A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (33 page)

Jaresh shared a wondering glance with Bree and set aside his mug.

Nanna’s voice dropped to a low whisper.  “What I am about to tell you is known only to me.  It has to do with Kuldige Prayvar, born into House Trektim, and known to you as Kul’El Shektan, the founder of our House,” Nanna said.  “Several years ago, I found a small diary tucked away in a hidden drawer within my desk, the same desk inherited and passed down by the ‘Els of our House since its founding.  It was written in the hand of Kul’El, and I don’t think he meant for it to be read by anyone else.  The information contained within his journal is repulsive.”  Nanna’s voice dropped to whisper.  “By his own admission, our founder was a member of the Sil Lor Kum.”

Nanna’s words dropped into a dead silence.  Jaresh and Bree shared a look of stunned disbelief.  That could not be right.  Only twisted degenerates sought membership in the Sil Lor Kum, not someone noble like the founder of House Shektan.

“That is imposs…” Jaresh began loudly, cut off as Nanna dug hard fingernails into his forearm.

His eyes flashed.  “Quietly,” he hissed.  “There may be
no other ears about, but we can’t take any chances.  It’s the reason we are here and not the House Seat – too many chances of being overheard.”

Jaresh made himself relax and let out a shuddering breath.  Nanna held a moment longer, but at Jaresh’s nod, he released his arm.

“Unfortunately, what I just said is all too true,” Nanna said, still grimacing in disgust.  “But Kul’El was not just a member of the Sil Lor Kum, he was their SuDin, their commander.  In our House records, we know Kul’El was, at best, a middling warrior.  He completed three Trials, and somehow, through
extremely
fortuitous investments, he became wealthy enough to found House Shektan.  Now, we know how those lucky turns of events came to pass.  Kul’El possessed information unavailable to others, and he was able to make those spectacularly prudent investments because of his role as SuDin to the Sil Lor Kum.”

Jaresh felt sick.  Suddenly, he didn’t feel like drinking the rest of his beer.  He pushed it away.

Bree looked heartbroken.  “Our House was founded on a lie, and by the worst kind of criminal imaginable.  How do we walk the streets with such shame hanging upon us?” she cried out.  “We’ve lost all honor.”

“His sin was his.  It is not ours,” Nanna answered, fiercely.  “Our honor is intact.”  He stared Bree in the eyes, willing her to accept his words.

“A home is only as strong as its foundation,” she replied, reciting an old adage.

“Our foundation does not stem from the House we were born into,” Nanna continued.  “I know this better than just about anyone else.  Nor does it emanate from the actions of our
ancestors.  In the end, we will all have to face the divining and dividing sword of Devesh.  Our only armor during His final judgment will be how we acquitted ourselves on this world.  The actions of our forebears can neither stain nor cleanse us.”

Bree didn’t say anything.  She still looked troubled.

Jaresh understood exactly what she was going through since he was struggling with the same issues.

“There is more,” Nanna said after a moment.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Jaresh said.

“I know what I’ve told you is disturbing…” Nanna began.

“Bit of an understatement,” Bree muttered.

Nanna shrugged.  “Imagine how I felt when I learned the truth,” he replied.  “
While the two of you can confide your thoughts and fears with one another, I had no one.  At least not until Rukh forced me to explain why I was so agitated.”

“Rukh knows?” Bree asked.  “Should have figured he would.”

“I don’t remember you being sad or downcast,” Jaresh said.

For as long a
s Jaresh could remember, their nanna had always had a smooth and unruffled equilibrium no matter how difficult the situation.  Nanna was a rock – nothing bothered him.  It was part of the reason he was such an effective ‘El.  Others might lose themselves in anger or false bravado, but Nanna did not.  He always coolly focused on the problem at hand and never let his emotions get the better of him.

Nanna smiled.  “It was a few days after I’d come across the journal.  One afternoon, Rukh walked into the library and…” he shrugged.  “He must have seen something in my face or my posture…whatever it was, he knew something was wrong.”  He chuckled.  “He badgered me until I told him what
it was.”

“And he’s never said a word this entire time,” Bree said.

“For two years now, he and I kept our secret shame hidden,” Nanna said, “and so will you,” he added, obdurate hardness in his voice.

“We will,” Jaresh promised.  “Now, what was this other
thing you wanted to tell us?”

Nanna took a sip of his warm beer.  “The
Withering Knife.  The Souleater.  It is mentioned in Kul’El’s journal, but he is frustratingly close-lipped about it.  He merely restates what we already know: it is an ancient weapon, used by Suwraith at the dawn of our world, on the Night of Sorrows, and perhaps, on occasion, by the Sil Lor Kum.  He suspects it gives the wielder the power to steal
Jivatma
from those who are slain with it.”

