“Do we know where he went?”
Kei shook his head. “No, and I didn’t want to press it. The master mentioned it to me because he was curious if I knew the man. I said I didn’t and, of course, didn’t mention my suspicions. I did say I personally wouldn’t employ anyone without confirming their credentials, and that anyone I’d trained would be happy to provide them. I hope that was enough of a warning. I had a message sent to Bren in Utuk—he ships a lot of the herbs we buy from the south and from Kuprij—and he said he’d heard the name Soza may be using, but knew nothing of his whereabouts. There are a lot of ships and it’s a large trade. He has hundreds of places to hide.”
“He can’t keep changing his name—not and build his reputation. He’s not a healer—how can he get work as a physician? And he gets seasick too.”
Kei shrugged, still looking rather grim. “Lots of sailors get seasick—and he’s got access to narcotics, so he might be using them for the worst of it. He had very basic healer training—similar to what your soldiers are doing now—and he’s very knowledgeable about medicinal herbs. No hesitation in using them either as we know,” he added bitterly. “He can pick up the rest as he goes, and to be honest, he would be no more useless than a lot of even supposedly qualified Prijian physicians. A lot better than most ships would have access to. I’m sure he’s had no trouble getting a place on a boat.”
Romi nodded. “Explains why no one’s heard anything of him in Urshek, at least. Have you put the word about?”
“As much as we can. It’s not absolutely certain it’s Soza, Romi.”
“Sounds pretty damn certain to me,” Romi said, grinding his teeth a little. “Should I tell him?” he asked, looking over to where Karik was still intent on his own conversation. He had been doing so well—not a flashback in months, and their sex life was happy and fulfilling. Romi really didn’t know how this would affect him.
“I leave that to you,” Kei said, looking over to his nephew too, and frowning unhappily. “I can see arguments both ways. At least it would reassure him that he wasn’t likely to run into the man in Urshek, should he decide he needs to go there.”
“But Master Jezinke—”
Kei turned to him, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Not at him, Romi knew. “Jezinke’s a fool. The more I hear about how he’s running things, the more I think that, though it’s not very charitable towards an otherwise fine researcher. He shouldn’t be running that academy. I’ve made my feelings known to those who might have influence, and we’ll have to see what happens. He’s nearly seventy. I suspect in the near future he’ll receive an offer of a generous pension and an invitation to retire. Arman’s counterparts aren’t happy either. Really, it was scandalous the Utuk academy got more help from us than from the south, and what they did get from the south was a shambles. I’ll send a team down there for at least six months to make up the deficit. They were too polite to ask until I got there. I’m so glad I decided to go in person. There’s no substitute.”
“Agreed. I’ll tell Karik, I think—but perhaps not just yet. Maybe when Tije goes home.”
“Good idea.” Kei looked towards Karik and Tije again—the two men were making their way over to them now, bearing mugs and plates of food. “I can imagine how much Karik does not want Tije to know the smallest thing about this.”
“So can I. So,” Romi said, grinning up at his lover, and betraying nothing of what he’d just learned in his expression. “Where’s my supper?”
“In the pot, go get it,” Karik said flatly, making Tije smirk. He was finally used to his cousin’s somewhat sarcastic humour.
“Such a kindly person, my lover,” Romi said, shaking his head. “Kei, shall I get yours?”
“If you don’t mind. I’ll make sure Karik doesn’t steal your seat.” Karik stuck a most disrespectful tongue out at his uncle. “Tsk. Young people, don’t you think, Romi?”
“I’m sure he’d side with the elderly, since he is one,” Karik said, sitting next to the space Romi had vacated, but ostentatiously not allowing his bottom to intrude in it by an inch. “Off you go.”
“Manners of a pissing urs beast, I’m telling you.”
