“Yes, I know. Kei’s already started pleading for her life. The irony does not escape either of us, I assure you.”
Meki shook his head. “Nor does it escape me. We have to send her back, yet we can’t send her back. Square that for me, because I can’t.”
“I was rather hoping you could do that for me,” Arman said with a wry smile. “This could destroy so much of the good work we’ve done with Kuprij. I thought I’d be presenting you with a triumphant report of the negotiations, the deals, the agreements, the good will—all truly impressive, if I say so myself. And this stupid, venal woman could wreck the lot, just by being here.”
“Yes, she could. What of the children? Are they Prijian?”
“One seems to be. I’ve yet to have any proof they’re hers.”
Meki tapped his pencil against the file in front of him. “If they are, would that be grounds to seek clemency from His Serenity?”
“Uh...actually, in former times, the children, even the grandchildren, would also be executed—expunging the line was a popular punishment.”
“Blessed gods!” Meki put his hand over his heart, and Arman winced a little, regretting that he’d put any stress on that always delicate organ. “Surely they wouldn’t?”
“Nivuman isn’t that bloodthirsty—though the law lies on the books, I assure you. But the answer is no—they don’t help. Nor should they. Her crime is one of the worst. People called me a traitor but I never sought the life of the sovereign, nor of any Prij.”
“No, quite.” Meki drummed his fingers as he considered it.
Arman sipped his tea, and wondered if it was wrong of him to hope Mayl had suffered a heart attack overnight. It would make things so much simpler.
“We need the others,” Meki said finally. “This requires more brains than the two of us can provide.”
But even the collective sharp minds of the other six Rulers—Peika joining in by Neka’s good graces—could not come up with a solution that would satisfy the demands of Darshianese ethics and Prijian law. Nera did point out that if the boys were indeed Mayl’s, then by law, Karik could claim guardianship over them if Mayl were forced to return to Kuprij. “No law, no agreement, would compel us to hand them over,” she said, and Arman agreed.
It did not, however, resolve the question of Mayl herself. Nera rightly raised the problem of the boys’ welfare—everyone agreed the barracks were no place for two small children. There was some sympathy with the idea that they should be removed from Mayl’s care. Arman was asked to investigate the situation further and to speak to the Prijian ambassador, thrusting the problem, albeit politely, at him, which he supposed was only fair—not only was he their resident Prijian expert, he was Mayl’s ex-husband. This entire mess had only come to Darshian because of him, and he accepted he was the one who needed to solve it.
The Prijian ambassador was invited to morning refreshments, ostensibly to meet a visiting senator’s son. Kei and Meki were both present as Tir Kamus was introduced to Tije, and offered his respects to Tije and his illustrious father. Then Kei discreetly led the lad away to meet the other Rulers and to be taken safely back to the academy. While Tije would one day be handling matters of this gravity, Arman very much doubted Tijus wanted his beloved son and heir involved in this murky business.
“We had many glowing reports of your visit to Utuk, my lord Sei Arman. Already invitations are coming in for you to return,” Kamus said with a smile. “Yet...am I right in suspecting my lord Meki’s presence indicates this was not purely a social call?”
The man was clever and worldly. Little got past him, which was what made him so good at his job. “No, sadly, Tir Kamus, it is not. Four days ago, an unknown Prijian woman arrived in Darshek. Lord Meki, suspecting her true identity, had her held under guard until my return. I have confirmed his suspicion—she’s Sei Mayl, my former wife, and wife of the late former senator Mekus.”
Kamus hissed in a breath. “The traitor? Here? Why?”
“Because her son—at least her first son—resides in Darshek.” Arman quickly recounted the distasteful business, emphasising Karik’s legal status and his own, to Kamus’s obvious disapproval, though of whom he most disapproved, it wasn’t clear. “The woman is trying to save herself by appealing to her son, and pleading the existence of the children.”
“She must be returned to face justice,” Kamus said, his expression severe. “The children, we would not claim—under our law, they have no status as Prijian citizens. Unless adopted by one of us in good standing, they are stateless.”
