CHAPTER 2: I’m Not Afraid of a Little Blood

Laile Tamrakar
Day 1

A girl’s whisper susurrated through the stone archway. Laile’s head shot up. The noon meditation service was still underway — chimes and chanting resonated through the hydroponic garden behind the Hall of the Threefold Path — and everybody in the compound should have been in attendance.

Herself included, but she wasn’t in any mood to meditate. She closed her examination booklet, hiding the red marks slashed across her answers. Her heart pounded as she listened. Sure enough, she heard another whisper.

It’s them, she thought with heavy resignation. Again. She stood.

“There she is!”

The four human girls who turned the corner yipped with delight, fanning across the shady passage like a pack of hunting starihanti. Laile’s back and shoulders tightened. Her bare heel hit the stone bench as she slid her foot back to take a defensive stance.

“Why aren’t you in the meditation hall, Laile?” the prettiest girl taunted. “Have you finally decided to quit the Order and go back to your slum?”

Laile ignored her, looking around. Four against one. Combat-circle odds. Not good, she thought, but not impossible. Jayashri Sarin and her girlpack came from some of the wealthiest families in Katakot, but only two of the four had passed their crimson guardian exams yet. Laile, who’d already earned her crimson stole, was confident she could beat either of them in a one-on-one fight.

Beating them in a four-on-one fight would be harder, however.

“Or were you sitting here crying over your bad grades?” Jayashri slipped closer and snatched at the exam book. Laile slapped her hand away. One of the other three giggled.

“Get lost,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

“Poor little Laile.” Jayashri tossed back her cloud of night-black hair. A flower drifted from the garland woven into it and fell to the floor. “Life must be so hard now that you need brains instead of brawn!”

The girls pressed closer, a predatory gleam in their eyes. Laile’s gaze darted back and forth between them. I could jump up on the bench behind me and escape through the arch, she thought. That would move her into the Order’s back courtyard, and from there she could run in any direction to escape them. Her weapons and sparring instructors had taught her that guardians avoided fighting whenever possible, and avoidance was certainly possible. But avoidance meant leaving her books and notes behind, and she knew from bitter experience that if she did that, she’d never see them again.

Besides, she’d never been very good at running away from a fight.

“You were so proud of yourself after your Crimson and Saffron Scrutinies,” Jayashri crooned. “But any aberrant chutiya knows how to fight and farm.”

“Any aberrant slut chutiya,” one of the girls amended.

“Adhisa basti trash,” another chimed in.

Laile bared her teeth at them, waiting. They weren’t saying anything she hadn’t heard before.

“Studying for the Black Scrutiny is soooo much harder, isn’t it?” Jayashri continued. “Are all those big words too much for you?”

“I’m still one Scrutiny ahead of you, Jaya,” Laile retorted. “So I guess that makes you more stupid than a basti rag, huh?”

Jayashri’s hand whipped through the air. It was a weak, poorly executed blow that Laile barely had to work to deflect. Someone moved in her peripheral vision and she twisted, raising her other arm to protect her head. A fist glanced off her shoulder. She tucked her knee against her chest and then slammed her foot outward. The flat of her heel caught one of the girls in the leg and she heard a shriek. One down, she thought.

“Ugly randi!” A fist caught her in the ribs. Laile struck back, felt her fist turned aside, and spotted one of the remaining three skirting around the bench behind her. She threw an elbow backward and heard a grunt as it connected. Taking advantage of her distraction, the girl in front of her swung. Laile raised her arms to cover her face and felt a flurry of sharp blows landing against her forearms. She tried to lift her leg, then dropped it again. Too close for a good kick. Instead, she twisted and kneed her opponent as hard as she could in the side of the leg. Once. Twice. The girl grunted and backed up.

Somewhere, someone was sobbing. The one I kicked? She couldn’t tell and couldn’t risk a glance to find out.

“I’ve got her!” Fingers dug into her braided hair and yanked backward, sending pain ripping through her scalp. Annoyed, Laile reached up and grabbed her assailant’s hand. She dug her fingers into the girl’s wrist and twisted until she was facing her new attacker, still bent over. The stone bench stood between them, preventing her from head-butting or sweeping the girl’s feet out from under her. Instead, she clasped the girl’s hand between both of hers and wrenched it down toward her chest. The movement yanked the girl forward, her shins hitting the bench. With a yelp, she released Laile’s hair. Laile promptly landed a strong right hook to the side of the girl’s face. That’ll leave a bruise, she thought with satisfaction. Hair-pulling was for children.

