Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  “Yes, of course—I’m surprised you don’t just head off without us.”

  “I keep my word, general. Unlike some.” Kei rose and walked out without a backwards glance. Shortly afterward, soldiers entered the infirmary and assisted the other wounded men out. Other than Arman, they were all ambulatory to some extent, although several could only walk with the assistance of two men. Arman couldn’t walk at all, not for a while, at least. How did they plan to manage it?

  His question was answered once he and Vikis were the only people left in the infirmary. Kei returned with four Darshianese soldiers, and directed them to bodily pick up the cot on which Arman lay. “Be careful,” Kei ordered. “Don’t jolt him.”

  Arman gripped the side of the cot, suddenly afraid of how much it would damn well hurt if they dropped him, but they carried him with surprising consideration outside into the bitter wind. Three wagons, a number of urs beasts, and about twenty soldiers were in the courtyard, clearly preparing for departure. His men were settled into two of the wagons, and he and his cot were placed inside the third across the front, wedged behind the driver’s seat. The soldiers fixed boards and ropes around the cot to stop it sliding about. Two bolsters were also provided to allow him to sit up without straining. It was very cold—did they expect him to sleep under the blankets and get on with it?

  Yet again, he only had a minute or two to consider this, before his cloak and extra blankets were provided. A cover was placed like a roof over the wagon as he’d seen being fixed to the other two, cutting out the wind and making it warmer almost instantly, though it was also rather dark. Kei climbed in the back and checked the cot was fixed and that Arman hadn’t suffered any injury in the transfer.

  “Will you be riding in here?”

  “I’ll be riding a beast alongside. If you need assistance, you have only to call out. We’ll take breaks every few hours.” He stuck his head through the ‘door’ and yelled for Arman’s pack, which was passed to him, and which he stowed near Arman’s bed. He left without another word, but then returned a few moments later with a small cup—the type used for dispensing the painkiller. “Here, you need to take this—the ride will be uncomfortable enough without it.”

  “I don’t need it, Kei.”

  “I wasn’t aware I asked you, general. This is an order from the person responsible for your health—until we get to Ai-Albon, you obey me and Captain Tiko.”

  Arman looked at Kei in consternation. “And does this responsibility involve forcing drugs on an unwilling prisoner or not?”

  Kei glared. “Are you stupid? The wagon ride will hurt like all hells, even with the cot being raised as it is. This isn’t some stupid trick—I’m not Prijian.”

  “Yes, that fact has yet to escape my attention,” Arman said coldly. “All right, give me it. It’s nice to see your ethics disappear when you’re in a sulk.”

  He reached for the cup, but instead found his wrist being seized in a surprisingly strong grip. “You think I’m sulking?”

  “Well, what else is it? What’s changed to remove my right to refuse the drugs, or which requires you to look at me as if I’m a piece of urs shit? Tell me how I can save Jena without Karus being killed, and then I will consider your request. Tell me how you can invade Kuplik without overrunning my brother’s estate? Will you save seventy people, but kill a hundred, two hundred civilians or more in doing so? Tell me how to do that, please, because I don’t want to cause you pain, I swear.”

  Kei still squeezed his wrist, but the hand holding the medication shook as Kei’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, just tell them how to save them. Please—if Jena dies, it would kill me.”

  “If Karus died, what in hells do you think it would do to me?”

  “You started this,” Kei said furiously, freeing his wrist so he could wipe his face.

  “Yes, we did. But I don’t know any answer that doesn’t most likely mean the deaths of those I love, the people I serve. Give me an answer which won’t cause that and I will gladly help you, I really will.”

  Kei hung his head. “I don’t have an answer.” He looked up at Arman with angry, tear-filled eyes. “I wish I’d never met any of the Prij!”

  “I imagine you don’t. Do you want me to take that stuff or not?”

