Better him than me.
The thought is instantly followed by a sick feeling of guilt.
I pick up the shovel again. Yes, the army may not be my first choice of work—but it is still a choice. And that is something I have never been given before.
Later that evening, I nearly walk past Ruhani Kaki’s hut in the tenements, not initially hearing the old lady call out my name.
“It does not do to be so lost in your thoughts that you forget the world around you, Cavas!”
“Sorry, Kaki. I really didn’t hear you.”
“Of course you didn’t. Young people these days don’t hear anyone except other young people they’re interested in.” But Ruhani Kaki’s eyes are twinkling, so I know she isn’t being serious with her scolding. “Wait here. I’ll get you something to eat.”
She emerges from the hut shortly with a plate of hot onion kachoris in one hand and a scroll in the other.
“Someone came to see your father today. An old friend of his from outside the tenements,” Ruhani Kaki says as I eat a pastry.
“What?” The kachori nearly gets stuck in my throat. “Which friend?”
Ever since Papa got the Fever, we’ve had no visitors apart from Ruhani Kaki. No one from the tenements has come to see us and certainly no one from the magical world.
Ruhani Kaki hesitates before answering. “Her name is Juhi. Your father knew her when he worked at the palace. I knew her as well. I didn’t know if your father was up to taking visitors today, so I simply told her he wasn’t at home and asked her to leave her letter with me. I said I would make sure it was delivered to him.”
Unease muddies my insides. Papa never talks much about his former life working at the palace stables. Whenever a conversation would lead there, he would divert the topic by asking me questions about my day.
“Who was this woman? Did my mother know her as well?” I ask, taking the scroll from Ruhani Kaki. It glows faintly silver in my hands. With magic.
“Juhi and your mother never had the chance to meet,” Kaki says after a pause. “But she was one of the few people from the magical world whom your father trusted completely. It has been long since I saw Juhi myself. Until today, I thought she was dead.”
I frown. “What does she want now? Why try to contact Papa after all this time?”
“She didn’t tell me. But perhaps it’s in there.” Ruhani Kaki gestures to the scroll. “She didn’t stay long. Magi in the tenements usually draw unwanted attention. As a Southerner, Juhi would draw even more notice—and that wouldn’t be good for your father or for you.”
A Southerner. Meaning someone from the kingdom of Samudra.
“What about you, Kaki?” I ask. “Wouldn’t you get into trouble if you were seen talking to her?”
Ruhani Kaki gives me a smile reminiscent of the ones she often gives to young children, amusement lining every wrinkle on her face. “I’m too old to be taken much notice of, my boy. I could sing lullabies to a donkey, and people would still ignore me.”
I examine the seal on the scroll. Red wax. Plain. Not the kind used by the palace for sending official notices, which has an emblem similar to the one on my uniform.
“Thanks, Kaki,” I say finally. “For everything.”
“You never need to thank me for anything.” Her hand brushes my cheek, the touch paper-soft. “Go home now. And next time, pay attention when I call for you.”
I force a grin. After wishing her a quick goodbye, I make my way home, my feet gaining ground now that I’m alone again, the scroll hot in my sweaty hands.
It’s not until I’m back at the threshold of our house that I feel safe enough to break the seal and read the first few lines of the letter.
Papa glances up when I step inside, his smile slipping when he sees the scroll in my hand. “What is it? Is it from the palace?”
“No,” I say, waiting for the tension in his shoulders to ease. “It’s a letter. For you.”
“A letter for me?” Papa sounds bemused. “I haven’t had a letter in seventeen years. Not since your mother died anyway. Are you sure it isn’t a prank by one of the blacksmith’s boys?”
“The blacksmith’s boys aren’t literate.” I release a breath. “Ruhani Kaki gave it to me. It’s from outside the tenements. From a woman named Juhi.”
Papa’s eyes, as placid as Sant Javer’s pond on a normal day, grow sharp. “Juhi. She’s still alive, then. I haven’t heard from her since…” His voice trails off. “Read it to me.”
“Who is this person?” I ask. “How do you know her?”
“Read it, Cavas. It won’t do to have you getting rusty.”
When I was a boy, people from the tenements came to my father to read their letters for them—usually ministry documents and scrolls they weren’t able to comprehend themselves. Schooling for non-magi isn’t forbidden, but shortly after we were segregated into the tenements, schools dropped non-magi enrollment by half. As the years went on, by even more. “The work is too advanced for your children,” they told our parents. Or, more simply: “You are rebels and traitors to the kingdom. We have no place for your children in our schools.” By the time I turned five, not a single school in Ambarvadi accepted non-magi students.
Ruhani Kaki tried to start a school for non-magi children in the tenements a couple of times. I went to her classes once or twice. But Kaki wasn’t a great teacher and couldn’t control a group of boisterous youngsters. Her attempts at a
