Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  The more he thought about it, and after both his father and Yuko had stated they thought Kita would not intervene in this, Mekus’s actions seemed pointless even by that fool’s standards. The paternity suit would not be contested, and once Karik was publicly acknowledged to be his son, then Arman had a perfect right to take him back to Darshek with him, as had many other families before him. It would require another painful talk with the boy, he thought ruefully. Telling him Arman’s legal position and the reality of his parentage were two different things was not something Arman was looking forward to. Damn the boy. If he’d only kept his mouth shut.

  But it was pointless blaming a child, and an innocent one at that. If Arman was extremely lucky he might be on his way back to Darshek and Kei in a week. If not.... He hoped his father and brother were right about Kita. Opposing the crown as a private citizen, and one without a proper footing in this society, was not likely to succeed, or to be undertaken by anyone with a jot of sense, and Arman had always rather thought his commonsense was one of his few good qualities.

  The bath felt awkward and less than hygienic after years of the Darshianese system, but he could at least finally wash the salt from hair and skin. He hesitated over what to wear, and decided to stick to his own clothes for now. He still needed to decide how he would dress for the court hearing. He refused to cut his braid, but perhaps to appear in Darshianese fashion would not win him favours from a court he would have to presume to be hostile. It annoyed him such trivialities might mean the difference between success and failure in his endeavour, and he was yet again grateful that this return to his homeland was strictly temporary.

  Refreshed, and now less tense now he knew his course of action and how to proceed, he went to the garden to attend his father. Mari had been busy. Every time they’d visited, Kei had plied her with seeds and cuttings from their own garden and that at the academy, and she had clearly had some success with them. His father noticed his admiration. “Nearly as fine as your own, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do. It reminds me of Karus’s garden, in fact.”

  “Hardly surprising since Mari arranged for cuttings to be brought from there, and even some of the plants she thought might need more intensive care. I know nothing about such matters, of course, but it amuses her, and the garden benefits from it.”

  Arman smiled to himself. His father’s devotion to Mari was one of his most attractive traits, but the gods forbid he showed more than amused tolerance of the things that brought her pleasure. His father would move heaven and earth to help her make her garden grow, should she need it, and she wouldn’t even have to ask before he arranged it. “Your arthritis is less troublesome, Mari said?”

  “It comes and goes, comes and goes, but you don’t want to listen to me talk about my ailments like some dodderer in an invalid chair,” he said impatiently. “Tell me of this harbour development. You know, Tijus says they could really do with building a new harbour in Garok, but with Kita’s extravagances, the treasury won’t bear it. We’ve had two major parades just since the new year, and Tijus says Blikus has put his foot down on any more for the next four months. He can’t spare the manpower, he says, but the truth is that he’s sick of being on display.”

  For all his father had retired and handed his position over to Arman’s brother, he’d retained a keen interest in all civic matters, and it pained him to see the wealth of the nation, garnered not just by war and invasion, but by the hard work of men such as himself and his own father, frittered away on stupid public memorials to the royal family and extravagant shows for the masses. “He always hated it—so did I for that matter,” he murmured. “These claimants to the throne you mentioned—they wouldn’t be from families that oppose Mekus, would they?”

  His father smiled wolfishly. “Well, my boy, finding people who don’t oppose Mekus these days is harder than the contrary. The problem is that he controls the populace—he’s the one behind the spectacles, and is always prominent when largesse is being distributed.” He leaned forward. “I’ve even heard it whispered he was behind a couple of the riots.”

  Arman was surprised at this statement. “But...if he and his son are encouraging her excesses....” He stopped. His father was watching him, waiting for him to solve the puzzle. “He’s creating a fear of revolution in Kita’s mind with one hand, and offering her his own popularity as a solution with the other?”

  “You say it, not I. But I wouldn’t argue with you.”

  “He’s not smart enough to pull this off, you realise. It’s a dangerous strategy even for someone with more brains.”

  His father nodded. “Agreed, and the sooner Tijus gets Temir and the children out of this city, the happier I’ll be.”

  “Kei thinks you should all come north, to us. And I agree with him.”

  “A happy dream, and for myself, I would gladly come. Your young man is at least agreeable.” Arman had to smile at that—only Kei could make his father glad his son was in a homosexual relationship. “But Mari loves her garden and the school is very important to her. Tijus...might. But Temir’s family needs to be taken into consideration too.”

  “Well, if they would at least move to Garok again—and Mari shouldn’t put the school or this ahead of her safety or yours.”

  His father settled back in his chair, his hands around the knob of his walking stick. “When you get to my advanced age, you’ll come to realise that safety is sometimes less important than having the things and the people around you that are familiar. This has been my home all my life. I was born here. I admit if I had no ties at all, this would be less important to me, but that I could give Mari refuge, that Tijus will inherit this house and raise his family here if he chooses is...pleasing. For such is what wealth is accumulated for.”

  “But if it becomes unsafe here....”

  “If it truly becomes unsafe, then I wouldn’t hesitate in bundling everyone up and out. I’m not a fool, Arman, merely elderly,” he reminded him with a sharp glance that showed his intelligence was completely unchanged by his advancing years. “But what is unsafe for an active senator with a young family, and what is unsafe for an old man who never goes out and who lives quietly and harmlessly behind high walls, is two different things. However, your concern is...pleasing to note, my son.”

