Kivi paused at the flap to the avatar’s tent. Through the thick fabric, she could just make out a muttered conversation between him and their god, the great and mighty Xeph-Zul-Karatl.

Likely he thought he was conversing too quietly to be heard, but it seemed the avatar did not appreciate just how loud the larger races tended to be.

Several emotions warred inside of Kivi as she hesitated in announcing herself. On the one hand, it was neither proper nor appropriate to eavesdrop, not where gods were concerned—especially where gods were concerned—but this was also rare opportunity.

While she might not share Shamain’s paranoia when it came to Callan, especially after learning some of the extenuating circumstances surrounding his ascension, it was still prudent to learn what she could from a candid moment.

In fact, one might say it was her duty as high priestess to know what subjects the avatar and Xeph communed upon when they thought they were alone. How else was she to know how to best see to the god’s needs?

Which was just another way to say she was curious.

Cairn take her! What was she turning into? This was all Shamain’s foul influence, she was certain. Especially since the woman was not around to defend herself from such accusations.

The avatar’s voice grew louder, drawing her attention again. Kivi leaned in closer and held her breath.

“Look, all I’m saying is you could have warned me about the whole moons thing, Xeph.” Silence. Then. “Don’t you dare start in with that ‘compression’ excuse again. Don’t. You. Dare. And clearly you know about them now! How long has it been since it came back to you?”

Silence.

“And you didn’t see fit to mention it?” A pause. “We’ve been over this. Every mundane fact is relevant. If you don’t share what you know, I’ll be forced to ask Kivi, and how do you expect me to explain that I didn’t know there was more than a single moon floating around in the goddamn sky! That’s the sort of question that tends to draw attention, don’t you think?”

Ah. Already her illicit activities had borne fruit. Kivi had long wondered which of the other continents Callan hailed from. Now she knew, it must have been one of the more northern ones. She’d heard tell that the moons’ influence varied in different places around the world, but to live somewhere you didn’t even know of their existence...

She honestly wasn’t sure what to feel about that. Slightly jealous, if she was being honest.

Meanwhile, the avatar was still arguing—conversing with their god. “Okay, fine, fine! Let’s say I forgive you. We have been slightly occupied with a thousand other fires to deal with lately. A few literal fires, now that I think about it. So how many moons are there, anyway?”

A pause.

“TWELVE?”

Kivi almost jumped back as the shout echoed out of the tent. Somewhere in the dark an animal let out a surprised snort, followed by the sound of snapping branches as it hastily retreated.

She turned back. Callan was saying something else to their god that she only half caught—something about cattle excrement—when he suddenly paused.

“She’s what?” Kivi stiffened. A moment later the avatar’s footsteps marched rapidly across the tent, and the flap was pulled from her hands. Light from within streamed out, momentarily blinding her. Kivi winced.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she said automatically. Heat crept up her cheeks.

“Evening, High Priestess. I... never said you were?” The avatar sounded more confused than accusatory. He gestured for her to join him inside. A sigh of relief escaped her as she slipped between the flaps.

“Sorry about the mess. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have cleaned up a little.” He chuckled halfheartedly at his own joke.

“Hmm. Does Xeph always know when a follower is nearby?”

The avatar stared at nothing for a moment, then shook his head. “Xeph says he can only sense when someone’s inside my domain. Which, you know, only extends a bit past the tent.”

He turned and flopped back onto his sleeping roll. “So what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to speak to you about something in private.”

“Heh.” An unmistakable chuckle slipped from the avatar’s lips. Kivi must have let something show on her face, as the avatar glanced at her and laughed a bit more. “Sorry, just tents aren’t the best place for private conversations. As I’m sure you’ve now realized.”

“So you did know I was listening!”

The avatar waved her protests away. “What did you want to discuss? If it’s about the lost lud kids, I’m worried about them too. Still not sure leaving before they were located was the right choice.”

“We’ve been over this, Avatar. There is nothing to say that your presence would contribute meaningfully in any way to finding them, especially if it hadn’t already. Besides, you said they’re still alive, yes?”

“Far as I know. Certainly haven’t received any notifications about lost followers.”

