Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  Kei seemed a little nonplussed by the abrupt change of subject. “No...why do you mention it?”

  “Because the way you spoke for the general reminded me of that. When Erte was, oh, I think no more than four—I was seven, I recall—Pa took a sickly jombeker in to hand rear because its mother had rejected it. Now, this is normal, as I’m sure you know, and you also know what male jombekers are kept for. Pa wasn’t a cruel man and he didn’t encourage Erte to feed the thing or get attached to it, but yet she did. Well, you can guess how she reacted when Pa decided we could do with the meat and took it out to cut its throat. She clung to it, pleaded for its life, told Pa the poor thing had never done anyone any harm. It was piteous to hear her, it really was. Pa could never resist Erte’s tears, so he gave in and told her she could have it as a pet if she wanted it so badly.”

  “She always had a heart too big for her body,” Kei said quietly.

  “Yes, and sometimes it overrode her damn common sense,” his father snapped. “That blasted jombeker turned out to be the foulest, most bad-tempered creature we ever owned, and even when Pa took its balls off, it still caused problems in the flock. Did a lot of damage too, used to annoy the she-animals with their kids, and attack anyone who came into the pens. Pa finally had to quietly knock it on the head one day and break the news to Erte after the fact. Fortunately, she was a little older then and got over it, but we’d had a year and a half of trouble before then with the worthless creature. My point is—just because you think you’ve done the right thing in adopting this man as a pet, doesn’t mean that in the long run, your soft heart won’t bring a world of trouble to you and all of us.”

  Arman saw Kei’s hackles rising at the description of himself as a pet, and hastily intervened. “Your point is well made, sir, but in any event, Kei will be rid of me in two weeks. There won’t be any trouble, and I’m sure people will understand how trials shared can throw people together who should never have met. Don’t hold Kei’s kindness against him—and I swear neither he nor you will regret your generosity.”

  That got him a long searching look. “You like your pets also, general, I see. I’ve no more time to discuss this, Kei. I hope your sister realises the trouble she’s put us both to.”

  Kei bowed a little. “I am sure she has the same faith in your judgement and fairness I do, father,” he said with some coolness in his tone.

  His father nodded and left the house. “I don’t keep people as pets,” Kei muttered, then he sighed. “I’m going to strangle that sister of mine.”

  “So much for not killing people, then.”

  “For her, I’ll make an exception.” He gave Arman a rueful grin. “Sorry about this. I know this will be horribly boring for you.”

  “No more than my own wedding was. That took three days of interminable ceremonies, five ritual baths, two dead pure black lemuls and rather a lot of money handed over to the Temple of Isik before I could be allowed to bed Mayl. I don’t think it was much of a bargain,” he added sardonically.

  “Really? Oh well, our joining ceremonies are very simple, and we don’t kill anything except to eat it. It wasn’t that I was referring to,” Kei said, sitting down again. He picked up his tea and made a face as he sipped it, presumably because it had gone cold, but he drank it anyway. “People will stare.”

  “People always stare,” Arman said, shrugging. “‘Golden general’?”

  Kei flushed. “Um...it was a nickname one of the hostages from Ai-Tuek came up with for you, and it stuck.”

  “I bet that wasn’t the only name you called me.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” He rubbed his chest again. “Why do you always arouse such strong passions?”

  Arman laid his hand on Kei’s arm and immediately saw his expression relax. “I’m truly sorry. I don’t want you fighting with your people over me, especially not your father and clan head. You know he can’t only take your sister’s wishes into account—like a general, he has to see the whole story, not just individuals.”

  “Perhaps. But our hospitality has always been a source of pride and I didn’t want him to regret any failure in that, or to give anyone a chance to criticise him over it. Better to be criticised for being over-scrupulous than capricious, to my mind—and I know Fedor will think so too when he stops being irritated. I imagine Myka got him pretty annoyed.”

  “I still don’t know why she did that,” Arman murmured, sipping his own cold tea.

