“I’m on holiday! Why don’t people listen to me?”
“Scientists and healers are always on duty, sorry, nephew. Good night.”
Fortunately, though Karik affected a slightly curmudgeonly air at times, he was still essentially the same sweet-natured lad he’d always been, and his nephew would do as he said and make every effort to be friends with his cousin. ‘Cousin’, Kei thought slightly bemusedly—Karik’s family was certainly an eclectic bunch. But then, so was Kei’s.
Arman and Tije were more than ready to leave. Arman was drooping a bit—it had been a very early start, and Arman and Lord Peika had had some long discussions with farmers who’d joined them at the campsite and ridden along with them for a bit. Arman had been on duty almost the entire time they’d been away.
The stop in Ai-Albon would be more recreation than work, but even so, for once he was there in an official capacity and doubtless tomorrow there would be meeting after meeting with people travelling in to meet him and to be with the clan for the night of the ancestors. Lord Peika was originally from Ai-Beyto and had family there, so he would claim a rest in the next village, but both men would doubtless be glad to get back to their permanent homes. None of them, Kei thought ruefully, were really young enough for this kind of thing any more.
Keiji was waiting for them at the house. “Ma and Pa have gone to bed. Tije, do you want me to wait up for you?”
“We’ll show him the way,” Kei said. “Off to bed with you, young man.”
“Kei, I’m not a little boy any more,” Keiji complained with all the dignity of his seventeen years.
“Son, neither am I and I’ll be looking for my bed soon enough,” Arman said, clapping Keiji’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
Arman led them all into the washroom, and once the door was closed, turned to Kei in mild reproof. “He really isn’t a child, you know.”
“Sorry—when you’ve birthed them and bathed them and let them puke over your shoulder, they’ll always be children to you. I expect your parents do the same thing, don’t they, Tije?”
“They’re pretty good about treating me as a grown up. Grandfather is the worst—uh, no offence, uncle Arman.”
Arman only grinned. “None taken, lad. Come on, my old bones need that bath.”
Despite his words to Romi, no one had been more surprised at Tije’s ready acceptance of Darshianese bathing customs than Kei. Actually, he’d put his own uncle to shame, since Arman then couldn’t admit he didn’t bathe with anyone but his lover. It had been one of the more amusing aspects of the trip, in fact, watching Arman overcome twenty-three years of inhibitions and finally take that final step towards fully becoming Darshianese.
Though Kei would have loved a private bath with Arman, this was still bliss, he thought, sinking into the deliciously hot water. Arman already had his eyes closed, savouring it. Tije’s fair skin pinked up, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. “You’ll have to convince your father to install one,” Kei teased.
“I’ll certainly try. He said he’s enjoyed them when he’s come to visit, but I don’t think you’d ever get him sharing one—not like you, uncle.” Arman grunted, and Kei hid his grin. “Kei, may I ask, if it’s not impolite....”
“About Karik and the baby?”
Tije nodded quickly. “I don’t want to cause any more offence. Karik doesn’t seem to like me much already.”
“He’ll get over it,” Arman said in a low rumble—he sounded half-asleep already. “Kei, can you explain? My brain is too tired for this.”
Kei discreetly took hold of his lover’s hand. “Tije, you recall the gifted such as myself and Jera can’t have children?”
“Yes, I remember. It’s very sad.” He waited politely for Kei to continue.
“Well, one of Karik’s dearest friends is truly Gifted, a mind-speaker—Seiki’s one of the people who’s been keeping us all in touch with Darshek over the last few weeks. She has a normal lover—another woman.”
He waited for Tije to assess that, and checked his reaction. So far, it was only curiosity—at least he had some experience of same sex lovers behind him. “Mila and Seiki were desperate to have children, and so Karik, uh...offered to help out.”
Tije stiffened. “Karik...and someone else’s lover? Did her partner know?”
“Yes—it was all mutually agreed. Now I know it’s unusual,” he added hastily, seeing that at last, Tije’s upbringing caused a difficulty he’d so admirably tried to avoid for weeks now, “but so is Mila and Seiki’s situation. No truly Gifted has raised a child of their own in over a hundred years, probably more. What Karik has done is almost a miracle—and Jes is a beautiful child. You’d like her a lot.”
