“I wish I could go to Andon,” Tije said wistfully. “Father would never agree—it’s much too dangerous.”
“It is. But you have to make your own decisions. Like Arman did. I did too. My parents don’t like me travelling, but they’ve accepted my right to live my life.” Finally, he amended wryly to himself.
“It’s different for me. I’m the only heir. If I don’t take up my father’s seat in the senate, no one else will. We need good senators in Kuprij. If only the self-interested rule, then you end up with bad government.”
Tije kept surprising him with the maturity of his views, the seriousness with which he took his future responsibility. Karik admired it in him. “That’s true. But you have to want to do the job. If you hate it, then you won’t be good at it.”
“I don’t think I’ll hate it. I just...want to do some other things before I take up the position. Like Father did, or uncle Arman.”
“Then do it.” He turned so he could face the other man, and folded his arms. “Do what you love, even if it kills you. But do it well or it’s not worth doing. Be the best—whether it’s a senator or a stable manager.”
Tije looked rather startled at his passion, but then smiled. “You’ll make Jes a wonderful father, Karik. She’s a very lucky child.”
Karik smiled back. “Thanks. You’re not bad yourself—for a Prij.”
“Neither are you.”
Karik just snorted. “Come on, the longer we take, the more gossip those bastards will swap about us.”
Bearing Fruit: 10
Kei found Arman’s office already full of people by the time he arrived. No one looked particularly cheerful, but then the question of taking two small children away from their mother on a permanent basis wouldn’t make anyone jump for joy. Karik held Seiki’s hand, and their friend looked very solemn indeed. Arman had his severest expression on, and Lady Nera, usually so serene, seemed deeply upset. Tir Kamus clearly disapproved of the entire business.
“I take it things went poorly,” Kei said, coming in and sitting down in front of his lover’s desk.
“I think that’s a fair assessment.” Arman signalled to the attendant. “Close the door, please. We’re not to be disturbed under any circumstances.” The servant bowed, and left them alone. “Kei, Seiki’s only told us a little, but if you could start again, dear?”
Seiki cleared her throat. “As instructed by the Rulers, and with Neka’s consent, I can reveal to you what my Gift has shown me of Mayl’s thoughts. The gist of what she told you, Arman, is true—although it’s a far less romantic tale than she makes it appear.” Arman nodded—this was no surprise. “She pretty much despises all the people she’s slept with, including Mekus, Cirin, and the Welensi islander, Zexu—she sees them as fools who she has manipulated to help her get what she wanted. But Cirin is Karik’s and Minan’s father, and so far as she knows, Zexu is Ry-zilim’s.” She coughed. “Um...she...may not be entirely sure on that point.”
“I think we understand, dear,” Kei said gently. The ambassador and Lady Nera were utterly horrified. “Do you think we can remove the children safely?”
“Though I want them away from her as much as any of you,” Seiki said, “my honest opinion as a mother and a teacher of small children is that they’re simply too distressed for now. She’s got them quite worked up and frightened, and totally dependent on her. They miss Zexu, and even Mekus, and their home on the islands which is the only one either of them ever knew. They were happy there and it was only her selfishness which made her take them away. I’d say it’s a good thing they were raised there—from what I can see of the boys’ memories and thoughts, the islanders seem to have been very kind and given them what company they could. If they’d not had that, and Mayl’s servants hadn’t made a fuss of Minan while they lived in Utuk, the children would be much more damaged. We need to either teach her to be a better mother or get them away—but if we take them away, we need to make sure they can cope, and that they’ll have a very loving and understanding home to go to. Right now, they really wouldn’t bear the shock of being taken from her. Minan is in a dreadful state, very anxious and worried about everything. He really wants to protect Ry-zilim and Mayl.”
“Poor little fellow,” Lady Nera said. As a grandmother, she would feel particularly strongly about the fate of the children—but none of them were exactly indifferent. “Karik, as their brother, do you have an opinion? Are you willing to take custody of them in the long term?”
