A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (17 page)

“Maybe you need to take a walk,” Amma said, coming up from behind and taking a seat next to him.

“I’ve done nothing but walk the past two days,” Jaresh replied.  “Walk the grounds, walk the house, walk the drive.”

“More like paced,” his mother corrected.  “You’ve stalked everywhere like a very large
, angry cat.  I’m sure I saw your tail swish now and then.”

Jaresh smiled.  “I don’t think I’ve been quite that bad.”

Amma sniffed.  “So you say.  But the mice are terrified.”

Jaresh smiled briefly, but he was a bun
dle of jangling, nervous nerves.  Humor didn’t sit well with him right now.  “What do you think will happen?” he asked.

Amma didn’t pause to consider his question.  “You’ll be fine,” she assured him, stroking a stray lock of his long hair from his forehead.  “Garnet
believes the votes should go with us, but as long as you’re safe with us, I’ll be happy.”

Jaresh sighed.  “That’s all I care about, too,” he said.  “It’s just…” He searched for the words to express what he was feeling.  “I don’t like not being in control, you know?  Everyone is doing things for me, and I know Nanna is making sure nothing slips through the cracks, but it isn’t the same thing as being in charge myself.”

Amma laughed.  “So you think Nanna is in complete control of his life?”

Jaresh was
puzzled.  “Of course he is.  He’s a ruling ‘El, and he’s always taught us how our lives are what we make of them.  We decide what we become.  You’ve always said the same thing.”

Amma shook her head in negation.  “Jaresh you misunderstood us.  We told you to steer the course of your life as best you can, but we never expected you to master the sea and the wind.”  Jaresh’s confusion must have been evident on his face,
so she continued on.  “Jaresh, we love you, but we can’t make others acknowledge the wonderful young man you’ve become; not even those of our own House.  It breaks our hearts, but we can’t do anything about it.”  She took his hand.  “The point I’m trying to make is that community and family, however you choose to define them, will always be a big part of your life, and how they view you may not always be under your control.”

Jaresh considered her words.  “I think I understand,” he said.

Amma drew him into a hug.  “We’ve done good work these past two weeks,” she whispered into his hair.  “Your nanna will keep you safe.”

Jaresh hugged her back, squeezing her briefly before
pulling away. While he believed her on an intellectual level, doubt still clung to his heart.  But he didn’t want Amma to see it.  She had enough to worry about with Rukh gone on Trial.  “You’re right,” he said, infusing his voice with false assurance.  “But you know me…I always seem to see the worst of a situation.”

Amma laughed.  “Well, it’s hard for me to see the good side of this one.”

“I guess all of this would be worth it if the Wrestivas end up humbled, right?”

Amma smiled sadly and pushed back another stray lock of his hair, gently stroking his face.  “It would be a small side benefit,” she said, her smile fading.  “And I know it probably seemed like breaking House Wrestiva was the focus of my attention, but when it comes to my children
– you, Rukh, or Bree – I’ll settle for safe.  I’ll do anything to ensure that.”  She stared Jaresh in the eyes, willing him to comprehend what she was saying.

He nodded.
Even though they sometimes complained about Amma’s dictatorial manner, they also knew she would battle Suwraith Herself to protect them.  They were her heart.

“Amma, sometimes you scare me,” Jaresh said with a mock shudder.

“Imagine how the enemies of the House must feel,” Amma replied.

Jaresh laughed.  “The mind quails.”

Their accountant hearts must pump mud thick blood, cold as a reptile.  So it is said…but it is wrong.  They can be fierce.

-From the journal of Kol’El Wrestiva, AF 1257

J
aresh woke early the next morning after a night of restless sleep.  He was too nervous to stomach much more than a cup of coffee.

Nevertheless,
Cook Heltin encouraged him to eat some food.  She offered him a bowl of oatmeal sweetened with a dollop of butter and honey.  “You’ll need to keep up your strength,” she said.

