Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  It finished its meal and Kei set it on the ground where it instantly joined its mother. It sniffed at her teats and was put off by the smell, just as intended, and then settled down as she licked it, re-anointing it with her own scent.

  Kei got up and stretched. “We—” He stopped as he heard a sharp whistle and then the lookout shouted. “What’s happening?”

  Reji moved to the porthole. “Can’t see...oh, there’s a ship!” Kei crowded close to him at the little window and saw a strange boat sailing towards them—and then watched as the sails tumbled to the ground and the mast was destroyed. The sailors were running around the deck in a panic, but it was clear their ship was immobilised completely. “Got them!” Reji crowed. “Look at that, perfectly done!”

  “Good,” Kei said quietly. Their view was lost as their ship changed direction slightly, and he came away from the porthole. “So it begins.”

  “It began when we left Darshek,” Reji said, putting his hand on Kei’s shoulder and making him look at him. “Really, it began when the Prij invaded.”

  “Do you think we will really get peace from this?” Kei asked. “The Prij have no imagination about other peoples, no respect—I fear a peace won by force.”

  “If that’s the only peace we can get, at least in the beginning, that’s all we can have,” Reji said, sighing. “You think too hard about these things. Let’s just get through this day, and our people back. Let the Rulers worry about the larger issues. Come on, I want to muck out the beasts—it’s hard to ponder diplomacy with a shovel full of shit.”