Karik clenched his fist. “In the long term, perhaps—but I don’t have anywhere to keep them, and...I’m about to go to Andon.” He appealed to Kei. “But I don’t want them sent away either. Can’t you do anything?”
“Seiki, if the boys were given education and entertainment, allowed to mix with other people, do you think they would settle down enough that we could remove them in a month or so?”
Tir Kamus shifted in his seat. “With respect, Master Kei, the state of Kuprij won’t consent to a delay of that order. She must be returned, and swiftly.”
“I understand your need for haste, ambassador,” Arman said, forestalling Kei’s less polite response. “But we haven’t yet had a formal reply from His Serenity, and the legal proceedings and so on will take at least a month to complete. We must complete things correctly—you understand that. She’s not being set free.”
“Seiki?” Kei prompted.
She sighed a little, clearly unhappy with the entire business. “I...think it would help. They’ll be upset, certainly. The main thing is to dissipate her influence, and give the boys a sense of a normal existence. The soldiers have been so kind to the boys, and that helps, but they need to get outside the barracks, play with other children, see that it’s not such a big scary world. The crèche and school at the academy, or even the one for the soldiers’ children down at the barracks would be ideal if they spoke more Darshianese. In the long term, we could try and get them to attend there.” She gave them a regretful smile. “I’d offer to take a more active part myself, but I can’t with Mila and Jes just now.”
“No, of course you can’t—they need all your attention.” Kei turned to his nephew. “How much of a role can you play, Karik? You could give them an anchor point, you and Romi.”
“So could you, Kei,” Karik said. “Better than me—what do I know about children?”
“Don’t be silly, Karik,” Seiki said, patting his hand. “You’re wonderful with Jes.”
“Jes isn’t a frightened, traumatised little boy who speaks no Darshianese and sees us as the enemy, Seiki,” Karik said bluntly. “Kei, you have to be involved. We all do, I think.”
Arman spoke up. “Then I propose this—Karik, you and Kei, together with Seiki and the barracks officers, work out some way that the children can be given some kind of decent daily life. I’m going to order that Mayl isn’t left alone with them at any time, and if she objects, she will simply have to be removed. Schooling will be looked into, but in the meantime....” He turned to his fellow Ruler. “Nera, we’ll need someone kind and strong-minded to stay with her. Someone who can make sure the boys are looked after.”
“I know several people who can do it,” Nera said.
“Good. Tir Kamus, you and I will continue the discussions. Nothing we have arranged today will interfere with those, I promise you.”
“The woman must stay under guard, Sei Arman. That will be insisted upon.”
Arman made a slight bow. “And readily agreed to. I don’t want her running loose either. Right, everyone—I suggest we meet at the barracks at four this afternoon, and we shall impose this regime upon Mayl. Karik, you and Kei do what you need to, Seiki, if you and Lady Nera would liaise. Thank you for your time.”
Karik gave Seiki a little hug. Arman came over and spoke to her quietly, before she and Lady Nera left to make arrangements. Karik joined Kei outside in the corridor after Arman indicated he wanted a private word with the ambassador. “I can’t be their Pa, Kei. I don’t know how.”
; Kei smiled reassuringly at his nephew. “All they need you to be is their brother. This is for you too, Karik. It’s going to be a very important relationship for all three of you. Have you got time to come back to my office?”
“I’ll have to make time, won’t I?” Kei glanced at him. “Well, damn it—I didn’t ask to be a father or a brother and this has been dumped on me just when Romi and I are starting this new project. I don’t wish the boys harm, but they’re complete strangers to me.”
They headed down the stairs, and Kei waited until they were outside and heading across the park towards the academy before he answered.
“I understand your resentment. It’s very hard to love in the abstract. If you honestly feel you can’t develop or don’t want to develop a fraternal relationship with Minan and Ry-zilim, no one will force you. But I think you should give it a chance because you might regret it later if you don’t.”
“I’ll try. But right now, the trip to Andon is more important to me than two brothers I’ve never met before. I guess that makes me a selfish little shit.”
