Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

  He smiled appeasingly, and wondered what this titled elite made of their little group, but he wasn’t given time to stare for long. A polite servant directed him and the others to a row of highly ornate, high-backed chairs, behind a long table. The sovereign, naturally, sat on the most impressive chair in the centre of the row—a throne, Kei supposed—and Veta was taken to sit at her husband’s side. The sovereign seemed quite content for the applause to die down of its own accord, and though he did nothing to encourage it, it went on for some time.

  When it finally ended, his highness stood again. “We thank you for your patience, good senators and ladies. Allow me to present their lordships Peika and Sei Arman of Darshian, and their gracious companions, Veta, Kei and Jera. Many of you will remember Sei General Arman and the role he played in bringing peace between our two countries. We welcome his return to Kuprij as one of its most illustrious sons.”

  Kei stared in astonishment. Last time he’d sat in this palace, Arman had been treated with utter contempt and labelled a filthy traitor. Most illustrious son? He discreetly poked a finger in his ear—no, his hearing was fine. Arman sent him an impatient look to make him stop, so he did. But it didn’t stop his surprise.

  The sovereign spoke for a little longer, welcoming the group, and talking of the many discussions that he hoped would occur while they were in residence. Lord Peika stood and thanked the sovereign for his kind welcome, extending the warm wishes of the Darshianese nation towards the people of Kuprij. Several senators rose to make speeches, something Kei could have done without—he was hungry, and desperately wanted to speak to his lover about the whole incredible situation.

  But finally speechmaking came to an end, and socialising and the meal could both begin. Another Darshianese was led to the high table to sit with them. Kei recognised ambassador Yuko—a personal friend to all of them, and greeted with real delight. It felt almost like a normal dinner in the Rulers’ House, and when the food arrived, Kei felt even more at home. Someone had read up on Darshianese taste, and instead of the over-rich, over-sauced fare he’d been forced to endure last time, this was the kind of simple stuff he would have eaten in his own house. They were even served water and juice, rather than wine, which he’d thought they never did in this land.

  He risked a glance at the sovereign—and found the sovereign looking steadily back. The man lifted a goblet in salute. “I trust this is to your taste, Master Kei?”

  “I’m sure it is, your highness. It looks delicious.”

  The sovereign smiled and bowed his head a little, then turned to talk to his companion. But Kei was under no illusion that the Darshianese weren’t still being carefully observed, however obliquely.

  Yuko was as pleased to see them as they were to see him, but he had yet another surprise to deliver. “There was, ah, some discussion about where you would all stay, my lords,” he said, grinning at some private joke. “Naturally, his Serenity extended the hospitality of the palace to you, but in his graciousness, suggested you may be more comfortable at the embassy.” This puzzled Kei—nothing had been mentioned about accommodation and he’d assumed they’d be guests of the Prij. “However...another offer has been made which might be even more acceptable. I leave the decision to you.”

  Arman frowned with what Kei sensed was genuine annoyance. “Yuko, what in hells are you...Father!”

  Arman blinked, his mouth open in shock. Kei jerked at the sudden switch in his lover’s emotions, then looked to where Arman was staring. And indeed it was Senator Armis himself, walking slowly and with immense dignity towards them, his twenty-year-old grandson, Tije, in attendance. Arman clambered to his feet, and disregarding all protocol, left the high table and rushed to meet his father, dropping to one knee and bowing his head. His father looked sternly disapproving, but placed one hand on Arman’s bright hair and quietly said something. Kei looked to his side and found Tijus grinning like a fool. Even the sovereign was hiding a smirk politely behind his hand. “He’ll wring your neck,” he whispered to Tijus.

  “Maybe, but it was worth it. Besides, dear Kei—symbolism. Potent symbolism. Arman is one of ours as well as one of yours, and his Serenity wants that kept very firmly in front of people’s minds, at least while you’re all here.”

  Kei sighed. This kind of thing was beyond him—he left the politics to Arman and his assistants. He was just a humble healer, and not up to these games.