  “Funny—it’s the time when I think it’s most appropriate,” Kei said, forcing a grin on his face. But Reji was right—the urgent issue was getting the hostages out. The rest of it was for later.

  ~~~~~~~~

  The signal beacons were destroyed with elegant efficiency—Reis and Jera broke the mechanisms of the signalling arms, forcing them into the ‘Situation normal’ position, and sunk the boats the watch-keeping crews might use to row to the next island and raise concerns. By the time the mess was sorted out, Arman and the little fleet would be in Utuk. Their borrowed colours and ships would keep them safe until they were in the harbour, but the very reappearance of three of the siege ships would cause surprise and suspicion. He knew exactly what the response would be, and they would have to deal with it and still get to the waterside amphitheatre, set at the back of the harbour close to the docks. He glanced back at the third ship—he hoped Kei wasn’t spending his time moping. Reji would keep him busy.

  Twenty minutes later and the narrow mouth of the long harbour at Utuk came into view. They had chosen the longer southern approach to the island to avoid the main fleet stationed at Garok—there were gun boats in the south, but they were concentrated closer to the harbour itself, and in fact, one was already sailing towards them. It was dealt with swiftly by the two mind-movers, who were gaining confidence with every success—Reis was even smiling again, although Jera still took the lead in their plans.

  “All right, everyone! They know we’re here,” Arman shouted. “Heads up, and keep your caps on at all times!”

  They sailed past the disabled boat, hearing the angry shouts of the sailors as they did so, seeing clenched fists shaken at them too. They’d be even angrier when they realised what the Darshianese were up to—and who was helping them. Even though he had long since grown used to the idea of how his actions would be interpreted, it still made him a little ill to know that after this day, he would be irrevocably and justly labelled a traitor—peace maker or not.

  The wind dropped now as they came closer to the island and the harbour, but their progress slowed not at all, thanks to Kira. The cannons at the harbour mouth toppled gracefully into the sea as the three Darshianese ships approached, and Meda sent a waterspout to drench the armouries and thoroughly soak all the explosives and powder. Archers lined up on the cliff tops, but Kira blew up dust clouds, forcing the soldiers to drop their weapons to protect their eyes, then she calmly blew their bows off the cliff. Neris incinerated them in mid-air, along with the spears hurled with angry shouts of frustration. The soldiers stood at the edge of the cliff, shaking their fists and screaming abuse at their assailants. Some of them even threw rocks, which fell harmlessly a long way short of the ship. Arman would have chastised them for a needless waste of their weapons and energy if he’d been commanding them, though he commended their devotion to their task.

  Hundreds of troops ran along the cliff edge, and a few arrows and spears came down sporadically, but they were of little concern now the Darshianese vessels were safely in the harbour. The third ship—Kei’s ship—was left behind a little as the two vessels carrying Arman and the soldiers advanced. They came under sustained fire almost immediately, and the Gifted had to coordinate things carefully to ensure not a single cannon ball hit the ships, nor an arrow. The air was now full of deafening gunfire, laden with the bitter smell of gunpowder, and becoming thick with smoke, spray, and light falls of ash following dazzling flashes of flame as Neris set weapons on fire. Men were busy in the rigging, the Darshianese soldiers standing ready to repel any attempt to board the ships. Small boats were being launched from bays set low in the cliffs, but the craft were easily tipped over by Kira’s winds. The strident sounds of Prijian cursing were loud even against the cannon.

  Colonel Jiv bellowed commands as did Arman, trying to anticipate where the attacks were coming from, as their own soldiers stood at the ready on deck. Meda sent water spouts to knock troops away from their positions, and weapons were tugged from moorings, dropped into the sea or burned. Arman was happy to have the more showy Gifts on the display—he wanted it made clear from the start that the Prij had no hope of beating the Darshianese. The sooner they accepted it, the better for all concerned.

  Reis moved the two troop ships at a frightening pace towards the place where the ceremony was being held, and the Rulers came on deck, ready to go. The sovereign is leaving, Neka warned.

  “Jera, stop them and get us over there. Neris, provide the cover. Meda, Kira, Reis, keep up the defence as we discussed. Colonel Jiv? Bring your troops in at your discretion.” The colonel signalled he had it in hand. “Any questions?”

  There were none, and the five of them who were to confront the sovereign stood together. Jera floated them up in the air, and then Neris wrapped them in a huge ball of heatless flame. For a few moments, Arman was blinded to all but the dazzling brightness, and he could well imagine the terror this apparition caused on the ground. He wished he was more sanguine the Prijian defence at the harbour was completely quelled, but they needed to tackle Kita and the Senate while they were out in the open. Once they were at the palace, it would be nightmarish trying to get through the defences there without loss of life.

