Chapter 19
Among the casteless, Thera watched and despaired.
“They fight and bicker constantly.” Javed spoke with great exasperation. “Since they possess almost nothing, they are consumed with petty jealousies that one of their fellows might have slightly more. Some of them are smart, those I have made use of, but for each of those there are two or three who are irrational and easily provoked. Most of them think nothing of their future, only living for the next moment.”
“That’s your job, priest, to make them care.”
“I’ve been trying.”
The two of them sat on a wooden platform on a hill near the river, overlooking the nearby casteless quarter, but unseen by its residents. It was better to observe from afar, because whenever she went down among them, she got mobbed by adoring faithful, begging her for things she had no power to give them and miracles she could not grant. Currently another argument had broken out among the casteless, and two men were shouting and posturing, while a crowd grew around them hooting like Vokkan monkeys and goading the offended toward exchanging blows.
It was odd to see such unruly behavior among untouchables who were normally terrified of drawing the ire of their superiors. “Usually overseers would have stepped in and restored order, except whole men don’t have overseers, though, do they?”
“No, they do not.” Her priest shook his head. “Their overseers have been released from their obligations, leaving these dregs to manage themselves. The castes have rules and traditions. Punishments and rewards, developed over time and handed down through the generations until they become an ingrained way of doing things. The casteless had those things imposed on them. The Maharaja’s edict making them whole men, though well intentioned, simply took the small amount of structure the casteless had and tore it away. Without structure to bind them, the fearful cower afraid to do anything, while the bold have descended into hedonistic excess of every manner of debauchery previously denied them.”
That sounded like Keta’s story about their ancestors. “So is this how priests pass their time? Philosophizing about the nature of man?”
“Your insults fall on deaf ears, Prophet, because I’ve given this far more thought than you imagine. Witch hunters have to be able to pass for any caste or status as needed. You can’t do that without being a keen observer of how people function. You and Devedas cut down a fence. It is not shocking when the once caged animals stray. None of this degradation should have come as a surprise.”
To the crowd’s great amusement, the two untouchables began throwing fists. A woman, probably the lover of one of the combatants, jumped in and tried to pull her man away. That distraction just made things worse for him, as a moment later he got his nose broken by a wild swing. He fell, and that weakness signaled to a different casteless who must have been holding a grudge to step in to kick the man while he was down. One kicker turned to three, and the poor fool was quickly stomped senseless beneath a storm of dirty bare feet. His woman got pushed into a mud puddle. The mob laughed at her.
“In fairness to the casteless, I’ve seen workers fight over dumb things too, and if this was my own caste a knife would’ve come out by now, someone would have gotten cut, offense would be taken, and we’d probably be watching an actual duel rather than this foolishness.”
“True,” Javed agreed. “Impulsive pride has probably killed as many warriors during times of peace as have died in war.”
But at least her people were good at war. These casteless were even more emotional but far less disciplined than any warrior. “How in the world does the Voice expect these fools to beat demons? Have you been doing any philosophizing about that?”
“That’s a mystery only the gods know. Some of the casteless are clever. Most are dumb. None are educated. They aren’t entirely lazy, but many are directionless and have only the most meager and limited of skills to draw from. Their whole lives, possessing weapons has been forbidden, so they have no martial skill whatsoever. As you can see, all they do is flail and jabber. The instant they face real danger, they will piss themselves and run away.”
“You sound sure of that.”
“Over the years I didn’t even bother to count how many fish-eaters my obligation required me to kill, and the tiger form is far less fearsome than a sea demon…yet the descendants of Ramrowan must have some greater purpose that hasn’t yet been revealed to us.”
Javed spoke with the certainty of a hateful witch hunter and benevolent priest. It was difficult for Thera to reconcile the two. “Other than them being infuriating, how goes your ministry?”
“In the weeks I’ve been here, I’ve tried my best to organize them and to teach them what has been forgotten to try and inspire them. About a quarter have listened. The rest refuse. Those who were secret faithful before heed my words but most think this is some kind of scam. I pray for guidance and receive no inspiration in return.”
She studied Javed as he said that, and though she still didn’t fully trust him, his frustration seemed real. It appeared having a greater purpose had helped him to heal from the terrible wound Toramana had inflicted upon him, as he no longer looked so forlorn and haggard. His missing hand had been replaced by a metal hook bound to his wrist with leather straps, and he used that rough tool to gesture irately at his charges as he continued complaining.
“The untouchables of Vadal City are a mess of thieves and cutthroats. Despite the fact that for centuries the Keepers, who tended the bloodline of Ramrowan, would send here the casteless they found who were offshoots of that lineage from generations before. To this particular city, to rejuvenate the line, so that it never died out.”
“Why here?”
“I assume because they knew this was the site of the final battle, where the bloodline had to be strong or else. It reminds me almost of Zarger herdsmen, selecting horses for traits like strength and endurance to breed the next generation superior to the last. But these casteless seem as pointless as all the rest in Lok, their traits no better than any other fish-eaters. Now with the population bloated with refugees of the Great Extermination, all those have become easy victims for the predators already here.”
“Better than staying home and getting slaughtered.” Thera wondered if the Maharaja’s wife realized just how many lives she had managed to save here by bargaining with Harta. If the casteless understood, they’d probably build a statue of Rada out of garbage and worship it like one of their idols.
Javed continued. “The casteless of the Cove gave me some hope because by the time I met them, they had built something remarkable there. So much so that they were willing to die to defend it. But those were ready to listen to Keta and serve because the traditions which controlled them had been stripped away. When they needed something new to believe in, Keta had been there ready to offer them truths to cling to.”