  “Not if you don’t want it,” Kei said tiredly, straightening up. “I’m sorry, I just—”

  “Hurt like all hells, I know. I’m the one who’s sorry. Let me take the drug—you’re right.” Kei handed him the little cup and he swallowed it, wincing at the bitter taste. Kei reached for the cup, but Arman seized his hand. “Please, let’s not be at odds. I would do anything to help you—anything but this. I’ve spent my adult life protecting Prijian citizens, like you’ve spent yours healing. To ask me to suddenly say my people aren’t important is more than I can ever do.”

  Kei looked at where Arman had his hand on him. “If there’s an answer—you swear to help?”

  “I swear on Karus’s life. On my honour.”

  Kei lifted his head. “We can’t be friends. Not here, not now. But I thank you for your oath. I’ll pass it on—perhaps there’s something we haven’t thought of.”

  “I sincerely hope so.”

  Kei nodded and made him lie back. “This will be an uncomfortable journey for some of it at least. We’ll do what we can to make it easier for you and your men.”

  “I thank you for that. You’re doing more than I could ask.”

  “Not more than I would expect of myself. Perhaps that’s the difference between us.”

  Kei climbed out of the wagon, and someone fumbled with the cover, apparently fastening it. And then, shortly after that, they were moving.

  He slept for a couple of hours at least, but when he woke, the wagon was still moving at a moderate pace. The motion was extremely uncomfortable, just as Kei had warned him, but Arman couldn’t bring himself to ask for more pain relief. He was afraid of becoming addicted. Kei had explained to him before they left Utuk why pijn had to be used with such caution. “The body becomes used to it if constantly taken—we don’t know why—and so more must be given to give the same amount of relief. If taken for more than two weeks, the person becomes sick if the drug is suddenly ceased,” he’d said. “However, if taken for too long, or at too high a dose, the drug eventually becomes a poison, and the person will die if they don’t stop. If they can stop before they reach a certain point, they can be saved, although at the cost of much suffering. After that, their liver and other organs begin to die. It’s a very unpleasant death.”

  Arman didn’t want to die that way. He could understand how someone might be tempted along the path of that craving if their pain was great enough—but he’d understood why Kei had not used the drug to ease his own mental agonies, and why he was so cautious about administering it to his patients. The drug was very effective, that was the problem. The relief was total, at least for a while. But then the pain returned, and one had either to suffer, or take more pijn.

  For now, Arman chose to endure, although the fiery, grabbing pain in his side and in his leg made him wish he had something to bite on whenever they hit a bad bump. The wagon wasn’t sprung like a calash, but then calashes weren’t used for transporting heavy goods, nor were they suitable for terrain like this. Arman had seen plans for a spring-balanced wagon, and thought it might one day be useful for long-distance passenger transport. But it, like his life, was back in Utuk. He wondered if he would ever return there.

  He had to admit that if it weren’t for Karus, the thought of never doing so would cause him no pain at all. But it wasn’t as if he could stay with the Darshianese. They hated him, both personally and for what he represented. If he betrayed Kuprij, some might forgive him his crimes. But others, including himself, would be disgusted and appalled by the treachery.

  Nonetheless, he spent some of the long, painful hours in the dark, being bounced and jolted, going over and over the Kuplik defences. If there was a hope of an honourable answer, he wanted to gi
ve it. Kei wasn’t the only one who wanted to spare another unnecessary pain.

  Chapter : Return to Darshian 3

  It was not the weather Kei would have chosen to drag fifteen injured men out in to begin a thirteen hundred mile journey, but apart from the cold and the biting wind, the road itself was reasonable. There had been no rain in the last two days, so the going was hard, allowing them to make good speed. He insisted they stop every three hours or so to allow his patients to stretch, piss and tell him if any of them were suffering more than usual discomfort. Arman had been asleep for the first rest stop. Kei hadn’t heard a complaint from him, so he was very annoyed when they stopped mid-afternoon and he climbed into the wagon, only to find the man lying there in obvious agony.

  “Gods, why didn’t you say anything?” he said crossly, kneeling down and looking to see if the stitches were still holding.

  “I was trying...to bear it,” Arman said, his face sweaty and pale, his lips bitten with the effort of not calling out.