Romi loved being teased by Karik, and he grinned as he went in search of the food. But as he waited for access to the stew pot and for a share of the camp bread, he couldn’t help thinking about Kei’s revelations. In some ways, the situation might actually be worse if Soza were found—Romi had some doubt as to whether a successful prosecution could be brought for any of his crimes, and if a prosecution failed, then the man was quite brazen enough to re-establish himself in Urshek, possibly even in Darshek. At least this way, he was a fugitive, unable to show his face, and for someone like Soza, that might be the worst punishment of all—being unable to boast of his credentials, and never able to attain a position of any importance at all.
Karik wasn’t at all sure what would make him feel better about what had happened to him—for it not to have happened was the only certainty and of course, that just wasn’t possible.
Judging the right time to tell him was going to be tricky. If Karik had been fretting about it, then the decision would be easy. While he was so happy and busy and determinedly putting the attack behind him, Romi would do nothing to destabilise him—but Karik better not find out the information had been withheld from him or there’d be hell to pay. He sighed as he collected the plates and mugs and walked back to Kei and the others. Being a good lover could be damn hard sometimes.
Bearing Fruit: 7
Tije probably wasn’t aware how much anxiety he was giving everyone, Kei thought rather fondly, or that he had his own personal Gifted watchdog keeping an eye out for an inexperienced rider. Tije had never ridden an urs beast before he’d joined the Darshianese mission, though he was a fine jesig rider, and had only learned how to manage the much larger animals on the road. That was fine when they were travelling with the wagons, going no faster than a slow trotting speed. But now they had reached Darshek plain, they were supposed to be riding with some haste along the main highway. Arman had asked the lad if he would prefer a calash was summoned, and that had offended Tije’s pride so much his uncle relented and said that of course he would be fine on a beast.
Then Arman had gone straight to Jera and begged him to make sure the lad didn’t fall and crack his skull or worse.
In the end, their worries were unfounded, as Tije rode completely confidently and his beast was thus far completely disinclined to do anything but settle into the familiar loping stride. Karik and Romi rode on either side of him, but the three were just chatting as best they could, given their speed, and didn’t seem worried. Kei was glad they hadn’t had to make a concession to Tije after all—the necessarily slow pace of their journey had been the only serious frustration of the entire project, and now it was nearly all over, he was eager to get back to their house and the academy. There was so much to be done, and so much had come of their journey. It had been the perfect tonic after the horrors of the previous year, and he now felt invigorated and fully ready for his job again.
He’d found it hard to settle in before now. Nagging guilt and depression had given him severe doubts over his decision to go back to work. Now he knew he’d done the right thing—and could even face the prospect of Karik going on another Andonese mission with something approaching equanimity. If anything happened to Karik this time, it would be a blow—but one he could deal with. The important thing was that he, Jena and Karik had come to an understanding over Karik’s career, and Jena no longer felt Karik was in thrall to Kei’s manipulations on the subject. And if she was no longer under that illusion, then neither could Kei be. Karik had convinced them very thoroughly his destiny lay in his own hands, and that Jena, Kei, Reji and Arman all had to allow him to seek that destiny in his own way. It had been the painful gift Arman’s father had given his son, and it was what Karik’s parents had given him. It was what a good parent had to do, in the end.
Kei wondered if Tijus would do the s
ame for Tije. The lad had a strong, enquiring mind and though he seemed interested in following in his father and grandfather’s footsteps, Kei had to wonder if, having tasted a little of what the wider world could offer, the lure of travel and exploration might pull him from that path. But, as the Prijian sovereign had said, for Kuprij to become great in a way that did not involve conquest and war, they needed young people like Tije to stay and work for the good of their own country. The only way that would happen would be if they offered something to fulfil the promise of such bright minds.
“Plotting again, dear?” Arman said, leaning over to pat his arm as they slowed down to let wagons cross the road.
Kei smiled at him. “Just thinking about the future. I’d never have dreamed Kuprij could play such an important part in it.”
“It played an important part in your past, so it was always likely.” He nodded towards the young people. “I have to say if the future is in their hands, then it’ll be a bright one.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” He stole a quick kiss then kicked his beast into motion again. “Come on, I can practically taste Pira’s sweet cakes!”
