Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  Tiko interrupted. “Begging your lordship’s pardon, young Kei is going to stay to meet a friend here—but he’s without funds.”

  “Naturally he is. Where will you meet your friend, Kei?”

  “At the Inn of the White Hisk, my lord. At least, that’s where he usually stays.”

  “Then, Tiko, arrange a line of credit at the inn for the lad for as long as he needs it while he’s here, and draw him a purse of coins from the paymaster—you’ll know better what he needs.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Kei said, feeling rather dazed. “My lord—where will the general be staying?”

  “That depends on various factors—more than that, I can’t say. We have to get moving if he’s to be at the House before sunset. Thank you all for your service—Tiko, your colonel will pass your report to me, I trust.”

  “Yes, my lord. He’ll have it by tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Then all is settled. Good day, gentlemen.”

  Meki turned his beast and galloped away. The head of the squad cried out a command and the beast pulling Arman’s cart was whipped into a trot. “Arman!” Kei shouted.

  Arman twisted and waved, said something Kei couldn’t hear. Within minutes he was out of sight past a clump of trees.

  Kei felt like his heart had been yanked out of his chest and untidily stuffed back in.

  “Close your mouth, boy, it makes you look half-witted.”

  He turned around. “But...it was so sudden. I thought I’d get to say goodbye at least.”

  Tiko looked at him kindly. “I know—but Lord Meki doesn’t waste time on fancy courtesy. He gets straight to the point, doesn’t wait around for people. It’s better this way. The general will be all right, provided he doesn’t mess them about.”

  Kei still stared in the direction in which Arman had been taken. Goodbye, Arman. Good luck.

  And then he turned his beast, and himself, towards his own destiny, and the Inn of the White Hisk.

  Chapter : Darshek 1

  Arman hoped Kei’s shocked face was not to be his last memory of his friend, but at this very moment, he would have no say in who he would see or when. The transition from passenger to prisoner had been abrupt, and while he hadn’t exactly expected to be welcomed like a long-lost heir, the coldly efficient manner in which he was transferred and taken charge of, reminded him more of the Prij than the Darshianese he’d encountered thus far.

  Apart from the brief exchange at the handover, this Lord Meki, who had not even had the courtesy to introduce himself properly, had not said a single word to him, partly because of the smart pace they set along the paved road, passing fields and small prosperous looking hamlets, tidy farmhouses and barns. This area of Darshian was rather like the south, only lacking all of the influence the Prij had brought to bear—no temples, no sign anywhere of war or violence, and the style of the houses was quite different from those in the south, or even those of the dry regions. It was noticeably warmer here too, and more humid—the heavy cloak felt uncomfortable and for the first time in weeks, he cast it aside to ride in shirtsleeves under the sun.

  After three hours, they stopped to change animals at what was clearly an army post—he was offered food and drink and the briefest stop to relieve himself. Lord Meki remained at a distance from him, and Arman was kept under the strictest guard the entire time, which he could have found flattering, and certainly thought amusing. Although he had graduated the day before to the walking stick Kei had made for him, he could still only limp slowly on his weakened leg. A three-year-old could outrun him with ease. However, the Darshianese were taking no chances.

  Not long after they resumed their journey, the fields gradually gave way to more and more houses, workshops and even markets, the population density slowly increasing, and their speed now considerably slowed by the other traffic—carts, wagon, people, beasts—on the road. Even with the soldiers shouting for everyone to get out of their way, loaded wagons and beasts took time to move. Arman wished he had kept the shawl he had previously used for warmth, to cover his distinctive hair and features, but he refused to hide now, exposing himself to the astonished stares of the people on the streets and in the carts. Some of it was curiosity perhaps at seeing a Ruler—Arman had no idea how much contact the ordinary citizen had with the elite—but most of it was clearly directed at him.

