Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  He let Seiki sob for a while, but then he shook her gently. “Come, child, this won’t help you. Where’s your handkerchief?”

  With a trembling hand she fetched it from her pocket and he wiped her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry, my dear. But our job is to be strong and calm for him, and his is to heal. He would be distressed to see you this way. If you want to help him, you need to show a bright face to him.”

  She blew her nose. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

  He winced. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

  “Someone close? A friend.”

  “Yes. Someone very dear indeed to me.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Did you call Neka?”

  “She’s coming. I wish Kei were here.”

  “So do I, but there’s no help for that.”

  She wiped her eyes again and sniffled. “Did your friend get better? The one who was hurt.”

  “No, I’m afraid he didn’t.” She stared in alarm. “It was a long time ago, and we didn’t have a Darshianese-trained healer to help. But I was injured not long after, just as severely, and I’m alive—so it’s not hopeless, Seiki.”

  She looked down so he could only see her lashes. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  “So am I. But let’s not talk of that. What are you doing with Karik? What were you doing this morning?”

  “W-we were g-going to...work in the library and then h-he h-had an art class.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, my s-stammer comes back when I’m uh-upset.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Kei is very pleased you’ve been helping Karik.”

  She nodded, and then burst into tears again. “I can’t bear the thought of him d-dying. He’s been so kind to me. I’ve l-learned so much from him.”

  “He’s very lucky to have such a good friend.”

  “I’m the l-lucky one. I was so lonely until I met him. Now I feel like I’m home again, knowing there’s s-someone I can talk to, who understands me, and who sees me for who I am.” Again that sense of déjà vu almost blinded him, and of course she caught it from his thoughts. “Who was he? The one who died?”

  “Someone...who made me feel as Karik does you.”

  “Did you love him? Like you d-do Kei?”

  “I loved him, yes, but not like Kei. He was only Karik’s age when he died. He was more like...a brother, or a son.”

  “He’s like my brother too.” She reached out and took hold of Karik’s still hand. “H-How...how did you stand it?”

  I didn’t. “Enough of this—remember what I said about what our job is? Cry afterwards, if you have to, but we’re a long way from that.”

  She nodded, tears still trickling down her face, but then she lifted her head. “Oh—Neka’s here.”

  Sure enough, a few moments later, the mind-speaker came in. Arman ushered them all outside, not wanting to impose on the infirmary or contaminate it more than they needed to. Neka embraced them both. “I’m sorry to hear about this. Poor Karik—how could this happen?”

  “We only know that Karik prevented an attempt to harm me, and suffered for it. Neka—we need to tell Jena. How and when, I’ll ask you to judge. Karik’s condition is very serious, and could worsen at any time. I don’t want to give them false hope, nor do I wish to worry them more than they need to.”

  “Let me talk to her. She’ll want to speak to you, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, I know, but let’s give it a little while. I’ll be staying in the infirmary for the time being. Seiki, you should go.”

  “No, I’m staying.”

  Neka touched her face. “Seiki, darling, they can’t have hordes of people sleeping in the infirmary.”

  “But I’m his friend and Arman doesn’t even like Karik. I should stay!”

  Neka looked at Arman. “Um, she has a point....”

  He glared back at her in exasperation. “Do you really think I wish Karik harm? Damn it, Neka, he’s Jena’s son! And Seiki’s never looked after someone this ill—I have. The child is too distressed, you should take her back to the house.”

  “No, I’m not going to. I’ll insist she doesn’t stay overnight, and make sure she doesn’t get in the way, but she has a right to stay with him. Do this for Karik, Arman. Seiki is important to him, and if you care at all for him, then make sure his friend is cared for too.”

  He blinked at her stern tone. “If you really think it’s best. I think Kei will have something to say about it, though.”

  “Then he can say it. Are you up to this? You look dreadful.”

  “I’ve had better mornings, but I’ve had worse too,” he added grimly, thinking of that day sixteen years ago. “I barely know Seiki, how can I look after her?”

  Neka pinned him with a look. “Learn. This is important, Arman—for her, for him and for you.”

  “What...?”

  But she wasn’t going to debate the issue, it seemed. “I’m going to speak to Jena now. Seiki, stay with Arman, do what he says, and I’ll come for you this evening. You’re going to sleep at the House, no arguments. The healers here won’t want you in the way overnight and Kei would say the same thing. But while you’re here, you help Arman and Karik as best you can—you need to be brave, dear.” Seiki nodded. “I’ll use you to keep us informed of what’s going on and to pass messages back and forth. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Thank you. The Rulers need my help, so you’ll be my right hand here.” She drew her close and kissed her forehead. “Arman, if Jena wants to speak to you...?”

  “Then give me a little warning and I’ll make sure I’m free. Speak to Master Pitis first.”

  “She’ll want to speak to him too. Let me handle that.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “Look after him, he’s a beautiful child.” She walked away, presumably to search for Pitis.

  Karik had certainly made some firm friends in his brief time in Darshek. Neka had never been so forthright with him before.

  He sighed and turned to Seiki. “Let’s go back. I warn you, sitting at sick beds is a very tedious business.”