Toes slammed into the curve behind her knee. She staggered and had a split second to glimpse slim fingers sweeping up one of her textbooks before its spine slammed into the side of her head. Cursing, Laile dropped to one knee and grabbed the top of the bench to steady herself. Stupid. Get up.

The book collided with her skull a second time and she lost her grip, falling sideways. Her cheek brushed the rough stone floor. Get up! She pushed herself to one elbow, crooking an arm over her head. Jayashri loomed over her, clutching the textbook and panting.

“Hold her down,” she hissed.

Laile kicked Jaya’s ankles, knocking her feet out from under her. The girl squeaked as she stumbled forward, her arms flying and the textbook tumbling to the ground. Laile grabbed her opponent’s white shirt with both hands and rolled until she was on top, straddling her opponent’s waist. Their faces were so close she could smell the scent of jasmine on Jayashri’s skin. Jayashri’s eyes widened as Laile sat up and drew back a fist. She desperately arched her back, trying to buck Laile off.

“Don’t you dare!”

Laile bared her teeth in another wordless growl as she hesitated. As much as she’d love to break pretty Jayashri’s nose, the punishment for fighting outside the training ring would be a lot more severe for a charity student like her than a rich khanki like Jayashri. She might even get expelled, if Jayashri kicked up a fuss.

And of course she would.

Hands clamped down on Laile’s arms as she hesitated. She twisted, but Jayashri’s remaining two packmates hauled her backward, off their leader. Jayashri scrambled to her feet, her chest heaving. Her two friends kicked Laile down to her knees, twisting her arms behind her back.

I should have hit her, Laile thought with regret. She drew in a deep breath and resolved to do better next time.

“C’mon, Jaya,” she taunted the girl. “Afraid to fight me one-on-one?”

“I don’t even want to touch you,” Jayashri retorted. She knelt beside the girl Laile had kicked, who was still sobbing and holding her knee. “Come on, let me see how bad it is.” She pushed the girl’s robe up and touched the injury, making her friend flinch. “Ouch. I don’t think she broke it, but you’d better get to the infirmary. Go on. We’ll take care of her for you.”

Jayashri’s expression was dark as she stood and turned. Behind her, the injured girl pulled herself to her feet, clinging to the plant-covered racks on the wall. Laile squirmed as she saw tears running down the girl’s face.

Well, she shouldn’t attack people if she can’t handle getting hurt, she thought with guilty defiance. Would the girl squeal on her or keep quiet to avoid implicating Jaya? If I’m going to get in trouble anyway, she reflected, I really wish I’d broken Jaya’s nose.

“You think you’re so tough, don’t you?” Jayashri sneered. “Gutter trash.”

A globule of spit struck Laile’s cheek. Laile hawked and spat back, but her effort fell short. The pressure on her arms increased as one of the girls kneed her in the spine.

“What are you going to do now, Jaya? Call me some more names?” Laile curled her lip. “You’re all a bunch of cowards. Not one of you has the guts to face me claw and cartilage!”

Jayashri took a step forward. Laile braced herself, but then the girl spun and grabbed her textbooks, exam, and notebooks.

“That’s because we don’t want to get expelled for fighting a filthy little rag like you,” Jayashri sneered, marching over the drainage shaft in the middle of the courtyard and sliding the grate aside with one hand. “And we don’t need to fight you, do we?”

“Give me my books!” Laile threw herself backward against the girls who were holding her, arching her back to push herself to her feet. Something shifted in her shoulder and she gasped, dropping back to her knees.

“I mean, you’re failing, anyway, right? It’s not like these books are even helping you.” Jayashri held them over the dark opening.

“That’s Order property!” Laile twisted again, but as soon as her right shoulder shifted, she felt a sickening surge of pain. She bit back a surge of nausea as her textbooks and papers cascaded from Jayashri’s hands into the open shaft.

“Bring her here,” Jayashri said, wiping her hands on her white robe. “We’ll send her down to get them.”

Pain tore through Laile’s right arm as she was marched forward. Her breath escaped in sharp, hissing gasps. Fight through it, she snapped at herself. You’ve had worse. Her knees hit the cobbles and she was forcibly bent over until she was gazing into the darkness. Her long braid slipped over her shoulder and dangled down in front of her, and she smelled dank, mossy stone. Maybe, she added with a nervous swallow. No. They won’t throw me in. They’re cowards, not killers. And service will be over soon.

