“The answer is the same in both cases—my father. Since I have already returned, they can’t say I am actually exiled, and if they try and keep me from taking custody of my ‘son’, my father will probably be able to whip up enough righteous indignation to keep Mekus from openly opposing me.”
“It’s still not certain, though.”
“No, it’s not. Meki, Kei’s given me permission to do so and, forgive me, he carries more weight with me than you do.”
“Yes, as he should. But you would be wasted at the embassy.”
“Yuko thinks not, but if you forbid it, then there’s nothing I can do.”
“Well, let me think about it. Too many shocks in a short space of time. I thought you were trying to spare my heart.”
The joke set off a wave of guilt in him, but at the same time, the damage was done and he could not unsay what he had. “You owe it to yourself, to us, to the country, to look after yourself. Kei shouldn’t be worrying you. He’s supposed to be looking after you.”
“And when did you ever know Kei to be able to conceal his feelings from anyone? His heart is an open book.”
“Then I beg you, help him for my sake and don’t let him overwork himself. It’s only two years.”
“A lot can happen in two days, as you well know. But as you wish. When will this be finally decided?”
“In a week, at the minimum. I will keep you informed. I’m sorry for the worry this is causing you.”
“As if you planned this. Don’t be ridiculous. Tell me when you know the final decision.”
At least the second conversation—that with Jena—wasn’t as painful as he feared. After the first shock of learning her beloved son would have to stay in Utuk, she announced that she and Reji would come to stay in Kuprij. “I’ll work as a maid if I have to,” she declared stoutly. “So long as I can see my boy.”
Arman assured her that she would be welcome as a healer, and that Reji would almost certainly be able to get work as an animal handler. He just cautioned her not to make any decisions until Karik’s situation was clearer.
Her readiness to come to Kuprij would take some of the burden off Arman so far as actual parenting was concerned, and he was confident his father or Tijus could offer the couple accommodation. Mekus could hardly object—Darshianese healers were far from uncommon in Utuk these days, and were even considered something of a status symbol among the more enlightened and wealthy citizens. Darshek could assist the village with replacing Jena if necessary, and Arman was selfish enough to be grateful at the prospect of a mind-speaker being close at hand if he wanted to talk to Kei. That, at least, would make the separation a little easier to bear.
Everything was falling into place, and he was now resigned to his fate. Kei was still upset when Arman contacted him but agreed that of the options available to them, Arman had settled on the least obnoxious. “I shall want to talk to you every day,” he warned.
“That will be no hardship. At least Jena and Reji will make me feel closer to you. I just hope the village will forgive me for enticing two valuable members of their community away.”
“They forgave you for me, they can survive this. The clan is a very flexible unit, or haven’t you noticed?”
“Yes, I have. Gods, I think this is all reasonable until I imagine what it will be like not to touch you for two years.”
“Don’t, my love. This is difficult enough as it is. At least you will be safe with your father and with Jena, so will Karik. At least I know you’ll come home to me.”
“I swear I will.” But at the same time, Lord Meki’s words came back to him about how so much could happen in a short space of time, and a shiver ran through him at the idea of Kei catching any one of a number of the infectious diseases for which they had no cure, or being killed in some kind of accident. Neither of them were young men any more, and Urso’s fate only underlined their mortality. Arman had never cared whether he died before he met Kei—now he feared his own death even more than his lover’s because he knew full well what it would do to Kei.
For Mari’s sake and his father’s, he kept his gloomy thoughts to himself. As the days ticked down to the hearing, his father was preoccupied with matters that kept him locked away in his office, presumably to do with the estate extension. Arman spent much of his time with Mari and his brother, which was no hardship to him. Tijus was vocal in his delight at the idea of Arman being with them for so long and was already making plans. Mari was more quietly pleased, though she understood how hard it would be for him. “We can work together on the school,” she said. “Perhaps Karik would even participate in the classes, if he liked.”
“He could, though he’s nearly old enough to teach them instead. That is, he would be if he didn’t have that stutter.”
“He might grow out of it. Loke stuttered somewhat as a small boy, then lost it.”
Arman felt the familiar pang at the mention of his lost friend. “Yes, but Karik’s has only got worse.”
“Well, we shall have to see. We must make sure he benefits from this time as much as he can, and send him home as well-educated as possible. Learning Prijian won’t hurt him.”
Arman supposed not. It was odd to contemplate having to act in a parental role to this child when he had so firmly rejected it all those years ago. It would only be until his real parents arrived, of course. Fate really had played some strange games with Arman over the years.
Finally, the day of the hearing arrived. This time Arman decided to wear the best Prijian clothes he had and to wear his hair loose, which at least looked more Prijian in style than the braid. He felt a complete hypocrite for doing so, but as he was already a perjurer, scruples on this issue were perhaps misplaced and he needed everything he could use to persuade the court he was a fit parent for Karik.
