There was a slight flush on Tije’s cheeks, but Kei sensed it was from passion, not embarrassment. “I think she should be brought to face justice. If she’s escaped, she should be pursued and brought to Utuk to face her sentence.”
“And her boys?”
“Should a criminal escape punishment because they have children, Kei? Should we treat women less severely than men because of their fecundity?”
Kei almost grinned at Tije sounding so much like his uncle. “No, I think not because of that. But then I see justice being less about retribution than healing. Say...for example, you saw a man take a sword out, and kill a boy of Keiji’s age, in cold blood, in front of his parents. What would be the punishment under Prijian law?”
Tije was firm. “He should be hanged. Murder is wrong.”
“So it is, not arguing with you. Now, let’s change the circumstances. The man was provoked, say. Perhaps...the boy had done something terrible to him, or caused great pain—would that make a difference?”
“No. Though...perhaps he might be sent to the mines instead.”
Kei lifted an eyebrow. “Still hardly merciful.”
“A life was taken, and it was not self-defence or lawful. It’s murder.”
Kei nodded. “Under your law, certainly. Does it matter if the man was a good man, and otherwise not a criminal?”
Tije’s jaw was set firm. So like Arman in some ways. “We judge the act. Society must not allow a murder to go unpunished.”
“So...if the man was a healer, say—and if he lived, he would save other lives if he was spared? Say it was me.”
For the first time, Tije’s certainty was shaken. “I...would say you...he should have thought about it before he killed someone.”
“Ah. So if the murder was in hot blood, an act of passion, that would make a difference.”
The brief wobble in his certitude disappeared. “A man who carries a sword should at all times act reasonably, knowing that losing his temper could lead to death. So no.”
“So...by your lights, Arman shouldn’t be a Ruler, he should be dead. Because,” Kei continued as Tije stared at him in shock, “during the war, he killed a boy, younger than Keiji and in exactly the circumstances I described—he took revenge in hot blood for the death of his dearest friend, but it wasn’t self-defence, and according to him, not even lawful under the Prijian rules of engagement, though I doubt Her Serenity would have done anything about it. Under Darshian law, he had to face a clan court, where he was judged and sentenced to six months’ service at the direction of the clan. But if he’d been convicted in Utuk, he’d have been dead twenty-three years now. You don’t think that in those twenty-three years, that at least a few people would not have been very glad he had not been hanged?”
He poured out the tea while Tije looked at him, bewildered. “You see, Tije? That’s the problem with absolutes. It’s the problem when you don’t think of the harm you might do by imposing them. Arman’s crime was great—he would be the very first to tell you that. But it was judged that he had reason, that he wasn’t in control of himself, and that he wasn’t essentially evil, so he was given a chance to heal the village and himself, which he took up wholeheartedly. In the time since then, he’s worked hard to give back more than he took from Darshian. It’s not a perfect solution. The family never got over their loss, and no one could help them. No one could replace the boy he killed. No one could replace the boy who that boy killed. But there are other answers. Always. Death for a death means you end up with two corpses.”
“So you’d just let Mayl walk free,” Tije said indignantly.
Kei shook his head. “No, certainly not. But if Ai-Vinri taught you anything, surely it was that vengeance doesn’t heal, it only holds the wounds open. Fejsik is a wiser man than either of us—and he knows that if he’s to go to the next life in peace, he has to leave this one without hate. It’s difficult for your sovereign, because he might personally forgive, but he rules a society that cannot allow it. In the time and place we are in now, Mayl must be condemned to die. But you can already see the pain it’s causing two completely innocent children.”
“But you said she’s a terrible mother! A terrible person.”
“Yes, she is, sad to say. But still loved by two people who’ll suffer very badly when she doesn’t return. So when, Tije, you come to govern, and you come to make your laws, you should remember this—there are always consequences, always two sides. Your decision might be the same as it would be without considering those facts—but at least you won’t be acting in ignorance.”
Tije smiled rather ruefully, and picked up his mug again. “Do you never stop teaching, Kei-gidu?”