“How wide is it?” one of the girls holding her asked. “I mean, will she get stuck?”

“Grab her legs,” Jayashri directed. “Let’s find out.”

“You’ll get expelled,” Laile gasped around the pain. As the girls’ grip on her arms shifted, she mule-kicked behind her as hard as she could, feeling her heel connect with something soft.

“Shit!”

Laile’s arms were abruptly released. She spun, rising to one knee. Pain shot through her shoulder. She clamped her left hand over her right arm, holding it motionless against her side as bile burned the back of her throat.

Nobody spoke. In the silence, Laile realized the chanting from the meditation hall had stopped.

“Initiates … what’s going on here?” a familiar voice asked from behind her.

The frozen moment shattered. Laile’s three remaining attackers fled, each taking a different direction.

“Initiate Tamrakar.” A sigh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Prelate Nayar.” Laile turned, holding her arm tight against her side.

The head of si’Urai’s Order was tall and slender, his savant’s robe glittering with the golden embroidery that indicated his rank. Laile assumed Nayar was in his fifties or sixties, but his face didn’t carry the lines of age one might expect from his silver hair. Secretly, she’d always thought he looked like one of those ageless devas she’d seen illustrated in the children’s books at the orphanage.

Nayar frowned as he strode across the courtyard.

“I find it hard to believe this is still going on. Who was it this time?”

Moving slowly and trying not to wince, Laile dropped to both knees to respectfully touch his bare feet.

“I’m all right, Master,” she replied.

“Are you?” Nayar leaned closer. “I saw those girls running away. And you’re already starting to bruise.”

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood that rose from his robes.

“It’s nothing, Master.”

“Is your arm broken?”

She opened her eyes again.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

To her embarrassment, the prelate carefully took her good arm and helped her to stand. Goosebumps rose on her flesh as his fingers ran over her skin, searching for signs of swelling.

“Nothing’s broken,” he said. He tugged the collar of her robe and she winced. “You might have dislocated your shoulder. We can fix it in the infirmary.”

“Yes, Master.” A dislocated shoulder wasn’t so bad, she thought with relief. A broken arm would have been a lot worse. “My books and notes fell into the drainage shaft,” she added, straining to keep her voice even. “I need to get them out.”

He eyed the grate, sitting to one side on the cobbles.

“Tell me who threw them down there, and I’ll have them retrieve your books for you.”

“I’ll do it, Master, if I can borrow a ladder….”

“With a dislocated shoulder? I’ll ask one of the staff to get them. With any luck, your books will have gotten stuck before they fell into the reservoir tank.” He began walking away. Thrusting aside her concerns, Laile followed close behind.

“I wish you would grow out of this childish pride, Initiate,” he continued, his tone stern. “It’s not doing you any favors. You’ve shown up in the infirmary with increasingly severe injuries over the last year and a half, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the corresponding decline in your grades.”

Laile flinched.

“Don’t forget that your success as an initiate means more than personal achievement; it’s a gift you’re giving all the other unfortunates who may wish to join the Order. But I can’t parade your achievements before the Conclave if you get yourself killed before you pass your final Scrutiny.”

Laile bowed her head, although she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of pleasure at his words. The prelate had been paying attention, after all! She’d seen him so seldom in the last year that she’d feared he’d forgotten his promise. But of course he hadn’t: Prelate Nayar would keep faith with her, as long as she kept it with him.

---

Nayar had plucked her out of the Adhisa district orphanage six years ago, shortly before she’d turned thirteen and would have aged out of the orphanage’s care. She’d been planning to join the Devoted, who accepted anyone regardless of their species, age, gender, or germline. Given her father’s crimes, Laile had figured she wouldn’t have any better options, not unless she wanted to live in the streets with nothing but an orphanage education and a fast pair of fists. At least the Devoted would keep her fed and clothed.

But instead, Prelate Nayar had traveled all the way down to Adhisa to seek her out.

She remembered her dizzying fear as she’d been marched before him — he’d struck her as tall and forbidding, with his bright silver hair and his formal saffron robes. She’d been desperately trying to remember what she’d done to bring the wrath of the Order down upon her head. Could it have something to do with her father? Now that she was almost of age, were they going to execute her, too? Her eyes had darted back and forth across the dimly lit, stale-smelling director’s office, searching for avenues of escape as she’d made her awkward bow.

“Laile Tamrakar,” Nayar had said. She’d trembled and wondered if she could turn and race past the director guarding the door. If she could reach the street, she was sure she’d be able to escape for good.

