Arman nodded, and waited until the Rulers left before following them out. He still felt uneasy. Ai-Rutej’s rejection of his nomination wasn’t a surprise—there was personal history there, and the clan elders had always been hostile to him. But Ai-Kislik and Ai-Beyto’s rejection had been unexpected, though the decision had been a narrow one, or so the clan heads had reported when they’d cast their vote on behalf of their people. They had, he thought, no more or less reason to dislike him than any of the other villages, and indeed, two that had very good reason to hate him had come through in the most unequivocal manner in support of him. The undercurrents of animosity worked in unpredictable ways, clearly.
Kei was waiting for him in the foyer, which surprised him—usually Arman had to dig him out of his office at the academy. His lover looked upset, rather angry in fact. “What’s wrong?”
“Let’s get out of here and I’ll tell you. Is the nomination approved?”
“Yes, all done.” Arman took his hand as they began their usual path back towards the house. “Is it something at the academy?”
“No, back home. A group of boys attacked Karik after the village meeting to approve your nomination. They nearly kicked him to death, Reji says, just because one of them was upset about a Prij becoming a Ruler and took it out on Karik.”
Arman stopped dead so he could look at his lover. “Oh, gods. That’s appalling. How badly hurt is he?”
“Badly enough. Deep bruising all over, knot to the back of his head and cuts. No broken bones or internal bleeding, thankfully. But if Meran hadn’t stopped them, Karik might not have survived—it was a serious attempt to kill him, so Reji said. Jena’s completely distraught.”
“Yes, I can imagine. I’m truly sorry.”
Kei grimaced. “It’s not good enough, Arman! How dare those children hurt a boy like Karik? How could they even think of trying to destroy what he is, just because of the colour of his hair?”
“Are you sure he didn’t provoke them?” Kei gave him a fierce look. “The boy can be annoying enough when he sets his mind to it.”
“And for this, of course, he should be kicked to death.”
Kei let go his hand and strode off, clearly furious at him. “Kei, wait!” He ran to catch up with his lover and made him stop. “I didn’t mean that—I was just trying to understand why he would be attacked.”
“Because he’s different, that’s all. Smarter, quieter, paler. The same reason you Prij brought war to our country all those years ago.”
“A fair point,” Arman said, angered by the ‘you Prij’ comment. “Though I don’t recall kicking a child to death for fun. It must have slipped my mind—I’ve committed so many crimes, after all.”
“Gods.” Kei stood, clenching his fists at his side. “I’m sorry. Even I’m doing it, aren’t I? What does it matter where someone was born, or what they look like? We’re all human beings. Karik, you, I don’t care what colour your skin is—I look at the souls, and I find them both good.”
“But not everyone is you. For good or evil, Karik and I are Prijian and that won’t change. Come on,” he said, tugging Kei’s arm and making him walk in the direction of the house. “You know, my father said something which is quite true. Karik is entitled to know of his heritage. If the boy is going to suffer for it, maybe he should learn what it means.”
“So we send him back to Utuk, is that your answer?”
“No, of course not, but perhaps instead of denying that Karik is Prijian and trying to pretend he isn’t different, Jena and Reji should be teaching him to be proud of it, so he can show his attackers that he’s not ashamed of his background and that they can’t use that against him.”
“And how do they do that, when they know nothing about being Prijian?”
“I don’t know. The boy might not even have an interest, not after what’s been going on.”
Kei grunted and walked along in silence. Arman wished he had an answer. Whatever he thought of Karik, this attack was a dreadful thing—and Arman was in part responsible for it, because his nomination had definitely stirred up old hatreds and emotions. Karik shouldn’t have to suffer for it. No child should.
“There’s one thing we could try,” Kei said, after a few minutes’ thought. “We could bring him back here so he can meet people like Vikis and Kesa, and the Prijian masters at the academy. And you and he could talk. Maybe if I suggested Reji brings him up to stay with me while you’re away. We could take him home when we go back in the summer.”