  “Not as tedious as being sick, I bet.”

  “Uh, no. I can tell you that from personal experience.”

  They had to wait while yet another healer checked Karik’s breathing and pulse—one thing about being injured so close to the academy, Karik had no shortage of experts to care for him. The woman fiddled with an odd kind of drain in Karik’s chest, then straightened up and nodded to them. “He’s stable—please tell Wika if he wakes or appears distressed.” Wika, presumably, was the healer on duty.

  Arman agreed and they took their seats—he insisted that Seiki took the more comfortable chair, but he still wondered if she knew exactly how tiresome this could get. At least the company would ease it for each of them.

  Karik was still unconscious, and his hand, when Arman took it, was icy cold. He had no idea if this was a good or a bad sign, given his injuries, but if he was unconscious, at least he wasn’t in pain. Gut wounds hurt like little else in the world. It still angered him that Loke had died in such unnecessary agony—and that he had died at all. Kei had told him it was by no means certain a Darshianese healer would have saved his life, but at least he would have had a chance—the chance that Karik, thank the gods, was now getting. It would have been kinder to have cut Loke’s throat that day than to let him endure the end that he had.

  “Arman? Are you all right?”

  He realised he was grinding his teeth as he remembered. “It’s nothing. Just...unpleasant thoughts.” Which she could tell, very likely. “What you said before—it’s not true. I don’t dislike Karik.”

  She looked doubtful. “He said you did. I know he believes it. It makes him sad.”

  “I’m surprised he talks about me at all,” he said rather stiffly.

  She rolled her eyes and pointed at her temple. “I can’t help it,” she said patiently as if he was a stupid child.

  “Maybe so, but I don’
t dislike Karik. He...disturbs me.”

  “He’s your son...no, he’s not...” She frowned. “He thinks you’re his father, and you know you’re not. Why haven’t you told him?”

  “Are you always this impertinent? This is very personal business you are prying into so casually.”

  The look on her face made her look much older than her seventeen years. “Karik’s my friend and you make him unhappy. I want to know why.”

  “Forgive me, my dear child—”

  “I’m not a child.” She clenched her fist. “I just want to know why you’re claiming to sit here as if you care about him at all, when you don’t.”

  “I...don’t not care. Has anyone ever told you that you can be pushy?”

  She gave him a small smile. “No, you’re the first. Do you wish him harm?”

  “Don’t be silly. His parents are my dearest friends. He...is precious to people who are precious to me. Of course I want him to get well.”

  “And that’s all that matters to you? Don’t you like him for himself at all?”

  “I...I hardly know him. And circumstances.... You know, this is none of your business.”

  “I already said it is, and what else will we do to pass the time?”

  “I could order you to be taken back to the House, you know.”

  “Wyma says the Rulers can’t tell the Gifted what to do.”

  He groaned. “Must we quarrel? It hardly seems appropriate in the circumstances.”

  She put her hand on his. “I’m sorry. I was being rude. I was just trying to distract myself.”

  He patted her hand in forgiveness. “It’s all right. Your desire to champion a friend is a good and natural instinct. But these are matters I wanted to speak to Karik about first—we were to do that this very evening,” he said, looking regretfully at the still form in the bed. “I hope we will yet have a chance to do that.” At her miserable nod, he took her hand in his. “Why don’t you tell me why Karik means so much to you? You haven’t known him very long.”

  He’d only wanted to distract her from her worries a little in asking, but as he listened to her quiet, slightly stumbling description of how Karik had reached out to her, of how they had bonded over shared experiences of prejudice, embarrassment—and, the gods forgive him, parental rejection—and how he had given her a purpose, shown her she had worth and that she could still receive affection even if her family had caused her so much pain, Arman felt humbled and not a little ashamed of himself. He’d listened to Kei’s praise of Karik, and felt nothing but a little jealousy and more irritation at the efforts his lover had gone to over the boy. He had been grateful that Jena had solved a mess he had caused himself by taking an infant away from his mother for no better reason than the mother was unfit to raise a jombeker let alone a child, and been pleased that she had derived so much joy from motherhood, as her lover had from being a father. But he had never really looked at Karik the person.

  He had to admit he had always resisted allowing the boy to get close or getting to know him better at all, and now he had to wonder why, since he couldn’t even use Mekus’s supposed status as the boy’s real father as a barrier to getting to know him. Gods, if he could make the effort to find the good side of an irritating sod like Colonel Jiv, then surely he could have spent more time over the years finding out about Karik.

  If he was brutally honest with himself, the boy’s parentage had little to do with. Yes, he reminded him of Mayl, more as he’d got older, but Arman had never thought the child had anything of his mother’s nature, not even now, and he never really thought of Mekus unless Prijian politics were mentioned. He just didn’t understand this blindness towards the boy which everyone but he had noticed long before he had.

  The healer, Wika, came back to check on Karik. “What is that device?” Arman asked, pointing to the tube poking out from under some bandages.”

  “His lung collapsed. This is a valve—air gets out, but not in. His lung needs to reinflate.” He sounded rather distracted. “Would you excuse me, please?”

