Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  “Pretty well. I might ride up and meet Risa when I know he’s left.”

  “If you wait a week or so, you can ride out and meet the boys,” Arman said. “You’ve borne worse, both of you. I know you’ll be brave now. Misek will need to know you’re coping.”

  “We’ll cope,” Jena said grimly. “But I will want a reckoning from whoever took my son, do you hear me, Arman?”

  “Yes, I do. So will I. Jena, Neka’s been up all night....”

  “I’m sure. Thank you, Neka. Thank you, Kei, Arman,” she said with an uncharacteristic formality, which in Arman’s experience, either meant she was very angry or very upset. Possibly both. “Keep us informed, please.” And then the connection, and the vision of Jena and Reji, suddenly disappeared.

  “Thank you, Neka,” Arman said. She briefly acknowledged him before she ‘closed’ the link.

  Kei gave Arman a shaky smile. “She’s angry. She blames us.”

  Arman took his hand. “I think she blames whoever took them and we’re just caught in the crossfire. It’ll be all right.”

  “You can’t make that promise.”

  “I can promise to exert myself to the limit to make sure they come back. Don’t underestimate my abilities, master healer.”

  Kei gave a little choked laugh. “Oh, I would never do that, general. I just hope you can match your boast.”

  So do I, Arman thought. So do I.

  Voyaging: 11

  It was really too cold to be on deck. Neither of them had been wearing their jackets since they weren’t expecting to be abducted by a rather impulsive teenager. The only crew on deck were Prijian or Andonese, and Karik couldn’t really face trying to get their assistance. He didn’t trust them.

  Jembis was the only alternative, but Karik had no idea where he’d gone. He sat shivering in the strong wind, holding onto Gyo and wondering if there was the slightest hope this was all just a bad dream.

  A voice came from behind them. “Are you still mad at me?”

  Karik turned and frowned at Jembis. “Y-yes.”

  “You keep away from us,” Gyo said. “This is all your fault.”

  “Yes, I know it is. I’m sorry.” He came and crouched in front of them. “I thought it would be an adventure,” he said miserably. “You’re such nice fellows and no one’s really bothered to talk to me before about the animals.”

  “M-Maybe, b-but you sh-should have ah-asked.”

  “I know. Look, we’ve got a week together—can’t you put this aside? Father’s set me to look after you.”

  “We don’t need your help—” Gyo started to say, but Karik hushed him, because unfortunately they did.

  “Wuh-we’re cold,” he said.

  “Then come to the cabin,” Jembis said eagerly. “I can bring you some bread and tea.”

  “So you can drug us again?” Gyo snapped.

  “I won’t. Why would I? I swear, no more drugs.”

  Gyo snorted with disbelief. “Y-you t-taste everything,” Karik insisted.

  “Yes, I will. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Jembis said, pleading with his eyes. Karik remained unmoved. The older boy was charming and apparently sincere, but if he hadn’t told his father about Arman, the captain would not now be thinking of trying to make money off Karik. He found it hard to forgive Jembis for that.

  But while they were on board this ship, he was the only ally they had, and since they really had no choice but to cooperate, it was probably best not to make the boy angry. “C-come on, Gyo.”

  His friend was reluctant but Karik was now cold, hungry, and still feeling odd from the drug. He wanted to find a place where they could be safe and warm.

  The cabin where they were taken was tiny, and showed signs of having been hastily vacated. “It’s the first mate’s cabin,” Jembis explained. “Only my father has a better one.”

  “Wuh-where do you sleep?”

  “In the hold, with the animals if we’re carrying them or with the cargo if we aren’t. I don’t have a cabin of my own. I could sleep with my father but he says I’m too big for that now. I prefer the hold to that anyway.” He showed them where things were stowed, the basin and the chamber pot, and then took them to the galley where they could get water and food. The cook gave them bread and tea, which Karik assumed was safe enough since they would hardly drug the entire crew. Besides, there was little point in doing that now.

  He took them back to the cramped little cabin. Karik and Gyo would have to share a small bed but it was no worse than camping on the trail. “I don’t have any clothes or jackets spare,” Jembis said. “I guess you’ll need to stay below deck. You can come and look at the animals anytime you want. I don’t suppose you’ll want to keep me company.”

