“So do I. Do you think we should have him removed? It would mean delaying the mission by a month at least, but it would be worth it if he’s going to continue to cause this kind of ill-feeling.”
Soza made a dismissive gesture. “I’m sure you and I can keep an eye on him, but I wouldn’t allow yourself to get too close to him. He seems to have no sense of loyalty.”
“No, none. I won’t make that mistake, I assure you.”
He saw Kei and Arman coming across the yard, and he forced himself to drop his anger against Romi, so Kei would not ask about it. But he was glad to know just what kind of bastard he was dealing with—and to think he’d been feeling sorry for him. Never again—the man didn’t deserve any kindness at all.
Staying Power: 9
He’d promised to be completely at his parents’ disposal for the last day and a half before departure, so they went straight back to Kei’s house from the barracks. Kei gave him a couple of worried looks, but said nothing, and once Karik was in the house, where Seiki was with his Ma and Jes, the sight of his precious daughter just made him melt, as it always did. He might not be her main parent, but he took his paternal role seriously. He wouldn’t let Jes grow up feeling she’d been rejected, and Mila and Seiki had been adamant that he was to be a part of her life as much as he wanted to be. He hadn’t, because of his job, been around as much as he would have liked, but he loved her just the same.
How could that horrible man disapprove of anything that brought this lovely child into the world? He sat down on the floor where Ma and Seiki were playing with Jes and some little wooden animals Risa had carved for her. He began to set them in a row so she could knock them over with a giggle—things falling over were vastly amusing to her right now.
“Karik, you’re frowning. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Seiki, and I don’t want to talk about it in front of Ma. Gods, I’m going to miss you all.”
“As we’ll miss you. It’ll be awful not even being able to send messages to you.”
“I’ll be writing whenever I can but I don’t know how long it will take mail to get back to you. It’s just going to be tough for everyone. I’m sorry.”
“Never mind, Karik,” she said aloud, perhaps because Ma was looking at them quizzically. “We’ll survive. Someone has to do the exploring, or we’d never learn anything.”
“I just wish it wasn’t always you,” Ma said sadly. “You know Kei’s got all kinds of plans for you to go back to Andon, but I wish he’d remember how hard it is on us.’
“He knows, Ma,” Karik said gently. “But Seiki’s right—someone has to do it, and I’m good at it. I promise I won’t always be gone. Ten more years at the most.”
“Ten,” she said, putting her hand over her heart. “Five? Please, son?”
“All right, Ma. Five, tops. Kei wants me at the academy too, so I can hand it on to someone else. I can always train field collectors.”
“Five’s not so bad, Jena,” Seiki said. “Jes will still be little then.”
“But I won’t be,” Ma replied with a sad smile. “I just got Reji to stay home with me. I want my son too, before I get too old to enjoy it.”
“You’re not old, Ma,” Karik said, giving her a hug. “Kei says you’ve not changed in twenty years.”
“He’s just an idiot then. I’m sorry, son—I always get a bit stupid when I have to say goodbye, you know that.”
“I know,” he said. “Ouch,” he added, as Jes tugged on his braid for attention. “Trying to make me bald again, Jeichi?” He pulled her into his lap, and she smiled at his wagging finger. “I hope you’ve grown out of that habit by the time I get back.”
“You were the same, Karik,” Ma said. “Reji said he didn’t know who was harder on his hair—the beasts or you. But you grew out of it eventually.”
“I bet Pa was pleased I did.” Karik didn’t mind if Jes pulled every hair on his head out by the root. She was his beloved daughter, and a precious gift to his two good friends. That damn Romi could jump off a cliff and take his filthy opinions with him.
~~~~~~~~
Karik wished he could hold back time for just a little longer, since every passing hour made his Ma look more and more sad. But he couldn’t, and the only consolation was that the sooner he left, the sooner he could come back and make her smile again. Though her pain hurt him deeply, the work had to be done. New plants had to be found, new drugs had to be made. Too many people died from things they should already know how to cure, and whether one believed in Soza’s panacea or not, he didn’t want Jes to die of a preventable infection, or Ma or Pa to be crippled with arthritis without any relief from the pain. Darshianese medicine had saved his life five years ago and had saved many others. But too many people weren’t saved.