“They’re not, for they’ll be welcome here, regardless of parentage,” Meki said somewhat disapprovingly. “Tir Kamus, the Darshianese state forbids the death penalty under all circumstances. We can’t return her to you to be hanged.”
“My lord, under the terms of the extradition treaty co-signed by you three years ago, she must be sent back. Failure to do so will constitute a breach of that treaty and even be considered an act of war. She tried to kill our sovereign!”
Meki waved his hand to ask Kamus to calm down. “The heinousness of her crime isn’t in dispute, ambassador, nor is the right of the Prijian state to pursue wrong-doers across national borders. However, the laws of this land will not allow someone to be executed. We can’t allow someone to be executed as a result of an official act of this state either. Do you not recognise the dilemma?”
Kamus’ aristocratic features became severe. “I recognise it and dismiss it, my lord. She’s not your problem. Return her and we will deal with her.”
Arman felt it was time to intervene. “Tir Kamus, Darshianese law applies to all on our soil. Just as the Darshianese treated their prisoners of war according to their own ethics, so must Sei Mayl be treated.”
“But the treaty!”
“Yes, I know. However, there’s no need for haste here. She’s under guard and will remain so. His Serenity is a man of compassion and humanity. Can not enquiries be made to see if there’s any honourable compromise? At the very least, the welfare of the children should be investigated properly—if there are relatives who’d take them, they should be given an opportunity to do so, if that’s what is best for the boys.”
“I can make enquiries, my lord,” Kamus said stiffly, “but I very much doubt the situation regarding this traitor will change. His Serenity is a noble and compassionate man indeed, but she tried to kill him and drag our country into a civil war. Can there be a greater crime against a state?”
“No, Tir Kamus, there cannot. But please try to understand the basis of the Darshianese state depends on this very strongly held ethic—violating that would be even more serious than murdering one of the Rulers.”
“I’ll put that to His Serenity, my lord,” Kamus said with a bow. “I very much regret your return to Darshek has been marred by this business.”
“As do I. Thank you, Kamus, for your patience.”
And aren’t we all so very polite, Arman thought, while the fate of nations and a greedy, faithless woman hangs in the balance?
Meki remained as Kamus left. “They won’t budge,” he said. “How can they?”
“How can we? She’s canny, though—the children mean she can grab sympathy she doesn’t deserve.”
“Ah, yes. Arman, you’d better speak to her. We need a full and honest story about those boys, and why she’s here. If there are any mitigating circumstances, or anything which might cast doubt on her guilt—the smallest crumb—we need to hear it. Gods, why did we not think about this when we signed that treaty?”
Probably because no one dreamed someone of Mayl’s ilk would dare enter Darshian territory, Arman thought ruefully. He wished now he’d been more involved in the legal niceties, but he’d been set in charge of the diplomacy instead. “It was a failure, certainly, and one we’re all going to regret. But for now, would you care to join Kei and me for lunch with my nephew? The poor lad hasn’t had the best start to his stay in Darshek, and I’d like to make amends for that.”
~
~~~~~~~
Romi wished he’d taken Arman’s suggestion and kept Karik off work today. He’d known why his lover had wanted to be busy, but in reality, he’d done little more since they’d arrived at the barracks but stare into space and snap at anyone who came near him. Fortunately, their team was still on the course at the academy and would be for the next two weeks. He and Karik were supposed to be planning the next phase of training, in preparation for the trip to Andon in early spring. He himself had had plenty to get on with, and had tried to let Karik have privacy to deal with his thoughts, and frankly, to take it easy after having slept not a wink the night before. But he couldn’t help but hear every quiet sigh, and worry about the fact Karik looked like reheated urs shit and was eating his heart out, thinking about the woman and the children less than two hundred yards from where they were sitting.
Right now, Karik wasn’t even pretending to work, looking distractedly out the window and waiting. Every time someone came into or even just past their office, he jumped, then scowled as if defying anyone to comment on his edginess. There was nothing Romi could do—he just hoped Arman would hurry the hells up.