Jaresh nodded reluctantly, and accepted the oatmeal.
  Just as he was finishing his breakfast, Nanna arrived in the kitchen.  Jaresh found himself pacing back and forth, waiting impatiently for his father to finish his breakfast.  Thankfully, Nanna didn’t linger over his food.  He ate quickly, and afterward, the two of them left the House Seat for the Chamber of Lords.

At this point, Jaresh just wanted to get the day over.  The waiting and anticipation preyed on him like a phantom of menace.

As they passed the front gates, Jaresh glanced back at the seat of House Shektan.  The house stood tall behind them.  His home, and Jaresh drank in the sight of it.  It really was a beautiful place with the main, two-story house standing on a small rise, facing west.  Its pale, pearly-white granite blocks glistened in the dawn sunlight, and the terracotta roof tiles gleamed with dew.  A gravel driveway, framed by a lush grass lawn led the short distance from the heavy, black gates to the columned front porch before sweeping on toward the barn.

If he were found guilty of the charges Hal’El had leveled, execution of the verdict – expulsion from Ashoka – would be carried out immediately.  This might be the last time he saw
his home.

He shivered, and the oatmeal sat like a stone in his stomach.

“We’ll do fine,” Nanna assured him.  “The truth and the right are with us.”

Jaresh nodded and tried to force confidence into his stride as the two of them marched the short distance from the Shektan House
Seat to the Chamber of the Lords, situated like most things Kumma, in Jubilee Hills.

As
early as it was, the brick-paved streets they walked were all-but empty of pedestrians.  In this section of Jubilee Hills, stately town homes pressed close to one another on small lots with black, gray, or golden fences to mark the property boundaries and enclose elegant ornamental gardens out front.  Dew glistened on the flowers and grass, sparkling in the morning sunshine.  A few shopkeepers were up and about, and the smell of baking bread and burning wood carried on the air as restaurants prepared their ovens for the day’s work.  Muted voices and occasional shouts from the open doorways of several shops could be heard, but overall, the streets were relatively quiet.  Nevertheless a tingling excitement carried through the streets, a trembling in the air like the presage of a coming storm.  He knew it was just his imagination, but the hairs on his arms stood up anyway.

A sudden worry struck him, and he glanced at his clothes, wanting to make sure everything was in order.  It was a silly fear since he’d checked his
attire twice already, but today was too important to take any chances.  He absolutely could not appear before the ‘Els looking slovenly.  He breathed out a sigh of relief.  His gray shirt, dark trousers, and blue coat emblazoned with the House crest – a griffin clawing the air – were perfectly creased and fit him well.

Rukh had
always complained that the the griffin looked like a stylized housecat.  Jaresh smiled at the memory, suddenly wishing his brother was here with him.  “I hope Rukh’s safe,” he said in melancholy.

“Rukh can take care of himself.  Right now, you need to focus on
this moment and yourself,” Nanna suggested.

Jaresh nodded, somewhat abashed.  His father hadn’t raised his voice, but the mild rebuke was clear.  They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The Chamber of the Lords was a large rectangular building standing on the flattened plateau of a tall hill and surrounded by a thin ribbon of a green lawn.  Much of the exterior was made of red brick, with dark ivy covering it in large swathes.  Tall, narrow windows, mullioned with ironwood, sat at regular intervals along the entire first floor.  Most of the rooms were dark, although a few were lit, spilling out a wash of light.  Gray marble stairs led to a deep portico roofed in copper and made of the same stone where small groups of people lingered.  They cast speculative glances at Jaresh and his father. The façade above the entrance was carved with a likeness of Devesh.  He held a sword in one hand and on another rested a dove, seemingly ready to take flight.  His other two hands were empty, although one was the open palm of friendship and the other was clenched in a fist.

Jaresh prayed the tribunal would see him as the dove, granting him freedom’s flight and friendship.

