled the problem.  He had staved off what could have been a disaster.  Bree was smart but apparently she still had a lot to learn about handling people.  Either that or she would have to start liberally spicing her feet if she insisted on shoving them in her mouth.

It took them a little longer to settle the situation than Mira would have liked, especially since the main problem had already been dealt with
, but Bree insisted on personally inspecting the saffron to verify no other portion of the spice was infested.  She even stopped the Muran exterminator before he could depart, questioning him at length to learn what could be done to prevent such a problem in the future.  All the while, she threw challenging glares in Deal Welt’s direction.  The Sentya never showed any sign of intimidation, but the other workers in the warehouse caught the scent of an angry Kumma female on the prowl.  They made themselves scarce.

Mira gritted her teeth.  The girl was a hammer when a helping hand was needed.

After they finished, Bree turned to Deal Welt.  “My father will send for you,” she said in a haughty tone.  “He’ll want a full report on this issue in person.  If satisfied, he may even offer you direct employment by House Shektan.”  She said the words as though offering a grand position before turning to Mira.  “That is, if House Suzay has no objections?”

Mira shook her head.  “I’m sure Tol’El will voice no concerns on the matter." 
After Bree’s treatment of Welt, there was no chance the Sentya would hire on with House Shektan, but fine, he could say ‘no’ in person.  Besides, setting aside his fine decision-making with the saffron, Deal Welt couldn’t be any great prize.  He was still a free agent after all, and at his age, he should not have been.  Any Sentya worth his salt would have found a posting in a ministry office or hired on with a high House by their late twenties at worst.  Welt had not been able to do so, which meant despite his good work in the warehouse today, something else was wrong with the man.  His competence had to be lacking.

“I await his word,” M
r. Welt said with a fractional nod.  A brief smile flitted across his face.

Bree smiled back, all her previous hostility gone as she tilted her head in brief acknowledgement before turning aside and making her way out of the warehouse.

What was that about?
Mira wondered as she followed Bree outside into the bright sunshine.  She suddenly felt as if she had just overlooked something important.

Before Mira could ask anything, Bree spoke first.  “He’ll do well,” she said, sounding smug.

Mira frowned in confusion.  “What do you mean?  What just happened back there?”

Bre
e glanced at her sidelong.  “Nanna wanted me to test him, so I threw a tantrum to see how he’d react.  He did fine.  No cowering in fear.  Mr. Welt has a spine, just as Nanna said he would.”  She nodded.  “We need smart, tough, efficient people, not gibbering morons in House Shektan.  The only reason Mr. Welt’s still working the docks is because he lacks the family connections for a higher post.”

Mira’s mouth dropped open.  She should have realized.  The nepotism of Caste Sentya was legendary.  She shook her head. 
Deal Welt wasn’t where he was because of incompetence.  He was where he was because he had no one who could speak for him and place his name in the ears of those who might further his career.  But despite the setback with which he had been born, he had done his job well enough for Dar’El Shektan to learn of the man’s abilities.  And Dar’El hadn’t held Mr. Welt’s lack of lineage or connections against him as some might have.  He’d looked past it and likely just hired someone who would help his House – her House again soon enough – become even wealthier.

Mira whistle
d in appreciation.  First Mother, the Shektans were subtle.

And upon the completion of her internship in just a few days, she would be expected to live up to that level of
proficiency.

She
gulped in trepidation.

At least Tol’El should be happy about the saffron.

*****

S
he and Bree went their separate ways once they entered Jubilee Hills, the exclusive and wealthy area where most Kummas made their homes.  Unlike Bellary and Ashoka’s other main thoroughfares, which were made of crushed rock bound with Cohesion and stone dust, the quiet streets of the Hills were paved with long red bricks laid out in a herringbone pattern.  The raised sidewalks on either side were lined with live oaks draped in wispy strands of gray moss.  Street lamps atop tall, black posts, evenly spaced every hundred feet or so, added to the loveliness of the area.  A number of cherry trees had been planted along the median, and right now, they were in bloom, fragrant with pink blossoms.  Mira inhaled deeply, taking in their perfumed aroma.  It was a distinct pleasure after the stink of the Moon Quarter.

The houses
in this part of Jubilee Hills, hidden as they were behind large compound walls, were similarly beautiful.  They sat on long, narrow lots and were built of cement blocks faced with stucco and painted vibrant shades of blue, red, yellow, or green.  Most were two or three stories with tall, peaked roofs tiled in slate or terra cotta.  All had a multitude of covered porches, balconies, and wide windows to take advantage of the views out to sea and over the rest of the city, including Mount Bright looming in the near distance.

Mira eventually reached the cul-de-sac upon which the seat of House Suzay was found.  Unlike the oth
er homes of Jubilee, the House Seats rested upon acres of land, usually at the summit of a hill.  Within the confines of their compound walls could be found room for barns and training rings for horses as well as well-trod areas for the instruction of the House warriors.  Some Seats even had what amounted to a small farm tucked inside the borders of the estate.  And, of course, the houses were also correspondingly larger, looming over any other nearby homes.  House Suzay’s Seat was typical, with two wings – each three stories – stretching back from the large, main entrance, which alone was as big as most family homes in Jubilee Hills.

Mira passed through the open, black gates and stepped onto the wide, brick-p
aved drive, taking the smaller right hand path toward the barn.  Her next task would take her past the Inner Wall, and travel would be easier – quicker as well – if she were mounted.  Inside, the barn was dim and filled with the warm, familiar scent of hay and horse.  She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of a groom, but other than a few horses milling in their stalls, the barn was empty.  She frowned in annoyance.  The custom of the Suzays did not allow a woman of the House to saddle and prepare her own horse if she wished to ride.  It was a task that was supposed to be left to the grooms, but it was also one Mira was more than capable of handling by herself.  And right now, she was feeling rebellious.  She didn’t feel like waiting around like a helpless fool until a groom arrived.  Instead, she glanced over the available horses and chose a placid, roan mare she had ridden before.  She saddled the mare and rode out, smiling at her insignificant defiance.