Arman stopped again and looked at his lover in exasperation. “Kei, I just went to a good deal of trouble to get that child back to Ai-Albon and you want him to leave again?”
“I know you just went to a good deal of trouble, you idiot,” Kei said impatiently. “I’m just putting the idea forward. Jena said Karik’s been depressed since his return, and I doubt this attack will help. Reji said he’s given up hope of coming to work with me, and he thinks that’s partly because of you being so harsh towards the lad. I just thought we could try and settle the conflict between you, and I could give Karik a taste of what he can be doing in a year’s time.”
“If you want company while I’m in Andon, fine, but I think you’re placing too much on my shoulders. I was overly hard on the boy, but I don’t know if I can settle things with him, and at the moment, I reinforce all his negative views about the Prij. For all you know, his coming back to Darshek could just make it all so much worse for him.”
“But if he does, will you at least try to settle things with him?”
Arman really didn’t think this was a good idea. He just couldn’t get past the boy’s reserve and his own confused emotions, which had only grown more tangled over the years. Their last meeting had set the seal on their estrangement, and he very much doubted the boy would really want to speak to him again. But for Kei’s sake he would do much more difficult things than speak to a sixteen-year-old boy who hated his guts. “If he does, then I will try, certainly. I can make no promises.”
“Then I’ll put it to Reji in a few days. I’ll give it some thought, talk to Vikis. You’re probably right, Reji and Jena won’t want to have him go away again, but it would be a good opportunity and I can rightly plead that I’d like the company. Karik is hardly likely to be enticed onto another ship, after all.”
“You don’t think staying with you is endangering him enough? You can get into trouble all on your own, you know.”
Kei shook his head at his teasing lover. “Only because you encourage me. If you’re gone, I would be the model of propriety.”
“You just want to play father, admit it.”
“I want to make sure Karik isn’t lost. Clever, enquiring, thoughtful people are rare, and even rarer is to find those qualities allied to a good and loving spirit. I want this. I want you two to make peace. For your sake, his sake and mine. Promise me.”
“I promise I’ll try. But you must promise to accept that I might fail.”
“You won’t,” Kei said simply. “You mended things with your father. Karik will be easy after that.”
“Hmmm. Possibly.”
Kei didn’t mention it again, and Arman left it to him to discuss with Reji and Jena. He, after all, was going to be away for quite a while and it would be ungenerous in the extreme for him to place any obstacles in the path of Kei having some welcome company during that time. It was what would happen on his return that bothered him.
But he had a lot more than a possible confrontation with Karik to occupy his thoughts. The week prior to the confirmation ceremony passed in a whirl of meetings and preparations both for the ceremony and the upcoming mission to Andon. The Andonese ports did not benefit as Darshek did from geographical barriers, and until now, the country had relied on a rather inefficient and costly system of patrol ships to protect and warn of any of attack. They had been negotiating with the Darshianese for some while now to have some of the best engineers and architects, weapon makers and strategists, to come and thoroughly assess what could b
e done better, and to train those who would be needed to implement any plan. They hadn’t dealt with Arman directly because of his unofficial position, though he had been advising the Rulers on how best to approach things. Now he could handle discussions directly and he couldn’t help the thrill of being once again a lynchpin in a crucial activity, of holding responsibility in his own hands, and being answerable on his own account, rather than by proxy.
There was no doubt at all that the acceptance of his nomination had been a tonic to Lord Meki too. Though the time available to help the elderly Ruler had actually decreased, just having Arman finally able to officially take on extra duties had eased a good deal of the stress on Meki. As Arman emerged from yet another interminable meeting with the Andonese, conducted by translators of indifferent skill on both sides, he thought rather sourly that his friend had taken entirely too much delight in shoving those extra duties onto him. But there was no denying that it would help the man last a good while longer, at least if Kei had anything to say about it.