  Kei grinned. “Well, not to give credence to Tiko’s idiocy, but you really do have an amazing range of conquests.” He grew serious. “If they got to know you, they would know you’re not what they think. I wish others could see the truth for themselves. We don’t do any favours to ourselves in making the Prij out to be this unbeatable, unstoppable army of demons.”

  “True enough, but wars aren’t good ways of finding the truth, as you know.” Kei got up to refill the pot with hot water. “So, tell me what happens at these ceremonies?”

  ~~~~~~~~

  Though the argument with his uncle hadn’t been at all pleasant, after lunch Kei got a certain amount of satisfaction in catching Tiko off-guard by casually announcing he and his men were invited to the joining ceremony that evening—and so was General Arman.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man,” Tiko said, as they walked down the street to the carpenter. “No one here wants him at a wedding.”

  “That’s not strictly correct, and in any event, Fedor has personally invited him.” A slight gloss on the truth, but not one he’d lose any sleep over. “So make sure you and your men are presentable, won’t you? My sister deserves better than your usual scruffiness.”

  Tiko, as ever, was irrepressible. “You’re a cheeky sod, Kei, but I prefer you this way than how you were when we rescued you. All right. Sunset, I heard? One thing.” He caught Kei’s arm. “Do you think there’s any risk of an incident like the one at Ai-Darbin? My impression is that people are more reasonable here, but they’re your clan. Be honest.”

  “My honest opinion is they’ll look and whisper and some of them will be angry. But there won’t be any violence.”

  “Hmmm. All right. But do us all a favour and if you feel anything worrying, let me know. While I have no desire to ruin your sister’s ceremony, we have to get him to Darshek. That overrides every other consideration.”

  “Yes, it does. I will, you don’t need to ask. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  Tiko grinned. “I plan to. I’ve been away from home for a damn long time, and it’s not been much fun except when I manage to pull your tail. We could all do with a break.”

  Put like that, Kei couldn’t really begrudge Tiko’s teasing, which, however irritating, always had at its heart a real concern for him. They came now to the carpenter’s shop, where the carpenter, Noki, waved cheerfully at them. “I was just coming to find you, Kei. They’re ready, just as I promised, but I wanted to measure them against your man. No chance you could bring him here?”

  Noki handed him the crutches—an old pair which he’d lengthened with new wood at the end, using Kei as a measure and adding a few inches for safety. They were comfortably padded with leather and urs beast wool, with hard leather stops at the end to prevent slipping. “Would you mind coming to the house?”

  “Not at all, let me just fetch the tools I need.”

  Kei handed the crutches to Tiko for his approval. “You going to let him use them today?”

  “He wants me to—let’s see. I’d rather wait, but you can imagine how much he likes being carried around.”

  Tiko nodded. “I’d have gone raving mad by now. But he’s a lord too—maybe they’re used to it in Kuprij.”

  Remembering the Prijian senators, Kei thought that wasn’t so unreasonable. “He’s not exactly typical of his class from what I’ve seen. There’s worse, I can tell you.”

  When Noki was ready, they walked back the short distance to Reji’s house. Arman sat at the table, writing his journal in the book Kei had got for him. He was rather
surprised at his visitors.

  “General Arman, this is Noki, our carpenter. He needs to measure your crutches.”

  Arman bowed from his seated position. “Thank you, sir.”

  Noki was a placid sort, and from his manner, one would think he met Prijian army generals every day of his life. Tiko and Kei helped Arman to stand and supported him while Noki measured the crutches. “A little too long. I thought so. I can fix it here and then you can have them, general.”

  He sawed off the end that was affixed to the arm supports and rejoined the two pieces. “There you are. Want to try them out?”

  Arman looked at Kei pleadingly. “Can’t I, just for a moment?”

  Kei insisted on feeling Arman’s ribs and side, using his gift to see if the ribs were sufficiently healed to take a little strain. He thought they probably were, although he’d still prefer Arman waited. “All right. Don’t put any weight on your leg and try not to use your damaged side more than you have to.”