“Look at me.”

Swallowing hard, she’d glanced up. Light from the office window had played over the stranger’s face and turned his hair into a gleaming halo. And then he’d smiled. A real smile, the kind of smile adults at the orphanage only awarded her on those rare occasions when she did something right.

She was dazzled.

“Miss Tamrakar, I’m looking for an intelligent and courageous young woman willing to work hard in the Order of the Threefold Path,” he’d said, studying her with curiosity. “You’ve been highly recommended.”

She was confused. Who would recommend her? She’d glanced back at the orphanage director, but he’d seemed equally baffled. Maybe the prelate had gotten the wrong child, she’d thought. Or maybe this was some kind of test. Or trick. Everyone in the orphanage knew about shifty-eyed recruiters taking away boys and girls who were never seen again.

“I’d like to enroll you in our school,” Nayar had continued after a moment. “My office will cover all of your expenses — food, board, lessons. You’ll undergo three years of preparatory education, and then three to five years of training to become an adept. It won’t be easy. You’ll have to work hard to catch up to your peers. However, I’ve been assured that you are bright and capable of doing so, if you apply yourself.”

He’d paused again, as if waiting for her to say something. She hadn’t dared open her mouth. If she did, he might realize he had the wrong child.

“As I said, it won’t be easy. There will be people at the school, students and instructors both, who will object to your attendance. They won’t think a poor girl from Adhisa can succeed. They’ll try to drive you out. But if you’re strong enough to resist them, I promise that you will become an adept: preceptor, guardian, or magister, whichever path suits you best.”

“I can be a guardian?” she’d burst out, despite herself. She’d seen Order guardians in the streets, wearing deep crimson robes and carrying bright khanda swords.

The Devoted never got to carry swords.

The prelate’s smile had returned.

“Yes, certainly, if that’s still the right path for you six years from now. What do you think? Would you like to try?”

She’d shot another quick look at the orphanage director. His lips were pursed with disapproval. This might be a test, she’d decided, but it’s not a trick. She didn’t think a trick would upset the director.

The prelate was still regarding her as if she were a real person. Maybe he didn’t know who she was. She’d dropped her eyes.

“My father….” Her throat had closed down on the rest of the sentence.

“In the Order, you follow your own path, Miss Tamrakar,” Nayar had said. “Not your parents’. You’ll have the opportunity to prove that you’re more than your germline.”

Those words, that simple statement, had opened a gate inside of her. She’d released a sobbing breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding and had clamped both hands over her mouth to prevent another.

Could she really do that? Could she leave her father’s crimes behind? Tears burned her eyes. Stop it, she’d thought, fighting them back. Guardians don’t cry.

“What — what do I have to do?” she’d whispered at last, lowering her hands. She couldn’t possibly pay him with money, so he must want something else.

“You have to succeed,” he’d replied. “You have to prove to my more conservative peers that qualified adepts can be trained from any social class and any family line. Katakot is in desperate need of new blood and new ways of thinking, and you can be part of that.”

She’d bitten her lip. Six years. Six years was forever. But … but if she got through it, she’d be a real warrior with a sword of her own. A sword and a job and freedom at last from her father’s long, dark shadow.

She’d blinked, raising her eyes again. And that had been the first time that she’d thought Prelate Nayar looked like a deva out of an ancient epic, shining in a pool of sunlight and gazing with compassion as he offered her a quest and a future.

“I can succeed,” she’d promised, dropping to her knees. She’d pressed her forehead to the floor, the way she thought heroes should do when they accepted a quest. “I’ll succeed for you, Master.”

---

“Initiate?”

Prelate Nayar’s voice shook Laile from her reverie. They were halfway across the Order compound, heading for the infirmary.

“Yes, Master?” she asked.

He stopped, turning.

“I have been meaning to talk to you about your marks.”

Laile dropped her eyes.

“Tell me the truth,” he pressed. “Is it the Black Path coursework that’s making you struggle? Or the bullying?”

“I’ll be ready for the next Scrutiny, I promise!”

“I’m not asking for a promise,” he said with a sigh, “and I’m not giving you a deadline. Scrutinies aren’t a matter of success or failure; that’s dichotomous thinking. They’re a measure of personal growth and understanding. Of how ready you are to move forward on your personal path. You’re under no obligation to take your final Scrutiny before you’re ready for it.”

“Yes, Master.” Except you’re counting on me to succeed, she thought, silently. And I promised you I would. So I have to be ready by the next Scrutiny or I won’t be any better than anyone else.