  Lord Meki now seemed anxious to move everyone along, and the officer in charge of the soldiers shouted constant orders for his men to keep tight formation with Arman’s cart and to keep moving forward. Perhaps they were worried someone would assassinate him. He couldn’t detect any obvious hostility in the curious onlookers, but it only took one person with a grudge and a bomb, as he knew only too well—and so apparently, did Lord Meki.

  Eventually they reached what appeared to be the centre of Darshek. It was a spacious city, with gardens and trees everywhere, looking far less formal than Utuk. While Utuk was all tall marble columns and granite majesty, Darshek was made of sandstone, wood and bricks, the buildings lower set and wider at their base than their Prijian counterparts. There wasn’t the urgent crowding into the desirable areas that was such a feature of Utuk. The houses of the wealthy had gardens without fences in front of them—something no prosperous Prijian would dream of omitting—letting any passer-by look, or indeed, stroll straight into them.

  The most prominent building was a very large, long residence, slightly taller than any he’d seen, set well back from what appeared to be the equivalent of Utuk’s civic square, with gracious, well-planned gardens at its front side. He was taken up a wide drive to this building, so this was probably the Rulers’ House that Kei and Tiko had mentioned—the administrative centre of Darshek as well as home to its eight elected Rulers. Compared to the sovereign’s palace, it was a very modest affair, but by Darshianese standards, it was imposing.

  Arman was taken to the rear of the building where there were stables and more soldiers apparently permanently stationed. He was unloaded from the cart, and taken, with the guard of soldiers still tightly positioned around him, inside the building. Then down a long corridor to a bright, cheerfully ornamented room that appeared to be an office for someone of high rank—Lord Meki himself, apparently. The Ruler beckoned Arman to sit and dismissed his soldiers, asking one of them to bring them some refreshment before seating himself behind the large desk. Books covered one wall from floor to ceiling and on another were a series of beautifully drawn maps. Arman itched to look more closely at them.

  Lord Meki steepled his hands and looked appraisingly at him. “My apologies, general, for the unseemly haste of our journey. I was anxious to get you here before rumours flew around too much.”

  “I understand, my lord. You told Kei that where I would be kept would depend on certain factors. Do I need to guess what those might be?”

  Lord Meki laughed a little. “No, I suspect your guess would be accurate. From the reports I’ve had of you, you’re a straight-talking man. I’ve been told of your conditions, which I believe are the return of your men to Kuplik, and that any rescue must involve as little loss of civilian life as possible. Have I been informed correctly?”

  “Yes, my lord, you have.” Arman couldn’t help envying their mysterious and apparently very efficient communications system. “Were you also told I can hold out very little hope of success, however much cooperation I give you?”

  “Yes, that was made clear to me also. However, we can only try to form a plan which achieves all our aims, and if you’re prepared to give us all the information we need, I believe we may be able to do this.”

  “Are you not concerned I might lead you into a trap, my lord? Were I in your position, I’d be very suspicious of a traitor.”

  Lord Meki only smiled. “What makes you think I’m not suspicious? However, I’ve noted something from the reports we’ve had, and even now—you’ve made not a single request on your own behalf in exchange for cooperation. Now, one might suppose that could be because you fear us and our retribution, b
ut from what I can see, you’re not exactly quaking in your boots. Do you see yourself as a traitor?”

  However much he tried to get used to the word being applied to himself, Arman always experienced an unpleasant queasiness when it happened—all his life he’d been taught blasphemy and treachery were the vilest, most heinous crimes imaginable. The former charge held no fears for him any more, but he’d never expected to be guilty of the latter. “If you mean, would I be seen as one in Kuprij, yes, I am. But I don’t mean to betray my country to the enemy, and if you expect me to hand it over to you, you can consider any offer of cooperation void. I merely want to right the wrong committed by my people against yours, by my own hand against your people as well.”

  Lord Meki nodded. “Yes, I had reports of what happened at Ai-Darbin. That caused a great deal of consternation and speculation here, I can tell you. But this is why I’m prepared to consider your advice as honest, general. I’m inclined to believe that if you intended to deceive us, you would have taken a different route. However, don’t imagine we have no way of verifying what you say, or that we will not exact retribution if you attempt to mislead us.”