Jaresh tried to keep the horror from his face.

Jivatma
was the essence of a person.  It was their center, who they were in their heart-of-hearts.  Some even said
Jivatma
was the soul itself, the part of a person living on after the death of their mortal form.  And for it to be stolen …it would be the final death.  All their futures and choices would be vanished, stolen from them.  They could never be re-born on Arisa or ascend to Heaven.  With the Knife, their death would be the end of them.  They would be expunged from existence, as surely as if they had chosen to deny Devesh’s grace.

Learning the truth about the founder of their House had been awful, but this was sickening beyond words.  This was evil in its purest form.  What kind of a
sick mind would even think to fashion such a weapon? It was appalling.  Worse was the fact that the Withering Knife might be in Ashoka, and if so, it had already been used on poor Felt Barnel.  The knowledge leant new urgency to Jaresh’s work in the Cellar.

“But you’re not certain it’s this Knife we’re dealing with?” Bree asked, cutting into Jaresh’s horrified thoughts.  “More likely, it’s some naaja degenerate who needs to be put down.”

“I am not entirely sure,” Nanna answered.  “As I said, Kul’El’s journal is frustratingly opaque on the topic.”  He turned to Jaresh.  “We have to know the truth of this matter.  Quickly and quietly.  If it is the Sil Lor Kum with whom we are dealing, they must have no inkling we suspect their presence.  They’ll only go deeper underground.  We have to let them remain comfortable and confident in their anonymity, certain of their safety in the shadows.”

“Until we shatter their smug assurance and kill them all,” Bree said with a fierce grimace.

“Exactly,” Nanna said.  “Which is why you will be helping your brother and Mira in their search.”

Despite the sickened feeling in the pit of his stomach, Jaresh
had to smile, however fleeting.  It looked like Bree would be getting her nose dirty after all.

She saw his half-smile and must have guessed what he was thinking.  She stuck her tongue out at him, briefly lightening the mood.

Jaresh chuckled.

Just then, a young man, a Shiyen
burst into the Long Pull.  Based on his build and preternaturally balding head, the owner’s son. He fairly bounced with excitement.

“There’s another been murdered!
” he shouted into the quiet.  “Just like the last one!”

Those who choose the twilight existence of the Sil Lor Kum are fools.  But pity their children.  What mise
ry to be raised by such jackals!

-
The Sorrows of Hume
, AF 1789

S
ilence fell in the pub before shouted questions were thrown at the young man, who struggled to answer them.  He didn’t know much more than what he’d already said.

Nanna turned to Jaresh.
 
“Find Mira.  We’ll meet you in my study in a few hours,” he said.  “We need to discuss our plans.”

“What about you?” Jaresh asked.

“Bree and I will go to where the body was found,” Nanna answered.  “And make sure your mother and Sophy are there also,” he added a moment later.  “It’s time we informed them about this.”

The
three of them quickly left the bar, with Jaresh heading toward the House Seat, while Bree and their nanna went east along Scythe Cut toward Fragrance Wall to where the body had been found.  Nanna wanted to personally examine the area, hoping to learn something more of the killer they hunted.  Perhaps there was a clue, something others might have overlooked.  It was a reasonable expectation, especially since the Watch had apparently not yet recognized that the murderer was likely a Kumma
.

Bree followed silently in her
nanna’s wake, but her mind was in turmoil.  It had been a day of upheaval.  So many ugly truths had come to light, and so many falsehoods had been revealed.  She struggled to make sense of it all.  For instance, who was she now?  She was a Shektan and a Kumma.  That much was still true, but was she still an upright woman?  She feared she was not.  Despite Nanna’s forceful assurance, she remained disturbed by a single question, one she could not answer: could grace and honesty rise from the wretched foundations laid by Kul’El Shektan?

Nanna said people made their own honor, and Bree unde
rstood what he meant, at least from a logical perspective, but understanding wasn’t the same as believing.  Nanna’s words were sophistry, a way to wash clean the sins of the past without actually confronting them.  For instance, should a ghrina ever reach adulthood and procreate, the original sin of its birth would still be passed on to all of its progeny, no matter how many generations had passed.  The ghrina’s stain could never be expunged. And if such things were true on an individual level, how could it not be the same for a House?  No matter all the good works done later, if a House was born in sin, would it not carry the mark of such dishonor for the entirely of its existence?

T
he past determined the present, or so the philosophers opined.