  “I think you should go away,” Gyo said, turning his back on the older boy.

  “Wuh-we need time a-alone,” Karik said in a more conciliatory tone.

  “I know. I’ll be down in the hold. Anyone can help you find me—they all speak Darshianese.”

  Did they? They would need to be careful what they talked about. He nodded to Jembis who finally left them alone.

  Karik sipped the tea—it was just ordinary tea, a bit strong, flavoured with honey, but nothing strange. The bread was hard and rather tasteless, but he was hungry. Gyo didn’t seem to want to eat. “I-it’ll get c-cold, Gyo.”

  “Don’t want it. I want to go home.” Karik looked at him until he sighed and picked up his mug of tea. “I know, I’m being stupid. I’m just so mad at him.”

  “I kn-know, but we n-need him.”

  “What if the ship sinks? I can’t swim, and neither can you.”

  “D-don’t think about it. J-just drink, e-eat the bread.” The last thing they needed was Gyo dreaming up all the ways this could get any worse—as if Karik needed any help to imagine that.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Much as they both wanted to hide from the crew and the captain, it simply was too boring, and the prospect of seeing the ship too fascinating. Under other circumstances, this journey would be Gyo’s idea of heaven, just as the academy had been his. If Gyo wasn’t to be utterly miserable for the next seven or eight days, Karik had to encourage him to look on the positive side of things, and not to dwell on the injustice, or on how much he missed his father.

  For that reason, he talked Gyo into going and finding Jembis. The older boy was so pathetically glad to see them, desperate for any sign he’d been forgiven, and trying so hard to make up for what he’d done, that Karik found it hard to stay angry at quite the same level of white heat as he’d felt on first learning of his deception. Gyo remained balky, which was no surprise, but even he let Jembis coax him into hand-feeding the baby birds, and to watching the lizards sleeping in their box. He listened politely to Jembis’s tales of travelling to Andon, of life on board the ship, and even answered, rather warily, questions about the herbarium. The second his family was mentioned, he shut up. Jembis quickly worked out what Gyo would and wouldn’t talk about. This made for an easier time for all of them.

  Gyo remained wary all day and refused to let Jembis bring them food, or to join them in the cabin when night came. Karik couldn’t blame him, because however much they pretended, they were both frightened and worried—and Jembis was responsible for that. Gyo ate his supper in silence, but as Karik chewed the hard ship bread, a tear slipped down his friend’s cheek. He put his hand on Gyo’s arm. “It’ll b-be all right.”

  Gyo sniffed and nodded. “I’m sorry. I want to be brave, just....” He lifted his head and looked at Karik. “Just...Ma’ll cry. I hate it when she cries.”