They reached the barracks two hours after noon, their arrival announced by Neka who had been in near constant contact all day, though most of it had been speaking to her lover whom she’d missed. The feeling was clearly mutual, because Jera had only waited for them all to set foot in the barracks before dismounting, murmuring an apology and a promise to be in touch very soon, and then rising into the air and heading straight across to the city and the House of the Gifted.
“I think Neka’s going to be out of action for a while,” Kei said, trying to keep a straight face as they watched him fly off—they couldn’t sense Jera’s eagerness like he could. Neka would be a very busy—and satisfied—lady in no time at all. Then he spotted a familiar figure striding towards them. “Ho, Tiko!”
“Hello, Kei—welcome back, your lordship,” Tiko said, winking at Arman. “Captain, Karik—and this is Sei Tije, yes?” He bowed. “Captain Tiko, at your service.”
Tije dismounted and then bowed properly. “Just Tije, captain. Thank you.”
“Then it’s Tiko. Good journey? The reports all said so.”
“An excellent one, Tiko,” Arman said, “and we’ll have a great deal to discuss, you and I. But first things first—we want to get back to our house. Romi and Karik are with us this evening. Can you organise a vehicle?”
“Ah, I can, but there’s something I need to report. We had a Prijian woman turn up three days ago, two children in tow. She went to the Rulers’ House first, and Lord Meki ordered her to be detained here for your arrival.”
Kei felt Arman’s surprise—and some apprehension. “Detained?” Arman snapped. “What woman? What’s her name?”
Tiko scratched his chin, not put out by his Ruler’s irritation. “Well, you see, that’s the problem. She won’t give a name—all she’ll say is that she wants to speak to her son, Retis.” Kei jumped a little in shock, and Arman’s expression became a deep scowl. “When she was told no one of that name was known in Darshek, she said that you would know who he was, because you’re his father.”
Kei swallowed, and placed his hand on his lover’s arm to soothe the already rising anger and turmoil. Karik, who had come close enough to hear the last part of Tiko’s report, gasped a little.
“Karik?” Romi asked. “What’s wrong?”
Karik keep staring at Tiko as he answered. “It’s my mother...Arman, can it be her?”
Arman’s lips pressed into a hard line. “We’ll soon see. Tije, I’m going to ask you to wait for me. Tiko, can you have someone take him somewhere, give him tea and something to eat? Romi...no, you better come along too. Damn her,” he muttered.
Kei couldn’t help but agree. Damn Mayl indeed—if this was her.
~~~~~~~~
The last time Karik had felt like this had been back on Andon—for a very different reason, of course, but the effect was the same. Romi only waited for a corporal to be summoned and lead Tije away before asking, “What do you mean, your mother? I thought she was in the Welensi Islands?”
“So did I,” Karik said quietly, feeling sick. “Arman? What’s going on?”
“I really don’t know, son.” His uncle came to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to see her?”
“I have to. You, uh...don’t have to. I know you don’t want to.”
“Neither do you, I know. No, we best face this together. Kei, Romi, please, don’t say anything, or interfere. Karik, will you let me take charge?”
“Yes, uncle.” Romi came to his side and squeezed his arm. “I’m all right,” he muttered.
“You’re not, but I’ll let you handle it. Tiko?”
Tiko had been watching them from a discreet distance and now approached. “We gave her one of the married officer’s quarters—it was either that or the lock up, and it wasn’t fair on the boys.”
“Boys?” Arman asked. “You said two children—hers?”
“So it seems—they call her ‘mama’ anyway. One’s a Prij, the other’s half-Welensian islander by the look of him. You better come and talk to her.”
Karik didn’t need to see the grim turn of Arman’s mouth to know this wasn’t something he wanted either. Kei was uncharacteristically solemn, frowning and clearly worried—none of them had any reason to be pleased at this news.