  Arman led his father and nephew up to Nivuman, where all of them bowed, Tije kneeling in the correct manner, though his grandfather was clearly unable to do so. The sovereign stood and spoke to them all quietly, then, smiling graciously, indicated that they too should join the high table. It was more and more Darshianese with every passing moment, Kei thought, shaking his head, as he stood to greet his lover’s father. “Sir, it’s a blessing to see you again,” he said, bowing low.

  “Oh, don’t bow to me, young man,” Senator Armis said, though he smiled. “But find me a chair, would you? We’ve been kept waiting while you people did your hand shaking and flag waving. Ah, Arman, you didn’t mention that we’d have the pleasure of your friend’s company once again.”

  For some reason, Jera blushed bright red, his embarrassment a solid wave rolling off him. “Ah, about that, sir...um....”

  “Oh, never mind, never mind,” the senator said, waving his hand. “Water under the bridge. Holding grudges for twenty years is a habit I’m trying to get out of, isn’t that right, Arman?”

  Arman only lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “As you say, Father. Tije, your grandfather’s chair. Thank you.”

  Once the senator was seated, he sat back and put his hands on his cane, looking severely at everyone, until his gaze lit on Kei. “I think I owe you an apology, Kei. These nitwits knew what was happening, but I don’t suppose anyone bothered to keep you informed.”

  “Father, I didn’t know either,” Arman said, clearly trying not to grin.

  “No, but you should have. Anyway, you can share your brother’s guilt. I trust you’re well, Kei?”

  “Yes, sir. Very well, very pleased to see you again. How is Tir Mari?”

  The old man banged his cane a little in emphasis. “In a tizz, my boy, in a tizz, but otherwise in perfect health. I presume you’re all coming back to the house, hmmm? Well, your lordships?”

  “Er, of course, Senator,” Lord Peika said hastily. “Uh...but there are rather a lot of us....”

  “Not all of you—just the related ones and a dozen or so of their closest friends. You’re not implying my hospitality isn’t up to it, I hope?”

  “Not at all, sir. My wife and I would be delighted to accept.”

  “Actually, Peika,” Tijus said with a polite cough, “Temir and I were very much hoping you might consent to come to us. With Father’s permission of course.”

  His father waved impatiently at the pair of them. “Do as you wish, your lordship. I predict Mari will have more than enough to amuse her. Now, if we’ve settled our domestic arrangements, I wish to hear all the important news. Arman, you begin.”

  For all his apprehension, it turned out to be one of the more enjoyable meals of Kei’s experience, and though it was still more formal than he was used to, by Prijian standards, it was almost as casual as eating from a food stand in the market. Senators and other personages came up and introduced themselves, joined the conversation briefly and left, expressing a wish for more prolonged contact in the future. The sovereign also joined in, inviting Kei with Tije at his side, to come to him and discuss Kei’s recent work. They spoke in Darshianese, Kei pleased to find Arman’s nephew following the conversation easily.

  He was even more pleased—and surprised—to learn the sovereign had a keen interest in botany, being something of an amateur expert on the subject, and on the domestication of wild birds for commercial use. He had, he said, a large collection and was sponsoring several breeding projects on Kuplik. “If there were time, I would invite you to my own estate, Master Kei. I fancy it would be of some small int
erest to someone like you.”

  “It would be fascinating, your highness, I’m sure. I would invite you to visit our research garden in Darshek, if it didn’t breach protocol—I’m a dunce about such matters, I’m afraid.”

  “Hardly,” the man said dryly. “But sadly I think it won’t happen for some time, if at all, for while there are eight who rule in Darshek, there is only one sovereign of Kuprij, and my country rightly demands that I grace it with my presence. However, there are those who can go and learn in my place, and bring back that knowledge and share it with the rest of us—and then, through this academy, we can teach and share with even more, perhaps even returning the favour. Perhaps one day soon, our fine young people like this fellow here,” he said with a smile at Tije, “won’t have to travel to Urshek and Darshek, and instead will learn all they need to right here in Utuk. We lag behind you Darshianese for now, Master Kei—but one day, we will be your betters once more.”