He had no appetite for his breakfast. Tijus, who’d come over early, was his normal, cheerful self with his usual hearty appetite. He’d insisted on going with Arman to the court hearing, ignoring Arman’s vehement objections. “Look, brother,” he’d pointed out, “not even Mekus is insane enough to incite a crowd to attack an actual senator. If he went that route, he would never be able to stop the madness.” Which logic was sound enough, but Arman still wished his brother would stay behind. Stubbornness ran in his family, unfortunately. At least he had firmly refused to allow anyone from the embassy to attend, and his father had offered him the closed top calash for his journey there and back.
Mari and his father absented themselves early from the table, which surprised Arman. “You’re nervous,” his brother said, taking another slice of bread. “Calm down.”
“Easy for you,” Arman snapped. “What if this doesn’t work?”
“It’ll work, brother. And if not, the worst that can happen is the boy will live the same life as you and I did.”
“Tijus, imagine our father is Mekus, and then tell me you would want to have grown up with him as your parent?”
“Ah, but we wouldn’t have known any better.”
Arman glared at his brother. “You’re not helping.”
“Sorry. This just isn’t like you.”
“How would you know what is or isn’t like me any more? You’ve seen me for a total of four months in sixteen years.”
His brother raised an eyebrow. “That’s hardly by my choice. You’ve changed, but not that much. I, for one, am not sorry for that.”
Arman regretted his temper and apologised. He was on edge but that wasn’t Tijus’s fault.
A few minutes later, his father returned to the dining room. “Well, are you two going to sit there stuffing your idle faces? The court won’t wait forever.”
Arman gaped. His father was wearing his full formal senatorial robes, and even carrying his gilt walking stick, the one he used for attending palace receptions. “What— Where are you going, Father?”
“To the courthouse, of course. Do you imagine you are going to decide the fate of my ‘grandson’ without my presence?”
�
�Father, it’s too dangerous! I can’t allow it.”
His father stiffened. “The son does not rule the father, Arman, and certainly not in the father’s house. Don’t be impertinent. Tijus is going, I am going. Senator Mekus has attacked my son and my line. That needs a response. This family will attend this hearing as a family.”
Nothing Arman could say would change his mind, and since his father not only would not be moved but was also becoming angry, he gave in. As if he didn’t have enough things to be anxious about.
The whole situation grated on him badly and he couldn’t wait for it to be over. Even the formal Prijian robes sat uncomfortably on him after so long. He would have to swear to live as a good Prijian citizen and raise a child in the correct manner. He wasn’t sure he could, in truth, do either of those things.
Mekus had been busy once more, and the court was even more full of the idle nobility than before. Their chatter was less obviously derisory this time, for which Arman supposed he had to thank Tijus and his father. His brother looked imposing in his full regalia, as tall as Arman and nearly as broad, while his father swept into the courtroom with the dignity of a prince, utterly ignoring the whispers they could hear from behind them coming from the public gallery.
There was a sudden stir, and Arman glanced around. He wished he hadn’t—it was Mekus with Mayl on his arm, dressed as regally as Kita had ever dared, and looking a good ten years younger than he knew her to be. Mayl’s father was there also, the pompous old bastard. The robes that looked so fitting on Arman’s father made Senator Jecus look like a cock bird that had lost a fight to a rival—or so Arman had always thought. At Arman’s cool glance, Mayl sneered, but he pretended to ignore her and turned around. She had certainly kept her looks—and her nature.
His hands were shaking, so he hid them under the table. He was afraid they would fly out and strangle someone if he didn’t control himself.
They stood as the judges filed in. Vekus moved for the petition to be struck out on the grounds it was supported by hearsay and the affidavits of servants—the judges refused the request immediately, which was no real surprise. Arman braced himself. Any minute now he would have to make a public statement and Mekus would know he had won. Mayl would know she had succeeded. He clenched his fist in his lap and wished Kei was here, while at the same time, being glad that his lover would not have to witness this humiliation.
But then Vekus looked across his head and then nodded. Arman turned—Vekus had been looking at his father and brother. What had they to do with this? “Your honour, I request a moment. I wish to give documents to the petitioners.”
What? Arman stared at his lawyer in confusion as Vekus walked across the other table, handed over a document and had a quick whispered conversation with the other side’s lawyer, before returning to his own table. “What’s happening?” he hissed. Vekus waved for him to be silent.
There was a rapid discussion between the crown lawyers, and then they took the document over to Senator Mekus. He looked at it, smirked unpleasantly, then nodded. “Your honour?” the crown lawyer said. “We have received an offer of settlement. We request a day to examine the terms and make a decision.”
“Granted. Return tomorrow and advise if you wish to proceed. Bailiff, call the next petitioner.”
Vekus rose. The crown lawyers were already following Mekus and the others out of the courtroom. “What’s going on?” Arman said, resisting the effort of his lawyer to get him to leave.
“Sei, please, I’ll explain, but not here.”
With his family leaving and the court clearing, Arman had little choice but to follow them all out, impatient to learn what in hells was happening. His father led them in stately fashion out to the foyer, where, naturally, Mekus and his companions could not resist the opportunity to stand and mock. “Still depending on your father to fight your battles, Sei Arman?” Mekus drawled, while the audience smirked sycophantically.
