Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  But things had changed, and unless Karik was buried in his chores, or his books, he couldn’t help but see it. People looked at him differently now. Some with pity, some with curiosity, and some with the same hostility that Jos had, though they were few in number. Conversations dried up as he came into view, others were held in low voices with looks sent his way, and fewer people dropped around to see his father at the stables, or at their home, than used to. Meran was a bright exception, and now she had got over her odd attraction to him, they were friends once more, much to Jos’s displeasure. Meran had learned a lot about healing in the two months Karik had been gone, and was fascinated by what Karik told her about Darshek and the academy.

  “I can’t wait to go to finish my training,” she told him as Karik mended a bridle, sitting on a hay bale in the stables. “I want to see the ocean, and the ships, and the library and the academy.... It must have been exciting...I mean, apart from all the other things,” she added, looking a little embarrassed.

  “It wuh-was interesting,” Karik agreed neutrally.

  “Do you think you’ll go back?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll wuh-work with Pa.”

  “But he goes to Darshek all the time.”

  “N-Not travel. Just h-here.”

  She rubbed a piece of straw between her fingers, her bright eyes looking at him intently. “Ka-chi, you’re the smartest person I know, next to Ma and maybe Pa. Why don’t you want to do something more? I really want to be a healer, but you’d be better than me. You know so many things.”

  “I cuh-can’t. I cuh-can’t sp-speak to p-p-people. And I’m Pr-Prijian. P-People wuh-want a fuh-familiar face wuh-when they’re sick.”

  She frowned. “But you’re familiar—you’re just Karik.”

  “I don’t wuh-want to t-talk about it.”

  “All right.” She stood up. “I better get home and help Ma. Are you going to the meeting this afternoon? Fedor’s got something to announce.”

  He nodded. He knew what it was Fedor was going to say, but it wasn’t for him to tell people what he knew because of his parents’ position. “I’ll s-see you there.”

  “Yes.” She bent and kissed his cheek, a sisterly habit she’d adopted which no longer made him blush. “You’ll always be my Ka-chi. I don’t care what anyone says.”

  The remark didn’t cheer him up as much as she probably hoped, though he was grateful for her kindness. What was so ironic was that little more than two months ago he would have been just as eager to go to Darshek as Meran was now. Part of him still yearned for that vast pool of knowledge the library represented and to be able to study with Kei. But he had come close to losing all that was precious to him by indulging his curiosity, and he wouldn’t risk that all again, however unhappy he was now.

  His parents, being among the elders, took their places next to Fedor and Sira at the head of the square. Karik kept to the back of the assembly, curious to see the reactions to Fedor’s news. The clan head called for attention, and everyone settled down. “As you all know, your elders have been getting opinions about the nomination for a new Ruler, and I’ve finally had the views back from the outlying settlements. The majority opinion is for the nomination of Arman of Ai-Albon, but there has been some dissent. Before I make the final decision, I’m going to ask for a vote here. Those for the nomination of Arman to the position of Ruler, raise their hands?”

  A veritable forest of hands was lifted, including those of Peit and Urki. A far smaller number were against, and only five people abstained. Fedor looked at his companions and nodded. “That reflects the views expressed to me, so I will be giving our clan’s approval to the nomination.”

  Well, that had gone over without any difficulty, despite his father’s reservations. Fedor had some other business to announce to the clan, but Karik wasn’t interested in hearing it, since his parents had already told him what he was going to say. He should get back to the stables, but he’d been inside all morning and decided to stretch his legs and maybe climb the tree that overlooked the one in which a lot of the smaller birds had set their nests. It was a week or so too early for the young ones to hatch, but soon there would be chicks. It was a beautiful day, as bright and clear as one could want, though it was bitterly cold.