Beside him, Arman had gone very still, but he wasn’t saying anything. Yet.
“But Mila is being unfaithful? Doesn’t that matter?”
“Not in her heart. It’s not like she’s deceiving Seiki. They both want this. Karik’s not emotionally involved with Mila.”
Tije was very quiet, and Kei felt his disapproval.
Arman stirred. “Tije, fidelity is taken just as seriously in Darshian as it is in Kuprij, and Karik’s sense of honour is as well-developed as your own. This isn’t moral turpitude, but Karik giving two fine young people a chance to be parents, and a damn good job they’re making of it too. You’ve met Seiki, though you probably don’t remember her. She’s a very kind, decent person, and Mila would grace anyone’s home.”
“It’s very strange, uncle.”
“Yes, I know it is, nephew. But then so is this,” he said, splashing his hand through the water. “What would your grandfather say about this, do you think?”
“He’d be shocked. But then he’d probably try it once just to see.”
Kei grinned. “He probably would. Tije, Mila and Seiki and Karik don’t need your approval. But at least try to understand.”
“I will,” he said earnestly. “So, you have a granddaughter, uncle Arman? Father never mentioned it.”
Arman coughed and sat up. “Uh...technically,” he said, glancing at Kei. “But I really don’t...think of it that way. Karik’s Jena and Reji’s boy now, and Jes is their granddaughter. You’ll, um, upset people if you refer to her in any other way. I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention it to your parents or your grandfather either—it’s not really a family matter.”
Tije stared, but then nodded. “Yes, uncle. I understand,” he said, though he clearly didn’t.
Kei sighed. “Well, gentlemen, lovely though this is, Arman’s falling asleep and he’s far too big to carry up the stairs.”
That got him a poke in the side. He stuck his tongue out, scandalising Tije afresh. “Come on, dear.”
Arman growled as he stood up and stepped out. In a few minutes, they had privacy again in Kei’s old room—which had been Meran’s but now Meran was married and living in a new house with Gyo. It had been strange, coming back here and staying in his former home—for years, he and Arman had stayed with Jena and Reji, but after the quarrel, of course that hadn’t been allowed, and now Karik needed space for his own lover....
So many changes to his life, his family. But he would change very little of it, and that which he would, was better left unchanged.
He hung up their house robes behind the door, and then sat on the bed so his hair could be groomed. No matter how tired Arman was, he always insisted on this, and to be truthful, Kei doubted he would sleep properly unless this little ritual was carried out.
“Tije is trying hard, but I don’t think he can really accept any of it,” he said, as Arman began the familiar, careful movements, so soothing and pleasant to them both.
“Give him time. Tije’s an intelligent and tolerant boy, and you have to admit the situation isn’t common even by Darshianese standards. I was more concerned by Karik’s behaviour—what on earth is wrong with him?”
“You, beloved,” Kei said dryly. “Karik suddenly has to compete for attention from his favourite uncle, and he doesn’t l
ike it. If Tije were less handsome and poised, he wouldn’t be such a threat.”
“But that’s ridiculous! I don’t....” Arman tugged Kei around to face him. “Ah. It’s nothing to do with anything I’ve done, is it?”
“Not a bit of it. I think Karik’s more jealous of your blood relationship with Tije than anything else.”
“But so far as he knows, he has a blood relationship with me.”
Privately, Kei wondered if Karik really believed that—the lad was more than clever enough to work out all the clues for himself. “Not one anyone can openly acknowledge. He’ll get over it. It’s just the time of year, when we’re all thinking about family and home more than usual.”
Arman nodded and went back to carefully combing and rebraiding Kei’s hair. Family and home were certainly on Arman’s mind. His lover would need all his family—blood or adopted—around him when his father finally left him. They’d managed to say their goodbyes, which was a good thing. The ache was still there, nonetheless, and always would be.
Arman finished and they got under the covers, for once far too tired to make love. Kei snuggled into Arman’s strong arms and thought how very wonderful it was to have someone like him to come home to.
