Vir backed away, his knees unsteady.
This, more than anything Cirayus had ever divulged about his past, hit hardest. It was one thing to be aware of the expectations of strangers. Faceless masses, realms apart.
It was another entirely to witness a room full of children cheering. Rooting. For him. For the hope of a brighter future.
Vir’s heart pumped madly, but it was not out of excitement, nor even the hope for which these children so desperately yearned.
It was guilt. Guilt over being so late. Guilt that he couldn’t possibly live up to their expectations.
Vir made to leave.
“Ah, look!” Janani said. “It appears we have a visitor!”
Every eye in the room locked onto him. Vir’s legs nearly buckled. His instincts, honed to perfection in the Ash, told him to run. To flee. To sink into the shadows. Anything to avoid facing the weight of those faces.
But Vir did not run. He hadn’t come this far, only to cower. He hadn’t risked his life over and over in the Ash, nearly dying, to hide.
It didn’t matter if the burden of responsibility weighed as much as a Godhollow. Too many had sacrificed too much for him. For the hope he represented. He couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to.
Vir mustered his friendliest smile.
14THE ORPHANAGE
“That will be all for the day,” Janani announced. “Class is dismissed!”
A round of aww’s and no fair’s resounded through the room.
Some of the children rushed out of the room, talking animatedly. Others stayed, clustering into groups and stealing glances at Vir. There was little doubt that he’d be the talk of the orphanage for a good while.
“May… I help you?” Janani asked hesitantly. There was fear in her expression and mannerism, as if Vir might’ve been there to spy on her. Greesha’s badge had assuaged her fears enough for her to divulge her tale—something Vir suspected the Chitran authorities would not take kindly—but it was clear she didn’t trust him completely yet.
“Greesha sent me here. I’d… er, I’d like to spend some time with you and the orphanage if that’s alright.”
“I… see,” Janani said, obviously confused. “Greesha sent you, did she?”
“Look, I’m no one you need to be suspicious of. I… Let’s just say that, like you, I have no love for the Chits.”
Janani’s eyes widened, and she mouthed an ‘O’.
“Please, come in!” she said. “This is no place to talk.”
Vir stepped into the orphanage, following her into a tiny room attached to the cramped teaching hall.
A small bed was tucked into a corner, while what looked to be a rudimentary kitchen dominated most of one of the walls. Her living quarters.
“It’s where I cook for the orphanage,” Janani said, seeing Vir’s gaze. “Not the most lavish space, I’m afraid, but it suffices.”
“Not at all,” Vir said. “I’m amazed you’re able to cook for all those kids here. It… can’t be easy.”
Vir couldn’t even guess where she laid out all the food for the kids with such limited counter space.
She must use the floor…
“It can be difficult at times, but it isn’t our place to complain. Not when the Outcasts have it so much worse. I must apologize for my earlier caution. We don’t get many visitors here, and when we do, usually not for anything good. Tea?” she asked.
Vir agreed, sitting at the small table.
“How did, uh… how’d you come to run the orphanage?” Vir asked. Janani had mentioned in her tale that she’d once been a teacher before the fall of the Garga, but teaching a class and running an orphanage were different beasts entirely.
“Many parents perished during the war. There was a dire need to feed, clothe, and shelter the family they’d left behind. I started with a relative of my own. A nephew.”
Janani prepared the tea with the refined motions of an expert. From her movements, Vir suspected she was well-raised. Demonkind didn’t have Sawai aristocracy as the humans did, but Vir wouldn’t have been surprised if she was high up in the Laborer Calling world.
“And well, I couldn’t very well leave kids wandering out in the street, could I?”
“That’s incredibly noble of you,” Vir said, thinking that many would do exactly that, passing it off as someone else’s problem.
Janani shrugged. “I admit, it helps me sleep at night. For every child I help, I am sure three others go hungry. But alas, I can only do what I can with the means I have.”
Her words were filled with regret.
“I’m sorry,” Vir said, earning him a look of bemusement from the woman.
“What for? Not like you caused it!” she said, setting down the mugs and taking a seat across from Vir.
Vir could only smile wryly in response.
“Not all the children lost their parents directly from the war, though,” Janani continued. “Some were executed long after it ended. Others were worked to death by the Chitrans. There are always more children becoming orphans these days.”
“What did they do to deserve execution?” Vir asked.
“Oh, the Chits always have their reasons. Few legitimate. Always looking for an excuse to demote Gargans into Outcasts. Those saddled with the Outcast Calling have little hope. The best they can do is beg and pray they’re not beaten. Some tried to seek a better life for their children by working jobs not… suitable for their Calling. It didn’t end well.”
“Are there many Outcasts?” Vir asked, somberly sipping his aromatic tea. Vir was sure the leaves she must’ve used couldn’t have been anything expensive, which spoke to her prodigious skill. Given the gravity of their conversation, however, he found it difficult to appreciate.
“More than there ought to be, which in my mind is zero. It was zero, before… But I can’t say that life as a Laborer Calling is much better.”
Vir frowned. “I’m sorry. I’ve been away from Samar Patag, training in the Ash. Most Gargans are now Chitran Laborers, aren’t they? Can’t the Laborers change their Calling or shift to a different specialization within their Calling?”
“You truly know nothing of our situation, do you?” Janani asked incredulously. “Only the Kothis—the true Chitran—have that luxury. Gargans are locked into their Calling, and their children are doomed to inherit that restriction.”
“That must be difficult,” Vir said. “Still, weren’t most of you Laborers before the fall? What’s the difference?”
“We’re Laborers in name only,” Janani said, laughing sadly. “In reality, we’re stuck. We pay higher taxes than the Chitrans do and we’re banned from any opportunity to make better lives for ourselves.”
Vir ground his teeth. “Then the Warrior and Ruler Callings…”
“Forget it. No Gargan will ever rise to those stations while the Chitran are in power.”
“Then why stay?” Vir asked, his desperation growing. “Your situation here sounds little better than imprisonment.”
“It sure sounds that way, doesn’t it? A brave few attempt to leave the city each year. Some make it, but most are captured and tortured. Then they are publicly executed.”
“You’re… not allowed to leave? For any reason?”
“Not without explicit Chitran Ruler permission.”
Vir revised his earlier opinion. This wasn’t like imprisonment. The Gargans were imprisoned.
A girl barged through the room and came running up to him, interrupting their conversation. Her face was an expression of excitement mixed with a hint of fear.
“What’s wrong?” Vir asked.
“O-oh, nothing,” she replied bashfully. “H-Hey, mister! Do you wanna come and play with us?”
“Hiya!” Janani scolded. “Where are your manners? And can’t you see he’s an adult? Don’t bother us. He’s too old to play with you, and we were just in the middle of a discussion.”