  As he walked past the beast pens and the jombeker stalls, the young animals, many born in the last week, were suckling hard, the jombeker kids fighting each other for the teats, while the urs beast calves stood with splayed legs as they bent under their mothers’ bellies to feed. He watched them for a while, taking note of the sickly calf which now seemed well on its feet again. It was a male, which was good—it could replace the one killed after attacking his father. Pa had sworn to buy no more southern animals, and was going to breed as many locally as he could, although he wanted to improve the quality of the stock through outbreeding with other clans’ beasts. He was already talking to the traders in Ai-Tuek and Ai-Beyto about consolidating the herds in exchange for them taking over some of the trading travel for Ai-Albon. He was serious about giving up the route, but he also wanted to make it easier for Risa and his fellow traders in the future. Pa had big ideas, though the villages were often slow to change their ways. It was why he wanted Arman as a Ruler, he said. Arman was someone who understood the need to change and grow.

  Well, he’d got his wish. Not everyone was happy—there had been a few frowns and grumbles of dissent as Fedor had made his announcement, though the real arguing had gone on in private. Most of the objections were simply because Arman wasn’t Darshianese, but Karik gathered that a few people had questioned the nomination because of his role in the war. That part of the discussions his parents had glossed over, though whether for his sake, or for his mother’s, Karik wasn’t sure. Arman’s actions as a soldier were just one more thing to confuse his image of the man.

  He still couldn’t reconcile his two opposing views of Arman—the good friend, beloved of Kei, a man admired by many and now trusted enough to rule wisely on behalf of the nation, and the callous killer, the faithless husband, the person who had been so coldly unkind to him. And this enigma was his father, strange and impossible to believe though it was.

  Karik couldn’t see any resemblance between himself and Arman, but then he’d had so little in common with his mother. Was it entirely down to who had raised him, that he was who he was? Or would he one day develop the carelessness of other people’s feelings that both his real parents had displayed to him? Was Arman’s capacity for cruelty and violence buried in his own breast too?

  These thoughts had been a preoccupation for a while now, and he had no more answers now than when he’d left Utuk. His father—Reji—had faith that just talking to Arman in the summer would solve everything. But then talking was a lot easier for his father than it was for Karik.

  “I guess you’re happy now one of your kind is going to be a Ruler.”

  Karik turned. Jos leaned on the rail of one of the pens, around the corner of the stable. His friends—four boys of his age or a little younger, were lounging alongside him. “If y-you have a pr-problem, talk to Fuh-Fedor.”

  “I d-d-don’t w-w-want to t-t-talk to F-Fuh-Fuh-Fedor, you freak. I’m talking to you. You Prij don’t belong in Darshian.”

  “Is that r-right?” Karik said, turning away and resuming his walk up to the trees. He didn’t feel like putting up with Jos’s shit today.

  But Jos had other ideas. “Oy, I’m talking to you!”

  Karik’s coat was grabbed roughly from behind, so hard that he stumbled and ended up on his backside, staring up at the looming boy now standing over him. “L-let me go,” he said coldly.

  Jos’s friends gathered around him, and Karik had a sudden flashback to when he’d been eight and this boy had held him down and scrubbed dirt into his skin so hard that he still had faint scars on one arm. Jos had received a caning for that from his father, one of the only times Karik could remember any child being thus punished. It had made quite the impression, especially when Fed
or had had his talk with the other children about laying off the teasing. Jos had been content to show his feelings with words after that—until now.

  “So I guess you’ll be sucking up to Arman as usual when he comes to stay? I guess you’ll expect us to call you Lord Karik too, will you?” Jos aimed a kick at him, which Karik barely dodged. “Are you Lord Karik now? Like that other pissing Prij?”

  “L-Leave me alone.” He tried to get up but Asa, one of the older boys, pushed him back down to the ground. “Wuh-What do you want, Jos?”

  “What do I want?” Jos bent down. “I want you out of the village, you freak. I want you away from our girls, and sent back to Kuprij where you belong.”

  Karik tried to stand again, but Asa pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. For the first time, he was afraid. Jos’s expression was ugly, and there was real hate behind it. “I’ve d-done nothing to you.”

  “You’ve done plenty. Just breathing is enough.”