Kei shook his head, and smiled at his own foolishness. “Probably not. Sorry—I was using you to distract myself a little. I don’t know how we’re going to tell them she’s not coming back, or if they’d ever believe me. They’ve had so much sorrow in their short lives—it seems so unfair they should suffer this. I just want to hug them and take the pain away from them.”
“They’re such nice children, considering. Er...if Emia is staying, and they are, won’t it get crowded? Should I perhaps stay somewhere else?”
“Your uncle would never hear of it, lad. Always room for another,” he said, smiling to reassure him. “Your help with them is appreciated. The translation, if nothing else, is very handy. Drink your tea, and then tell me something cheerful.”
It was hours before Arman returned—nearly midnight in fact—but Tije refused to abandon him, and though Kei felt guilty for imposing, he was grateful for the company. When Arman arrived, he was haggard and grim, accepting tea and some buttered bread as the only supper he could stomach, then sitting down to eat and tell them what was happening. “Seiki and Neka haven’t heard a whisper from her, and unfortunately all the confusion and activity meant trying to locate anyone who might have had a hand in it was impossible. We’ll try at first light.”
“And the man and woman on the beach?”
“Disappeared. They were put up to it, Neka found out that much, but she couldn’t get names or a useful description. We’re searching for them but whoever was behind this, planned well.”
Kei stroked his lover’s hand—Arman looked so very fed-up. “Jok won’t be punished, will he? He never left his post and he was practically sitting on top of her—there was no reason to presume there would be such a trick played.”
Arman sighed. “Actually, there was, and he’ll have to be spoken to, but it was an easy mistake to make, though we’d been expecting something like this.”
“Huh?”
Arman sipped his tea, the lines around his eyes showing his exhaustion. “There was a suspicion that someone—perhaps not officially—might decide to ensure Mayl was returned to Utuk.”
“You think the Prij are behind this?”
“I really have no idea, Kei. No one would admit it if they were, and I’m sure Tir Kamus will not be pleased by this turn of events.” He glanced at his nephew. “Tije, your word of honour not to discuss any of this—you’re hearing this under privilege, you know that.”
“Yes, uncle, I understand. What I learn here, stays here.”
“Good lad. Kei, I need to get to bed. I haven’t the energy for a bath, I’m sorry.”
Kei leaned over and kissed his lover’s forehead. “We’ll endure. Tije, good night—and thanks again.”
“Thank you—and I’ll think about all we talked about.”
“You do that.”
Arman looked at him with weary curiosity as Tije left. “What were you talking to him about?”
“Crime, punishment, and the need for mercy.” Kei leaned his forehead against Arman’s. “Gods, I’m glad to see you.”
“Mutual. The boys?” Arman asked as he wrapped his arms around him.
“Very anxious and frightened, but trying to be brave. Such good children, Arman. We have to make sure they don’t suffer too much from this.”
Arman grunted. “If you ask me, her disappearing is
the best thing for them, though it causes me some headaches. Come on, if you don’t want to have to carry me. We’ll have to deal with this all over again in the morning.”
“We’re not doing it on our own. That helps.”
“Yes it does.” Arman kissed him. “Come to bed and take this away from me, my love.”
And Kei did so gladly.
Bearing Fruit: 13
Arman normally woke in an instant, but this morning, he struggled to fight his way out of the fog, his body leaden and uncooperative, like he was sickening for something. Which would be all I bloody well need, he thought tiredly, before realising that what had woken him was Kei speaking to someone at their bedroom door.
As he opened his eyes, Kei came over to the bed. “Arman, Tije says there’s a soldier at the front door.”
He sat up and Kei handed him his robe. “Could you ask Tije to keep the boys and Emia at the back of the house?”
“Of course.”
As Kei went back and spoke quietly to his nephew, Arman dressed quickly and put on his slippers. Meeting someone like this was disgraceful but from the light through the windows, it wasn’t long after dawn. He didn’t sleep in his Ruler’s robes, after all.
