Part One
The City of Peron
Chapter 1
Call it what it is: monster racing.
Forget that, and you die.
Tamra thought she should have that tattooed on her forehead so the idiots she was trying to train stood a chance of remembering it. Bellowing with every shred of voice she had left, she shouted at her newest crop of riders, “They’re not your pets! They’re not your friends! You falter, they will kill you! You lose focus, they will kill you! You do anything stupid, they will—say it with me now . . .”
Dutifully, the five riders-to-be chimed, “Kill us!”
“Yes!”
One of her students raised her hand, timidly, which was not a good sign. If a little shouting withered her, how was she going to survive a race? “But I thought you told us to befriend the kehoks? Earn their trust?”
Oh, by the River, was that how they interpreted it? “Did I?” She fixed her glare on each of them, letting it linger until they wilted under her gaze like a sprout beneath the full desert sun. “Can anyone tell me exactly what I told you to do?”
Another answered, “To, um, be kind to them? Serve their needs?”
For the last month, she’d had them mucking out the kehoks’ stalls and piling them with fresh straw, dragging water from the Aur River to fill the kehoks’ buckets, and selecting the highest quality feed. She’d instructed them to care for the kehoks as they would a beloved horse, albeit keeping away from their teeth and claws and, in some cases, spiked tails. “Exactly. Anyone want to tell me why?”
The first student, Amira, cleared her throat. “So they learn to trust us and will obey—”
“They are monsters,” Tamra snapped. “They do not trust. They do not feel gratitude. Or mercy. They do not understand kindness.” Kehoks didn’t, couldn’t, change. Unlike the rest of creation, they were what they were, condemned for all time.
“Then why—” a third began.
“Because we are not monsters!” Tamra bellowed. “The decency you display is for the sake of your souls. The kehoks are already doomed to their fates. I will not train riders only to have them come back as racers!”
They all looked shocked, and she had to resist rolling her eyes. River save me from the innocent arrogance of youth. All of them believed they were too pure to ever be reborn as a kehok. Only the darkest, most evil souls came back as those insults to nature, and so her young students believed themselves safe. They didn’t understand that evil could grow if planted in a field of banal cruelty. They didn’t see why it was important to diligently protect and preserve every scrap of honor. Then again, this wasn’t a temple.
They’d either figure it out eventually or regret it for an eternity.
Besides, more than likely, they’ll all turn out mediocre and come back as cows.
All she could do was give them the chance to improve their lot, both in this life and the next one. She couldn’t control what they chose to do with that opportunity.
Tamra put her fists on her hips. “The ability to show kindness and mercy to those who do not deserve it is a strength! And that strength will give you an edge in the races.”
And now they looked confused.
“Only the strongest win,” Tamra said. “You’ve heard that a thousand times. But is it strength of muscle? Obviously not. No human alive can out-muscle a kehok. It’s strength of mind, strength of heart, and strength of will.”
The third student, a fifteen-year-old boy named Fetran, crossed his arms, as if that made him look tough and defiant. With his gangly limbs and pimply face, he just looked petulant. Why, oh, why did I agree to train these children? she asked herself. Oh, yes, their parents were paying her. Lousy way to pay the augurs’ bills. Not that she had much of a choice. Because while she’d be far better off picking a potential winner, training him or her up with a brand-new kehok, and claiming her share of the prize money, there was the little problem that she couldn’t afford the race entrance fees, not to mention the purchase price of a new kehok. . . .
“So, last season?” Fetran drawled. “Was your rider weak of mind, heart, or will?”
Low blow.
Tamra smiled.
He shrank back.
She smiled broader. She knew that when she smiled, the scar that ran from her left eye to her neck stretched and paled. She’d gotten that scar during her final kehok race, a race she’d won, before she’d retired to raise her daughter and train future champions. Emphasizing that scar made people uncomfortable. She loved her scar. It was her favorite feature, a relic of a time when she was the one destined for greatness, with a wide future ahead of her.
In a falsely chipper voice, Tamra said, “Maybe it was a combination. But you seem to have everything sorted out, so how about you show us how it’s done?”
Fetran looked as if he wanted to bolt. Or vomit. “I c-can’t . . .”
She let him squirm a minute more, intending to let him off the hook, but then Amira stepped forward, cleared her throat, and said in a squeak, “I’ll try.”
Oh, kehoks. That was not what she’d meant to happen.
Tamra opened her mouth to say, No, you’re not ready. But then she stopped. Studying Amira, she thought, There’s some strength in her. A spark, maybe. If it could be fed . . .
Briefly, she allowed herself to imagine the glory, if she transformed one of these rich kids into a fierce competitor. She’d be the most sought-after trainer in all Becar, and her daughter would never again have to feel worry that they’d be separated.
No. It’s a crazy idea. I can’t turn one of them into a winner. It was widely known that the children of the wealthy dallied in racing but never won. None of them had the fire. You had to burn with the need to win, with the conviction that this is what you were meant to do. That was an aspect of racing that couldn’t be taught, and these spoiled rich kids had never felt it. They’d never known the feeling of yearning for a future that vanished like a mirage before your eyes. Or the feeling of having all your dreams slip like sand through your fingers. They’d never tried to change their fate and discovered it was immutable.
They’d never been thirsty.
On the other hand . . . the girl had volunteered to try.
Maybe the answer to all Tamra’s problems had been right here in front of her the whole time, and she’d been too stubborn to see it. The augurs preached that you could improve the quality of your soul by your choices, and thus grant meaning to your current life and hope for your next. Tamra might not be able to read the state of these kids’ immortal souls . . .
But maybe I could give them a chance to shine.
“Follow me,” Tamra said curtly.
“Hey, she asked me,” Fetran butted in. “I’m first.”
“You’re going to break your neck,” Amira told him.
“And you won’t?”
“My kehok likes me.”
Tamra heaved a sigh. Seriously, why did she bother talking? It wasn’t as if they listened to her. Kehoks liked no one, because they loathed themselves. I’m a terrible teacher. I should switch to raising potted plants. “You’ll race each other. And you’ll use chains and harnesses.” When Fetran began to object, she held up her hand. “I don’t want to explain to your parents why their darlings are minus a few limbs.”