“You’re just being honest, nephew.” Kei, sensing Karik’s feelings, was inclined to be generous in his assessment of Karik’s reaction, because he knew how troubled the lad was. “You’ve really had no time to adjust to this. Once you do, you can make a decision.”
Karik stopped, and looked at him in frustrated appeal. “I don’t want them just given to anyone. Ma’s already said if they haven’t got anywhere else, she’ll take them but...she and Pa have just got their lives sorted out after me leaving home. They’re really enjoying each other again, and their child-rearing years are behind them.”
And Reji was fifty—gods, when did everyone get so damn old? But Kei made himself smile reassuringly. “Something will be arranged. We don’t need to make that decision now. The first thing is pry them away from her gently.”
“They’re going to send her back, aren’t they?” Karik’s hands were clenched in fists again.
“Arman says...the most they can hope for is a commutation of sentence, but that would probably be hard labour in a mine or somewhere. Which would kill her more slowly than a noose, but just as surely.” Karik swallowed, looking as if he wanted to be sick. “I don’t believe in such things as you know perfectly well, but if there’s a war over this, many more people than her would die. We believe in reforming our criminals—the Prij believe in punishing them as a deterrent to others. It’s a philosophical difference that we will probably never overcome. Mayl’s the kind of criminal we simply don’t know what to do with. She’ll almost certainly never be a decent person, and if she was on the loose in Darshian, she would do more harm. Either she’s hanged, sent to the mines, or locked up on the prison island. Her fate was sealed when she tried to have Nivuman killed.”
“Why did she have to come back? Why did I have to even know what happened to her? I have hardly thought anything about her in seven years and didn’t want to know anything of her. It’s not fair she’s trying to make me care!”
Kei laid a hand on Karik’s trembling shoulder, and let some of his nephew’s pain come into him, easing it. “It’s not fair, not a bit of it,” he said quietly. “And what happens to her is none of your doing.”
“I just...don’t want to send my own mother back to be killed. Anyone’s mother!”
Kei concentrated, and though it hurt almost past endurance, he enveloped the anger and the grief, swallowing it into himself, holding tight onto Karik until he had brought his passion down to where his nephew wasn’t tearing himself apart with it. Then he pulled him into a hug and buried his face in Karik’s shoulder. “This is not your doing, Ka-chi. You have to let it go.”
“Why?” he whispered. “Why is this happening now?”
“No reason. Just life. You’re strong. Don’t let this bear you down. Just hold on. We won’t let you drown.” Or we’ll die trying.
~~~~~~~~
Romi watched the goings on at the married quarters impassively. Karik was unable to conceal his irritation with the entire business. “Look at her—she thinks she has a servant again,” he said, as the woman who called herself her mother, stalked back into the quarters, leaving Emia, the seventeen-year-old daughter of one of the senior officers, in charge of the children. “She’s actually pleased, Romi. She doesn’t even seem to understand it’s because she’s unfit—she doesn’t care.”
“More fool her,” Romi said, coming to stand close enough to Karik that their bodies touched, trying to offer comfort while maintaining a little discretion in the barracks. Seiki and Kei came back over to them. “Everything settled?”
“Oh yes,” Seiki said, pulling a face. “She’s delighted—she doesn’t have to care about them at all now Emia’s their nurse. But she’s insisting she has to be with the boys at all times—she’s smart enough to realise that if they get used to her not being around, it’ll make it easier to remove them. I suppose there’s the faintest hope she might learn something about parenting if she watches what we do, but it’s unlikely, really.”
“Never mind her,” Kei said kindly. “The children are all that matters right now. Karik, if you can spend an hour or so a day with them in the morning, I’ll come in the afternoon once I finish lectures, and Emia and the soldiers will make sure the boys get out and have some exercise. Arman and I could even take them swimming. Minan really ought to be learning his letters, but that’ll have to wait until things are less chaotic. Emia will start teaching them some Darshianese—you should do what you can too. The main thing is let them enjoy themselves.”
“At least someone will be,” Karik muttered.
“Don’t fret, darling,” Seiki said, kissing his cheek. “Kei, I really have to get home.”