Tijus gripped Arman’s shoulder, clearly intending to get him out away from a confrontation, but Arman had been pushed to his limit and he was sick of running. Shaking his brother’s hand off him, he stepped forward, a silkily polite tone coating acid words. “Better than hiding behind a woman and a child, Mekus. Or using your children to whore your ambitions.”
“You seem to have become adept at using whores yourself, or so reports say,” Mayl said, her tone just as elegantly cutting, her lips curled into a sneer. “Tell me, how is that slutty serving boy you’ve been buggering? Is he better than the last one?”
Arman gave her one of his nastiest smiles. “Why yes, my dear Mayl. He’s remarkably superior to you in every way imaginable.”
“Are you calling my wife a servant, you filthy mongrel?” Mekus shouted, then seemed to recall where he was. “You forget we have laws against slander in this country,” he added in a lower tone. He and Mayl moved a little way from their companions.
Arman also lowered his voice, but not his attack. “I haven’t forgotten anything, senator, including the biological realities of conception, or the fact that once a bitch starts to wander from her mate, the habit is hard to break. Of course it doesn’t matter if the bitch isn’t good breeding material, or the stud is infertile through age. Fortunate, is it not, that you managed two children the first time around?”
Mayl’s sneer grew more ugly. “It’s fortunate that you did not have more children, Arman, considering what a shockingly improper life you lead, flaunting your low-born male lover as if you’re proud of him. You’re the joke of Utuk on that score, do you know that?”
“Oh, I do, I do. Fortunately I got used to the pity while I was married to you.”
She slapped him, just as he expected, but when she swung for another blow, he grabbed her hand. “No, my girl. You get one for fun, and no more. As for improper living, let’s not start trading insults, not in front of all these noble people.” He couldn’t believe how coldly calm he was, considering his anger. It was almost like being on the battlefield again. “Do you not have the slightest shame, using your own child as a weapon against me?” He stroked her bare arm in a parody of affection. “So warm skinned, and yet so cold blooded.” He let her hand go in disgust. “Don’t you ever make yourself sick, Mayl?”
“You treacherous creature, keep your hands off her!” Mekus shouted, raising a fist. Arman caught it easily, and Mekus could only struggle against his painful grip—all those sparring sessions with Tiko had kept him nearly as fit as he’d been at twenty.
“You forget, senator, you started this,” he said in Darshianese. “Now you’ve crossed my path for the last time. Do it again, and I won’t use the court to fight for me.”
“You dare threaten a senator of the Prij?”
“I threaten absolutely nothing, Mekus. It’s a statement of fact.” He tightened his grip and Mekus broke out in a sweat. “I hide behind no man, and you’re nothing but an irritant. Don’t overestimate your importance. You’ve robbed me of nothing I want, and took up with a faithless wife I discarded. Don’t think you can use the child again. He means nothing to me. You’ve shot your bolt, now leave me and mine alone, or by all the gods, I will remove you from the field. Do you understand?”
“I’m not frightened of you.” The way the man’s voice shook made a liar of his words.
Arman leaned forward, right into Mekus’s face. “You should be,” he said softly, putting all the menace he was capable of into his voice. “And don’t even think about threatening my family. Our ties to this nation and to the crown go deeper than yours ever will, and even Kita steps carefully around my father. You’ve had your little game, but now you will keep out of my way or you will suffer for it.”
He thrust the man’s fist back at him, forcing him to step back. “The pleasure has been entirely yours,” he said, speaking in Prijian. “Shall we go?” he said, turning to Tijus, who was maintaining an admirably serene expression.
“Certainly, brother,” Tijus said, laying what looked like a friendly hand on Arman’s sho
ulder, but which was actually an unmistakeable command to stop toying with this idiot and go. “Good day, senator, Sei Mayl,” he added pleasantly as he made Arman turn around and walk away, then ushered his brother and father out and down to their carriage before Arman could make more of a fool of himself.
Once the calash was in motion, Tijus raised an eyebrow at him. “Not the wisest thing you could have done. Not if you want to ever leave this island in one piece.”
Arman glared at them all. “Yes, and speaking of leaving, will someone pissing well tell me what went on in the court just then?” The rush from the argument was hitting him and he was in the mood for a proper no-holds fight with someone, even if it was with his family.
“Mind your language,” his father reproved.
“I’ll have to mind more than my language if I don’t get an answer. Vekus, what was that document and what did they mean by an offer to settle?”
The lawyer looked as if he was about to be tortured. “Sei—”
His father interrupted. “Vekus asked if the other side were amenable to a financial settlement, which they indicated they were and an offer matching their request has been placed with them. If they agree the terms, Karik will be placed in your custody, no strings, no other claims, nothing else to be held over your head.” He spoke as if this was completely to be expected. “Of course, given your disgusting display just now, they may decide it’s more amusing to keep tormenting you. I thought you were smarter than that.”
Arman ignored the insult, knowing his father had enjoyed seeing Mekus squirm as much as Tijus had, whatever their protests. “But.... How much money are we talking about? And who...you?”
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 30