  What did the boy want Karik to do? He was only a boy himself—did Jos expect him to just pack his bags and leave on his say so? “Just l-let me up, Jos.” He fought to keep his voice calm, as if Jos was a spooked beast. “I’m n-no threat.” He kept his expression carefully neutral as he got to his feet, this time unchallenged. “I’m just g-going for a walk. I d-don’t wuh-want any trouble.”

  Jos watched him with a sneer on his lips, but he said nothing. Karik forced himself to act as if this was just a minor misunderstanding, and started to walk towards the waterhole. He hoped Jos was just angry about the vote and maybe about Meran spending so much time with him, and that this temper of his might die down to the same low level of animosity as usual.

  He thought he’d got away with it as he continued to walk slowly away, trying to be as normal as he could. But then footsteps rushed up behind him, and he had no time to react at all before the first blow came, knocking him to the ground.

  All he could do was try to protect his head, which left his ribs and stomach exposed, and his back too, which attracted a good many heavy kicks and left him gasping for air. A booted foot kicked at the arms covering his face, catching his lip and splitting it, and another sliced open his chin, but he still managed to protect his eyes, even at the cost of the cruel pain to his forearms. He twisted his face into the dirt and curled up as much as he could but the kicks went on and on. If he could have drawn a deep breath, he would have yelled for mercy, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t take much more of this. Dully he wondered if they really meant to kill him—with all the adults at the meeting, there was nothing and no one to stop them.

  But he was wrong about that. “Jos! What are you doing?”

  He didn’t dare uncover his head to look, but he knew the voice. He wanted to tell Meran to keep the hells away from this, but he couldn’t seem to uncurl at all. All he could see was the dirt and shadows from the boys around him, but he didn’t want to uncover his eyes to look. “Jos! Karik! Oh gods, what have you done! Get away from him!”

  “Meran—”

  “I said, get away from him!”

  Feet shuffled in the dirt, and the shadows blocking the light lessened, but still Karik continued to protect his skull from an unexpected kick. His head throbbed from the single blow to the back of his head, and his body was a mass of pain.

  Shadows shifted, and he sensed Meran had knelt by him. “Gods, Karik, what have they done? Are you hurt? Karik?” She pried his arms away from his head, and gasped at the damage to his face. “I need to get Ma...oh, Karik, why did they do this?”

  “D-don’ know,” he whispered. “Help me.”

  She didn’t want him to sit up, trying to insist he lay still while she fetched her mother, but he was afraid if she left him, there would be nothing to stop Jos returning and finishing what he’d started. He made her help him to stand, though it took some time, and when he finally got upright, his legs felt weak. He couldn’t stop shaking. “Stables,” he muttered.

  “Ka-chi, you can’t—”

  “S...stables.” His teeth were chattering. Shock, he realised dimly.

  She had to half drag him as he leaned all his weight on her slight form. All the time, he was terrified Jos would return and take revenge on Meran for helping him, but she wouldn’t leave him. The stables would offer a little shelter.

  It took forever, every step painful, and his legs threatening to give out at every moment. At last they reached the stable and Meran helped him down onto a pile of straw, covering him with her own coat. “I’m getting Ma,” she said, her pretty face twisted with worry.

  Karik could only nod and hold himself as he trembled. He hurt so badly. Had they done real damage? He didn’t bother asking himself why they had done this. No one needed a reason any more to hurt him.

  She was gone a long time. He was so cold and scared. He wished she would come back. Would Jos find him before she did?

  “Gods. Karik.”

  His father, running towards him. Ma too, kneeling down beside him, and Myka as well. She took charge, since Ma seemed too overcome to do more than hold her hand over her mouth in horror. He wanted to reassure her, but his mouth was dry and it was very hard to talk.

  Myka opened his coat and lifted his shirt. She asked him some questions about where it hurt, and what had happened, which he did his best to answer through his dry mouth and split lip. “Reji, I need him where there’s more light. Can you carry him back to your house or shall I get Meran to find a litter?”

  “I’ve got him.” His Pa’s face came close to his. “I’m going to lift you, son. It might hurt a little. You’re safe now. Just trust me.”