It was only a bare week after the nomination was approved that the confirmation ceremony was held. The Darshianese were not great ones for pomp and the most extravagant of their ceremonies would be scorned as poor and shabby by the Prijian nobles, though they were generally cheerful affairs, with food and drink and dancing to liven things up. So it was no surprise to Arman that his confirmation was a typically brief and forthright matter, the chief purpose of which was to simply allow him to be shown to as much of the population as could squeeze into the main square in front of the House of the Rulers.
Still, by Darshianese standards, it was a big event, and the weather being fine, and there always being time in Darshianese life to stop and enjoy some free entertainment, there was an enormous crowd waiting to see the new Ruler. The official guests alone numbered nearly two hundred, by the time all the Gifted, the clan heads and proxies, the senior healers, the academy tutors and masters, the higher ranking army officers and of course all the Rulers had been accommodated. Naturally, Kei was seated with the rest of the academy, dressed in his little-used formal blue robes, and winking at Arman in a way that made him want to laugh out loud. Which, of course, would not do.
He forced himself to listen politely as Lord Peika addressed the assembly, giving a formal account of the votes for and against Arman’s nomination, and reading out commendations from various worthy citizens, including his official clan head, Fedor, and Lord Meki. Finally, Lord Peika announced that Arman of Ai-Albon was herewith confirmed as a new Ruler of Darshek, and Arman was summoned up to the dais to receive his new crimson robes, a colour reserved for the Rulers alone. Peika shook his hand and presented him to the crowd who cheered enthusiastically. If there were any dissenting voices, they were thoroughly drowned out.
And that was it, over and done. Then it became even more informal. For some minutes, Arman was surrounded by well-wishers—Kei, as a sensible person, didn’t even try to fight his way to his lover until the most enthusiastic had done their bit. It was Reis and Jera who finally dragged him over to where Kei and the Gifted were waiting for him—among them, Wyma, making a very rare public appearance. Arman bowed respectfully to the elderly soul-toucher. “Thank you for accepting me for this honour,” he said, knowing that without Wyma’s approval, none of the Gifted would have supported him.
Kei came to his side as he waited for Wyma’s response. The old man was still seated—he was too frail now to stand for long, and Reis had carried him from the house of the Gifted to attend the ceremony. “Your spirit glows brightly today, Arman. It is right that this has happened. Good for Darshian, and good for we Gifted folk.”
“Yes, it is,” Reis said, as ever no respecter of dignity or formality. “Now we get to keep you here forever!”
Arman smiled at him. “Why, were you afraid I was going to run away, Reis?”
“You nearly did,” he replied, pouting a little. “We thought you would never come back from Utuk.”
“I would surely have come back,” Arman said, taking Kei’s hand. “The body can’t live without a heart, and my heart is here.”
“You’re such a romantic,” Kei said contentedly. “And that colour looks wonderful on you.”
“And that on you. Perhaps I should insist you wear the robes all the time.”
Kei batted his eyelashes at him. “Will you call me master if I do?” he said sweetly, causing several of the listeners to choke with laughter, and Wyma to cough as if he thought these young people today were terribly silly. “Sorry, Wyma.”
“Oh, it doesn’t bother me. I love to see you both together, it’s such a beautiful thing to experience. Only, Arman...there is...a shadow....” He started to gesture, but then he clasped his hands to his chest. “Forgive me, my boy, I’m being terribly rude.”
“Not at all,” Arman said, puzzled by what Wyma was talking about. After all, he felt perfectly fine and happy, and looking forward to what he had planned after this ceremony was all over. “Is there a problem?”
Wyma pinned him with his usually gentle eyes, now sharp. “Not yet. But you must take care of your heart.”
“Yes, of course.” Sometimes Wyma could be very cryptic, but this was more than usually obscure.
Kei squeezed Arman’s hand. “We should go speak to the other guests.”
“Then I will talk to you later, Arman,” Wyma said. “Jera, please take us home now.”
