Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  “When you left, you were a disappointed man wrapped in duty. I ached to see you thus, and when you came back, you were so bitter and angry. But now you remind me of when I first met Loke, that time you brought him with you to visit. The two of you were such good friends, I rejoiced to see it, and every time I saw you with him. Now you’ve made another friend, and it’s changed you again. Even with this latest trouble...as with Loke, he feeds your soul and makes it grow. Am I speaking out of turn?”

  “No, you aren’t. But since I tore his soul in half with what I did, it’s not like I deserve his friendship in the least.”

  Karus gave him a sharp look. “He forgives you. I can tell by the way he looks at you, that he bears you no ill will at all.”

  “Perhaps not, Pei, but we’re still at war. He’ll leave soon, I sincerely hope for his sake. All I can do is try and heal the hurt I’ve given him.”

  Karus nodded and ate more soup, as if that was all he had to say on the subject. But then just as Arman relaxed and began to eat his own meal, Karus spoke again. “And then, my dear Arman, what will you do? Retreat into bitterness again? Do your familial duty and let your soul die?”

  “You speak as if I have any choice in the matter. I was born in this caste, I let my father make my marriage. I accepted my rank. I can’t complain now if it doesn’t bring me joy.”

  “No, my boy, you can’t. But Loke brought you joy. I think Kei would if you let him. All I suggest is that you let yourself believe that even when they are both gone, the possibility of happiness exists in your future, and not to retreat into yourself again. I won’t be here forever,” he said gently, laying his hand on Arman’s wrist. “I don’t want to be with Loke, watching from the heavens, as you turn into a sour, angry old man.”

  “You’ll be here for a while yet,” Arman said gruffly.

  “My boy, don’t insult my few remaining brains,” Karus chided gently. “Bring your child up to have an open, honest heart and you will do us all honour, and find some joy in your life. Leave yourself ready to find friendship again.”

  “I’ll try, Karus-pei, but I don’t want to speak of the future.” Arman changed the subject to what had happened that day in his office. “Kei was terrified, and I don’t blame him.”

  Karus sighed. “Ah, Sei Mekus, what a horrible child he was, though I shouldn’t say it. He’s a bully, always was. You need to treat him the same way you treat other bullies.”

  “I very much doubt Her Serenity would appreciate me picking one of her senators up by the scruff of his neck and beating the dust out of his bones,” Arman said dryly, and Karus chuckled.

  “No, I fancy not. But I also fancy you have better weapons than your fists these days. I pray daily for the end of the siege, much as I will feel more that I’m losing a daughter than a servant in Jena. Is there any movement at all on that front?”

  “None whatsoever. At this rate, you’ll have Jena with you at the next Solstice.”

  “Which would bring her no happiness, so I won’t wish it, however much we each want our friends to stay. I never expected to see this day. To be at war but to have found friendship through it. It’s very strange, is it not?”

  “Indeed, Pei. Very strange.” But also wonderful. A brief but wonderful time to be cherished in the future which, whatever Karus said, had no prospect of joy at all.

  They finished their meal, not talking of the war of which Arman had had more than enough lately, but of small things. Karus’s garden and his plans to try and cultivate the difficult yusus tree with its extravagant, delicate blooms and edible blue berries. Matez’ budding relationship with a servant in one of the neighbouring households, and what that might mean to Karus. The books on the history of Andon Karus had ordered and that he was expecting to arrive soon. Little, undramatic things Arman rarely had time to contemplate, but which were things he would like to have time to contemplate. He suspected he would be Karus’s age before he had that luxury—and even then, he would have his wife and her bastard to ruin his peace. He had no expectations Mayl would die in childbirth—the gods wouldn’t want to take her back to them sooner than they needed to.

  Jena came in as they were finishing. “He’s resting,” she said, forestalling both their queries. “You’ve done good work with him, my lord.”

  “Hurt to admit that?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not at all. A healer takes her remedies even from the most poisonous bushes.” Karus chuckled at that. “He’s a long way to go, my lord. Don’t imagine he’s close to being healed, because he’s not.”

