It had taken only one day of practice for Vis to know that a second would not help Nue. Simply put, she was not a good fighter, and it would take a far better teacher than he to make her one. Her Rashani powers did not appear to carry over into physical strength, and her small size meant she staggered from blows Vis would have shrugged at.
They fought with wooden training staves that could maybe bruise with a good strike, but were hardly dangerous, though Nue didn’t seem to think so; she flinched from every swing, going on the defensive before Vis had even readied his staff. All their sparring matches ended with Nue backing herself into a corner, at which point Vis would claim victory with a light tap on her head. She had a good block, at least. Very sturdy, but it wasn’t enough in a fight. He deliberately left himself open at one point, and it took far too long for Nue to notice. When she did, she struck Vis’ shoulder with all the force of a friendly nudge. He shouldn’t have been surprised; Nue had never hurt anyone in her life, and she’d hinted more than once that the warrior aspect of the Rashani didn’t really appeal to her.
He supposed his own attitude hadn’t helped. As they’d begun sparring, his thoughts had turned to the encounter with Demina, and the light sting that lingered around his eye. As Nue cowered away from another swing, he wondered why they were sending such a sweet girl into danger when that brutish bitch would have been far more fitting. It angered him, and that anger expressed itself in the ferocity behind his strikes. One of the main tenets of Rashani teaching was that anger was blinding, incompatible with wisdom and grace. Vis tried to live by that teaching, even if he didn’t understand it; if anything, his anger seemed to add clarity. When he was really furious, things seemed to slow down, and he could almost feel the movement of objects and bodies through the air around him the same way he sensed emotions. His thoughts became quicker, his movements more calculated. Anger strengthened him when it came to fighting, but in the current situation it only served to intimidate Nue.
So they stopped, both unhappy with the results. Vis tried a different tactic, showing Nue some moves and asking her to copy them. She mimicked him perfectly, and when Vis asked her to try those moves against him, they moved in a fluid dance, weapons clashing to a silent rhythm. It was good for a beginner, but nowhere near where Nue should have been.
“Weren’t you taught these things?” Vis asked when they wrapped up for the day.
Nue shook her head while she felt up her arms for bruises. “It’s not like with you and Syla—you’re her only student. I was part of a class of fifteen, and our teacher didn’t have time to assess us individually. Most of our training involved practising with the Lucidil and honing our abilities. The fighting part wasn’t as important and, well, you know me—I sort of slipped beneath notice most of the time.”
The notion that he had benefited at all from Syla’s training offended Vis, but he kept that to himself. He could see that Nue was anxious. “You don’t have to worry. Mela is an experienced Rashani, and she can handle any fighting by herself. Just stay out of the line of fire and it’ll be all right.”
Nue bit her lip. “I don’t know—Mela probably expects me to know these things. What if she relies on me when she shouldn’t? I’d feel better if we had another Rashani there to back us up.”
“You just need to have some confidence,” Vis assured her.
Nue gave him a tired smile. “That’s easy when you’re here to encourage me, but what about out there, with Mela scrutinizing everything I do? I’m not so sure I’ll do very well.”
It was late when they finished, and they talked briefly over cold meals in the dining hall before going their separate ways. Vis found a note from Syla posted on the door to his room, telling him—in quite colourful language—that if he wasn’t going to attend his training sessions, he might as well leave the Enclave altogether. It was almost funny how she mocked him when he did show up, then got angry when he didn’t, but Vis had long ago accepted that Syla just enjoyed yelling at him.
He went to bed thinking over Syla’s suggestion of leaving the Enclave, wondering what sort of life there was for a failed Rashani. Sisters could leave, although few did once they’d finished their training. If he kept his past a secret, would the people of Utopia accept him? He didn’t know if he could fit in with normal people, or even if he wanted to. Having his feelings closed off to everyone around him was a lonely prospect. No, he would not be leaving the Enclave just yet, not until he broke himself utterly in trying to become a Rashani. He could not abandon Nue—or his own dream—so easily.