  At that, the tears he’d been trying to hold back—tears of relief, of pain, of lingering terror—trickled out even though he squeezed his eyes shut. His father’s strong arms went under his knees and back, lifting him effortlessly. Karik turned his face into his father’s coat, hoping no one would see him like this and be glad he was hurt.

  At the house, Myka asked Meran to take Karik’s mother aside while Myka treated him. He was glad of that—didn’t want her to see the damage done to him. Pa laid him gently on the long chair, and Myka put a cushion under his head. Her gentle, careful hands stripped him of his upper garments—Pa tugged on his boots, and then his trousers were rolled off as well. Now he was really cold. “We’ll get a blanket in a minute or two, Karik,” Myka said soothingly, seeing him shiver. “I just need to see where you’re injured.”

  She looked into his eyes, and asked if he had a headache, had he been knocked out and so on, as she wiped the blood from his face. Then his father turned him over at Myka’s direction, and he gasped as she probed deeply painful places on his back and thighs. Her examination seemed to take forever, but finally she was done.

  “You’ve got some very bad bruising there, although I don’t think they’ve managed to crack any ribs. I don’t think there’s anything worse than that, but we’ll keep an eye on you. I’ll clean those cuts but they don’t need stitching. If you have blood in your piss, or it’s painful, or anything changes, we need to know.”

  Her skilful hands began to apply chuo sap ointment to the bruises—the relief was immediate, and once she was done, Meran brought a sheet and blanket to cover him. Myka wiped his face with the nitre weed which stung like fury in the cuts for a few moments. Pa fetched a cold cloth to press against his mouth and chin.

  Finally Myka let Ma come over. She knelt beside him and laid her hand on his face, as his father put his arm around her to hold her close. He looked pretty upset too. “D-don’t cry, Ma.”

  “I’m sorry, son, it’s just...why did they do this to you? Reji, we need to find those boys.”

  “We will, love, but I don’t want Karik left alone just yet. They won’t go anywhere, and they won’t escape either.” That fierce tone in his father’s voice promised nothing good for Jos and his friends. “Thank you, Myka.”

  “Yes, thank you,” his mother said. “I couldn’t—”

  “No, you couldn’t, Jena,” Myka said, l
aying her hand on her friend’s arm. “It’s different when it’s your own children. If it had been Keiji or Meran, you’d have done the same for me.”

  Meran came to her mother’s side. “Ma, should I stay and help?”

  “Jena?”

  “I’d like that, Meran. I’m sorry, I just can’t....” She wiped her face with her hand, smearing tears all over it. “It just reminded me....” Suddenly she buried her face in Pa’s chest, and he held her close.

  “Reji, maybe you could take her upstairs for a little while,” Myka suggested. “Meran and I will stay with Karik.”

  His father made Ma stand, and then helped her from the room. All this distressed Karik—he’d never seen Ma so upset before. “Wuh-what’s wrong?” He swallowed. His mouth was still so dry.

  “Meran, fetch Karik some water, will you?” She helped him sit up with the aid of more pillows. “How much pain are you in? Do you want some pijn?”

  “N-not yet. M-maybe to sleep.” His head was probably the worst—the back of it and his neck really ached. The chuo sap dulled a lot of the other pains, though every time he shifted, his muscles complained and he could feel the damage deep inside his body. He hoped it was only bruising.

  “Yes, that would be my advice. Thank you, dear,” she said, accepting the mug from Meran and helping Karik drink from it. “You’ll be a lot more sore tomorrow—some of those bruises are very deep and I don’t like the position of them. I don’t want you dosed up on painkillers until we know if there’s some worse problem.”

  His shaking had eased, and now he just felt very tired. “Wuh-what’s wrong with M-Ma?”

  Myka brushed her hand through Karik’s hair. “Apart from seeing her darling boy hurt, I think it might be something she’s remembering from the war. Kei gets like this sometimes—it’s strange, the smallest thing can set him off. She’ll be all right. Your Pa is taking care of her. And then we’ll take care of those boys,” she added in a harsher tone than he’d ever heard her use. “Why would they do such a thing?”