  The smile and mild tone took any offence out of his words, and indeed, Kei was all for intellectual battles if they removed the necessity for military ones. “It’s a competition in which I would gladly engage, your highness, but your citizens are welcome at my academy, and always will be if I have any say. Our Prijian students and teachers are fine additions to our corps.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, Master Kei. Unfortunately, you don’t always hand them back, and I see a future for our country in which our finest minds are needed and used. If they settle in Darshian, then that won’t happen, will it?”

  He was on dangerous ground here, but familiar ground for all that. “A valid point, your highness. But since some of the people who remain are female, and thus unvalued by your society, I don’t know that Kuprij has lost more than it throws away in the first place.”

  The sovereign didn’t reply, but instead stared at him with disconcertingly sharp eyes. Kei strove for calm, wondering if he’d stepped over the line. He couldn’t sense anger, but some people were adept at hiding their feelings even from themselves. Beside him, young Tije sat ramrod straight, and seemed to have picked up on the fact that the conversation had become suddenly serious. It wasn’t just Tijus’s neck that would get wrung if Kei dragged his boy into a political row.

  But the sovereign only sat back and sighed a little. “It is, as you imply, a regret, Master Kei, that half our population should be so underused intellectually. My esteemed predecessor, may her name be forever blessed, naturally proved that women could and do rule, but her reign perhaps did not advance the cause of female education as one might wish in an ideal world. Things are changing, Master Kei, albeit slowly. I advise you to watch us and note what we are doing, and, I trust, you will give me the benefit of your honest views once you have done so.”

  Kei bowed his head. “I should endeavour to do that, your highness. I meant no offence.”

  “None taken. You deal in facts, and you spoke of one, however unpalatable. It is not, I caution you, a popular topic among certain members of the ruling classes. But more, perhaps, support your views than you think.”

  “I hope so, your highness.”

  Another benign smile. “Good. Now, I’ve monopolised your time long enough, and I’m sure you and Sei Arman are tired after your journey. In a few minutes I’ll leave, which will set you all free, and we can start these formalities again tomorrow. I’ve been assured that you will be taken to see the academy then.”

  “Thank you, your highness.”

  “And thank you, Master Kei.” The sovereign turned to Arman’s nephew. “Sei Tije, your family has served this country long and faithfully for many years. I expect great things of you.”

  “Thank you, your highness,” Tije said, a blush staining his cheeks and reminding Kei strongly of Karik.

  The sovereign smiled again, and dismissed them. Kei was glad to be released, because manoeuvrings at that level were just not his thing at all. Arman looked at him with concern as he took his seat with a deep sigh of relief. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, fine, fine—could someone to wake me up when this is all over? Because I’m certainly dreaming all this, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, of course you are, my love,” Arman said, patting his hand, then turned back to listen to what the new arrival at their table was saying.

  His food had gone cold, but he was hungry enough not to care, and it was the kind of plain food that didn’t need to be piping hot to have any taste. He was too busy thinking about what the sovereign had said to be concerned with mere food anyway. Was he serious? Was he really planning to promote female education, in the face of hundreds of years of ignorance and ‘tradition’? If anyone could, surely this man could—a man who greeted the so-called enemy like brothers, who welcomed and publicly blessed a supposed traitor and complimented him to the rest of his caste. A man who talked without arrogance or pretence to a complete stranger, and who offered honesty instead of politics. Either Nivuman would be Kuprij’s greatest sovereign in a hundred years—or someone would make another serious attempt to get rid of him before he changed too many things.

  But the middle of a state reception was not the place to make this observation to Arman. It was only after the lengthy meal was done, and they had all decamped to Arman’s father’s house, been greeted ecstatically by Mari and Temir, and finally allowed the privacy of their own room, that Kei could finally speak his mind about this. He did so as his lover helped him bathe in the disgustingly unhygienic contraption that the Prij used for this purpose. Arman was silent for a few moments as he considered his response. Kei concentrated on scrubbing the salt off his skin and out of his hair, and wished for a genuine Darshianese bath. They had them at the embassy, he recalled mournfully, though he didn’t begrudge Arman the time with his father in the least.