The silence stretched out between them until Laile could hear her own breathing. People walked by, giving them curious looks. She cast a sidelong look at the prelate and saw a small frown creasing his brow.

“I’m not — my grades aren’t that bad, are they?” she stammered, panicking under his gaze. “I still have two months to catch up. Please, Master — don’t hold me back!”

“I wouldn’t dream of holding you back. However —”

He’s going to tell me to postpone! Laile dug her fingers into her arm, bracing herself.

“— you certainly can’t afford to keep losing your books to bullies. I think you need to get away from them for a while so you can focus on your studies.”

“They don’t bother me,” she said quickly.

“Well, they bother me. And as it happens, I need an assistant for a few days. Maybe longer. I could pull you out of your classes and give you time to study without being bothered.” Lines appeared between his brows. “Although you’d find the duty difficult….”

“I’ll do anything you want, Master.” She tried to straighten up without moving her dislocated shoulder. “Just ask me. I don’t care what it is.”

“I’m not questioning your devotion,” he said. Laile felt a surge of pride. “But I’d hesitate to take an initiate to an execution at the best of times, and with your history….”

An execution? Despite her brave words, Laile faltered.

“Who —whose being executed?”

“My cousin.” Nayar’s gaze drifted past her, all trace of a smile gone from his face. “Jatin and I used to spend our summers together when we were children. Even when we had to follow our separate paths, we stayed in touch. Shared ideas. Talked about changing the world. I can’t … now that his sentence has come through, he’s asked me to stand by his side.”

“You … your cousin is the Lord Shivrant?” Despite the bright sunlight that pounded down on the compound’s plaza, the edges of Laile’s vision darkened.

A sharp crack, a jerk, the dark shape of her father swinging against a vaulted backdrop of vine-covered spikes and transfixed skulls…

“Are you all right?” Nayar reached out.

… adult hands closing around her neck and hair, forcing her head up to watch….

She pulled herself upright, gasping as pain shot through her shoulder.

“Yes, Master,” she choked. “I’m all right. I’m just — my shoulder hurts. A little. I’m all right.”

Nayar took a step back, smoothing his outer robe. Laile fought to stay upright, knowing that her face was too pale, knowing that a sheen of sweat coated her forehead, knowing that if she lost her focus for even a moment, the darkness would overwhelm her.

“You’re not well.” He shook his head. “And I’m being thoughtless. Let’s get that shoulder back into place. I shouldn’t have mentioned it to you, after all.”

Laile made a noise in protest. The darkness was receding. The sun illuminated Prelate Nayar’s silver hair and golden robes like a benediction, like the first time she’d met him in that dismal orphanage parlor, and she felt her next quest slipping out of her grasp.

“I’m not afraid, Master!” She hardened her voice. “I can do it. I want to do it. Please, Master, let me do this for you. Let me be your assistant.”

Nayar began walking again. Laile hurried after him, holding her arm against her side and trying to ignore the pain.

“This won’t be a hanging,” he murmured. “Jatin is being executed for treason. Do you know what that entails?”

No, she thought. But it didn’t matter.

“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” she replied, stoutly.

Nayar’s lips tightened.

“This won’t be a ‘little.’ The raja … Bhattacharyya is very unhappy with my cousin. Or maybe he’s still grieving for his sons and taking it out on Jatin, I don’t know. But he intends to make an example….”

Darkness shadowed his eyes. A surge of anger and protectiveness washed away Laile’s last doubts.

“Master. Let me help.”

He gave her a long look. Laile ignored her pain as she stood before him, trying to look as determined and confident as any of the Order’s fully ranked guardians.

“I would very much like to have you by my side,” he said at last. “I need … I need to surround myself with people I can trust. There aren’t many left anymore. One fewer when Jatin dies. But you’re trustworthy, aren’t you? My hand-picked student. My vision for the future. I can trust you.”

“Yes, Master!”

“I require bravery and discretion.” He gave her a grave look. “You must never question my orders or gossip about my confidential business. I need an assistant who will guard my interests as carefully as she’d guard my life.”

“That’s me,” she swore, feeling a thrill. “I can do that.”

“I sincerely hope so.” He studied her. “Well, let’s get you fixed up and see what we can do about replacing your textbooks. Report to the Sun Chamber tonight an hour after evening rites. Wear your formal robe.”

“Yes, Master!” Laile hurried toward the infirmary ahead of him, the pain in her shoulder inconsequential compared to the lightness in her heart.