“Maybe I should tell him,” Arman said, just as Kei was drifting off.
“Who? What?”
“Karik. About...not being his father. And Tije too. It might make things more understandable.”
“It might make things much worse too. Tije’s not entitled to Karik’s secrets or even yours. I slipped up tonight, but that wasn’t my intention. Let’s not stir the pot even more. Karik won’t thank you for naming him a bastard in front of his fancy cousin, and Tije won’t think more of Karik for it either.”
“I didn’t mean....” Arman heaved a deep sigh. “I’m no good at this kind of thing.”
Kei kissed him, cuddling in a little closer. “You handle the sovereigns, I’ll handle the relatives. Sound fair?”
“Perfectly. Good night, my love.”
“Good night, Arman.”
Bearing Fruit: 6
“What a view!” Tije peered eagerly across the vista towards the sparkling ocean. “I had no idea Darshek plain was so big!”
Karik nodded. “It’s a big country. You get an even better view if you climb one of the trees.”
Romi glanced at his lover—was this some test of Tije’s gameness? “You think Arman will be thrilled if you break your neck trying, Karik?”
“I’m not suggesting it—I was just saying. I don’t think I’d dare, not just for a view—not now. I’m not young and stupid anymore, Romi.”
“Of course you’re not, dear,” he said, grinning. Tije hid a smile behind his hand, and after a moment, Karik just shook his head and gave Romi a gentle smack on the arm.
“Come on, Tije—even without a tree, there’s a place where you can get a little higher, and you can see the quarries.”
Romi watched them go, relieved the two of them had finally settled into an easy relationship. It wasn’t quite friendship, but Karik had dropped his jealous hostility and now treated Tije as an honoured guest, to be given consideration and shown novelties like any other. Whether they would ever be more than this to each other, remained to be seen, but peace had broken out pretty quickly and Romi gave both Karik and Tije credit for that. And Arman and Kei too, in their own kind way. The week in Ai-Albon had been very pleasant, and Tije had been genuinely moved by the ceremony of the night of the ancestors. He’d told them that a similar thing had been held in Ai-Vinri after the reconciliation and he’d been invited to light a candle in memory of the departed too, which he’d gladly done. As an ambassador for his country, he was doing a fine job.
He wasn’t the only one. Seeing Karik working with Kei’s staff and the villagers, enthusing about the work the new expeditionary unit would be carrying out, and how Darshian needed more researchers, more people observing, reporting and exploring their own country too, Romi made a pledge to himself to arrange for Karik to travel further south, even to Urshek, to spread the word about their work. Relations with the southern academy were still rather cool. Kei had pointedly not paid a visit on their way through, though their group had been received warmly by the southern Rulers—and there was the thorny question of Soza still being on the run, whereabouts unknown—but Karik was able to inspire people so thoroughly, his presence as a recruiter would be vital. When they returned to Andon, his talents would be indispensable to their freshly trained team, ready to spread their knowledge to the Andonese and to select those who would in turn be trained and lead teams—a slow, organic process that would bear fruits in the long term.
Arman was a long-term thinker, and this was a typical plan of his, one that would be of less benefit to him than to Jes’s generation, but one which would mean she and her children would lead healthier, more productive and interesting lives. Even to a childless man like Romi, there was a lot of satisfaction to be gained from that.
The sun was going down before Karik and Tije returned, Tije smiling at something Karik was saying, his hands animated as they got when he was really excited. Romi turned and found Kei close by, watching. “They’re more alike than they think,” Kei said quietly. “Both very good men, both going to make a mark on their countries. As will you, Romi.”
“I’m going to try. Looking forward to going home?”
“I’m always home, if I’m with Arman,” he said with a slight smile. “I’ve enjoyed this time. We should do it again. It’s too easy sitting in Darshek and losing touch with what is Darshian. He’s felt it too. He wants to go back to Utuk, though who knows if it will be soon enough.”
“Soon enough?” Romi cocked his head, confused.