Thinking about her old friend brought a sad smile to her face. “Keta was born to preach. Give him a few minutes to tell a story and he’d have even the most listless dullard you’ve ever seen hanging on his words like he was the greatest storyteller they’d ever heard.”
“Keta managed to forge the Cove’s casteless into something far greater than they’d been before, so resolute even the armies of Akershan couldn’t break them.”
“You are no Keta.” It still offended her to have this fraud associated with him. As if two men so different in character should ever be allowed to share the same title.
“No…I am not.” Javed was quiet for a very long time, staring out at the swift blue expanse of the Martaban. “I am no Keta. He was chosen to be Keeper. I was the unworthy replacement because the gods didn’t have time to prepare another. Briefly, I deluded myself into thinking I might become worthy. In the desolation of Kanok when I preached there the people listened—even some of the First—because they’d been humbled. You’d think the casteless would be teachable because they’ve never had anything to boast of, but it turns out pride is relative. Somehow the casteless of Vadal are as proud as the First just because they rule this mountain of shit.”
Thera had to laugh at his indignant frustration. “Herding casteless is a thankless job, isn’t it?”
“It is. And my time is short.”
She didn’t know if Javed spoke of the pending invasion, or that he had many dangerous people waiting in line to kill him. “Ashok gave his word. As a man of honor, Toramana will respect it. He’s told no one else.”
“That is an impressive restraint.”
“If Toramana had talked you’d know because some of the swamp people would’ve already come here to cut your throat. They’re a proud people. You’ll live until your work is done. Then you can go meet the gods to apologize to them in person.”
“I await that day more than you can possibly know.” Javed gave her a resigned sigh. “I was told Ashok is off on some mission. I assume you’ve finally come to ask me about the unwritten prophecies I warned you about?”
Entertainment over, the mob was dispersing, leaving one man bloody and unconscious, and his muddy woman kneeling next to him sobbing and pulling on his limp arm, futilely trying to wake him up. The casteless quarter was a savage place, but so was the rest of the world, albeit in different ways.
“I put it off as long as I could. It’s easier to dismiss you as a mad fool than listen to more prophecies of my doom.”
“I’ve given my testimony. Accept it or don’t.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You are indeed a very brave woman, Thera Vane. The bolt from the heavens chose well when it picked the Voice’s vessel.”
“We’ll see about that. So tell me about this lost prophecy.”
“Very well. The Voice gave it through you, with Ratul as the only witness, sometime not too long after the two of you first met. I was not told the exact date.”
Those had been strange days, as Thera had fled war-torn Makao, having been saved by the Protector of the Law—and secret religious fanatic—who had just executed her father, Andaman Vane. “And Ratul told it only to Keta, who told it only to you. Did he say why he didn’t tell me?”
“That will become clear, I think. The Voice declared through you with Ratul as the recorder and witness…” Javed cleared his throat. “The final battle nears. In the Great City of Man the fate of all will be decided. Gather the children of Ramrowan there. In their blood hides my avenging fire, and in that city is buried the fuel. Draw forth my eternal enemy. In his moment of triumph, he will know he has been deceived, then shall he be consumed. And then Ratul, overcome by the glory of the gods asked, ‘How may I start this holy fire, Lord?’ The Voice replied, You cannot. Behold my chosen. Her life is the spark that must be given willingly. To which Ratul begged, ‘She is not ready, Forgotten, she does not believe or understand,’ to which the Voice answered, Hide these words until the hour is upon her, for I shall prepare her through trial. Her death will free me to do what must be done.”
She wasn’t even angry. By the Forgotten’s terms, that was remarkably straightforward. “That’s it?”
“To the best of my memory, handed down through three Keepers who were forbidden to ever write it.”
So that was it, then. There was no way out for her. There would be no giving up the Voice but somehow keeping her life. It was all or nothing. It was one thing to accept the possibility of death so you could keep fighting. It was something else to know that death was certain yet be expected to fight on regardless.
They sat atop the platform with a view of river, squalor, and muck, as she mulled that over in silence for a very long time.
“Are you alright, Thera?”
How could she be? “I see why Ratul didn’t tell me that. The Voice had just inspired Vane into a doomed rebellion that got my father killed for it. Had he told me that then, I would’ve run away from this obligation and never stopped running. I would have said to the ocean with the Voice. All it had accomplished then was to bring me pain.”
“And now?”
She hesitated to answer because too much had changed. A lifetime had passed. All those experiences must have been the trials the Forgotten spoke of. Thera wasn’t the frightened and angry woman Ratul had saved from her ex-husband Dhaval Makao and a sea demon, nor was she the bitter survivor Keta had tried to drag toward enlightenment. Today she was the mother of a movement, the lover of a hero, and the leader of a free people.
Thera accepted her fate.
She gave the traitorous priest a sad smile. “I don’t feel like running anymore.”
“I understand.”
Thera watched the casteless wade out into the Martaban to capture the discarded trash that was floating by. Anything of value would be put to use. In a land where any water deep enough to stand in and not see your feet might conceal a demon, the casteless waded out there heedless of the danger anyway. It wasn’t that they were too ignorant to understand, it was simply the way things were done, and always had been.
“It’s good you didn’t share this prophecy in front of Ashok. He’d likely have killed you on the spot.”
“That’s exactly how it was told to me, every last word. I wouldn’t lie.”
“Oh, Ashok wouldn’t kill you for lying, Javed. He’d kill you just to send the gods a message.”