He slept badly the last night, lying in the bed he shared with Gyo. It had been so good to see him again, Karik thought. Gyo had grown up, filled out, become a very fine young man. He was, it had emerged, very tentatively courting his cousin, Meran, though her sparky, brilliant intelligence rather overawed Gyo, who was a more contemplative sort. Karik was rather jealous that Gyo had found contentment so close to home. He wished the village offered all that he needed for his own self-fulfilment, but it didn’t, just as it hadn’t for Kei. And just as there was always a small core of sadness in Kei’s heart because of that, that was to be Karik’s fate too.
He rolled over, trying to get a little sleep before he had to get up at dawn to meet the ship. The soldiers were already on board, and he hoped that nasty lieutenant was finding his bed full of lumps and parasites. Karik wasn’t looking forward to the sea journey—the ocean between Darshek and Andon was infamous for its great rolling waves, and Soza was going to be ill a good part of the trip. Ill or unconscious, since Kei had decreed that since Soza was that sensitive to motion, there was nothing else for it but to dose him with pijn for the worst of it. Karik half-wished he could just bunk with the soldiers, but if there was a choice between the great arse and a puking Soza, he knew which he would choose.
He wasn’t usually troubled by anxiety, but over the past day, he’d found himself getting worried about this expedition, as if there was something he’d forgotten to do that was crucial, or something that he should know about that would affect it, and couldn’t work out. Possibly it was fretting about that arse, he thought. But he couldn’t shake it, and didn’t dare express it because everyone was already worried enough. He knew Kei could feel it, but his uncle had been discreet enough not to mention it, perhaps trusting Karik to say something if there was anything anyone could do, which there wasn’t. He just hoped it was because he’d never done anything quite on this scale before. But it was very tiresome and tiring, and by the time pre-dawn had arrived, he was as awake as ever. He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, and pulled on his clothes—let Gyo and his parents sleep a little longer, he thought.
Arman and Kei were already up, which perhaps didn’t surprise him as much as it should. Arman was cooking hotcakes, while Kei was huddled over a mug of tea, looking weary and sad. Karik slipped in beside him and gave him a hug. “I’ll be home before you know it, uncle Kei.”
“I know, nephew. Unfortunately, I can feel everyone in the house and they all want you not to go.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I know, I can feel that too. Never mind me, we’ll cope.”
Arman gave his lover a worried look as he set a plate of his excellent cakes down on the table and then sat down. “I should have thought about the effect on you, Kei. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Arman. As if it matters in the scheme of things. We should be pleased—we’ve planned this long enough. If the damn Prijian sovereign hadn’t been so inconsiderate as to get herself killed, we’d have done this two years ago.”
“I’m glad we didn’t, though,” Karik said. “For one, I’ve got a lot more experience under my belt and two, we’ve been able to prepare that much more carefully. And I’m not sorry she got h
erself blown up,” he added, serving himself a cake and pouring honey over it. Pira would be here in a minute and scold Arman for usurping her kitchen, but his cakes were nearly as good as hers, and Karik was hungry.
“No one is,” Arman said with a slight smile, though he kept hold of Kei’s hand. “I wish she’d died in her sleep though—we could have done without the troubles that followed.”
“The new sovereign’s at least a bit more intelligent,” Kei said. “And it might be horrible of me, but I think Mekus got all he deserved.”
“Indeed. My father is still saying how glad he is to have lived long enough to see him get his comeuppance.”
“Me too,” Karik said fervently. “Do you suppose he likes the Welensi Islands?”
“Not even slightly,” Arman said with a devilish smile. “And more to the point, I very much doubt the islanders like him. I suspect they are making his life merry hell, and good luck to them.”
“He certainly belongs in some kind of hell,” Kei muttered as he took a cake.
“Eventually he will do,” Arman said. He got to his feet. “I better wake everyone.”