  “No, I don’t, but I urgently need to know if you think he can bear to be away from me for a few hours each day. The situation has become dangerous at the palace for him.”

  “Mekus? He told me,” she said with a scowl. “That...bucket of urs piss!”

  “Jena,” Karus said in mild reproof. “Arman has to look the man in the face, you know.”

  “Yes, well, maybe he could poke him in the eye too while he’s looking. All right, I know. The answer is, yes, if Karus will not mind him hiding away for the first few days.”

  Just what Arman had hoped for. “Excellent. Pei, if he can come to you in the afternoons, that will reduce his time there.”

  “Yes, of course—he can spend all day here, you know that,” Karus said with a puzzled frown.

  “No, he can’t, Karus,” Jena said.

  “I don’t understand, my child.”

  Jena glanced at Arman. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later, perhaps. But Kei should spend more time with Arman now than with you or me. For a little while longer, at least.”

  Karus blinked a little. “You’re the healer, my dear. Whatever he needs, you know that. We need to send him home safe and in good health. It’s only fair.”

  “Yes, and I intend to,” Arman said, looking at Jena who nodded. “I’ll wait until he’s ready and take him home. Thank you.”

  “Thank you—for his sake.”

  “Of course. For what other reason?” Karus was looking down at his plate, so Jena put her tongue out at Arman. Arman only grinned. Jena held no fears for him—he was married to a champion practitioner of nastiness. Jena was but a rank amateur in those stakes.

  ~~~~~~~~

  It was an intense relief to Arman to find Kei could, at last, spend some time at Karus’s house, and even benefit from it. He’d explained what he and Jena had been doing—Arman really couldn’t understand this strange power or what it felt like, let alone these mental exercises, but he accepted their necessity and the benefit Kei derived from them. He was a long, long way from normal, but at least he no longer returned from the kitchens pale-faced and sweaty every time he fetched a meal for them.

  There was no joy in him though, no real spirit in his conversation. Jena said his recovery would take time and kindness from his friends. Arman could offer one, but who knew how much there would be of the other.

  He could at least make him safer and exercised his little used political skills to make sure Mekus’s spite didn’t lead to fatal results for Kei. Arman let it be known what Kei was working on, casually mentioning the dictionary and the medical text to Blikus as “being of some possible use, my lord,” carefully underplaying it. Blikus’s curiosity was piqued, just as Arman hoped it would be, and so Arman told him a little more about Darshianese remedies. His scepticism died somewhat when Arman had Kei’s medical supplies brought to the palace and had Kei demonstrate the effect of the chuo sap ointment to the Lord Commander.

  “Amazing stuff, Arman,” Blikus murmured, looking at his fingers. “You, Kei—you know the recipe for this?”

  “Yes, my lord, my family invented it. But you can’t get chuo sap in the south.”

  Arman was proud of how Kei held his nerve under Blikus’s penetrating gaze. “Really. But still—put the recipe in that thing you’re writing. You never know, we might get supplies of it. Are you describing the use of this nitre weed solution?”

  “Yes, my lord. It needs to be used ca
refully, it can be an irritant as well as a poison.”

  “Hmmm, since the last time I had a bad back the liniment the medic gave me brought me out in hives, I don’t think we’ll be too frightened by this. It’s a good idea, this book, Arman. I’ll mention it to Her Serenity. No point in prejudice getting in the way of keeping our troops healthy.”

  “No, my lord, exactly my thoughts.”

  And now you can go sit on an angry thurl, Mekus. He would look like a perfect idiot if he complained to Kita over this now, and Blikus hadn’t raised the slightest objection either to Kei being in the palace in the mornings. Had even suggested Kei speak to the medics, but Arman politely suggested that since the siege might end any day, the notes would be a valuable resource, as would the dictionary, and would it not be best if he continued to work on them instead? Blikus had agreed, and Arman could relax again.

  Kei understood what he’d done, and was grateful in a subdued kind of way. His reactions were growing less severe as the days passed, and he admitted his control was improving. The last time anything remotely like this had happened, it had taken nearly a month for him to really be normal, he said. Arman got the impression that six months or more was likely to be the case here.