  “Do you really imagine I want harm to come to any of my family?” Arman said roughly. “Am I still so alien to you?”

  “No, you are not. And no, I do not.”

  That simple statement gave him more pleasure than any amount of praise could have done. They held each other’s gazes for only a moment more, but then, of course, his father broke it off and coughed. “Vekus will be here shortly. I took the liberty of arranging for him to make the necessary enquiries at the records office. Karik’s birth was correctly registered, although Mayl called him ‘Retis’.”

  Mayl’s grandfather’s name? “Retis? That old bastard? I don’t think even she liked him all that much,” Arman said with disgust. “I’m surprised she didn’t call him after Mekus. She was brazen enough for that.”

  “You forget that Retis’ sister-in-law was Mekus’s first wife. I grant you that’s rather subtle, but I think we can assume that’s the important connection. In any event, Vekus has the certificate. I believe all you have to do is identify Karik as ‘Retis’ and it should all go through automatically.”

  “It’s all too easy, don’t you think?”

  “You might regret calling the gods’ attention to your endeavours that way. Ah, Mari, come and join us.”

  She came to his side but did not sit. “I just came to let you know Vekus is here. Armis, perhaps the library?”

  His father nodded, but Arman held up his hand. “Father, I’d appreciate your being there—would you mind if I spoke to him out here?”

  His father seemed surprised. “Not at all—I assumed you wanted privacy, that’s all.”

  “Whatever secrets I have can be shared with both of you. After all, if I’m going to claim a chil
d as your grandson, you have a right to be involved.”

  Mari looked taken aback, but his father only grimaced. “Ah, yes, I’d forgotten that aspect of it.”

  “It’s in name only, Father. The boy has a family of his own, and will be returning to them. Mari, could you ask Vekus to come through, please?” As she left, he turned back to his father. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t botched this sixteen years ago, we wouldn’t be enduring this now. I could have left the child with Mayl—or given him to Mari.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t do either,” his father said impatiently. “Let’s not waste more time on pointless regrets. I wouldn’t leave a dog for Mekus to raise. The way Prijus turned out is a caution to anyone on that score.”

  “That was my reasoning, I admit. But I apologise for making free with our family’s name.”

  “Enough, Arman.”

  He had really annoyed his father, so refrained from further comment, but he wondered if Karik would ever appreciate just how many lives he had disrupted with his broken promise.

  The meeting with the lawyer was brief and to the point. Vekus was business-like, but hardly friendly towards him—only to be expected, he supposed. Vekus told Arman a hearing could be arranged in four days, the delay caused by a religious holiday and the closure of the courts for two days. In the meantime, notices of intents would be served on the sovereign’s lawyers and on Mekus. “If they don’t contest the paternity of the boy, the matter should be dealt with that day, and Karik will be ordered to be returned to your custody immediately.”

  “And then I suppose you will take the first ship back,” Arman’s father said.

  “Yes, I will. I’m sorry it will be such a brief visit, but I want Karik out of Utuk, and it is in fact a bad time for me to leave Darshek.”

  “Yes, I know all that,” his father said impatiently.

  Mari appealed to Arman with her expressive eyes, but he couldn’t really offer to stay. He was needed at home. But this was not something to discuss in front of the lawyer.

  Vekus said he would set things in motion this very afternoon, and was gathering up his notes when Arman heard his name being bellowed. He turned, and grinned. “Tijus! How did you know I was here?”

  His brother tapped his nose. “Ah, I have spies everywhere. Actually, Father sent a message. How are you, brother?”

  Arman let his brawny older brother embrace him in a bone-crushing hug—Tijus had always been demonstrative in a way Arman had had to learn slowly over the years. “I’m well, and you’re obviously still fit as an urs beast.” His brother, who took after his father in looks, had started to acquire the same austere and distinguished features but despite it, still appeared vigorous and youthful. The life of a senator agreed with him far more than it would have done Arman.

  His father harrumphed. “You still have no sense of the dignity of your position either. Vekus, thank you. Tijus, sit down and stop displaying that disgusting musculature.”

  Tijus grinned and obeyed his father as Vekus left the garden. “I think they should bottle whatever they have up in Darshek. It seems to be the secret of eternal youth.”

  “You can talk, Tijus. You get younger every time I see you.”

  “It’s the children, they keep you young, don’t you think, Father?”

  “Hmmm. In my experience, they take years off one’s life.”

  Mari laughed. “Now, now, Armis, you love your grandchildren, don’t deny it.”

  “I love that I don’t have to have them around me every day,” he said, trying to look disgruntled and failing completely. “Tijus, my message said Arman would call on you tomorrow if he was free.”

  “Yes, I know, Father,” Tijus said, looking contrite, “but Temir insisted I come and see if you were free to come to dinner. Eren and Tije are so excited that you’re here.”

  “You, er, haven’t explained why, I hope.”

  “No, of course not, what do you take me for? No, I told them you had important personal business. To be honest, they were more concerned about the fact uncle Kei wasn’t with you.”