As it turned out, they were taken to the same part of the barracks where he and Romi had their own quarters, along with other partnered but childless officers. Kei kept his hand on Arman’s arm, and Romi did the same for Karik, which was good because he really felt as if he’d been chopped off at the ankles. He’d thought Tije’s appearance in the village had been a shock—that had been nothing. What was his mother doing here? Why here now?
One of the quarters had guards posted outside the door, so it was easy to guess where she was. Tiko asked them to wait while he fetched her. A few moments later he emerged from the quarters, a woman with two small children behind her.
Karik felt paralysed, unable to move forward, not willing to retreat like a coward even though his courage was fast deserting him, but Mayl had no such reservations. “Retis! Oh, darling, I’ve missed you!”
She ran to him and flung her arms around him. Karik simply didn’t know what to do or say—she seemed so happy to see him, yet he didn’t feel anything like the same. She didn’t really look much like the woman he remembered—she’d grown heavier, faded, and lines of either sorrow or temper now marred her mouth and eyes. He’d thought she looked like a goddess almost, the first time he’d seen her. Now she looked rather sour and run down—even her clothes were dingy and not particularly clean.
Arman intervened, roughly pulling her off him and thrusting her backward. “Mayl.” He made the name sound like the vilest curse. “What are you doing here and who are these children?”
“I wanted to be with my son, Arman,” she said, tilting her chin. “These boys are Retis’s brothers—he’s entitled to meet them.”
“B-Brothers?” Karik stuttered in shock, looking down at the two boys, now pressing close to Mayl’s leg.
The older child, fair haired and sullen, glared up at him. The younger one, clinging to his brother, had black hair, black eyes but pale skin—he looked no different from the few Welensi islanders Karik had ever encountered. “Yes, your brothers, Retis.”
“His name’s Karik,” Arman snapped. “You agreed not to interfere with him seven years ago. Why are you here?”
She turned cold eyes on him. “I need my son’s help. How can he deny his own mother when she asks for his assistance? Retis, we need you. I am without a home or a husband.” She fell to her knees and clasped her hands in front of her. “I beg you to help us.”
Karik, still frozen in shock, turned a pleading look on Kei for help, but it was Arman again who acted, dragging her to her feet. “Enough theatrics, Mayl. I know Mekus is dead—and you’re a convicted criminal. Karik can’
t help you, and I won’t allow him to try. Just take yourself out of Darshek and keep away from us. You’re not wanted.”
She glared at him and shook off his grasp. “Will you condemn two innocent children too? You’d let Retis’s brothers starve?”
Kei gave her a peculiar look, then knelt in front of the boys. “Hello,” he said gently in Prijian. “I’m Kei. What’s your name?” he asked the older one.
“He is Minan,” Mayl answered. “The other one is Ry-zilim.”
Kei ignored her. “How old are you, Minan?”
“Six. Go away.” The boy stepped back a little, his arm protectively around his brother.
Kei obeyed at once, standing up and moving away from Minan, who continued to watch him warily. “Arman...she has a point. We can’t allow the children to suffer.”
“Oh, gods, are you going to fall for this trick?” Arman said, looking at him in disgust. “These aren’t her brats—who’s the father? Mekus? I don’t think so. Where did you pick them up, Mayl?”
She slapped him, and he grabbed her fist, crushing it until she winced. Karik was as shocked by that as anything else—Arman had never been violent to a woman in his presence before. His uncle looked terrifying in his anger, forcing his former wife backwards. “That’s a habit I suggest you lose, woman,” he growled. “Assaulting a Ruler is a very serious crime in Darshian, though I suppose having plotted to murder a Prijian sovereign, you don’t rank it very highly.”
He let her go with an expression of profound distaste, and she backed away, rubbing her hand with a wounded look at Karik, as if she had expected his protection. The boys clung hard to her, and stared at him too, as he was somehow responsible for all this. But Arman ignored all three of them, turning to Tiko again. “Put this woman under arrest and keep her guarded. If the children don’t appear to be cared for, take them from her—can you arrange someone to check them over?”
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 9