  He heard the panicked screams of the people in the amphitheatre as they were brought to the ground in their fiery chariot. Neris opened a door through the ball of flame, and Arman led the other four through it. He found they were on the amphitheatre stage, a little distance from the royal viewing platform. The ritual pyre had been abandoned, and the priests had fled. The sacrificial black jesig was still tethered to one side, its eyes rolling in terror, straining at the rope holding it in place. Everywhere terrified people were shrieking and trying to escape the arena. “Jera, calm this,” Arman ordered quickly.

  Jera did so simply by freezing everyone where they stood, sat or were trying to run out of the structure. “People of Utuk!” Arman shouted. “Be calm—no one is going to be hurt. Your highness! We just want to speak to you.”

  Kita stood and came to the edge of the platform. “What have you done, Arman? Let them go this instant!”

  “I can’t do that, your highness.” Neka, let me speak to them all. “People of Utuk, the Darshianese have come to negotiate the end of the war. No one will be harmed. Your presence is requested as a witness to the negotiations. No one will be harmed. Please be calm.”

  Jera lifted the Darshianese party high above the ball o
f flame and floated them close to the official dais. Only Kita had the freedom to move—her guard and the senators were all frozen. “Your highness, you can address your people through me,” Arman said. He had to give Kita credit—she was clearly alarmed, but she retreated not an inch from these strangers floating in the air in front of her. “Please—ask people to calm down or there will be a tragedy.”

  “I’ll see you hanged,” she spat.

  “Possibly, your highness, but right now, you’re in no position to do that. Please—order your subjects to calm down. We only want them to watch and listen. Not to be hurt in any way.”

  She glared, but drew herself up to her full five feet. “And how is this charade to work?”

  “Address the people as if they were all as close as I am. Never mind how.”

  She came closer, still revolted by Arman’s mere presence, but did as he said. “People of the Prij, we are your sovereign, Kita Ruj Kemi. You are ordered to remain in your seats and to stay calm. The perpetrators of this outrage will be punished in short order. There is no danger. Your sovereign is safe. Lord Niko will protect you all. Remain in your seats.”

  Arman nodded, and Jera relaxed the hold on all but the Palace guards. There was still a bit of unrest, but the panicking had stopped. “Jera, keep an eye on things there,” he ordered quietly before turning back to his sovereign. “Thank you, your highness. May our party speak to you and the senators?”

  “We do not speak to traitors, Arman, nor to invaders.”

  She turned but found her path blocked by a wall of flame. She backed hastily away from it. “Your highness, I think you’ll find you have very little choice in this matter,” Arman said politely.

  She turned back to him furiously. “You threaten us? Your sovereign?”

  “No, your highness. I merely advise you that you would do well to allow my companions to speak to you. The harbour is under Darshianese control—you won’t receive relief from the army, and no one can leave or enter this place without our permission. Please—the Rulers just want to speak to you.”

  “Very well. But once we are done, you will be arrested for treason and your companions put to death!”

  Like the other Darshianese, Jera could rely on Neka to ‘translate’ the words via Arman mentally, and he smirked. “She’ll have to catch us first,” he said as an aside to Arman. Kita glared at him but only on general principles—she spoke no Darshianese, a lack for which Arman was now grateful.

  “As you say, your highness. Please allow me to introduce Lord Meki and Lord Peika, two of the Rulers of Darshek.”

  The two Rulers came forward and bowed with scrupulous politeness, which she ignored. “You bring me clerks to speak to me? Elected officials before an absolute sovereign? Unless they are here to surrender, I have no business with them.”

  “Your highness, they’re not here to surrender but to bring their people home, and to negotiate an end to the war.”

  “Tell her we want the hostages brought here,” Lord Meki said with a baring of teeth.

  Arman repeated the request in the politest terms. “I shall have to insist on this, your highness, as our minimum demand.”

  “You make demands on us, Arman? Have you forgotten your position?”

  Arman gestured to the guards, still frozen in position, their faces contorted with anger. “Have you forgotten yours?” He was only prepared to listen to so much bombast before he showed her the naked steel. “Your highness, the Rulers want to retrieve their people with as little loss of life as possible, as do I. Don’t imagine that is the only way they can do it.”

  “You are threatening us.”

  Arman shook his head a little at her obtuseness. “Yes, now I am. Call Senator Mekus forward and send him to collect the Darshianese hostages. We can stand here all day—or my friend Jera can simply destroy every single structure in Utuk, and send every non-civilian into the sea. We won’t have problems cremating them,” he said, waving his hand at the ball of flame, still burning brightly on the amphitheatre stage, making a threat he knew perfectly well Neris would never carry out. “I should tell you that every word we speak now, can be heard by every person in this arena.”

  He thought she would explode with rage. “You traitor, you filthy, deceitful traitor!”

  “The hostages, your highness?” He kept looking at her calmly, letting her know she could expostulate all she wanted but in the end, he, Arman, would have his way and that was an end to it.

