Two Masters (epic progression fantasy)

Chapter 12: Shields and Shillings

"So, he still won't let you apprentice with my father, huh?"

Shifra turned to Qadi and nodded; her face tightened into a scowl. "He still treats me like a child."

Shifra and Qadi walked down the main thoroughfare of Ativa, the capital of Ateya. A gust of cool wind made her glad she wore her knee-length jacket and striped trousers, crisp angles at the collar and in the front. It kept out the cold well enough and left her free to move about as she wished. If only her father allowed her the same. Her mother had tried to stop her from spending time with Qadi, but apart from physically restraining her, there wasn't much she could do.

Qadi was dressed similarly to Shifra, but where Shifra's striped trousers were blue, green, and white, Qadi's were the gold and red of the Ladrivite tribe. With a glance down the street Shifra took notice that the trend of wearing trousers was growing among the younger generation.

"Nether it," Qadi said, her hands tightening into fists. "What is his deal?"

Shifra shrugged. "He doesn't trust me to make my own decisions. Thinks I'm too naive."

"Well, he's wrong," Qadi said as they turned a corner, coming ever closer to the square. "How old was he when he killed the emperor anyway?"

Shifra raised an eyebrow, "Fifteen years my senior. I wasn't even born yet."

Qadi glared. "For Shev's sake, he's still wrong."

Shifra glanced down the street. No priests were here to complain about Qadi's profanity or toss her in prison for it. Shifra herself didn't really mind, though she had caught herself almost swearing in front of her parents. She did not want to be present for that particular lecture.

A pressure began to build inside her, a raptor's hook constricting her chest from the inside. They were getting closer to the square. The square of pain and punishment. And, according to the priests. Penance.

Before Shifra could reply, a gaggle of wealthy young women strolled past, unlike the more progressive youth, these women wore traditional long, flowing glimas. They bowed respectfully to Shifra and shot scowls at Qadi. Shifra and Qadi paused their conversation, waiting for the group to pass.

"Now them?" Qadi said, "They're naive. Even the most expensive tutors can't fix them." Qadishot them a daggered glare as they turned around the corner. "Ugh, you don'thave to do anything, and they respectyou. Me? They'd never have given me a glance before the rebellion. I had thesame education, better than half the noble pansies up the road. But they alllook at me as scum. If they think I'm a noble, all they want to do is gossipabout these new pretenders. Once theyfind out my father was a scholar before he became a senator, they stop caringhow nicely I dressed or how well I spoke."

"It'll change," Shifra said with a smile. "I still pay attention to you; despite the fact you won't shut up."

Qadi laughed. "I'm quite glad that eleven-year-old Shifra didn't think the new girl was too provincial."

"At eleven, I didn't even know what provincial meant."

The closer they got to the square, the better she could see the flow of the crowds. Most people just went about their business, but a good number headed for the same destination. Paths converging like mountain streams. The hum of conversation began to grow.

Qadi smiled wistfully. "Some days I wish we could go back there, just a couple of girls skipping Etiquette, to talk philosophy."

Shifra scoffed. "More like to talk about men. That reminds me, how's Zeki?"

Qadi often wore the face of a rebel. A look of confidant defiance, ready to debate fiercely with anyone who disagreed with her. But now, that face looked more like a red tarbesh fruit. She shoved Shifra slightly. "He's fine. His father told him to stop courting me again."