He and Nanna nodded greeting to the two warriors standing guard at the entrance.  They were dressed in ceremonial gold-colored armor with spiked helms, but their swords – held unsheathed with the points facing downward – were anything but ceremonial.  The heavy ebony doors leading inside were enameled with a coat of clear lacquer and buffed to a bright sheen.  They were engraved with scenes of Kumma life, most of them having to do with the Trials and battles with Chimeras.

Inside was a broad foyer, tall enough for a central planting of coconut trees.  The ceiling, high above, was paned in clear glass with bright, cheerful sunlight shining down.  The walls were frescoed with scenes from
The Word and the Deed
, the sacred writings of the First Mother and the First Father.  The book was a moral guide for individuals and society as a whole but also served as an historical record of the time before the First World when the world was rough and Humanity few.  An ancient, well-preserved edition of the book was encased in glass at the far end of the foyer.

Jaresh followed
Nanna to one of the twin sets of platform staircases on opposite sides of the foyer.  They swiftly ascended to the third floor where they were let out into the midst of a wide hallway filled with milling people.  The walls along both sides of the hall were lined with paintings of famous Kummas, all of them ‘Els.  On the right hand side of the hallway, a number of double doors were thrown open.

Each entryway led
to the Assembly, the amphitheater where the ‘Els actually met. It was a room large enough to hold over a thousand people.  Wide planks of a dark wood lined the floor and from the ceiling hung a number of chandeliers.  One entire wall, the eastern one, was a bank of windows.  Given their position on the heights of Jubilee Hills, Jaresh could see all the way to the Plaza of the Martyrs and even to Mount Cyan in the distance.

Today the Assembly was packed.  The ‘Els and other high-ranking Kummas took up most of the lower gallery, while the upper level was for lower ranking Kummas and anyone else who wanted to witness the proceedings.  Often, several non-Kummas could be found in attendance, and today was no exception.  The tribunal had been the talk of the city for the past several weeks, and any non-Kumma with the wealth to afford a seat had purchased one.  It was a hearing
unlike anything ever reported before with enough salacious details to spur even the most jaded to attend.  It was ‘El versus ‘El; a charge of murder; the killing of a Kumma warrior by a Sentya; and even the rumor that a son of an ‘El had fathered a ghrina.

Jaresh took in the buzz of the crowd as he and Nanna descended to the raised stage centered in front of the tiered galleries.

They bowed before the Arbiter, Lin’El Kumma, a spare, older man in his seventies.  His beard and full head of hair were white, and he wore black robes, highlighting his role as judge.  The Arbiter was typically an elder Kumma chosen by the ‘Els for his wisdom and knowledge.  Upon his election, he gave up his House name and took on the surname of ‘Kumma’.  While his was indeed but a ceremonial position – his vote was only offered in the eveent of a tie – it was the Arbiter who administered the Chamber, interpreting the various rules and points of etiquette.

Two lecterns faced the Assembly, each backed by a large, rectangular table and flanking the Arbiter’s
dais.  Nanna gestured, and Jaresh followed.  They took the right-hand table.  Hal’El Wrestiva sat alone behind the left-hand one, and he stared at Jaresh, following his every move with the flat, deadly expression of a viper.  Jaresh tried to ignore him as he took his seat and waited with what he hoped was a polite look of interest rather than fear, while Nanna spoke to the Arbiter.  He shot a quick sidelong glance in Hal’El’s direction before quickly looking away.  Malice seemed to ooze off of Hal’El Wrestiva like a promise of retribution.

Needing a distraction, Jaresh looked out over the crowd as it murmured with excitement.  Like most of the families and Houses, the Shektans sat by one another, and
all were located on his side of the Assembly.  He smiled as they gave him signs of encouragement.  He noticed the Wrestivas, and his smile faded, a frown of confusion taking its place.  What was going on with them? Some of the Wrestivas had appeared ashamed, especially when they had noticed his attention.

Jaresh was broken from his reverie when Lin’El gaveled the tribunal into session.