Kei was still staring into his mug of tea. “I’m sorry, uncle Kei,” Karik repeated.
“Oh, it’s not really you, Ka-chi. I’m tired, didn’t sleep. Neither did you,” he added dryly. “I could feel you all night.”
“I kept you awake?”
“No, I was already awake. Do you want to tell me what’s worrying you or is it just nerves?”
“Just nerves. And thinking of sharing a cabin with Soza.”
Kei winced. “Ah, that. Well, maybe you’ll find the cure for seasickness in Andon.”
“I wish we knew what caused it, and why some get sick and some don’t.”
“Yes, indeed. That kind of puzzle has tormented me all my adult life. There is just so much we don’t know. Sometimes I feel I’m drowning in ignorance. That keeps me awake at night, I can tell you.”
“You’ve done so much. We know so much because of you, and you’ve discovered so many new drugs.”
“Never enough. That will be my epitaph. ‘Never enough.’”
Karik shivered. “Don’t,” he said. “I have enough to worry about.”
“And I’m not even going anywhere,” Kei said, patting his hand. “Your Ma says you promised her to give up collecting in five years.”
“I was going to talk to you about it,” Karik said with a guilty start.
Kei raised his hand. “It’s all right. I agree. If you wanted to give up now, I’d agree. You are important to so many people I love, and they need you. You’re just one man—you can’t carry it all. We’ve made a good beginning here, training those soldiers. They’ll be available to the next team, and they’ll train others in turn. Even if you don’t go yourself, never feel you’re not contributing. You wouldn’t say that about me, would you?”
“No,” Karik said quickly. “Never.”
“Well, then. Now, eat your breakfast and put on a cheerful face for your parents. And don’t worry about us. You’re the one with the hard job. We’ll keep each other safe until you return. Your little girl will be happy and healthy and still pulling out Arman’s braid when you get back.”
“It’s a good thing Prijian hair grows so fast then,” Karik joked.
“Perhaps I should encourage her to pull out your beard instead.”
“Ouch, don’t you dare,” Karik said, stroking it protectively. He didn’t care for his beard much himself but it saved a lot of time, especially in the field, and he certainly wasn’t going to shave it before he got back. Maybe when he stopped being a collector.
It was a solemn little breakfast—everyone being sleepy and sad, and wishing they had another day with each other. But all too soon, Pa stood. “Right, son, we’re going.”
Karik stood and went to his mother, so he could kiss her cheek and hug her. “Love you, Ma. I’ll be home before you know it.”
“Better be, son of mine.” She kissed his forehead, and placed her hand over the tero stone around his neck. “Come back safe.”
“I will.”
Pira kissed his cheek and shed a tear when he returned her embrace. Gyo solemnly shook his hand, and then hugged him hard. “You look after Meran and Keiji for me,” Karik whispered.
“You look after Karik for me,” Gyo said, and then gripped his wrist where Karik wore the bracelet made from hair of his village friends. “Don’t get on any strange ships.”
Karik laughed. “I can promise that.”
“Son, we have to go,” his father reminded him.
“Yes. All right, everyone, no more long faces.”
“Ask for something possible,” Ma said, but she forced a smile anyway. “Go before I make a fool of myself. Shoo.”
Kei gave her a quick hug, and then he and Arman followed Karik’s Pa out to where the calash was waiting for them. His Pa climbed up beside the driver, and once the rest of them were safely inside, told the man to drive on.
“Well this is cheerful,” Arman said. “I feel like such a bastard taking you away from them all. We can still call the mission off, you know.”
“And why would we do that?” Karik snapped, more irritably than was polite. “As if soldiers all over Darshian don’t do the same thing every week, and with far less preparation and pampering. Am I supposed to be treated differently because of my family?”
“No, nephew, certainly not,” Arman said, bowing his head in acknowledgement.
“Then stop it, all of you,” Karik said. “I just want to get on the damn boat, go to Andon and come home. And I don’t want to cry, so stop saying stuff like that.”