  Kei was unlikely to still be in Utuk in six months’ time. But neither might Arman. Three weeks after the new hostages had arrived from Vinri, he was summoned to a meeting of the security cabinet. Kita was present, as were six of the most senior and capable senators, Captain Peku, and the Lord Commander. He expected it to be about the siege at Darshek, and was resigned to listening to a lot of stupid complaints and ideas which they had gone over a dozen times before. But to his surprise, it was Blikus, not Peku, who got to his feet. “Your highness, senators, we have lost all communications with north Darshian. There’s been no goods or messages through Tirko Pass for three weeks. We’ve sent a number of messengers and scouts—not one has returned.”

  Consternation broke out. “It’s winter, Lord Commander,“ Senator Kizus—one of the oldest and most acerbic members of the senate—pointed out. “Is it possible they’ve been lost in snowfalls or avalanches?”

  “Yes, it is, although the snowfalls have not been severe, according to General Ritus. But if the passes were simply blocked, at least some of our men would be turning back and reporting the problem. At this point, we have to assume anything from a simple problem at Fort Trejk, to a total loss of our troops.”

  Kita said nothing, but she looked thoughtful. “Your suggestion, Lord Commander?” another senator asked.

  “The only solution is to find out what’s going on—and that means sending a force north.”

  “More soldiers?” Kizus snapped. “Impossible—this war is stretching us thin. The senate won’t approve it.”

  Her Serenity raised her hand for silence. “How many soldiers, Blikus?”

  Blikus bowed a little to Kita. “I would suggest at least two hundred, your highness. But it would depend on what is found.”

  She folded her hands. “You seriously think we could have lost our entire force, including General Jozo? Is that even possible?”

  “I would hope not, your highness. But a total lack of communications means just that—and until we know why, we have to assume the worst.”

  “Your highness, my lord,” Arman said, getting their attention. “A force of even a hundred men, carefully chosen, might be able to investigate this. We can spare those from Utuk without compromising security.”

  “And who would lead this? You?” Kizus snapped.

  “I could, Senator. I know the terrain and the pass better than anyone on this side of the mountain range.”

  “Couldn’t one of your captains lead it? It doesn’t need a general’s attention.”

  “No, it doesn’t, not just getting through the pass. But if some catastrophe has befallen our army, it will need my attention. I would feel easier about the matter if I could assess it with my own eyes and make a judgement on the spot.” Kizus grunted, accepting the point.

  “A hundred soldiers, Arman. You would be sitting targets,” Blikus said.

  “If the worst has happened, yes, my lord. But if the worst has happened, even a thousand men might not be enough.”

  “We’re not sending another thousand troops,” Kizus said. “It exposes Kuprij too much—we’re already exposed too much by this siege. If there was an attack by the Andonese, we would have all our defences tied up in the north.”

  Kita held her hand up. “Arman, if we’ve lost Jozo, losing you would be a bitter blow.”

  “’If’, your highness. I don’t have your belief in my indispensability, but in any event, it needs experience more than numbers for this task. It’s probably something remarkably simple,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

  She tapped the arms of her chair with her fingers as she thought. “Very well. Arman, take a hundred troops and plan to only go as far as Vinri, unless you consider you really need to continue once you’re on the ground. Send reports back at every station. We shall have four hundred men kept in reserve in Urshek, waiting for your command. If you determine more troops are needed, then more will be provided,” she said with a sharp look at her senators. “We’ve devoted many resources to the fight for Darshek, senators, let us not quibble now when victory is so close.”

  Arman noted the scepticism of her cabinet, but she ignored it. “When can you leave, Arman?”

  “In two days, your highness. My lord, we will need cold weather equipment, and urs beasts for all men, for greater speed.”

  “Ritus will provide them. Peku, we want your fastest boat for Arman.” The admiral nodded. “Anything else?”

  “No, my lord. It’s always possible news will come before we enter the pass—another reason for a smaller force.”

  “True.” Blikus didn’t look happy. “That’s the end of my report, your highness.”