  Karik put his arm around Gyo’s shoulders, feeling his own eyes getting wet too. However bad it was for them, what must it be like for his parents, for Misek and Pia and Risa, not knowing what had happened to them? At least Karik and Gyo knew they were safe for now. It was seven days to Utuk. It was going to feel so much longer.

  ~~~~~~~~

  They were too tired not to sleep, and the next day was a little eas
ier, now the shock had worn off and their anger had dulled. It was genuinely interesting to work with the captive animals, and Jembis really could be entertaining. Gyo perked up a little, even though his distrust remained. The captain spoke to them a couple of times, but Karik didn’t repeat the mistake of giving the man any more personal information. The man spoke more often to his son when they were on deck, and it was clear father and son did not enjoy a loving relationship. In fact, the captain was downright cruel to his boy, which roused Karik’s sympathy and even Gyo’s ire. “It’s not right, no matter what he’s done to us,” Gyo said as they ate supper that night. “He’s the only family Jembis has got. It’s not right.”

  “No,” Karik agreed. It was surprising Jembis was so sweet-tempered, considering, but the older boy threw himself into working with the animals and being friendly with the crew. There was no doubt he was lonely, though. It was such a shame. In other circumstances, they would have been friends. But that wasn’t possible now—not with this crime colouring everything.

  For four days, the trip was uneventful, and bearable. But then the sea grew rough as dark clouds gathered overhead, and the captain told them to get to their cabin and stay there. Gyo already showed signs his sea legs weren’t going to be up to worse motion. Karik was unaffected, but he was concerned for his friend, already lying on the bunk and looking pale. Jembis came in shortly afterwards. “We’re in for a couple of days of bad weather, the first mate says. Oh—are you sick?” he asked Gyo. “It’s only going to get worse. You’d better take—”

  “No drugs,” Gyo said firmly, then put his hand over his mouth in a gesture Karik instantly recognised. He grabbed the chamber pot and let his friend empty his stomach. Karik was grateful that years of working with both parents had inured him to most smells and sounds, but Jembis looked green as Gyo continued puking.

  Jembis went with him to dispose of the mess and spoke to Karik as he was cleaning the pot in the sluices. “Karik, he’s going to be like that for days if you don’t let me help.”

  Karik looked at him with suspicion. “You j-just wuh-want to put him to sleep—but l-last time you did that, yuh-you tricked us.”

  “I know, I know, I’m really sorry—but you don’t know how bad seasickness can get. He could die if it goes on long enough,” he said, earnestness in his voice Karik found it hard to disbelieve, even with their history.

  “Is there nuh-nothing else?”

  “Only things to help replace what’s been lost, but it won’t stop him being sick. I swear—it’s much kinder to let him sleep it off. If it gets worse, I’ll be taking nerf leaf, you can bet.”

  Karik sighed. “Give me the m-makings and tell me the d-doses. He wuh-won’t accept it from you. I wuh-won’t be taking it so d-don’t think you c-can pull anything, Jembis.”

  “I won’t, I promise. Oh, I wish you would trust me. I’m really sorry for what I did.”

  That still didn’t make Karik trust him, however sincere Jembis’s regret seemed. Jembis took him to the small apothecary store where drugs for men and animals alike were kept. “You can take it by mouth, but it tastes horrible. Tea with lots of honey is better—make it strong, and it’s good if he’s been puking. If he can’t take things by mouth, um....” Karik wondered why he seemed so embarrassed. “Well, you can....”

  He made a gesture that puzzled Karik—until he suddenly realised. “By the r-rectum?”

  “His arse, yes.”

  He still seemed embarrassed, but Karik understood the use of suppositories, and it was perfectly reasonable to give treatment that way if the patient couldn’t swallow. “J-just show me huh-how.”

  The ship was rocking badly now, so the process of making the paste to be used as Jembis said had to be described rather than shown. Karik was given sufficient dried nerf leaf for all his needs. “There’s a risk we could sink if the weather gets really bad, but no ship had sunk in this part of the route for over sixty years,” Jembis said quietly. Karik stared at him in horror. “Just saying though—you don’t want to give Gyo too much or you won’t be able to wake him if we need to abandon ship.”

  “But...he c-can’t swim.” Neither could Karik, not all that well, anyway.

  “Hells, neither can I. Make sure you keep a lamp burning in the night and grab onto a bit of wood. If the sharks don’t get us, there are always ships passing on this route and we’ll get picked up. Don’t look so worried.”

  Karik blinked at the frankly unreasonable request. “Are you s-serious? How wuh-will I sleep now?”

  Jembis shrugged. “Same as you always do. We could sink any time.”

  Karik gritted his teeth. “I h-hate you,” he spat.

  “I know,” Jembis said softly. “I really am sorry. I just...just wanted a friend of my own.”

  “D-did you r-really think we’d l-like you fuh-for this?”

  “I didn’t think. Father’s right in that at least.” His shoulders slumped. “Look, if the weather gets rough, I’ll come and sit with you, even if I feel sick. I’ll get you out if there’s any problem. I won’t even take any nerf leaf—I’ll stay awake.”

  Karik appreciated the gesture at least. “The a-animals?”

  “I’ll have to look after them too but they don’t take all my time. Why don’t you go the galley, get some tea for Gyo and I’ll meet you back in the cabin.” He placed a hesitant hand on Karik’s shoulder. “Gods, I wish I could undo this.”

  So did Karik, but it was a useless wish. “J-just get us th-there safe.”

  Jembis nodded and walked away. Karik collected up the supplies so he could go to the galley, but Jembis’s words kept ringing in his head. If they sank...he wouldn’t dare sleep while Gyo was drugged. Someone had to have a clear head if there was a shipwreck.