  Finally she narrowed her eyes. “Very well, set the senator free.”

  Mekus was released immediately on Arman’s order, and he stormed towards them, spitting oaths and obscenities. Jera immediately paralysed him again. Tut tut, Arman, he’s a bad-tempered little creature, isn’t he? Can I annoy him a little?

  Not yet, but we can frighten him in a bit. He’s too stupid to get it the first time. Arman turned to the immobilised man. “Senator, Her Serenity has orders for you.”

  “Mekus, round up those worthless Darshianese and have them brought here,” she said with ill grace, “and hurry up about it.”

  Jera let Mekus go again and the senator began immediately to protest. “Your highness, you’re not serious! To give into these...these animals!”

  “We share your disgust, senator. Now do as I order.”

  Mekus spat at Arman. “Showing your true colours at last, Arman? Your father will be so pleased.”

  Arman had been wondering where his distinguished parent was. He wasn’t among the senators, but to miss this ceremony was considered a major social faux pas, although he wasn’t the only one missing. Blikus wasn’t there for a start. “You make free with my family again at your peril, senator,” he said with a polite smile. “Now run and do your mistress’s bidding. Take the guards with you.” Jera released the soldiers, who stood warily, waiting for Kita’s command. Mekus straightened up and turned to walk away. “Oh, one more thing.”

  Mekus turned back to look at him. Arman nodded to Jera and then drew his dagger. He tossed it, caught it by the blade tip and then threw it with deadly intent at Mekus—where it came to rest in the air a mere half inch from his right eyeball. All the colour drained out of Mekus’s face as he stared in horror at the knife. “Your thoughts and actions are being monitored. If I suspect for a moment you plan something, oh like, having the hostages killed and bringing their corpses here to mock the Rulers, which I’m sure would be just the kind of stupid, bloodthirsty thing you would do, you will find yourself very, very dead. We don’t need you, senator, just your list, and none of us would be sorry to see you die. You can have all the hostages here in under two hours. You have that long.” He gave Kita a significant look. “You don’t need me to be dramatic about the consequences, do you?”

  Mekus clutched at his chest in fear, but at an impatient wave of his sovereign’s hand, he scurried off, followed by the guards. Neka, you need to watch that little shit.

  I will. Right now, all he’s thinking about is finding a way to kill you painfully.

  The man needs a hobby. Jera sent Arman’s dagger back to him and he sheathed it as if it was perfectly normal to threaten a senator in that way. “Your highness, while the senator runs his errand, would you be gracious enough to listen to these gentlemen? They’ve come a long way to meet you.”

  Arman made a surreptitious signal. “Your highness, I am Lord Meki,” the Ruler said in carefully learned Prijian. “I wish to negotiate a peace with you.”

  “I do not deal with those employing traitors.”

  That was pretty much the limit of what Lord Meki could handle without warning, so Arman took over. “Jera, please free the senators. Senator Kizus, would you kindly act as translator for Her Serenity?”

  The senior senator came forward with a sneer on his lips. “You imagine you can do this with impunity,” he said in Darshianese. “But the Prij will exact revenge for this outrage.”

  Lord Peika gave him a charming smile. “I hope you will see it less as an outrage and more of an opportunit
y. Senator, would you be kind enough to ask Her Serenity if we may sit?”

  Kita granted the request, evicting two of the younger senators from their chairs. Arman was pointedly not offered a seat and he hoped his leg could take the strain. It was going to be a long day.

  He took a position behind the rulers, and Kizus stood at Kita’s side. Kizus was completely fluent in Darshianese, and would be fair in his translation, but Arman was there as a countercheck. The Rulers were, of course, getting a direct translation from Neka as well. Arman passed on their words, trying to imitate their patterns of speech and present the words of the Rulers as if they were speaking directly. “Your highness,” Lord Peika said, “the siege at Darshek is broken. We have captured your ships and all the sailors. In addition, we have over a thousand soldiers imprisoned as well. I regret your General Jozo was killed at Kislik.”

  “Better dead than dishonoured,” Kizus said, and though the words were Kita’s, the added venom was his alone.

  “He died with honour, indeed and was buried as a brave soldier, but now we wish to return your people to you.”

  “And the price for this?”

  “All Prijian military presence out of south Darshek, and all the territories returned to Darshianese control,” Lord Meki said curtly.

  “Impossible!” The exclamation came from one of the senators behind Kita, and his fellows were also muttering. “Give up south Darshian? Let the soldiers rot, I say, rather than that.”

  “Senator Vilkus,” Arman said mildly, “bear in mind you can be heard by everyone in this arena—some of them have relatives in the northern camps.” Secretly he was pleased—the populace had to be won over to this plan if it were to truly succeed, and knowing the Darshianese were more concerned for the welfare of sons, brothers and husbands than their senators were, would only be to the Rulers’ benefit.

  “Be quiet, Vilkus, you damn fool.” Kita snapped. “We shall discuss this matter and no one else.”