PART 2 - Dawnracer by V. Wildeber, 26 February 1999 Neroon and Shukran left shortly after dawn the next day. They arrived on the outskirts of the town by mid-afternoon, having only walked a few kilometers of the way. Neroon suspected that Buriik had something to do with all the shuttles that seemed to be conveniently heading in the right direction. And he was quite positive that Buriik was behind the broken transaxle. The two warriors had come across the stranded farmer around lunchtime, and had assisted him in making repairs. He had gratefully insisted that they share his meal with him in repayment for their help. Not only had Neroon and Shukran been able to cover far more distance with the help of these strategically-placed workers, but from these merchants and farmers they had been able to gather more information on the needs and concerns of the worker caste. Everywhere, the story was the same: the workers were losing many of their journeymen, and not a few masters, to the AnlaąShok. They were being diverted from their primary jobs to build and fit out a new fleet for the Rangers. And their needs were being ignored by the more powerful religious and warrior castes. The sun peered dimly through the winter clouds as the warriors approached the communal gardens. "Your fatherąs family came from around here, didnąt they?," Neroon asked. Shukran pointed casually to a ridge in the distance. "Over there." She looked pensive for a moment, then added, "But thereąs no one left there anymore." Neroon glanced down at her, intrigued. Drily, he rumbled, "I do love a mystery. What happened to them?" The slightly-built FireWing flashed her teeth in a rueful smile. "My father came from a rather junior house. He liked to refer to it as Śproudly eliteą -- an optimistic rendering, at best. It was dwindling in size even before the Holy War." She picked a long stem of grass and whistled with it between her fingers, smiling in delight at the trick she had learned so long ago. "Most of them volunteered to serve on the warcruisers during the Jihad. Then, when the war ended and the clan leaders ordered the religious castemembers to leave the warrior caste cruisers, wellŠ" Neroon smiled, guessing the end of her sentence. "They did not return." "No. They decided they liked living among the stars. Most of them either left for the colonies or joined up with the religious caste cruisers." She tossed the piece of grass aside. "Then there were those on the Drala FiŠ" The tall warrior beside her nodded. The memory of the Earther ambush on the Minbari flagship was burned into his memory. The barbarians had faked a distress call in a mined asteroid belt. He stooped to pick up a small rock and skip it across the smooth road. "I know. We all lost family to Starkiller." He tossed a pebble to Shukran. "And your father?" She slung the pebble with a side-arm motion, watching in satisfaction as it skittered further than his had. "Itąs your release, Neroon. Youąve got to put more snap in it." She scooped up another rock and passed it behind her back to her commander. He caught it easily, laughing. She had served with him on Ingata for close to 15 years, almost two years of that time as his aide; and then she had followed him as his aide when he became Satai. Sometimes, it seemed she knew him better than he knew himself. Intensely loyal, intelligent, and an intuitive leader, Shukran was one of the finest officers he knew. Her half-caste blood, however, would keep her from most leadership positions. Now that the Holy War was over, the warrior caste leadership was going back to their separatist ways, eschewing the religious and worker castes and barely tolerating warrior half-castes. Neroon knew that his choice of an aide was a constant irritant to the most militant of his caste -- a fact he privately enjoyed. He had selected Shukran in part because of her mixed blood. She saw things in a different way, refusing to fall lock-step into a standard approach -- and she reminded him of Branmer. And sometimes, as fine a gunner and instructor pilot as she was, he treasured her most simply because she made him laugh. He knew that she had deflected the question about her father, and chose not to pursue it. When she was ready, if she wanted to, she would answer him. Until then, he was content to let it remain a mystery. The wind picked up, and the clouds began to thicken and roil. Neroon and Shukran hunched down into their cloaks and walked faster toward the religious caste compound flanking the gardens. The vesper bells echoed from the distant temple, their sweet sound piercing the fog which now blanketed the hillside. Shukran knocked at the gate to the compound, then touched the doorpost in the religious caste ritual she had learned as a small child. Neroon stood behind her, quietly waiting. Finally, a priest came to the gate, saffron robes billowing out behind him in the rising wind. He pursed his lips as if affronted by the warriors at his doorstep. "Yes?" An icy gust rattled the gate, and he pulled his cloak up higher around his neck. Shukran saluted politely, speaking in the religious caste dialect of her