“Then wherever the children are, they must be somewhat taken care of. With access to food and water at the very least.”

Callan frowned at that, but eventually nodded. “Guess I just don’t like leaving that whole mess unresolved. If they haven’t turned up by the time we get back, that’ll be my top priority.”

“I’m certain the entire community will thank you for your kindness,” Kivi said. “However, that isn’t what I’m here to discuss with you.”

The avatar glanced at her but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“I...” Kivi hesitated. She did not like the idea of speaking against the avatar’s actions, but this had been eating at her for two days now, and she couldn’t bear to keep it inside any longer. “I find myself... concerned about your most recent choice to the priesthood’s ranks.”

“You mean Sworv.” It wasn’t a question, but Kivi nodded. “Mind explaining why?”

“Because...” Unfortunately, now that the moment was here, she found it difficult to put into words. This was a touchy subject even amongst her own people. With a complete outsider such as Callan...

The silence stretched between them.

“Because he was Daisa?” the avatar guessed. Kivi nodded in gratitude.

“I simply worry what sort of message you may be sending to the rest of the community with your selections. Before, when our ranks included three members of Leadership, none would have dared to speak up. Now, however, two of those members are dead, and both replaced with lower caste. Even that might not be a reason for concern, but now with Sworv...”

She left the rest unsaid, only hoping that the avatar might be able to infer the rest on his own. There was only so much she could expect from a non-lud, though.

And in this case, it was too much, apparently. The avatar’s frown deepened. “I noticed you were being exceptionally hard on him earlier today. Is this the reason why?”

“Was I?” Kivi hadn’t really thought about it. “In that case, I shall have to apologize later.”

“You know, this might actually be a good time to bring up something I’ve been wanting to ask you. Exactly how does this whole caste system work? I’m a little fuzzy on the particulars.”

“I...” The question once again left Kivi at a loss for words. How was she to explain an institution that had been central to her entire life, that infused all of her actions and determined the course of her fate? It was like trying to explain the origin of baking, or marriage rites. The castes simply filled a purpose for their village, one by which everyone knew their place. That was enough.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Or had been enough. Until it wasn’t.

She shook her head, pushing down her unpleasant memories before they could fully resurface. “I’m certain Xeph-Zul-Karatl can explain the intricacies far better than myself. They were created by the gods for our benefit, after all.”

“Uh, no, he can’t,” the avatar said, shocking Kivi to silence. “He says he’s never encountered these castes, either.”

“I... see.” Outwardly, Kivi remained calm as she absorbed this revelation, but inside she was anything but.

What could that possibly mean? Did the lud on other continents... not follow the dictates laid down by the gods? Had it only been the gods of Urslang that established the caste system? Or was everything she’d been told simply... wrong?

Kivi was filled with questions, and also with trepidation as to their possible answers. To think of entire lud societies out in the world, living entire lives without structure or guidance...

Kivi wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Then I will endeavor to provide what insight I can,” she said, pushing her own concerns aside for the moment. Her avatar had asked her a question, and that took precedence over everything else.

“So I think I know some of it. From what I’ve overheard, there seem to be four different groups: Leadership, Etruscian, Biiran, and Daisa. Is that right?”

“There is a fifth caste also known as Parvux. But for purposes of our discussion, those first four are the only ones you need concern yourself about.”

The avatar frowned and looked as if he was about to say something, only to shake his head. “Okay, five castes. With you so far.”

“Leadership is exactly what it sounds like. Those born into it are destined to guide the fate of their communities. It may be as elders, or in less direct roles.”

“Like a head chef,” the avatar said. For some reason he seemed unhappy about that, but Kivi couldn’t even begin to guess why.

“Yes, that is a good example. Leadership will direct crop rotations and plan where new housing will be built. Anything that the community requires direction on is the responsibility of the highest caste. That is why those chosen by a god are elevated to it.

“Etruscian is the next caste. They are our merchants, scouts, and envoys to the outside world. It is an Etruscian’s job to learn the habits and routines of different cultures, and assist other castes in what to do and not do when interacting with them.”