  “Very well, we trust you to provide what is needed. Good day, gentlemen. Arman, wait a moment, please.”

  He stood and waited politely for his colleagues to leave. Kita took his arm. “Walk with us.” She led him out into the walled garden, where braziers were lit here and there to warm the more delicate plants. “You seem eager for this mission.”

  “Eager to know the fate of our men, your highness. General Jozo is too valuable to lose this way.”

  “As are you. Does it not concern you that your wife is soon to give birth?”

  He nearly rolled his eyes—Kita always picked the most irritating moments to be womanly. “My wife is a soldier’s wife and a senator’s daughter. We all know our duty to Kuprij, your highness.”

  “Indeed, we’re sure you do. We’ll keep her safe for your return.”

  “Thank you. I don’t expect it to be as dangerous as you fear. The chances something catastrophic have occurred are slight.”

  “Of course. The Darshianese don’t have a large army, we already know this. As you say, it’s most likely a problem at the fort.” She made him turn towards a display of bright red berry plants, a type he didn’t recognise. “Will you take this manservant of yours? The one Blikus says knows so many remedies?”

  Gods, he’d not thought about.... “If your highness would permit it, it would be helpful. Your kindness in that matter has been much appreciated.” Eventually, he thought wryly.

  “Thank you. Yes, you have my permission, but see he continues with his work. We should like to see this text when it’s completed. And, of course, if the Darshianese should kill this servant too, then it’s only fitting”

  Cold-blooded reptile of a woman. “Of course. He is as much use as a hostage with this expedition as in Utuk, and I won’t have to waste of the time one of my soldiers performing menial duties.”

  “Yes, true. Now, we better let you make your preparations. We would be most upset if you were to get yourself killed on this venture, Arman. We want you to know that.”

  He bowed. “Your highness is too kind. I expect to be able to give you a report within a month
, all being well.”

  She smiled. “Ah, then, good, you shall have the naming ceremony in the palace. Your child will be a kinsman of ours—it will be joyfully welcomed.”

  How he would have enjoyed telling her the child wasn’t even his kin, let alone hers. “Thank you.”

  She dismissed him and he backed away. Gods...what had he just agreed to do with Kei?

  Chapter : Utuk 9

  There were days when Kei almost felt normal, normal sad at least. Working with Arman in the morning was more stressful in some ways, but his presence gave Kei the strength to keep his control. The afternoons with Karus and Jena left him without that source of strength, but he didn’t need it so much—sometimes, not at all. Karus was so even in his temperament, he didn’t put a strain on Kei’s gift at all, and Jena could conceal her more changeable emotions enough they didn’t burden him.

  But he was also improving overall. Karus’s other servants offered no special concessions, and yet Kei now handled interactions with them easily. He could even now deal with Arman’s household staff, even though they still made him sick in every way with their unpleasant speculations and hate. They were a good test for measuring his recovery. Maybe once he was back at Ai-Albon, with people who weren’t hostile, he would really be able to live and work with them again. Jena believed it was so. The other matter...well, it was possible to live with a deep sorrow, a painful loss, however great. He was proving to himself he could bury himself in his work, and there would be work aplenty in which to do so when he returned. It would help to numb the ache.

  His heart always lifted a little in the evening when he heard Arman’s cultured voice asking Matez where they were, and he could always let a little tension go when Arman at last entered the library or the kitchen wherever Kei was working or talking. Arman always managed to give him some contact, a squeeze to the shoulder, or a hand briefly on his back. Like water to a drought-dying plant, it revived him—not forever, but for a while—although he drooped again if Arman was gone for long. It angered him to be so dependent on another in this way, to be so weak and in need of comforting. But the situation wasn’t of his making, nor under his control. All he could do was work determinedly on his exercises, force himself to tolerate more and more exposure to the emotions of strangers to build up a callus on his heart, and to remind himself daily he would not have Arman here for long, so he had better not use him more than he absolutely needed to.