The mind-mover obeyed immediately—Wyma ruled the Gifted with a loving hand but a firm one, and even the skittish Reis never disobeyed his few and kindly orders. Arman and Kei waited politely for the soul-toucher and his companions to leave, to the wonderment of the crowd who rarely saw such a blatant exercise of the tremendous powers of the Gifted. The Gifted were, out of necessity, usually rather discreet about what they could do. Arman had seen their powers displayed many times, but then he was in a unique position. Most people rarely saw anything remarkable at all, though all knew and accepted that the truly Gifted existed among them.
“What did he mean?” Arman murmured as he smiled and waved to Reis and the others.
“I honestly have no idea,” Kei muttered. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“Why, sick of pomp already? You’d never survive in Utuk.”
“I knew that already, my lord. No, I’ve had a lifelong ambition to have sex with a Ruler and I was wondering when you were planning to help me fulfil it.”
Kei was still smiling sweetly at the crowd and his voice had been kept low, but Arman found himself flushing with embarrassment—and not a little excitement. Even used as he was to Kei’s exhibitionist tendencies, he’d not exactly expected him to proposition him in this setting. “You are an incorrigible brat. There’s food and drink to be had, aren’t you interested in that?”
“I can eat and drink any day, but I’ve never had sex with a Ruler before.”
“Don’t you ever think of anything else?”
“Are you telling me you do?”
“Kei, I should be making myself known—”
Kei swung him around. “Arman. All of these people already know you. None of them is offering to have sex with you. Do you see the essential difference between these two things?”
Arman struggled not to laugh, horrified as he was at Kei’s lack of respect for the dignity of the event. “You are utterly, utterly depraved. A danger to public morals. As a Ruler, I really should do something about you.”
Kei laughed. “That’s what I’m saying, idiot.” He tugged on his hand, dragging Arman along behind him through the crowds. People bowed to him and offered him congratulations, calling him ‘my lord’ which definitely sounded odd after all this time in Darshian. Kei smiled and greeted people back, but was relentless in towing Arman through the masses. Arman’s robes helped part the crowd quite nicely, and he fought to keep a semblance of decorum, torn as he was between wanting to spank Kei and kiss him breathless. He didn’t know what had got Kei so eager all of a sudden, but after a busy few days when they had
both been too tired to do much more than bathe and collapse into bed to sleep, he felt deprived and wasn’t going to turn down his lover’s offer, however oddly timed.
The House of the Rulers bustled with the invited guests, and servants bearing trays of food and beer. Arman stopped and spoke to those who accosted him, but each time, before long Kei tugged insistently, though discreetly, on his sleeve, and Arman would have to excuse himself.
He realised he was being taken away from the public areas, and had an idea where they were going—an apartment had naturally been set aside for him in the House, though he’d not seen it, and hadn’t planned to use it until he got back from Andon. As Kei led him through the House, the demureness of his expression belying the devilry in his smiling eyes, Arman realised they were headed towards the residential wing. “Where are you taking me?”
“Your new rooms, of course.”
But the rooms he’d chosen were on the south side. “Yes, but—”
“These are nicer,” Kei said, “so I insisted on you having one of these instead. If I’m going to be using it too, I wanted the best they had.”
Now that really didn’t sound like Kei. “Yes, but—”
Kei stopped and put a finger on his lips. “Do you want everyone to know what you’re up to?”
Arman resisted the temptation to bite the naughty digit. “How long have you been planning this?”
“Not long,” he said airily, leading Arman up the stairs.
“Liar.”
“You wound me, my lord.” They finally arrived at a door, which Kei opened. He bowed. “Your chamber, my lord.”
There was something familiar about this room. “This is the one—”
“The very one.” Kei grinned. “Possibly even the very sheets.”
“You asked for this room because it’s where we stayed the first time?”
“No, idiot. Because it’s where we first made love.”
Arman put his hands on Kei’s face. “And you call me the romantic?” He leaned in and kissed Kei’s lips. Someone had been drinking beer on the sly before the ceremony, he discovered. “And so, Master Kei, are you planning to re-enact that momentous event?”
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 41