All her life, Bree had been so proud to be a Shektan, part of a rising power, a House of morality, led by a man of goodness and decency.  And now this…it was a heartache she wasn’t sure she could ever come to terms with.

And she had no one with whom to confide.  Who could she tell?  No one else could be allowed to learn the dark secret at the heart of House Shektan’s founding, and the only other person who
did
know was Jaresh.  But he followed unthinkingly wherever Nanna led.  Their father had decided House Shektan had developed honor, and Nanna’s words were as much the holy truth as
The Word and the Deed
, so far as Jaresh was concerned.  Nothing more needed to be said or discussed.  It was done.

Rukh might have understood what Bree was going through, but he was far, far away and wouldn’t be back for several years.

She held in a sigh of bitter disappointment and grief.

She would have to struggle with this problem on her own.  She would have to
find her own peace with the past and come to accept the unforgivable.
In some ways, she wished Nanna had never taken her into his confidence and told her what was going on.  She wished he had left House Shektan’s history and all of the foul details of its founding to himself.  Blissful ignorance would have been so much easier.

Nanna slowed.  They must be nearing the place of the murder, and Bree tried to rein in her troubled thoughts.  Her father needed her help.  He needed her eyes to help see what the Watch might have missed.  She had to be at her best even if she felt
at her worst.

She glanced around at their surroundings.

This was Fragrance Wall, the area of Ashoka that was home to most Cherids.  The nearby houses were large and extravagant, with tree-lined private drives leading to immaculate manses and estates.  Duriah and Rahail guards warded the gates while Murans tended the extensive gardens within.  Caste Cherid was exceedingly affluent in material wealth, but their prosperity did not extend to their ability to procreate.  They were the smallest of all the Castes in terms of numbers, usually marrying late and often only able to produce one or two children per couple.  While everyone else knew a Caste’s true wealth was measured in its people, the Cherids must have believed differently or were simply too selfish to have larger families; too caught up in their own lives to share it with someone as needy as a child.  How else to explain their vulgar displays of wealth?  It was so tasteless.  As far as Bree was concerned, it was a minor miracle the Caste had not somehow bred itself out of existence. And, of course, the precious little princes and princesses never lifted a finger to obtain their riches.  For a Cherid, labor was thought to be nearly sinful.  Instead the parasites suckled like leeches off the work of others.

“We’re close,” Nanna said, breaking into her thoughts as he pointed out the Watch.

They had cordoned off the area in front of one of the mansions, using temporary wooden barricades to keep the press of onlookers at a distance.  Members of the Watch, almost all of them Kumma, stood grim-faced behind the barriers, facing outward and denying entrance to anyone from the already large crowd gathered beyond the cordons.  Bree couldn’t see the body, but according to those standing about, it was somewhere close to the gates, apparently having been found behind a tall hedgerow.

Nanna directed her to the barricades.

“Only Watch allowed through,” a warrior said as Bree’s nanna was about to bypass the barriers.  “You’ll have to wait…”  His words died off as he recognized Dar’El.  “Sorry, sir.  Didn’t realize it was you.”

“I understand.  I’m sure you have a lot on your mind,” Nanna said, stepping past the man.

They headed to a gap through a tall, tapestry hedge where the Watch was clustered.

“Dar’El, what brings you here?” a voice called out.  It was Rector Bryce.  Apparently, he was the senior officer present.

“Simply a concerned citizen wanting to help in whatever way I can.”

“Concerned citizen
?” Rector gave them a penetrating look.  After a moment he shrugged and gestured for them to follow as he led them through the opening in the hedge.

Beyond was an enclosed garden where hummingbirds darted amongst floral gems of many hues.  The heart was a blue sapphire pond of still water
cupped by a carpet of soft, green grass.  Lily pads floated on a slow current.  A stencil of fine, white gravel marked the perimeter of the garden.  It must have been a lovely haven before it became the site of an inhuman murder.

“You know it’s a Kumma, don’t you?” Rector whispered.

“The victim?” Nanna asked, sounding surprised.

“The killer.”

Bree hid her surprise.  Despite his membership in House Shektan, Bree didn’t know Rector very well.  On the few occasions in which they had spoken, he had never struck her as particularly bright.  Rather, she had considered him a stiff and cordial bore, which to her was the pose of the amiable dullard.

Perhaps she had misjudged him.

“And you say this, why?” Dar’El asked.

“The first man who was killed – Felt Barnel – he was a friend of mine.  I knew him from a Trial we shared.  He was as tough a Muran as you’re ever
going to meet, still in the Guard, in fact.  But even with all his training, he was barely able to put up a fight.  I’m thinking the only person fast enough, strong enough, and skilled enough to take him down so easily would have to be a Kumma.