She paused, hesitating a moment before continuing, as memories welled up inside her. Of her time with Parias and Mirdelre. The few short years she spent tending their home had been the happiest of her life. She hadn’t thought she would ever find greater joy in this world.

At least not until a dying avatar had shown up on her doorstep.

She gave a shake of her head, and the memories dissipated. “Biiran are the third caste. They are our craftsmen. Those tasked with learning the specialized trades that will give a lud community what advantages they need to thrive. For our village, Biiran focused mostly on pythian husbandry, but we also had those that focused on smithing, carpentry, and textile production.

“Finally, there are Daisa, such as my—my former self. They are the laborers, not fit for education or apprenticeship. We—they fill whatever gaps the village required. Some might work as attendants, or even as household servants to the higher castes, but never more than that.”

“I see.” The avatar’s expression hardened. “And you were okay with this?”

“Avatar?”

“You were okay with living the rest of your life as someone’s servant? You never thought to, I don’t know, just leave?”

Kivi didn’t understand the question. Leave? Leave where? “These distinctions exist to keep us safe, Avatar. A community is only as strong as its weakest member. The castes give our life direction. Purpose.”

“Sounds more like slavery to me.” he said, matter-of-factly.

“I suppose it might, to an outsider.” Kivi struggled for a second, trying to think of what to say. “Perhaps I am the wrong person to ask about all of this, Avatar. Speak with Shamain when we return. Someone who has been educated their entire life is far more equipped to answer such questions. Better than one who was Daisa until just a few short weeks ago.”

“It’s because you were Daisa that you’re the perfect person to ask. Besides, I already talked to Shamain about all of this.”

“You did?” Kivi asked.

“Uh huh. And you know what she told me? That women aren’t bound by the caste system. You can move up or down depending on marriage.”

Kivi nodded. “This is true. And it was partly for this reason that Elder Tervak allowed me to become a priest at all.”

“Because you weren’t going to be Daisa for much longer anyway.”

There was a lump in Kivi’s throat as memories surfaced again. Not daring to speak around it, she simply nodded.

She was petrified of what he might ask after that, but the avatar merely sighed. “What else should I know? Is your caste hereditary—outside of marriage anyway? It can’t be. After all, Paeral was Biiran, but Sworv was Daisa, despite them being twins. I still don’t get how that works.”

“It is because Paeral is the older of the two,” Kivi said. When the avatar just stared at her blankly, she continued, “One’s caste is determined by order of birth. A mother’s firstborn child will bear the same caste as herself, and each subsequent child is placed in the next lower down. That helps to ensure adequate numbers at all levels of the community, and also prevents rapid overpopulation.”

“That—” The avatar continued to stare at her with a confused expression. “That doesn’t make any sense. So the only reason Sworv is Daisa is because he had the misfortune to be born a few seconds later?”

“It is the way it always has been.” Kivi shrugged, unsure what else to say. “I tell you again, on such a subject as this, one of the others born to Leadership would be the better to speak to. If not Shamain, perhaps elder Ashile or Toulou.”

“Right, maybe I’ll do that.” Callan’s expression grew distant. Whether he was communing with Xeph or simply lost in thought, Kivi couldn’t have said. She gave a bow regardless and made for the exit.

“High Priestess?”

She stopped. For some reason her heart began to pound harder. Unbidden, Shamain’s advice returned to her, as it did every time she found herself in the Avatar’s private chambers. Although she suspected by now that the Avatar saw her as nothing more than another lud, she couldn’t stop her traitorous mind from wandering in directions that it shouldn’t. Wondering how she would refuse if he invited her into his bed.

Or if she even would refuse.

Bracing herself more against her own mind than the avatar’s impending question, she turned back around. “Yes?”

“One last question. What about this last caste you mentioned? Par... Par...”

“Parvux.” Kivi wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or not. It might have been better if the avatar had turned to carnal tastes rather than walk down this line of questioning.

“Right. That one. I haven’t met any lud from that caste.”

“No, nor would I expect you to. It is even lower than Daisa.”

“I thought Shamain said there was nothing lower than Daisa,” the avatar said.