  “I understand, my lord.”

  There was a knock at the door, and when Lord Meki told them to enter, a servant entered with a tray of food and drink, setting it on the desk and withdrawing. “Please, do eat—it’s been a long day.”

  Arman permitted himself some of the cold fruit juice because he was thirsty, but left the small pastries untouched. “So how do we proceed, my lord?”

  “Hmmm. It seems to me we have a slight stand off. In order for you to make plans which have a hope of succeeding, you’ll need to be given details of our military capacity which puts you in a very privileged position. General, once you have that information, you cannot return to Kuprij—not, at least, while we are in a state of hostility with your people, even if the hostages are returned. You do understand?”

  Arman bowed his head. “Yes, I’ve accepted that since Darbin. It’s too late now, if my men go home.”

  Lord Meki gave him a piercing look. “And if they don’t? Because we could possibly allow you and the other soldiers to return if the hostages could somehow be rescued without your involvement being known.”

  “My lord, those fourteen men have families and lives to return to. Keeping them here to protect me would be both futile and wrong.”

  “And yet this is the man who took our people hostage and away from their homes, let some of them be killed, without a shred of conscience. You surprise me, general. Is anyone truly that honourable?”

  Arman thought of Kei, and thought Kei was even more honourable than even this lordling could imagine. “All I can say is that I’ve been helped to understand a good many things, my lord. But if you don’t trust me, you don’t trust me. I’ve answered your question honestly—yes, I know I won’t be able to return to Kuprij while we are at war, or possibly at all. It doesn’t change my intention to assist you, if I can.”

  “Hmmm. Well, then there’s the second difficulty. Once we show you our capabilities, you may decide we pose too great a threat to your people. How can we convince you that we don’t?”

  Arman shrugged. He was tired and wanted this to be over. “I don’t know, my lord. It seems to me that I am the one with the most to lose if you reveal your secrets. All you have to do to keep your people safe is to kill me if you deem me too great a risk.”

  Lord Meki looked genuinely horrified. “Kill a prisoner, general? We don’t even execute murderers.”

  “No—but a murderer only kills one or two people. If I betrayed your city, thousands could die. Would die, make no mistake about that. If the Prij come into this city by force, instead of at your surrender, they’ll slaughter any who resist and many more besides. If I were to make that happen, you would regret your fine scruples in an instant, I assure you.”

  “You make it sound like you prefer death to returning home, general.”

  Arman sighed. “My lord, I’m very tired and my leg aches, so forgive me if I sound less enthusiastic than I might do. I’ve been travelling for weeks, with my fate uncertain this entire time. I’ve made an offer, a sincere one. I’ve made the difficulties plain to you, and you know what my limitations are. Could you not consult your peers over this? I don’t make policy for Darshian any more than I do for Her Serenity. If you don’t want to kill me, I accept you may have to incarcerate me—I accept whatever is deemed necessary because, in your position, I would do what I had to do as well. I want to bring your people home because it’s right to do so. But only you can make that possible.”

  Lord Meki looked at him for the longest time. Arman sipped more of the juice and longed to put an end to this day. He longed to speak to Kei and say a proper farewell. Perhaps he should ask that as a condition of his cooperation—but that trivial approach would anger Kei.

  Finally Lord Meki spoke. “Very well. I have been somewhat discourteous in not allowing you to rest, and it will take a little time to arrange matters. I have one question, an urgent one—how much time do we have?”

  “Very little, my lord. The senate wanted the siege to be lifted even before I left—I’m surprised to see it still in place. Her Serenity could weary of the business at any moment, and at that moment, your people’s lives would be forfeit.”

  Lord Meki nodded. “But if we assume she will continue for the immediate future, have you a date in mind which would be ideal for a rescue attempt?”

  “What...? I have no idea what date it is. How long to the equinox?”

  Lord Meki looked surprised, but then he went to his library and consulted what Arman assumed was a Darshianese almanac. “Two weeks and a day.”