  He and Tiko stood watchfully, waiting for any sign of distress or imbalance as Arman let the things take his weight. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little—nothing tearing or worrying. Just aching.” Arman grinned. “Liberation.”

  “Not quite,” Kei said dryly. “Thanks, Noki. A lovely job as usual.”

  “My pleasure, Kei. I have to do my bit to help bring our people back, right?”

  “That’s right, Noki,” Tiko said, clapping him on the back and showing him to the door. When Noki left, he returned to watch Arman walk very slowly and hesitantly on the crutches. “So, do you plan to let him use them this evening?”

  Arman turned to Kei and used his eyes shamelessly. “Please? I don’t want to be carried.”

  Worse than a three-year-old, Kei thought in exasperation. “You can practice a little more this afternoon, and with the soldiers’ help you can walk but you’re to sit throughout the rest of it. If there’s any sudden pain, or you fall—that’s it until Darshek, do you hear?”

  “Yes, I hear.” But there was no hiding his glee. Arman’s days of being carried were almost certainly over.

  This of course presented them with a different problem—clothes. Arman had been wearing a night shirt and his cloak since Darbin, which was fine if all he did was sit—but they were a bit of a hazard for a man on crutches. Unfortunately, Arman was taller than any Darshianese Kei knew, and heavier than himself who was closest in height. He’d have to make himself rather unpopular with people who were busy getting ready for a wedding.

  One man in the village sewed as well as Meis or Sira, but he was working, not at home. Kei left Arman practicing under Tiko’s supervision, and walked out to the fields where Rin’s brother, Lev, was picking urko beans. “Young Kei! Glad to see you.”

  “And I you too, Lev. I’m afraid I need a favour, and that quickly.”

  Lev straightened, stretched and cricked his back. “I’d like a break—what do you need?”

  “Two pairs of trousers for man of my height and half again as broad.”

  “Gods, you don’t mean that damn Prij bastard, do you?” Lev said, frowning.

  “I’m afraid so. I wouldn’t ask but...you know how well I stitch material. Make it a thigh muscle any day,” he joked.

  Lev was still frowning, but then he sighed. “All right. If it wasn’t you asking, I’d tell him to whistle for it. But, lad, there’s no time to make them from scratch.”

  “No, but if I can beg some worn out pairs from some of our heavier men, can you adjust them? It won’t matter if the legs are too short, but the seat will need to be comfortable. He has a leg splint too—we need to find some way he can pull the things on and off.”

  “Don’t want much, do you?” Kei shrugged. “Oh well, you go find me some old trousers to work with and I’ll come measure up your damn prisoner. Don’t blame me if a pin gets left in the crotch by mistake.”

  Kei grinned, but privately reminded himself to check the trousers very carefully before Arman was allowed to pull them on.

  The begging took a little longer than he would have liked because everyone wanted to talk to him. Finally he had a suitable sample and brought Lev to the house to meet Arman, who was once again assiduously courteous to his visitor. Lev was a little unnerved by the reality of the man he’d only previously seen as a faceless suit of armour, but quickly set to trying and measuring the trousers Kei had garnered. The solution to the problem was easier than expected, since there were at least three pairs that would do, and which would not need any sewing at all—they only needed to be split to mid-thigh on the right side to allow for the splint. Lev chose the two least worn pairs and quickly snipped the stitching on the side seam. “I’ll stitch laces on this pair so you can tie it shut, stop it flapping so he doesn’t trip and fall on his arse. You can do the same on the others on the trail. I don’t have time to do it now.”

  Kei watched Lev’s deft fingers stitch cord to the sides of the opening. “I’ll botch that, I know I will,” he said mournfully. His mother had insisted he learn to sew as part of his training but somehow cloth always slipped away from him in ways that flesh did not.

  “It’s all right, Kei. I can do it.”

  Kei and Lev stared at Arman in astonishment at this simple statement.

  “You can sew?”

  “Of course I can sew. Who do you think mends my uniforms? Little stitching demons?”

  “I’d have thought you’d be too fancy to touch a menial task, my lord,” Lev said sarcastically.