  “Well, don’t, you damn fool. We have the pijn. That’s what it’s for.” Arman grabbed his wrist feebly, and Kei saw the fear in his eyes, fear of the addiction Kei had warned about. “It will only be a few days that you’ll need it. You’re healing quickly. I would expect you to be walking a little in three or four days.”

  “Oh...I thought I’d be stuck here for longer.”

  Kei cursed himself—he should have reassured Arman sooner. It was only what a healer was supposed to do, but because he’d been avoiding a conversation with the man, he’d let him worry needlessly and increased his suffering. “No, I promise. Once we get to Ai-Rutej, you can get up.”

  Arman’s expression became solemn. “Jena’s village.”

  “Yes. I’ll have news for her lover.” Not a conversation he looked forward to, but it was a duty he would never attempt to avoid. “I’ll bring you some food—you missed lunch—and some more pijn. Do you need to piss?”

  Arman nodded. “I really hate having to ask.”

  “I get no great joy in watching you either,” Kei said, making himself smile. “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes, but you look cold.”

  “I am. It’s close to freezing out there—there’ll be a hard frost tonight for sure.”

  Arman smiled tiredly. “Then you better find a friendly urs beast to lean against.”

  Kei could only look at him with regret, remembering how safe and...almost content...he’d felt on the trail, despite the discomfort and the cold. He’d not had a single unbroken night’s sleep since, nor one so untroubled by dreams. “I’ll manage,” he said finally. “Let me get what you need.”

  They stopped only long enough to let people eat and piss. Tiko and his men had points mapped out all the way to Darshek, milestones he wanted to reach each night, and they still had a long way to cover before it became dark.

  It grew steadily colder, and a few rare flakes of snow fell. Kei worried about his patients—none of them were fit enough to tolerate this degree of cold. As they stopped at a waterhole for the night, the urs beasts being allowed a scant half hour to forage and be watered, he went to Tiko, directing the setting up of the camp. “Tiko, the men will freeze if we try and force them to sleep in tents—better to leave them in the wagons.”

  “Yes, agreed—I was going to suggest it, if you thought they would be comfortable. They won’t have much room, but they won’t die of that. But what about the general?”

  That was a difficulty—Arman’s injuries were such that if he were jostled or walked on during the night, it would cause him enormous pain, but sleeping on his own.... “I suppose I better sleep in there. I’ve done it before,” he said, trying to sound casual.

  Not casual enough for the sharp-witted Tiko. “Will you be able to bear that? I thought you would want to sleep alone on this march.”

  “I...yes, but I’ll freeze too. He...doesn’t hurt me as much as others do. I don’t know why, so don’t damn well ask,” he added irritably.

  Tiko held his hands up. “I wasn’t planning to. You’re the healer. The care is entirely up to you—my job is to stop people escaping and to get everyone there speedily and in one piece. I’ll hitch the wagons closer together to cut down the wind, and stuff some more blankets around the edges.”

  It took a bit of arranging, trying to make sure the injured men had enough blankets and enough space, and that the healthier ones were at the back near the exit so they could alert the Darshianese soldiers if help was needed. Kei spent more time making sure everyone ate, drank enough water, since dehydration was a danger when the weather was both cold and dry, and that stitches and bandages and splints were holding up. So far, Arman was suffering the worst of all of them, but that was only to be expected. The Prijian soldiers were in good heart, and surprisingly sanguine about being taken north away from their homes. As soon as they realised they weren’t to be killed out of hand, they’d become resigned to their lot—and as they’d experienced kind handling, Kei had definitely detected a lessening of suspicion and hostility. Wonder of wonders, he’d even seen some of the more mobile ones joining in conversation with the Darshianese soldiers when they left the infirmary to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. Tiko was happy to encourage good feelings between the two sides because it made his job easier.

  That, of course, did not extend to Arman, although Kei had passed on Arman’s promise. Tiko had been unimpressed. “Doesn’t mean a lot, does it? We can’t plan a safe rescue because he won’t give us the information we need, but he won’t give us the information we need until we plan a safe rescue. This fellow isn’t a lawyer, is he?”