His friend’s predicament made it difficult to sleep. Nue was too kind and compassionate to fight, a perfect counterbalance to his own hostile nature. How they had ever become friends was a mystery for the ages, but Vis wouldn’t have traded her companionship for anything. He owed it to Nue to help her, to pay her back for all the support she’d given him. If he couldn’t do at least that, then he really should leave the Enclave. A friend should always be there in a time of need.
He nearly bolted upright as an idea struck. His two problems, helping Nue and getting out from under Syla’s thumb, had been jostling for space in his mind all day, but now he saw that they weren’t as unrelated as he’d thought. There might be a single solution to both.
He sought out Mela the next morning. He knew nothing of her habits, and he ended up searching most of the Enclave for the elusive Rashani. He poked his head into many places he preferred not to venture, like the senior Rashani wing, and even the Council meeting chamber. Noon came upon him unexpectedly, while he still had no leads. He thought he might brainstorm over a sandwich in the dining hall, and then very nearly hit himself; noontime meant lunchtime, and even Rashani had to eat.
A quick scouting of the dining hall revealed Mela sitting and chatting with a handful of other Rashani at one of the many long tables. Her dark red hair, braided into a long tail that trailed far down her back, caught Vis’s eye. It was a rather distinctive style, which he recognized immediately despite having never shared a word with her. He approached cautiously.
Having grown up around women for his entire life, Vis had long seen through the mystique of the female form. He had never been prone to lust after his fellow Rashani, too distracted by the putrid hearts so many of them had. However, the voluptuous figure that filled out Mela’s blue robes had him reevaluating his opinion to a degree. That said, he wasn’t intimidated by her appearance; what was making him sweat was the fact that she was a Rashani in her prime, with all the attitudes that came with such status. He sidled up to the table bit by bit, his heart leaping in his chest. Mela was entrenched in a discussion with the other Rashani around her as she ate. Vis wondered if he should leave her alone and speak with her when she was less busy, but time was wasting. Nue left for the Consortium tomorrow, and every minute Vis procrastinated was one less spent on his plan.
He gathered his courage and came to stand off to one side of Mela, then cleared his throat. “Mela, Daughter of Donia?”
The discussion ground to a halt, and all eyes at the table were on Vis. Their emotions, running the gamut from confusion to distrust, pierced into his awareness. Mela turned a neutral expression on him, which intimidated Vis far more because her feelings were obscured by her superior abilities.
“That is me,” she said, her voice low and uninflected.
Vis could already feel sweat forming beneath his tunic. He tried not to stutter as he spoke. “I am Vis Unclaimed.”
“I know.” The lack of emotion, in voice, in expression, in thought, quite unnerved Vis. It was a habit some Sisters picked up, particularly those who did not venture outside the Enclave to mingle with the people of Utopia; when everyone around you could sense how you were feeling, facial expressions became far more subdued. The other Rashani were tight-lipped, waiting for the rebuff Mela was no doubt preparing.
Vis reconsidered his assessment, wondering if there might be a touch of ice in her voice, but he carried on anyway. “I would like to speak with you.”
A Rashani at the far end of the table murmured something, and another chuckled quietly. Vis ignored them; his attention was solely on Mela, whose lips had parted almost imperceptibly. All at once, he realized that this had been a mistake and that he should leave now if he hoped to save what little dignity he had.
Come on, that small, ever-angry part of him said, don’t be such a wimp! You could spend all day hurling insults at Syla or any other Rashani, so don’t pretend you can’t do this.
“It’s about Nue,” he added.
Mela’s eyes widened fractionally. She turned back to her companions, sharing in their uncertain looks. “Please, carry on without me. This shouldn’t take long.” She stood and began to walk, beckoning Vis to follow with a tilt of her head.
They left the dining hall and walked a short way down the hall, out of earshot of the diners. Mela folded her arms and stood straight with her back to the wall, then invited him to speak with another tilt of her head.
Vis bowed, giving Mela the bare minimum of courtesy she deserved. “Thank you for speaking with me.”
“Nue has told you about her apprenticeship, has she?” Mela asked in reply.
Vis nodded, reluctantly. “We are good friends, and there are few secrets we would keep from each other. Please don’t be angry with her—I don’t recall there being a rule about sharing such information.”