  Arman had maintained scrupulous politeness with all the Darshianese he’d met to now, even Tiko, so he caught Kei by surprise when he answered rather tartly, “Then you were wrong, sir. I can sew, I cook well, I can mend my own armour, and physick a sick urs beast. I know the basics of carpentry, and I assure you that left to myself, I’d rather clean my own quarters than ask another soul to do so. We might be cruel, vicious bastards, but I’m not a lazy one.”

  Lev sat back on his heels and gaped. “Aren’t you some kind of lord? I heard you were.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I was waited on hand and foot. I prefer not to be in any event, and in the Prijian army, any officer who behaved that way would lose the respect of their men as quickly as they would in your own.”

  “I suppose they would,” Lev murmured. He stood up. “Then I’ll lend Kei the makings for this, and you can fix the laces yourself, general. I’d like to put your boast to the test, but we won’t have time for it before you leave. Is that all you needed, Kei?”

  “Yes, thanks, Lev.”

  “Thank you, sir. I didn’t mean to cause offence,” Arman said, his polite mask now restored.

  “None taken—not over that anyway. I need to clean up before the ceremony, so I’ll see you then.”

  Kei closed the door behind him. “You amaze me, you truly do.”

  “Because I can sew?”

  Kei grinned. “Because you’ll let people call you an evil murderer to your face without a single complaint, but the moment they imply you can’t stitch two bits of material together, you lose your temper.”

  Arman smiled ruefully. “Sorry—I just get rather tired of having every sin a man can commit attached to my name. I’ve plenty that are real—why should I tolerate the fictional ones?”

  “You shouldn’t. It’s all right to be mad at them for being rude. They can say their piece without that. I’m rather tired of it myself.”

  “Remember what I said to you a while ago about picking your battles? That isn’t a battle worth fighting. Nor was the sewing, but I never claimed to have perfect judgement.”

  “You’re forgiven, my lord. But now I need to clean you up, get you dressed and then wash and change myself. We don’t have a lot of time, and I’ve irritated people enough today without being late to speak for my sister at her wedding.”

  Chapter : Return to Darshian 10

  There were easily two or three places where Arman would less like to be than limping slowly along Albon’s street—Her Seren
ity’s palace cells, a dinner table with his father, even back in one of the wagons. That didn’t mean he was delighted to be the centre of so much curious and overtly hostile attention as he made his way to the chair placed in front of one of the houses facing onto the square. Even in this far from prominent position, and even with the low dusk and flickering torchlight making it hard to see individual faces, he couldn’t help but be seen. Tiko and his men stood at attention around him, making his captive status far too obvious to his mind, although they were only doing their job and making sure the villagers knew he was under their protection. As he tried to look as unobtrusive and harmless as possible, he had more than one uncharitable thought about brother and sister healers with more kindness than common sense, and hoped this business would not take long.

  The air was very cold, but no one seemed to mind. Everyone wore their best clothes, many carried small lamps. It made for a pretty picture with the pools of golden light and the last fingers of sunset in the sky. He just didn’t belong in it.

  When the crowd stopped moving, a small group of people bearing lamps came to the head of the square, and Kei’s father—Fedor, as he’d been reminded the man was called—walked to the centre of the clear area and spoke clearly in the manner of someone used to making himself heard and being heard.

  “Welcome, my friends. Welcome also to our visitors, who enjoy our hospitality as is our inviolable custom.” There wasn’t a trace of irony in the man’s tone, nor any hint of sarcasm, and he didn’t glance at Arman or the soldiers. When Fedor gave in, he was gracious about it. “Before we start, let us pause a moment to think of our missing friends and family members. I know you, as I, hope for their safe return very soon, and an end to this conflict with the Prij, which was not of our seeking.”

  The crowd stayed quiet, but a few heads turned Arman’s way at Fedor’s words—he didn’t need Kei’s gift to know what they were feeling. After a few moments’ silence, Fedor spoke again. “We come now to happier thoughts. This evening, we are here to witness a joyful event, which follows another—the return of Kei, our healer, my beloved son and nephew. While he has some business to complete in Darshek before he’s back with us for good, I rejoice he’s safe and home once more.”