She grimaced. “We do not speak of it unless we must. Any born to Parvux do not live long. Usually they are left by their mothers outside the village, to be reclaimed by beast and nature.”

“What?” Instantly, the avatar was on his feet. The speed of the movement caught Kivi by surprise. She knew that the avatar had been growing in power since accepting her village’s fealty, but she hadn’t seen such an obvious sign of it until now. She took a step back involuntarily.

The avatar matched each of her strides with one of his own that ate up the distance between them. “You’re telling me that you leave babies to die out in the wilderness?”

“Not to die. To be reclaimed by—”

“You. Leave them. To. Die.” Each word was punctuated with another stride, until Callan towered over her. Kivi felt her entire body quake. “Are you telling me that you would have done that too, Kivi? You would have left your own children outside the village? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you honestly would have done such a thing?”

I would never be so foolish as to end up in such a situation in the first place. The thought was a weak voice inside of her, barely a whisper. She kept it to herself.

Callan hovered over her for another moment, glaring down, imperious. Finally, he broke away and stalked back to his bedroll.

“Thank you for your insight tonight, High Priestess. I’ve been struggling with a decision for some time now, and you’ve just helped me figure out what I need to do.”

Kivi nodded dumbly. A voice inside screamed at her to retreat, to seek the safety of their campfire and her fellow priests while she still could. But another part of her, the part that had stood tall when she accepted the role of High Priestess, couldn’t help but ask a question. “And what decision is that?”

“Your precious little caste system. I’m getting rid of it.”

“You... what?” Kivi stared at him, unsure she had heard correctly. No. She ABSOLUTELY had not heard correctly.

“No more Daisa, no more Leadership, and absolutely no more dead fucking babies. You think either Xeph or I will tolerate such a... nightmarish system under our roof? No. It ends, the moment we return.”

“Avatar.” Taking a deep breath, Kivi gathered the right words inside of her. “If you do this, the others won’t approve.”

That was putting it mildly. She didn’t dare put to voice what she truly thought might happen, because then that would mean admitting this conversation was even taking place. That she had heard the avatar say what she thought he had.

“I know. Argas already warned me that some might leave. Let them. If they want to try to survive out here on their own, we’re better off without them.”

“That’s—they may do more than leave.” Now Kivi’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The elders will not like this. Particularly Shamain.”

“Pfff, what can that old woman do to me? I’m used to her acid tongue already, dealing with it a bit more won’t be the end of the world.”

He wasn’t seeing. Blessed Sentinel, he wasn’t seeing. Kivi tried to put it more plainly. “You should not take Shamain so lightly. The others will do as she commands. As the oldest of the Leadership, she holds an incredible amount of sway over the village.”

“There is no more Leadership caste, Kivi. No more village, either. The second one burned to nothing, and when we get back, I’ll burn the first to nothing as well.” The avatar sounded so sure of himself, that for a moment Kivi almost believed he could do it. Could centuries of her people’s traditions be broken so easily?

What would Kivi’s world look like if he did?

Kivi didn’t have a good answer, so she merely nodded in concession. “We shall have more opportunities to speak on this matter before our journey ends. Perhaps after a good night’s sleep, you will see this matter in a different light—”

A rumbling, roaring echo shook the entire tent. Kivi swayed first one direction, then the next, then collapsed entirely. The avatar caught her before she hit the floor. She glanced upward, his arms tight and warm around her, and felt her face flushed anew. “Avatar—”

“What in the ding dong hell was that?” The next moment she found herself back on her feet, the avatar pushing the flaps of the tent apart as he strode outside. She hastened after.

“Where’s the attack coming from?” He called to Sworv and Paeral. The two older lud just looked at him with confusion. “Grab a torch, we’ll keep our backs to each other until we know where the threat is.”

“Avatar.” Kivi’s hand tugged on his shirtsleeve. She pointed skyward. “There’s no threat. Only a Cavalier moon.”

The avatar’s gaze followed her finger, until he saw the glowing orb that almost filled the night sky above. In its bright reflection, she saw his eyes widen until it seemed as if they might burst from his head.

“Oh. Moons. Right.”