  At last Arman nodded. “From what Father and Tijus have said to me, not just now but in the past, Nivuman is actually a very cautious man. He’s made significant changes, but he’s been careful to do them in areas which don’t excite much emotion or in a manner which doesn’t do so, and always with a complete lack of flamboyance. Which is why I was taken aback by what happened today—it’s not characteristic in the least.”

  “So why? It was a dangerous thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  Arman poured fresh water carefully down Kei’s braid, and wrung it out before answering. “Not as much as it appears at first. That wasn’t a random selection of senators today. They were handpicked, all supporters. The procession, I grant you, was more of a risk, but as Tijus said, the temperature is very different from what it was six or seven years ago, or even four years ago. He will have judged that very carefully, or we’d have been whisked to the palace in complete anonymity.”

  “I still don’t know why he wants us here at all.”

  “Because he needs the Darshianese and he knows it, and he wants the Prijian people to know it—not just our army, but our education and our teachers. This academy might be the most important thing any sovereign has done for Kuprij, and it’s mightily overdue.”

  Kei was finished, and stepped awkwardly out of the stupid bath. Arman handed him a drying cloth, then rang the bell for more water—it really was a most inconvenient business. At least Kei didn’t have to do the water fetching this time. “He said he thinks one day it’ll overtake the Darshek academy.”

  “It might well do, but I won’t cry if it does. I’m only sorry Karus didn’t live to see it. It was one of his dreams, you know. He would be very pleased by this sovereign.”

  “Perhaps he’s reborn here and about to be one of the new students,” Kei said, smiling to cheer his lover’s slightly gloomy thoughts. “Nivuman went to astonishing lengths to make us feel welcome, don’t you think?”

  Arman smiled wryly. “Ah, well, that was partly just his own innate courtesy. Kita was a dreadfully rude woman, and cared not a whit for anyone’s comfort but her own. I got the impression Nivuman runs his palace like he runs his estate, and if his estate is anything like Father’s, then serving food that his
guests would enjoy is simply what he would do anyway.” He took over towelling Kei’s hair for him. “But he was also saying—to his carefully invited group—that change can occur without pain, and without the Prijian state being threatened. The aristocracy already uses Darshianese healers and tutors—I wouldn’t be the least surprised if Darshianese cooks suddenly became fashionable after today.”

  “And that can only be a good thing,” Kei said fervently. “I tell you, I don’t know why all your nobles don’t drop dead at forty from the diet they eat. It’s not good for them in the slightest.”

  “Some do, of course. Unfortunately, not those one might wish did.” He paused in the towelling. “Father looks well, doesn’t he?”

  Kei sensed the anxiety. “He looks very well indeed. I’m not his healer, but I’d gladly speak to them about his health. I’d be surprised if there was anything wrong with him other than his age and his arthritis.”

  “He just seems rather...frail. Like Karus was, just before—”

  “Not to me,” he said firmly. “He’s troubled by his hip somewhat, but his colour is good, his mind is alert, and he seems otherwise vigorous. My love,” he said, pulling Arman in for a kiss, and then putting his arms around him. “He is seventy-one, and he’s getting older. But no faster than anyone else, not that I can see.”

  “It was...when I saw him again, I just.... Damn it, I miss the old man so much sometimes,” he whispered against Kei’s ear.

  “Then tell him that. I know he’ll grump and call you a fool and tell you not to be sentimental...but tell him. Because he loves you and misses you too. He was so pleased to see you today—it radiated off him. Pleased and proud as anything. Say it and bear the grumbling, and know that you didn’t miss this chance.”

  “Like I did with Karus, you mean.”

  Kei looked into Arman’s sad eyes. “No. You didn’t miss any chances with Karus. Karus knew you loved him, and you knew he loved you. He died with you in his thoughts and in his heart. You can give the same gift to your father—let him know that he is there with you, even when he finally has to go. But I think that’ll still be some time from now. Karus was a lot older at seventy than your father is.”