  Arman led Seiki away from the bed as the healer continued the examination. Then he looked up. “Seiki, would you call Master Pitis? Tell him it’s urgent.”

  Her eyes widened in shock, but so far Arman could tell, she did what she was asked. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I’m not sure. My lord, would you please...?”

  “Come on, Seiki.” He took her firmly by the shoulders and took her outside.

  “Wika’s worried. He thinks Karik’s bleeding inside.”

  Gods. “You have to stop listening. Look at me, girl.” She stared at him sullenly. “You will only torture yourself if you listen to this. Take it from me.”

  “But—”

  “Damn it, Seiki, Gifted or not, I will have you taken back to the House if you don’t listen to me! There’s nothing you can do, but if Karik does die, you don’t want to have this memory in your heart, you really don’t.”

  “You don’t care if he dies anyway!” she shouted at him.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her through a side door into the garden, then he shook her. “Getting angry with me won’t make Karik better. Whether you believe me or not, I don’t want Karik to die. No one should die like that....” He made himself stop. “Please...you should just go home. If things are deteriorating, we’ll both be in the way. You won’t want to see it if the worst happens. Watching someone die is the most appalling experience.”

  She opened her mouth and shut it again, her face white with shock. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, then her legs gave out under her. Arman caught her and lifted her over to a bench—she was heavier than Karik, but then she was a lot taller. He laid her down and crouched beside her, cursing Neka for abandoning her to his care. “Seiki?” He patted her cheeks.

  It wasn’t really a faint. Her eyes were tightly shut, but she was muttering. “They’re going to operate again...his chest is filling up...Pitis thinks he’s going to die. They don’t think they can stop the bleeding....”

  He slapped her face, unable to think of anyway to snap her out of this. “Stop it! Seiki, please, stop listening!” But she was as lost as ever in her internal vision. He wished one of the gift masters were here. He had no experience of handling a distressed Gifted person, and no idea whether she had enough control over her Gift to do as he ordered. “Neka!”

  “Arman?”

  “Where in hells are you? Karik’s dying, and Seiki’s collapsed on me. I need someone to help her.”

  “Oh gods. I’m on my way. Stay with her.”

  He got an arm under her and made her sit up. “Seiki, come on. Look at me. Focus on me, girl. Damn it, snap out of it!”

  He had to be far rougher with her than he would ever wish to be, but he finally got her to open her eyes and look at him. The moment she did, she started to cry hysterically, and then all he could do was hold her in a fatherly way, which wasn’t something he’d done for a very long time. Grimly, he thought her distress probably meant that Karik was either dead or close to death, and his guts turned upside down at the idea.

  He heard fast running footsteps, turned and saw Neka. “Seiki? Seiki, darling, it’s me.”

  He exchanged places with Neka and let her handle the girl. He’d never been good with hysterics, or wild grief, even his own. He clenched his fists. He would strangle the man who’d done this with his bare hands. No child should die like this.

  Neka rocked Seiki gently, and presumably spoke to her in her mind. Arman found a bench at a little distance from them, and put his head in his hands. What was he going to tell Jena? What was he going to tell Kei?

  Time passed, he wasn’t sure how long. He didn’t even really know what time it was, though he was distantly aware that his stomach was expecting food, so it had to be close to his normal lunchtime. The idea of eating made him sick.

  “Arman?”

  He stood and went to where Neka was still holding Seiki. The girl seemed somewhat calmer, but still looked rather distr
essed. “I’m going to get her back to the House. Jera’s on his way.”

  “I told you this was no place for her to be,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Yes, you did. I’m sorry.”

  “Karik?” He prepared to hear the worst.

  “He’s being operated on. It’s not good, Arman.”

  “All the more reason to keep Seiki away. She doesn’t need to see this, Neka. Whatever you have to do to stop her, stop her. I would spare anyone that sight. Jena?”

  Her kind eyes were anguished. “I thought she would faint from shock. I don’t know what to say to her.”

  “I’ll try to talk to her later, but we need to know what’s happening with Karik—no point in giving her hope if he’s dying.”

  A shadow passed before them, and then Jera landed lightly on the grass. He came to Neka immediately and kissed her cheek. “Let me have her, love.” He lifted Seiki easily in his arms. “Come on, Seiki, let’s get you home safe.”

  She turned to look at Neka. “Will you tell me if...if Karik...?”

  “Yes, darling, I will. Go with Jera and let them look after you. I’ll be right here, and I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

  Jera kissed his lover again and turned to Arman. “I’m sorry to hear of this,” he said simply.

  “We all are. Take care of her, Jera.”

  He nodded, then rose silently in the air, bearing the girl to where, hopefully, those with more understanding of her Gift could help her. “I’m sorry,” Neka said. “I didn’t think about what would happen if she listened to the healers treating Karik.”

  “And she overloaded? The way Kei did that time?”

  “No, it’s just emotional stress. She and Karik have become so very close, and she made the mistake of watching the healers working on Karik—she kept seeing the blood.” She winced. “Sometimes our Gifts are anything but.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I can’t help him, I can’t console Jena—all I was doing was upsetting Seiki because she thinks I hate the boy, which is just not true.”