  ~~~~~~~~

  The next three days were the hardest he’d ever endured. Even with the nerf leaf, Gyo suffered a good deal of sickness and when he wasn’t actually throwing up or in a drugged sleep, he was frightened and anxious. The weather became truly alarming, at least to Karik’s mind, although Jembis assured him it really wasn’t as bad as it got, and they were a long way from being in real danger.

  Jembis brought blankets and thin pallets for them to sleep on in the cabin, which at least cushioned the frequent falls as the boat plunged through huge waves and suffered under fierce thunderstorms. He told Karik the ship was a sound one and had been through much worse—his father, he said, was one of the most experienced on the route, and knew all the dangers. But that didn’t stop Karik’s anxiety. Gyo’s constant weakness was another worry. All he could do was try and get some tea and honey down his friend’s throat to replace all the liquid he was losing, but Gyo looked dreadful and moaned piteously when he was awake, wanting his mother and father, and sounding very young and scared.

  If it hadn’t been for Jembis’s company, Karik thought he would have gone insane from worry. The older boy suffered from seasickness too. He controlled it better with the nerf leaf tea which made him drowsy, but he somehow managed to stay awake most of the time. Between the two of them, they made sure Gyo was never left without a conscious attendant, but it was very tiring, at least for Karik. Several times he wished he could just drink the nerf leaf tea too and sleep this all away but he was older than Gyo and therefore had a responsibility to him. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to his friend.

  Jembis respected Karik’s continuing anger, but when Karik needed reassurance, at least he could give it, and when Karik wanted to talk, or to have something to distract him, Jembis was there too. If the Prijian boy could restrain his impulses to stupid acts as he’d committed, he would make a good man, Karik thought. If he could get away from his brute of a father, he’d be more likely to make friends of his own too.

  The three days took a heavy toll on all of them. Karik was dirty, tired and bruised by the end of it. It was impossible to stay clean, or to get hot food—tea was only available for a couple of hours a day, and they had had to resort to the suppositories twi
ce for Gyo. When he wasn’t tending to Gyo, or napping while Jembis kept watch, or trying not to be tossed around the cabin, Karik sat in a corner wrapped in a blankets and wished for this ordeal to be over soon and safely, his hand on his parents’ gift of the tero stone, telling himself they would never rest until they brought him home. He had to believe in that—but when he was exhausted and cold, it was sometimes hard to keep that faith.

  Finally, the weather moderated during the fourth night, and at dawn, Karik found with profound relief that the ship was rocking with nothing more than a gentle rolling motion. Gyo was still sleeping, and looked far from well. Karik decided not to disturb him, but needing to get some fresh air, he was glad to leave the cabin and come up on deck. Jembis, who had slipped out to feed the animals, was there and smiled. “How is he?”

  “S-still sleeping. Is it over?”

  “Yes, thank the gods. I thought I was going to lose one of the tewi cubs, poor little bugger’s been so ill, but he’s all right now. We’ll be in Utuk harbour in a few hours.”

  Even though it had been expected, Karik couldn’t help the fear rising inside him, making his stomach tight and his heart race. He touched Jembis’s arm. “P-please help us. H-help me g-get home.”

  Jembis regarded him seriously. “How? Just tell me. I want to make it up to you.”

  “P-please. H-help us get to the eh-embassy? B-before?”

  Jembis gnawed on his lip. “All right.” He looked around to see if they were being overhead, and bent lower. “When we get to port, we’ll make a run for it. I know where the Darshianese embassy is, and if we get there first, I can hand you over to them before the Prij get to you. But Father will beat the shit out of me,” he said mournfully.

  Karik looked at him. He had no wish to see Jembis hurt, but he didn’t want to be forced to stay in Utuk either. “C-can’t you s-stay with us?”

  “I’m not an adult yet. Father controls me until I’m eighteen and that’s half a year away. But I’ll lie for you. He’s not allowed to kill me. Anything short of that, though, he can do.”