  Kei didn’t believe Arman was trying to get out of the situation at all—but that didn’t stop Kei being sick with anxiety. He could only hope the Rulers would come up with a plan on their own, but since they’d had months to do so, and had not, it wasn’t much of a hope.

  But he had practical concerns now, and so long as he concentrated on those, he could survive this until he got home. Home was another cause of anxiety, but he also wanted not to think about that either. Here and now, this day, this hour. That was the only way to get through this.

  He collected food for himself and Arman, and climbed into the wagon. Arman was still drowsy from having slept the afternoon away. Kei helped him sit, and gave him the food. “Eat up, you need it.”

  He looked about to fall asleep over his food. “Arman, wake up, will you?”

  “Uh...sorry.”

  “Are you all right?” Kei knelt and brought the lamp closer. Arman looked a little grey, certainly lacking something of that powerful personality Kei had always noted in him. He did a quick internal check—he couldn’t detect any obvious problems, other than still healing injuries and internal bruising, which would trouble Arman a while longer.

  “Just...that drug.” Arman shook himself a little. “Don’t like it. Don’t like...feeling so out of control.”

  “Well, I’ll try and keep the dose low. If you think you can sleep tonight without it, then you won’t need to take it this evening.”

  Arman smiled a little. “Let me try at least.”

  Kei got more comfortable, and nudged Arman’s bowl. “Eat up.”

  Arman didn’t have much of an appetite, which worried Kei. He was still making up for a lot of lost blood, and in this cold weather, he needed warm food inside him. The problem with the pijn was it tended to depress the appetite—if Arman really didn’t like the side-effects, then perhaps Kei should try other ways of making him more comfortable.

  He took their bowls away and collected a canteen of warmed water, a lamp, his pack and a bedroll to take with him back to the wagon. There wasn’t much room—they had half loaded the wagon with supplies, although Kei had insisted they needed to keep a clear place for him to get to his patient. He would have to sleep wedged between flour sacks and bags of beans, but then he’d slept in worse places.

  He helped Arman relieve himself, and emptied the pot outside. The rest of the camp was al
ready bedded down, and the only fire was that of the two soldiers left on watch. None of the Prijian soldiers were in much of a condition to escape, but the desert held other dangers, ones that might fancy taking a man or a beast that got overconfident. He was glad not to have to sleep in a tent at least this night, but it meant he wasn’t exactly following Tiko’s advice of keeping his distance from Arman. That was just too bad. Arman needed some extra warmth, and so did Kei, and someone had to keep an eye on the man. After Ai-Rutej, things might be different.

  “How much pain are you in?”

  “A bit. But I don’t want that drug. Please don’t make me take it.”

  Kei sat down next to the cot. “I won’t,” he said quietly, regretting his temper that morning. “But you need to relax—your stomach muscles are tensing and pulling on your wound and your leg. Don’t hold yourself so tight.”

  Arman grunted, but there was no noticeable reduction in the rigidity of his body. Kei sat down at the side of the cot. “Relax,” he said gently, stroking Arman’s hand. He laid a hand on his forehead, feeling the cold sweat there, and then ran his fingers through the tangled, dirty mass of Arman’s hair. Something he would need to attend to—Arman hated to be dirty or untidy, and he could hardly groom himself just now. He searched in his pack for his own comb, and dragged it carefully through Arman’s hair, hoping the repetitive, gentle motion would soothe the injured man.

  It worked, because Arman untensed somewhat, his eyes closing. His colour was still pale—he still needed careful watching. Kei was still concerned about the broken ribs and what damage they could do if he moved carelessly or was knocked about too much. There was always a possibility a slow bleed might start up even from the jolting. He didn’t want to wake up and find Arman had bled to death from a missed internal wound.

  He wanted Arman to rest, and after not very long at all, was pleased to find his patient had fallen asleep. He kept up the hair combing a little longer, but then he judged it safe to spread out the bedroll to provide a warmer, softer surface to sleep on. He didn’t want to sleep, not yet. Instead he wrapped his cloak around him, set the lamp to low, and sat next to Arman’s cot, leaning on it, holding his hand. Loke still doesn’t get to have you.