  “Then you have an opportunity around that time. I won’t give details until I have my assurances.”

  “Very well.” He went to the wall and tugged on a long embroidered strip of material. Arman assumed it rang a bell somewhere—a similar system operated in the palace. “I appreciate your forthrightness, general. Please accept the hospitality of the Rulers this evening and refresh yourself. I’ll have a healer attend you shortly to check on your leg. I want to make sure this village lad who travelled with you did a proper job.”

  “I doubt,” Arman said stiffly, annoyed at the slight to Kei’s reputation, “your finest physicians would have done a better job, my lord. He saved my life and many of my men.”

  Lord Meki smiled. “Then I am glad for Darshian’s sake that he did. And your own, of course. Ah, Mijli,” he said to the young woman who had appeared at the door. “General Arman will be retiring to the rooms we’ve arranged—General, Mijli is one of the housekeepers here and will ensure you have whatever you need.”

  Arman got to his feet and bowed. “Thank you, madam.” He picked up his walking stick. “My belongings?”

  “Should be in your rooms, general. We had to search them, of course. If there’s anything we had to remove, it will be returned on your departure. We’ll meet in the morning. Good day.”

  Outside the door, a small escort of soldiers awaited him. They walked ahead of and behind Arman and Mijli as he made his slow way along the corridor. She and one of the soldiers helped him climb the long wide stairs to the first floor, and then he was taken to a small suite of rooms at the end of the corridor. Mijli dismissed the soldiers and showed Arman where the facilities were, the bath and washroom, the earth closet, and the bedroom. The main room was a light airy office with a library of books—no use to him, unfortunately.

  “General, there is a bell here should you need anything. I’ll have a meal sent up when you’re ready. Clothes are being prepared for you, but until then, I’ll have your present ones cleaned—I’m not sure they’ll stand much cleaning though,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the old trousers Arman was wearing. “While you’re in your own rooms, we’ve provided some loose shirts and over-robes. Not very dignified, but you’ll be comfortable. We weren’t expecting someone so...enormous,” she added with a smile.

 
“No, my height and size has been a problem all the way along. Thank you once again, madam.”

  “Please call me Mijli, general. No one really likes to be called madam or sir in Darshian.”

  Something no one had pointed out to him before. He wondered what offence he’d given. “Then please call me Arman, for I’m no longer a general, it seems, and certainly not in your army.”

  “All right...Arman.” She went to a closet and pulled out his pack from the journey. “Your things are here—we took nothing away except the clothes to wash. If you leave your present ones in the washroom, I’ll have those cleaned too. When would you like your supper?”

  He looked through the window and realised with shock that it was sunset—and he was very hungry. “Soon, if you don’t mind.”

  “Very well. Lord Meki has given orders you’re not to be disturbed except at your request, and if you wish to speak to him at any time, he’s to be told immediately.”

  “Thank you. Do the other Rulers live here too?”

  Her open friendly expression suddenly closed off. “I’m sorry—I’ve been told not to answer any questions about anything not directly concerning your wellbeing, Arman.”

  “I understand. I meant no harm, I was just curious.”

  She smiled and the awkward moment was over. “I’ll have the food sent up then. Anything else?”

  He shook his head and then she left him in peace. He hobbled over to a chair in front of the window, looking out to the sea. He’d hoped by now that he would know what was to happen to him, but of course they had to consult and plan and prepare. And he wasn’t, he had to admit, in the best frame of mind to understand what they may be planning to present to him. But now a lot of the anticipation and anxiety that had been sustaining him was gone, he felt exhausted. A little depressed too, because he really couldn’t see how he could bring Kei’s friends home. He wanted to—making Kei happy wasn’t his only, or even main reason for doing this, but he hoped it would help a little. Already he greatly missed his friend. He hoped Kei had been able to find Reji this night—and he wondered how long Kei would linger in Darshek once he did so. He had to consult people at the academy, he’d said. Arman had no idea how long this would take.