The door opened again, and again Karik started, but this time, it was justified since it was his uncle who appeared in the doorway. “Hello, Romi, Karik—any chance of some tea?”
As Arman came in and sat down, Romi called out the door for a soldier to bring tea for three. Then he came back and sat at his desk, looked at Karik’s uncle—Arman looked weary, but with life, not physically. “What did she say?”
“Mostly a load of rot and sentiment,” Arman said, grimacing. “Nothing that would induce a sensible person to reassess her guilt, though she’d have people believe she was the innocent victim of Mekus’ machinations. So far as I know, that lie was examined and rejected, quite correctly, at the time.”
“There wasn’t a trial though. She wasn’t examined in court,” Romi pointed out. Karik was saying nothing, for now.
“She and Mekus were tried in their absence, and the matter thoroughly examined. We can’t say they were treated unfairly in that regard. Nivuman took great care to ensure he was not accused of simply creating a vendetta against his predecessor’s consort’s family. Given that there was a claimant to the throne from Mekus’s line, he had to be scrupulous, and he was. She’s guilty, no doubt about it.”
Karik stirred. “Uh...Arman...did she say who my father was?”
Arman stared, completely taken aback. Romi groaned quietly—this wasn’t how this should have been raised. “Er...are you sure you want to talk about this here, nephew?”
“Why? Is he the gardener after all?” Karik’s pale features were now almost bloodless as he glared at his uncle. “Tell me the truth. I’m so sick of people hiding things from me! You never told me about the law suit, no one told me she was condemned to die—what else are you hiding from me, Arman?”
“Nothing, Karik. I don’t know the name of your father any more than you do. I...thought you would be happier assuming it was me. I apologise.”
There was a tap at the door. Romi rose to collect the tea, then closed the door again, locking it for privacy. His lover and his friend were staring at each other like defending thurls. He quietly poured tea, and handed the mugs to them. “Look—both of you, calm down. Karik, Arman was trying to spare you pain, and from what I can see, he did that while you needed it. Arman, Karik needs to know what you know now. He can handle it. He’s not a child, not by any means.”
“Agreed. But bear in mind Mayl is a liar. I have no proof, not yet, of what she says. She wouldn’t consent to a mind-speaker verifying things, though I can probably insist on that at some point.”
“Do you believe her?”
Arman took a sip of his tea, and took his time answering. “It sounds convincing. But she is a practiced liar, and utterly without conscience. However, this is what she told me, and I apologise in advance because it’s an unedifying tale. At first she tried to claim that Mekus was your and Minan’s father—I forced her to admit this was not the case. She still insists you really are full brothers, though she now says the father is the former senator Cirin.”
“Do I know that name...?” Karik asked slowly, looking to Romi for enlightenment.
“Senator Cirin—isn’t he the one who helped Mekus and Mayl escape Utuk?” There had been a lot of talk about it when Romi had been stationed on Kuplik.
“Yes, that’s the one. Cirin comes from a good family, and from what I know of him, is a decent kind of fellow. He’s younger than Mayl—and it seems she seduced him when he was but seventeen. She was carrying on an affair with him and with Mekus while married to me—who knows if that’s the limit of it?” Arman’s lip curled in distaste. “However, her tale is at least credible, if disgusting. She also admitted Mekus became suspicious after I pointed out the obvious anomaly that he had not managed to make her pregnant during their marriage, so perhaps you weren’t his son as he believed.”
Karik clenched his fist. “You mean...he also thought I was his son and he still sold me off? Didn’t anyone want me at all?”
Romi rose, dragged a chair close to his lover, and took him into his arms. “I want you, love,” he murmured, stroking Karik’s hair. “Many people want you.”
“I’m so very sorry, Karik. You know we love you. Those people...words can’t express my feelings, they truly can’t.” Arman looked as pale as Karik now. “But as I suspected, you are not Mekus’s son.”
“Tell me about Cirin.”