father, "Greetings, cousin. I am Shukran of the FireWings and House of Kell; and he is Neroon of the StarRiders. We are traveling and request lodging for one night." The priest did not move away from the doorway. "Iąm sorry, but we have no room for visitors tonight. There is an inn on the other side of town that might be open." He turned, closing the gate behind him. "I was not aware that I was a visitor here." Shukran shoved her boot across the sill, blocking it. Her hood was flung back, revealing the carved peaks and spikes of her bonecrest -- a defiant reminder of the calling she had chosen. The last rays of the setting sun glinted across her high cheekbones and delicate features. It was patently obvious that she had religious caste blood. "The House of Kell is no more." Dark, bright eyes moved rapidly from Shukranąs face to Neroonąs. "I am sorry, but I really must go. The vesper bells have rung, and I am late for prayers." He pushed the gate ineffectually against Shukranąs boot. "There is yet one from my House here." Her words fell softly, like silk over a dagger. Behind her, Neroon drew himself up to his full height, a black wall. The priest shrank back, and Shukran jerked open the gate, stepping inside the compound unbidden. There was a flurry of white and yellow, as if a flock of birds were disturbed from their rest. Acolytes and priests rushed to the gate, staring at the black-robed warriors and muttering among themselves. One or two actually had the nerve to assume a fighting stance. Softly at first, then with increasing intensity, the rain began. Shukran stared at the religious castemembers before her, then spat on the ground, raising her voice to be heard throughout the compound. "In the names of Rika, Malenn, and Aldann of the House of Kell of the Fifth Fain of Chudomo, I come, sharing their blood. Do you refuse me entrance, cousins?" A high-pitched voice rose from the back, and the crowd parted to reveal the speaker, a plump and well-manicured priest who was in obvious distress at being so put upon. "You have chosen the warrior caste, and the clan of your mother, Shukran. It is the heart, not the blood which rules the choice. We have no room." Shukran looked at them each in turn. Most of them refused to meet her eyes, but shifted uncomfortably in the cold rain. With a precise salute, she pivoted on her heel and strode out of the compound, past Neroon. The tall StarRider reached into his pouch and flung a handful of credits onto the ground at the feet of the gatekeeper. "Use them to buy back your souls, zealots!" Then he turned and followed Shukran into the rainy night. A bolt of lightning jagged across the murky sky, and the wind kicked the rain up into their faces. The two warriors were thoroughly soaked by now. Their sodden cloaks did little to break the freezing blasts that pummeled them with stinging rain. They picked up a trot, forcing their blood to circulate faster and taking a little of the numbness out of their feet. "Do you realize," Neroon grunted, "that this is probably the first time in two hundred years that a member of the Grey Council has been rained on?" Shukran muttered something unintelligible in return, and they kept running. They passed without remark several more religious caste compounds, all cozily secured against the storm. The inn would be up ahead, over the hill and past the local temple. As they crested the hill, they saw the lights go out one by one as an acolyte shuttered the windows of one of the temple buildings against the rain. Doggedly, they kept on running, their goal almost in sight. Then a voice called out to them, "wait!" The temple gate flew open, and a white figure charged out into the rain after them. "Stop! Please come back! Itąs raining!" The two warriors slowed to a halt and turned to face the pale figure racing toward them so earnestly. He skidded to a stop and bowed deeply, then pointed back toward the temple gate. "Please come in -- youąre soaked!" Neroon stared down at the young acolyte. "We are going to stay at the inn, thank you." The acolyte began to protest, but Neroon cut him off harshly. "We are warrior caste -- no one you wish to associate with, Iąm sure!" The acolyte was by now completely soaked, but stood tall in the freezing rain as if he didnąt feel it. "You would honor me if you would be my guests tonight. It would be a great dishonor to us all if we left travelers out on the road in this storm." His voice was completely sincere as he stood there, the wind whipping his light robe about him. Neroon inclined his head slightly, and the young acolyte bowed again over steepled hands. He turned and led the way through the temple gate into an ancient, low-slung building. The two warriors stood, dripping, inside the shelter of the doorway as the acolyte rushed in ahead of them, leaving a wet trail on the polished stone floor. He returned a few moments later with his arms full. "Please, come with me -- you may share my room." They followed him into a small room with spare furnishings. He laid his bundle down on a low cushion and bowed again. "Here are dry clothes. I will take care of yours, and they will be ready for