“Soon enough to see his father again. But if it’s not...they made a peace. It was beautiful.” He smiled again, a little painfully. “To have the chance to say goodbye is no bad thing.”
Romi remembered that Kei had been denied that gift with both his parents. “No, it’s not. Come on, last supper on the trail, and tomorrow, we can eat Pira’s food.”
Kei grinned at him. “Ah, now, that I have missed.”
Romi waved to Karik who waved back, but he was still talking and there was no need to drag him away. Romi and Kei made their way over to the cooking fires, where the evening meal was being prepared. Jera was helping two soldiers with a wheel repair, holding the wagon up without the slightest effort so they could get under it—his Gift had been very handy, everyone had agreed on that. It might not be the last chance for him to use it on such a journey—Jera had got the taste for travel. Maybe before too long, all of the Gifted would leave their refuge and come see the rest of the country. One day.
Arman was hunkered down, tending to the fires. He’d insisted on his share of the chores too, much to the surprise of the soldiers, most of who hadn’t even been born when Arman had given up his role as a general. Arman appeared to have rather enjoyed getting back under canvas—life was certainly simpler on the road, though he’d still been busy with Ruler duties. Ah well, the interlude was soon to be over. They would spend tonight at this staging post on the Kislik range, and they should get to the foot of the mountain before noon. Arman and the others would then make haste back to Darshek city, leaving the soldiers and civilian staff to bring back the wagons. The road from the range to the city was long and dull, and it was simply a waste of senior personnel’s time to have them crawl along on this last leg of the journey. Romi was eager to get back—he’d enjoyed his break, enjoyed seeing more of the north, but he had work to do and he wanted to get back to it. Karik, he was sure, felt much the same.
Still, it was nice being out in the open this last evening, the weather fair and the sky clear, the moon full and fat above them. People took their ease by the campfires, talking quietly, laughing at small jokes, and listening as one or other held court briefly, explaining something. Friendships had been made on this trip, and though people would go their separate ways tomorrow, those friendships would r
emain. It was no bad thing to have civilians travelling with soldiers, soldiers seeing how the civilians worked. It was a lot more balanced and pleasant than the arrangement on the Andonese mission, where the civilians had been vastly outnumbered, and for much of the time, not inclined to throw their lot in with their soldier colleagues.
No—that wasn’t fair. Karik had done that from day one. It had only been Soza who had refused to join in.
His mood darkened, thinking of that piece of urs shit. “Romi?” Kei asked, coming to sit by him with a mug of tea. “Something wrong?”
“No. Just memories. Soza,” he explained when Kei lifted an eyebrow.
Kei’s expression clouded a little. “Ah. Karik’s moved on quite well, I think. I’m proud of him—and you—for that.”
“Karik’s courage was never in question. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to strangle that scrawny neck. Did we never hear a word of him? It’s so odd that no one’s reported anything.” He knew they’d been thorough. Arman had sent out so many requests, asking personally for assistance—it seemed incredible not a breath of a report had come through.
Kei poked the fire, his handsome face suddenly solemn. A little distance off, Arman raised his head and glanced their way—it was absolutely uncanny how the two of them, one completely ungifted as he was, could sense each other’s mood the way they did. Kei gave his lover a slight nod of reassurance, then Arman did the same before turning back to his conversation with Jera.
“Something’s happened?” Romi asked, scanning the group for Karik—there he was, talking to one of the soldiers. Tije was with him again—good. “Something...bad?”
“Something unconfirmed, which is why I’ve not mentioned it to Karik or you before. Arman is going to keep pursuing it.”
“Kei—tell me. I won’t tell Karik unless you think it’s wise, but I’d rather know.”
Kei nodded, his eyes still on the twig he was playing with, setting the end on fire and waving it out, over and over. “One of the new masters in Utuk said they had had someone apply for a position as a herbalist—a Darshianese. Said he’d been working on ships sailing the routes around the Welensi and Itenwi islands, working as ship’s physician and trading medicinal plants. The man seemed knowledgeable but rather hesitant to give references or his background, and when pressed, he just left. The description matched, more or less, though of course the name didn’t.”
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 8