“Yes. Uh.” Arman cleared his throat, sipped his tea before continuing. Romi had rarely seen him so ill at ease. “Mayl...approached Cirin and recommenced their affair which had stopped some years before, and Minan was conceived, allaying Mekus’s suspicions. Unfortunately for Cirin, he seems to have truly loved Mayl, and when she and Mekus were discovered in their plotting, he got them onto a ship, and provided funds and contacts in the Welensi Island. Now this much I do know, for it was investigated in Utuk—he didn’t know the extent of their plans, for that was only uncovered later. He believed they were simply under threat from factions loyal to Nivuman and hostile to Mekus. For that reason, His Serenity spared him, and merely stripped him and his line of their senatorial rank. He could have been hanged, or worse, but it was accepted he was duped as much as anyone else had been.”
“So he’s just a pissing fool,” Karik said bitterly, his voice shaking. “Is he still alive? Does he even know I exist? What about Minan? And the other boy?”
“Slow down, nephew—”
“I’m not your nephew! Tije’s your nephew! I’m no damn kin to you or anyone! I’m...just...goods.”
Romi held him tight again, and let him muffle his sobs against his shoulder. Arman was the most distressed Romi had ever seen him, and looked like he needed a good hug too, but Romi only had one set of arms. “Shhh,” he whispered into Karik’s hair. “Don’t let her do this to you.”
“Listen to Romi, Karik, please—don’t let Mayl destroy the friendships and relations you’ve built up over so long. I know why you want to reject me—but please, don’t reject Kei or your mother and father. I beg you, ne...Karik. Please.”
Where’s Kei when we need him? Romi thought desperately, though this would have been tormenting for a soul-toucher. “Karik, come on. Pull yourself together. Look what you’re doing to Arman. Does he deserve this? Come on, love, don’t give in.”
Karik still shuddered a little. It should have been handled better, Romi thought bitterly. He should have insisted Karik stayed at Kei’s house and received this news there, then Arman would have someone with him too.
The shaking eased, then Karik pushed himself away almost angrily, wiping his eyes. “Gods,” he muttered. “I’m such a child.”
“You’re not, and I apologise,” Arman said with a stiff bow.
“No—I’m sorry, uncle,” Karik said, then rose quickly and went to Arman to give him a hug. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”
They embraced for some time, A
rman’s face hidden in Karik’s shoulder, and it was certain he hid more than his anguish. Now Romi knew why Arman had kept this secret for so long. It was all too painful to bear.
He moved a chair closer to Arman, and after a little while, Karik used it, though he still kept hold of his uncle’s hand—something that Arman seemed very grateful for.
“There’s one positive aspect of it,” he said finally, smiling tightly at his nephew. “You’ve sometimes said you wanted a brother—and now you do.”
“How many? I mean, what about Ry-zilim, and does my...I mean, Cirin have other children?”
“And are you absolutely sure the boys are really hers?” Romi added.
“I believe they are—the behaviour of the boys tends to support that. Minan’s birth should have been recorded in Utuk. Ry-zilim’s father is a Welensi islander Mayl had an affair with—you have to understand I am presenting my interpretation of what she told me. She dressed everything up in romantic language, making out she was this helpless victim of passion and so on. I simply don’t believe any of that,” Arman said, his mouth pressed into a deeply disapproving line. “I think she was trying to make a position on the islands for herself that didn’t depend on Mekus because he was unpopular, and they were losing what few friends they had among the expatriates. Mekus died six months ago, but Mayl and the boys were already living under this man’s protection—he’s some kind of tribal leader—until she persuaded someone on a trading ship to let her come to Darshek. Both boys think Mekus was their Pa, apparently, despite the evidence of Ry-zilim’s appearance.”
“What a revolting story,” Romi murmured. “So this Cirin might have Minan if asked? If we need to find a home for him?”
“I doubt it—and Karik, again I apologise for the pain it causes, but I doubt he’ll want you to contact him. For a start, I think he most likely believes Mekus is father to you and Minan, and for second, if he acknowledged either of you, he’d lose his wife and children. They’re all he has left, now he’s lost his rank. Though I don’t doubt he’d love you, if he knew you.”
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 11