The Arbiter hammered a smooth oval of black granite against a base of white stone, the signal for silence.  “The Assembly shall come to order,” Lin’El said.  Despite his age, his voice was still powerful and carried to the far corners of the room.  All the doors leading to the Assembly were closed, and they thudded shut with an echoing sound, cutting off all further conversation.  “Honored ‘Els, ladies and gentlemen, and distinguished colleagues,” Lin’El began.  “Before us stands Jaresh Shektan, accused of maliciously killing Suge Wrestiva without cause or need.  The punishment being sought is the Slash of Iniquity.  Before we begin, I will ask the aggrieved party one last time, will you withdraw your claim?”  He turned to Hal’El.

The leader of House Wrestiva stood.  “I will not withdraw.  My son lies dead by wicked, Sentya hands.  Punishment for this crime must be meted out,” he replied in a clear and firm voice.

Lin’El nodded.  “So be it.  The tribunal has begun.  The accused is represented by his father, Dar’El Shektan.  The aggrieved is Hal’El Wrestiva, ruling ‘El of his House and represents himself.”  He looked to each of the named men.  “I will allow each of you to call on attestants and make your claims.  You will also be allowed to question your opponent’s attestants.  The tribunal will be decided by a simple majority of the ‘Els who are present.  As you know, in case the Chamber is evenly divided, I shall cast the deciding vote.”  He paused and cleared his throat.  “The tribunal begins.  To the aggrieved, I say the lectern is yours.”

Hal’El stood and made his way forward.  He was a proud man, with hooded eyes and a
wide, flat nose broken on several occasions.  His gray hair was trimmed in a simple, martial cut, and a slight limp marred his confident warrior’s gait.  His one adornment was a nose ring, but with his thick frame, it gave him the unfortunate appearance of a bull wearing a nose hoop.  However, unlike Suge, who had been similarly built, Hal’El was not slow, and he was not a coward.  In his time, he had been a famous warrior, holding the distinction of more completed Trials – eight, all told – than anyone in living memory.  The fame garnered from his accomplishments had made him the obvious choice when it came time to choose a new ruling ‘El of House Wrestiva.  Initially, after rising to his position of leadership, Hal’El had developed a well-deserved reputation for ruthlessness in the furthering of his House’s ambition.  But five years ago, shortly after the death of his older son during a Trial, something within Hal’El had changed, some vital spark or fire had dimmed.  As a result, his energy and focus were not as they had once been, and the fortunes of his House had suffered.  Rumor had it that relations among the families of House Wrestiva had grown strained.

“My fellow ‘Els, I had but one child left in this world.  His name was Suge Wrestiva,” Hal’El began, his voice powerful and commanding.  “My child admittedly disappointed me on many occasions.  I do not seek to defend his actions on the fateful night in question.  It shames me to the depths of my soul to know my own flesh and blood could have behaved in such a despicable fashion.”  He took a deep, shuddering breath, as
if burdened by a weight of emotion.  “I cannot understand how he came to speak as he did, but he was, and always will be, my son.  I loved him, and now he lays dead – and I say, needlessly so.

“As I stated, I don’t seek to defend him – he was not a saint – but I must demand each of you answer this one question: was execution the proper sentence for the words he spoke?  I say no, and I am certain you all feel as I do.  Certainly, he should have been brought to task and given a fitting punishment.  But it would have been we, the ruling ‘Els of the Caste Kumma
, who would have rendered justice upon him, not this puffed up boy, this Sentya, full of pride and anger over some perceived insult from his betters!  And we would not have killed Suge.  He would have offered a proper and sincere apology.  House Wrestiva would have made appropriate recompense, and it would have been the end of the matter.  The Sentya had no right to take his life!”  He thrust an accusing finger at Jaresh and took a menacing step forward.

Nanna’s hands clamped on one of Jaresh’s from under the table, keeping him from flinching.