  “Ah, so my proper place in the universe is established. I am merely the conduit for Kei’s graces.”

  His brother laughed and patted his shoulder. “Sorry to break the truth to you, brother. It’s all your fault for being with such a charming fellow.”

  “Arman is charming too,” Mari said stoutly, while his father coughed in a suspicious manner. “He is. He’s just not as...vivacious...as Kei.”

  “There’s only room in the world for one Kei, I think,” Tijus said with a wink. “But will you all come to dinner? Temir will be so disappointed if you can’t.”

  “Not fair, senator, using your wife to manipulate me.” Arman looked at his father, not wanting to cause offence by accepting an invitation if other plans had been made, but wanting to accept it anyway. “Is it convenient?”

  His father waved his hand. “Yes, of course, we may as well eat at your expense as my own.”

  “Armis, how ungracious,” Mari chided gently. “It would be a pleasure, Tijus. Let me just tell Cook so she doesn’t start anything.”

  “You know my people were planning to make something of a celebration for Arman’s arrival, Tijus. Did you not think of that?” Arman’s father said as Mari slipped back into the house.

  “I’m sorry, Father, I was just so happy at the thought of seeing my brat of a brother again.”

  Arman put on his most dignified face. “Oh, and will you be calling me that if I’m chosen as a Ruler of Darshek, senator Tijus?”

  The two men stared at him with identical expressions of shock. “Are you serious? A Prijian Ruler?” Tijus said.

  “Well, that was my reaction too. It’s Lord Meki’s idea. Don’t say anything. I don’t think he’ll get it past the clan heads, let alone the populace.”

  His father grunted. “If they have a grain of sense, they’ll agree. Darshek won a real prize when they enticed you to join their side.”

  “They didn’t entice—”

  “Oh, you know what I mean, Arman, don’t argue semantics. The point is that Darshek’s gain is Utuk’s loss—more than ever, if you ask me.”

  Tijus nodded, his pleasant smile gone. “Indeed, brother. It’s bad enough that the old stagers are so hide-bound and jealous of their own positions, but the new crop of senators lacks any talent that I can see. Prijus encourages appointments according to who flatters him the most, and more talented men who’ve served this country are overlooked time and again. It’s causing an enormous amount of ill feeling. I almost wish I was old enough to retire, but the thought of Tije taking on this position at this time makes my blood run cold.”

  The idea of Tijus’s polite, intelligent son being mired in the mess of Prijian government didn’t exactly cheer Arman either. “Come to Darshek. Don’t tell me you’re achieving anything here.”

  His brother frowned. “I am, actually. Gods, Arman, just because you felt you could leave when your country needed you doesn’t mean I’ll abandon her. If we all felt that way, Kuprij would be a ruin in a matter of months.”

  “Apologies. I didn’t mean to impugn your loyalty. I just...worry.”

  Fortunately, Tijus was too amiable to hold a grudge. “I know, but you know, it’s my job to worry about my little brother, rather than the reverse.”

  “Not so little, you know.”

  “I can still wrestle you to the ground.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” their father said dryly. “I’d forgotten how tiring you two are when you get together.”

  “I’m sorry, Father. It’s just been too damn long,” Tijus added, looking at Arman reproachfully. “And we wouldn’t even have you here now if it weren’t for this boy.”

  “Tijus, you know why—”

  “I’m just saying, brother. Now, my calash is waiting, my wife is waiting, my children are groomed, clean and quiet, and they want to see their favourite uncle, their beloved grandfather and their adored Mari. Shall we go?”

 
; ~~~~~~~~

  Karik had been in his mother’s house for more than a week now, and his resolve to act in the manner she and her husband expected was being worn away fast. Even the slight satisfaction he derived from restoring a little justice to his mother’s situation was negated by the knowledge there was something deeply wrong with this household. For one thing, the servants were nothing like the cheerfully confident people he had seen in the Rulers’ House—instead they scurried about their duties as if they were terrified, both of him and their masters. Only Mykis walked proudly around his domain, though his obsequiousness towards Karik verged on the sly. He suspected Mykis used his cane for more than show, and knowing the temper of his master, he couldn’t imagine Mekus would care if the less important servants were beaten. That Mekus would have a home like this didn’t surprise Karik. That his mother tolerated it, did.

  His mother was a puzzle all on her own. She rarely seemed to leave her rooms, and when she walked in the garden, she always guarded her pale skin against the sun. Such devotion to one’s appearance was something Karik had never seen in any of the women—or men—of his acquaintance. Certainly both sexes in Darshian put a lot of time into grooming their hair because attention to it and one’s cleanliness was a matter of self-respect, and both men and women would use tido oil cream against the burn of wind and sun which could cause painful cracking of the skin in the dry season. But more than that—Karik couldn’t imagine anyone doing it for more than a day before they were teased and mocked out of it. But his mother seemed to do little else. He never found her reading when she asked to see him, although once or twice he interrupted a maid reading to her. He wondered if her eyes troubled her—it was possible, he supposed, though she was young for sight problems. He more often found a hairdresser with his mother than the maid with her book, though.