Kei just put his arm around Karik’s shoulders, and immediately, he felt his distress lessen. “Don’t, Kei,” he said, but less impatiently than before. “You’re already sad.”
“So a little more won’t kill me, and then you’ll be able to march on board like a certain cranky lieutenant of our acquaintance, and no one will ever know you mind even a little bit.”
Karik nearly told him not to talk about him either, but decided it was better not to with Arman looking right at him like that. “You all think I’m so fragile.”
“I assure you we do nothing of the sort, nephew,” Arman said, fixing him with a steely gaze. “Kei, let him alone. Karik’s more than tough enough.”
Kei obeyed his lover although he gave him a hurt look for it. Karik was grateful and at the same time, sorry. Kei had helped—he just resented that they thought he needed it.
They were at the docks in ten minutes. Soza was waiting for them, and bowed politely. “It’s a fine day for a journey,” he said.
Karik glanced up—it was. Cloudless and bright, as fine a day as any he’d seen in Darshek. “In two weeks, we’ll really miss this,” he said, making a mock shiver.
“Yes, but I think the snow has a beauty all its own, “ Arman said. Karik couldn’t imagine what thick snow would look like—he’d seen snow on the mountains, but never walked in it. Arman’s words reminded him of how much he wanted to do this, for all the sadness he caused now.
Pa handed Karik his pack. “Now, remember what I said about coming after you in the next life, Karik.”
“Yes, Pa. Look after my little girl and my big girls. And the men.” For an answer, he was taken into a crushing hug, and then set free. “I’ll come home to you, I swear.”
“Good enough. Go,” Pa said gruffly.
Arman just hugged him, and squeezed his shoulder. Kei kissed his forehead, then pushed him away gently. “Go.”
Karik nodded. “Pa, take them back. Ma needs you more than I do.”
“That she does, son. Remember you promised me those doigs.”
“I did.” He waved and resolutely turned his back on his loved ones. Never got any easier, this business.
Staying Power: 10
It snowed the last day of the journey, but at least it wasn’t as unpleasant as the sleety rain, which had turned to ice on every surface and made walking on deck
hazardous. There was little wind, so the snow fell in deceptively soft feathers, quickly covering Romi’s coat as he peered towards the cloud-capped mountains of the great Geriziq Range. That would be their destination once they set off from Tsikiugui though he sincerely hoped the snows would have melted a little before they got there. He was already freezing in his new winter gear.
He heard someone stamping their feet to get warm, and turned. “And to think it will be spring in two weeks’ time,” he said with a wry smile to Jou, who pulled a face. “You’ve not been up here in the winter, have you?”
“No, and now I’m wondering what in hells I’m doing here now,” she said, shivering and huddling into her coat. “I thought snow was supposed to be pretty.”
“Well, it is—when it settles and the sun comes out. You’ll see. I think it’ll clear later. Maybe by the time we dock.”
“I’ll be glad to get off this pissing boat, that’s for sure.” She joined him at the rail—the snow falling on the oily surface of the ocean had a kind of hypnotic quality, and the cold wasn’t too bad when the wind was behind them as it was. “Haven’t seen much of Karik this trip. I thought Soza wasn’t so sick this time?”
“Don’t know,” Romi said briefly, not wanting to encourage discussion. To tell the truth, he was smarting over the issue of the young scientist, though he had not discussed it with any of his men, and to his knowledge, none of them had noticed the hostility between the two of them. Karik had been rarely seen, but when Romi had encountered him with any of the soldiers, the man had been civil and friendly, though not directly to Romi. If he was encountered on his own, Karik refused to speak to him or look him in the eye. It would be something he would have to address and soon. A team could not have one member being so cold to the leader, and it made no difference that he was a civilian.
“Shame,” Jou said, looking back out to sea. “I like him, he’s good company. Can’t say the same about Soza, sadly.”
Soza could be likeable enough, if he thought you were worth cultivating. On the face of it, Karik didn’t care about people’s position, but it seemed he was as disdainful of common soldiers as Soza was. They both needed a kick in the arse. As if being a soldier was any lowlier than a scientist or any other trade.
Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 13