you in the morning. When you have changed and are rested, you must eat." "Do you have any idea who we are?" Neroonąs voice was as cold as the night outside. The acolyte looked him in the eye, unblinking. "It does not matter. You are travelers in need of dry clothes and food. I am Lenell of the Third Fain of Chudomo, acolyte in this temple. It is my honor to serve you, whoever you are." The StarRider snorted, then inclined his head to the young man. "Well, Lenell of the Third Fain of Chudomo, acolyte in this temple, I am Neroon of the StarRider clan and this is Shukran of the FireWings. We accept your hospitality." Lenell bowed again and went into the hall to wait for them to pass him their sopping garments. They overheard an argument in the hallway as they were changing into dry clothes. Some of the other temple workers had seen Lenell carrying wet black uniforms to the laundry, and had been quite vociferous in their questioning. The altercation ceased abruptly when Neroon and Shukran stepped out into the hall in the pale garb of acolytes. Even dressed in an ill-fitting white robe, Neroon exuded a regal air. Dinner was quiet, punctuated only by whispers and an occasional gasp as unwitting hosts learned that the strangers amid them were warrior caste. When they returned to Lenelląs room, they found an extra bed had been set up against the far wall. The young man came in, smiling apologetically. "I hope all is to your liking. If you need me, I will be in meditation in the hallway." He bowed and turned to go. "Tell me, Lenell, what do you know of the AnlaąShok?," Neroon asked conversationally. "The Rangers? They are the old watchers, established by Valen to warn of danger against Minbar." The young manąs eyes lit up as he spoke. "Indeed. Do you know any personally?" "Some of our Fain have left to join the AnlaąShok. We really donąt hear much from them after they go." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is there a danger to Minbar? No one tells us anything here in the temple." Neroon glanced at Shukran, but said nothing. Shukran crossed over to stand in front of the acolyte, looking up at his serious eyes. "Lenell, why do some of your caste dislike the warrior caste?" He colored slightly. "They say the warrior caste is rude and belligerent, that they despise and ridicule the religious caste, and that they ignore the rituals." Shukran laughed. "We donąt ignore *all* the rituals. Is that all?" Obviously uncomfortable, Lenell whispered, wide-eyed, "And it is said they upset the balance of the Grey Council." He looked up and nervously straightened his robe. "Good night. I must go meditate now." "Lenell." Neroonąs voice was quiet. "You donąt normally meditate in the hallway, do you?" The young man smiled. "No. It appears there are some here who would prefer to dishonor our Fain rather than to serve as we have been called." His voice trembled a bit, belying his brave words. "It is no matter. You are here as my guests, and may stay as long as you wish." The tall warrior rumbled, "We shall not trouble you for long, but will leave first thing in the morning. You have risked much for us, Lenell. Thank you." "Good night." The acolyte took a candle from the mantle and left the room. ********** Neroon was almost asleep when he heard her voice. She was leaning on the wide windowsill, haloed by the moonlight which thrust cold silver fingers through the rain. He rolled onto his side to listen. "My father sequestered himself when my mother died. He has seen no one since then." She ran her finger absently over the smooth stone of the sill, tracing a pattern in the dust. "You must miss them very much." "Yes." Her voice grew softer. "She was killed in an accident while I was in clan training. I came home for the service, but my father was already gone." "He wouldnąt see you?" "No. He had already taken his vows." Neroon sat up and walked over to the window and stood beside her. "He still will not see you?" he asked, sadly. She shook her head no, lips pressed together and eyes down. "Iąm sorry. I hadnąt really thought about it in a long time." She gave him a thin smile. "Itąs actually something to be rather proud of, among his caste. Really, Iąm fine." Gently, he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her to his side. She buried her face in his chest for just a moment as he lightly squeezed her shoulder. They stood silently together for a few minutes, staring out into the night sky, watching the clouds pass before the twin moons. Then he brushed her cheek with a kiss and released her. He slipped his hand over her heart, holding hers to his chest as she reached out to him in return, and they touched foreheads in ritual blessing. Neroon returned to his bed and watched her, across the room, until she fell asleep. The religious caste could be terribly cruel in their fanatical devotion to their vows. He hadnąt realized the pain it could cause their families, as well. Then he thought about the acolyte in the hall, gallantly protecting a pair of strangers. As much as he would like to, he couldnąt damn the entire religious caste because of the actions of a few -- or even most.