17. Serenity Death Match (Adranaya)¶
Adra didn’t think of herself as timid, but crit sessions were designed to melt novitiates down and remake them into vessels for the Vorkyrda’s will. The docent, Kuchum, had said as much on the first day. Kuchum was a sour, petty man who lacked the talent to be a Sihir and took out his disappointment on the insufficiently pious. He reminded Adra of Pizlik, her family’s priest back in Kizdesh, the man who had undone her. Unlike Pizlik, though, Kuchum hadn’t known Adra since childhood. He didn’t know how to mine her secrets and forge them into knives of shame, how to carve her apart. Compared to Pizlik, Kuchum was an easy mark.
“The true nature of society is chaos,” the docent pontificated, jowls shaking with righteous condemnation. His voice was like a rusty hinge, but Adra submerged her irritation under a tranquil smile. “Beneath the veneer of order lies a pit of base urges. The first Vorkyrda created the Helix, and its laws shield us from that chaos, guiding us toward stability. Without it, we would be ruled by animals.” Kuchum glanced pointedly at Gadarien, but the Cantereian’s expression was as calm as Adra’s own.
She and Gadarien had invented a little diversion to keep their sanity intact during crits. The game, which he had dubbed “Serenity Death Match,” involved ostentatious displays of compliance. Trying to catch each other’s eyes, they would create spectacles of aggressive placidity. Whoever laughed first lost the round. Seeing her watching, Gadarien molded his lips into an idiotically beatific smile, crossing his eyes just a bit. But there was no way she’d break first. When it came to fake piety, Adra had no equal.
“We owe our very freedom to the Helix,” Kuchum continued. “Never forget that the Vorkyrda is a descendant of the Holy Ilahin, who sacrificed themselves to save all of Telua from the Stain of Ana—” He caught himself, glancing at Vaye. “From the demon.” The Anashi remained unnaturally still, ignoring his aborted slur. If she had ever shown herself capable of smiling, Adra would have considered her a serious contender for the Serenity Death Match championship.
“Now,” Kuchum said with unpleasant glee, “time to express our shortcomings. How have we failed the Helix? What more could we have done to further the glory of the Vargashi faith?” His gaze roved the courtyard, settling on a petite, tremulous novitiate from western Sarmala. “Let’s start with you, Falden.”
Falden, who clearly didn’t spend much time outside, somehow grew even more pale. “I, uh, I have failed… to… study hard enough,” he stammered.
Kuchum gave the boy a sour look. “Surely you can do better than that. Does anyone have an honest criticism for young Falden? How about you, Adranaya?”
Adra cursed inwardly as the class faced her. For some reason, Kuchum seemed to enjoy making her point out her cohort’s flaws, which had not endeared her to them. Maybe he thought she liked it, imagining her a kindred spirit. Or perhaps he shared some of Pizlik’s instincts after all.
Regardless of her misgivings, refusing to point out Falden’s flaws would only make Kuchum increase the punishment. “Preceptor Jovadão had to repeat himself when Falden was late,” Adra intoned. “He wasted the Preceptor’s time.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Kuchum. “I knew I could count on you, Adranaya. And what should young Falden’s punishment be? Vaye.”
The Anashi jumped. She was usually beneath Kuchum’s notice, which Adra envied. Handing out demerits was a delicate, unpleasant business. Kuchum saw leniency as an excuse to punish both parties.
Vaye kept her expression neutral. “Six demerits.” It was a risky answer, just on the edge of what Kuchum considered too light. Adra wasn’t sure why the Anashi would risk herself for Falden, but it was just another mystery.
Adra had, of course, recognized Vaye immediately, but the recognition hadn’t gone both ways. As far as Vaye let on, Adra was just another generic Sarmalan. To be fair, they had never actually spoken, and Adra looked pretty different with her hair bound and no piercings. She desperately wanted to talk to Vaye, but being in the same room made her strangely nervous, as though the Anashi was only safe to handle outdoors.
Kuchum’s eyes narrowed at Vaye’s leniency. “Merciful. But since young Falden here has already amassed two dozen demerits this week, that will put him over the threshold. He’ll be cleaning latrines tomorrow rather than enjoying meditation with the rest of us.”
A stricken expression flickered across Vaye’s face for a moment, like a bat flying past the moon. Hainzu leaned forward and whispered something to Falden. Falden glanced back in surprise, but his face had hardened when he turned back to Vaye.
At the beginning of the term, Hainzu had pegged Adra as a member of the rarefied social stratum to which he so desperately aspired. Her family had been wealthy for generations, but Hainzu’s were merchants who had come into money only recently. He had tried to ingratiate himself to her by making horrible Anashi and Cantereian jokes, assuming that she, like him, despised the “lesser races.” She’d just barely managed to keep herself from punching him in the throat. As much as she wanted to tell him off, there was a certain level of discretion she had to maintain, given her own history. She had settled for merely brushing him off, which had apparently made him think she wanted to be won over. The fool was as dense as an anchor.
“Mercy is an indication of sin,” Kuchum continued, smiling as though he had caught Vaye in a brilliant trap. “It arises from one’s own desire for leniency. So, Vaye, what have you done that requires mercy?”
Adra felt a flash of panic on Vaye’s behalf, but the Anashi’s expression was as flat as a Baranaathi salt plain. “I have made the mistake of thinking I have worth. In reality, I am only useful as a part of the whole,” she intoned, spreading her hands wide. “There is no me without all of us.”
To her surprise, Adra detected an echo of Kuchum’s speech patterns and nasal tone in Vaye’s response, layered atop her faint Dzharian accent. If she was mocking him, it was subtle enough to be confused for admiration. Adra caught Gadarien’s eye, raising her brows, and he gave a subtle nod of confirmation.
She looked at the Anashi again, reappraising. Was that a ghost of a smile on her charcoal lips? Even more than before, Adra wanted to know what was going on behind those mysterious orange eyes. And maybe under that drab uniform as well.
As though she felt the attention, Vaye’s eyes latched onto Adra. The Anashi’s expression hardened, the smile disappearing. Adra gulped down a sudden knot of apprehension, but also found herself wondering what it would be like to face that wrath head-on. To find out why Vaye was angry, to seek her forgiveness. Perhaps to submit to her fiery will.
Kuchum’s grating voice redirected Vaye’s flinty gaze, interrupting Adra’s runaway fantasies. “Gadarien, you look amused by Vaye’s admission of fault. You will choose her punishment.”
Gadarien frowned. “I don’t think she deserves any,” he said calmly. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
The class murmured, but went silent as Kuchum raised an angry finger. “Ridiculous,” the docent fumed. “That’s six demerits to Vaye, and twelve to you, Gadarien. Satisfied?”
Gadarien smiled unctuously, looking genuinely pleased. “Yes. Thank you for correcting me, Docent.”
Kuchum looked genuinely confused, but it was Vaye that Adra was watching. The Anashi stared at Gadarien, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Gadarien turned the inexorable beam of his smile on her, and the Anashi looked away quickly, closing her mouth and blinking rapidly, a visible flush creeping up her shapely cheekbones.
Ah. So that was what was going on.
As Kuchum continued his absurd posturing, Gadarien glanced back at Adra, raising his eyebrow just a hair. An invitation, or a challenge, or perhaps both. Adra smiled back. Whichever it was, she was ready for the competition.
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