“Of course.” Kei quickly embraced Karik. “Romi, he needs loving.”
“Yes, Master Kei,” Romi said with a straight face. Karik scowled at them both for their teasing and stalked off. Romi sighed. “Gods. Kei, are you sure Karik should be involved in this?”
“Yes. Because you don’t get second chances. I don’t want Karik to have regrets....” His voice trailed off, and then he coughed. “Just help him. We’ll take care of Mayl.”
Romi nodded, and Kei led Seiki off to where the Rulers’ carriage awaited them. This business tied up senior and important people as well as a lot of resources, and while he had no grudge against the children, he was absolutely certain all the conscience and distress over Mayl’s fate was completely unjustified. The pity of it was that her damn ship hadn’t sunk before it ever reached Darshek.
He found Karik in their office, irritably shuffling papers. “This is so stupid. Those boys don’t want me around. They don’t know me at all.”
“Yet. Karik, it took sixteen years, or so you told me, before you and Arman got over your issues. You can’t expect to bond with your brothers overnight.”
“Kei already has.” He looked up. “You can see it in his eyes. He already cares so much for them, and he doesn’t even know them. He’s the one with love and compassion in his heart for all—I only care about the people I know.”
Romi hitched his arse onto the desk and folded his arms. “Isn’t that true for everyone? Kei’s connected with the boys because of his love for you, it seems to me. He wants to help them because he sees you in them, and he doesn’t want you to make the mistake Arman made.”
“It wasn’t a pissing mistake—I was no kin to Arman so there’s no reason why he should have raised me instead of Pa and Ma. He only gave away what he never had in the first place. What he never wanted in the first place. Now I see her for what she is, no wonder he couldn’t wait to get rid of her leavings.”
Romi got off the desk, and went to his lover. Though Karik protested a little, Romi didn’t let him escape as he wrapped his arms tightly around him.
“Why is this pissing woman suddenly making you so damn hard on yourself? Mayl’s shortcomings aren’t yours in the least.”
“Aren’t they? Look at me—I can’t work up any
real concern for my own brothers other than not wanting them to suffer. I can’t make myself care about her, and yet I’m worrying more about her precious skin than Minan and Ry-zilim’s. My main concern is how this will affect our mission. I’m just like her—selfish and unkind. Even Kei thinks it.”
“Absolute rot. I’ve seen you with your daughter—you’re nothing like Mayl as a parent. So far the boys are just a problem. They’re not real. But I bet you anything you wouldn’t lock yourself in your room, lying on the bed, and just let the children amuse themselves for hours and hours. You’d help any child more than she’s doing with her own.”
Karik twisted around to face him. “But I don’t want this. It’s just a pissing nuisance!”
“Yes, it is. I don’t want it either, love, but neither do those boys, or Kei or Arman. We just have to deal with it—but no law says we can’t complain about it. It does not make you into her. I think she must have been dropped on the head a few too many times as a child—she’s just broken.”
“She is,” Karik said, rubbing his arms as if he was cold. “I cried when I was thrown out of Mekus’ house, thinking she wouldn’t know I’d gone. Later I guessed she’d known but hadn’t cared. I didn’t realise I’d just been a game, a way of dragging Arman into the dirt. I was her only child at that point. How could she? How could anyone?”
Romi kissed his forehead and wrapped his arms around him again, trying to impart warmth and love and comfort with his touch, but feeling rather inadequate. “Like I said, broken,” he murmured. “Are you done here for the evening?”
Karik looked at his desk, and sighed. “Another wasted day. I’m not earning my keep in the least. Anyone would think there was nothing in the world more important than my stupid domestic dramas, and yet our work’s essential. Look at the drugs we brought back from Andon already.”
“Oh, I agree. But we can do both. Fortunately we have a little space now to handle it, and once the team comes back, we’ll have other arrangements in place. So don’t feel guilty—this is important too.” Karik didn’t seem convinced, but Romi didn’t have any more words to offer. “Fancy a spar?”
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 13