“You’re right, there isn’t—it’s more a matter of manners,” said Mela, her feelings conveying a frown her face did not. “Spreading that sort of information makes the Council unhappy. What’s the point of making the announcement if everyone already knows?”
“She only told me,” Vis said. “She also told me about the Consortium.”
Mela actually bothered to arch her eyebrows at that. “She really shouldn’t have told you that—what is the girl thinking? Well, what of it?”
Vis felt his confidence soaring as he neared his purpose. “I know this is something she should be telling you herself, but Nue does not like to disappoint others. She’s frightened, Mela, and I’m frightened for her. The possibility of what you might find out there… It seems cruel to send an inexperienced apprentice on such a dangerous mission.” He sensed doubt from Mela and pressed on. “I sparred with her yesterday—she can barely fight! I know she’ll make a great Rashani someday, but right now her talent lies in her mind, not her strength. She all but said to me that she’s afraid she’ll be going to her death tomorrow, and while I know you wouldn’t let that happen, I worry her anxieties over the mission might interfere with her training.”
“I have no plans to lead Nue into danger,” Mela said, defensively. “But I cannot guarantee it won’t happen regardless. What do you want me to do? Should I call it off and tell the Council to send another? By my honour, I could not do that.”
“I know,” Vis said, quietly. He was on the precipice now, preparing to take the plunge. “But Nue is nervous by inclination. She needs support, but you can’t give that without interfering with your duties as a Sikkat. I can. I humbly request to accompany you, so that I might encourage Nue and assist with your mission in any way I can. I will not interfere in whatever tests you have for Nue, but I believe having a friend nearby will help her overcome her anxiety.”
Mela stared at Vis long enough to make him feel quite self-conscious. She adjusted her stance, then paced across the hall and back.
“Your request is unprecedented,” she said, eyes boring into him. “Why do you want to do this?”
“Nue’s my friend,” Vis answered without hesitation. “My only friend. She would do the same for me.”
Mela’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Going on a mission with Vis Unclaimed—as if this assignment wasn’t enough of an ordeal. What my investigation turns up may spark a war, not to mention that Alis’ life might be on the line. I accepted the Council’s request to go, and I accepted Nue as my apprentice. Now you expect me to add babysitting you to my list of chores?”
Vis stood his ground. “I would be an asset, not a burden. You want me to sweep the ship floors? I’ll do it. You want me to carry your bags? I’ll do that, too. I’ll be quiet and respectful, and take it from me, that’s a very rare thing. But I’ll do it for Nue. So—please—let me come with you.”
Mela’s eyes continued to bore, digging for some ulterior motive. “You haven’t earned your own Lucidil yet. Would you neglect your own training?”
Vis shook his head; that was the least of his worries right now. “My training seems to be going nowhere at the moment. Some time away from Syla can only do me good.”
“Or make you forget what little you’ve learned,” Mela said, once more expressionless.
Vis narrowed his eyes. “The only thing Syla taught me was how to survive, and that was purely by accident. Now then, yes or no?”
Mela tilted her head to one side, then knocked Vis completely off-guard with a slight smile. “I’ve heard stories about you, Vis—they say that you’re rude, defiant, and prone to speaking your mind. I see now where those stories come from.”
“I refuse to let people step on me.” He touched the bruise by his eye, flinching from the sting. “This is what happens when I let them have their way.”
“That’s what Koyla said,” Mela replied. “Didn’t you know? I was her last student before she became chairwoman—that’s why she picked me for this mission. We still talk sometimes, and I must say, you come up quite a bit. She speaks admiringly of you—that you keep your head up when so many try to force it down. She says you’ll make a great Rashani, in time.”
Vis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He grinned, stupidly. “Koyla is a wise woman.”
“She is,” Mela said with an air of resignation. “Ask her opinion on this—tell her exactly what you’ve told me. I will abide by her decision.”
Her words left Vis stunned. He couldn’t believe he’d done it; it had seemed such a slim hope when he’d approached Mela. The Rashani bowed before returning to her friends in the dining hall, leaving him standing alone in the hall. Excitement bubbled and swelled until it burst, sending him running for Koyla’s office, nearly skipping down the hall.