“You’re friend could have been taken by surprise,” Dar’El suggested.

“Not Felt.  Surprise or no, he would have given more than he showed.  He wouldn’t have been put down so easily.”  Rector shook his head.  “I don’t like saying it, but it’s the truth.  It’s got to be one of us.”

Nanna studied Rector long enough for the
Watcher to squirm a bit.  “I’ve considered the same possibility,” Dar’El finally admitted.

“And I also think you know even more.  It’s why you’ve had Jaresh and Mira going to the Library for the past two months.”

“What do you mean?” Nanna asked, feigning ignorance.  But it was too late.  Rector had guessed the truth, and Nanna’s fleeting look of surprised acknowledgement had confirmed it.

“Others might ignore Jaresh’s worth, but I don’t.  They only see a Sentya, but I see your son, trained to think critically, just like Rukh and Bree.  You trust him, and you trust Mira.  You wouldn’t have them spending so much time in the Library unless it was important, like a Kumma murderer.  I can help.”

Again, Bree found herself impressed by the man’s insight.  She had
definitely
misjudged Rector Bryce …and so had Nanna judging by the expression on his face.

Dar’El considered Rector’s offer – a moment stretching into uncomfortable silence – before nodding agreement.  “No one else is to know of this.  Can you do that?”

“So long as it doesn’t interfere with my work in the Watch.”

“It will complement it,” Nanna said.  “We’re having a meeting at the House Seat in my study in
an hour.  Will you be there?”

Rector bowed, a brief bob of his head.  “Of course, my ‘El,” he replied.

While Nanna and Bryce had been talking, Bree had ventured deeper into the garden, to a jarring area of bright red blood marring the pristine white gravel.  She studied the ground closely.  The body had already been removed, but there was something in the blood splatter.  A set of footprints from a pair of boots.  She frowned in concentration.  There was more.  She bent closer and after a few minutes of study, she smiled imperceptibly in understanding.  She recognized it now.

“You see something?” Nanna asked.

“The killer has a limp,” Bree answered.  “See how the left boot heel drags.”

Rector swore.  “I
knew
there was something wrong with those prints,” he said.  “I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Nanna smiled.  “Well done.”

They spent a few more minutes looking around the garden but none of them discovered anything else of importance.

“Come to the House Seat in an hour
,” Dar’El said to Rector.

“I have a few more things to attend to, but I should be there
without delay.”

“Check her nails,” Bree suggested.  “She might have fought back and
scratched whoever attacked her.”

“Her?” Rector asked.  “How did you know?”

“The shape of the body etched in the blood,” Bree said.

Rector smiled.  “Very clever.”

*****

L
ater in the evening, almost everyone invited had gathered in Nanna’s study.  Amma and Mira’s mother, Sophy, sat in a corner, speaking softly with one another, occasionally flicking glances at Rector Bryce.

Bree
watched the object of their attention as well. Rector stood before the bookshelves, scanning them.  He seemed aware of the older women’s interest, and based on the stiffness of his carriage, she could tell it made him uncomfortable.  She took pity on him and walked over.  “They seem to have picked up your scent,” she murmured.

Rector smiled.  “If they were only hunting me, I could run and hope to escape,” he said.  “But with the plans
I think they have in mind, running would merely postpone the inevitable.”

Bree laughed.  “You make it sound as if they have a horrid fate in
store for you.  Isn’t your family and Sophy’s considering a marriage contract between you and Mira?”

Rector shrugged.  “
So I’ve heard,” he said.  “But I don’t know how serious these discussions actually are.”

“Even if they directly affect you?” Bree asked, perplexed.

“So it seems,” Rector said.  “Besides, I don’t think Mira likes me much.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m not sure,” Rector said.  “Perhaps I’m not quite as clever as she would wish her husband to be.”

Bree mulled his words, feeling vaguely guilty.  After all, until tonight, she had felt the same way about Rector Bryce.  “There’s more to you than she realizes,” she said.

Just then, Mira and Jaresh walked in with Nanna close on their heels.  He closed the door and quickly explained to Rector what he suspected might be happening.  Amma and Sophy must have already known because they evinced no surprise at Nanna’s words.

After Nanna was finished, Rector, who had listened in stoic silence, exhaled hard.  “The Sil Lor Kum,” he murmured.  “
Suwraith’s’ spit.  I knew we were facing a degenerate, but I had no idea
how
degenerate.”