It was a solemn-faced lieutenant, saluting smartly. “Good morning, my lord. I regret to report that we’ve found the woman, Mayl. Deceased. Her body was concealed in an abandoned cart by the docks.”
It wasn’t a surprise, not really, but it still was a jolt, even after all the times he’d wished her to drop dead. “Violence?”
“No sign of it, my lord. No sign at all really of how she died, except she’s been dead for some time. Possibly more than twelve hours, so our healer says.”
Kei would need to examine the body—gods, the boys. “Thank you, lieutenant. My compliments to Colonel Leke, please, and ask him to have the body kept somewhere discreet, and under guard—it’s at the barracks?”
“Yes, sir. The colonel presumed you would want to see it.”
Hardly. “I’ll be down there this morning, but we have her children here and they come first.”
The lieutenant saluted. “Yes, my lord. The colonel said if there’s anything we can do for the boys, to let him know. We’re all worried about them.”
“That’s kind, thank you, and I’m sure we will call on you. Have Karik and captain Romi been informed?”
“Yes, my lord. They’ve viewed the body, and made the formal identification. Karik said he would wait for your instructions before coming here.”
“I’ll speak to him. Thank you.”
Arman turned as the lieutenant went back down the path, and found Kei behind him. “You heard?”
Kei nodded. “Murdered?”
“Almost certainly. When do we tell the children?”
“Soon—we have to. They’re both crying for her now and it would be cruel to raise hopes.”
“Do you want me there?”
“I think so. At least at first. I’ll need to find out if her body is viewable, but if it is, then I think we should take them down there this morning.”
“I leave it in your hands, Kei. Let’s get dressed properly though—I can’t face these crises in my nightgown.”
Once more suitably attired, he asked Kei to have Emia bring the boys into the sitting room, with Tije. The children looked exhausted and miserable, and a little frightened too. “Is Mama here yet?” Minan asked, rubbing his eyes, holding onto his brother’s hand.
“No, son, I’m sorry. Come and sit on the couch with Kei and Emia. We have something to tell you.”
He sat on the floor in front of them, knowing it was very easy for someone of his size to look threatening. Kei took Minan onto his lap, and looked into his eyes.
“Minichi, do you remember when your Papa died? Did you see him?”
“They put him in a hole, Kei-chi. He was all dead.”
“That’s right, because that’s what we do when someone dies. And you know he’s not coming back, don’t you?”
“Uh huh. Zexu ‘splained. He said people get borned, then they live, then they die and then more people get borned. Like a big circle,” he said, waving his hand in the air.
Thank the gods for a sensible man. Kei nodded. “Yes, that’s how it is. Everyone dies, and then they’re reborn in new lives as new people. Minan—the soldiers found your mama last night. I’m afraid she’s gone away.”
“Mama? Gone? Gone where? I want to see!”
“No, Minan,” he said gently, holding tightly onto the boy. “I mean—she’s dead. Like your father died.”
Minan’s eyes widened in horror. “M-mama? Dead? No! You’re lying! Mama!”
He fought Kei’s embrace and screamed. Ry-zilim, too young to understand the news itself, was affected by his brother’s reaction, and struggled and cried too, knowing something bad and happened and wanting his mother to come to him. Piteous childish cries rent the air, immune to all soothing, as Emia and Kei tried to calm the boys and stop them running off to look for their mother. Tije and Arman could only watch, ready to help if needed, but there really was nothing that would make this blow easier. Arman knew that personally, as indeed did Kei. They would both have spared these children this, but yet again fate hadn’t been kind to them.
~~~~~~~~
When the screaming had eased to weeping and pitiful calls for their mother, Emia and Kei cuddled the boys and let them wear out their sorrow. Arman nodded at Tije, who slipped out to tell Pira and fetch some tea, it being the universal panacea for all sorrow and strong emotion in Darshian.
Arman was surprised how quickly Minan, at least, calmed, and that had an effect on Ry-zilim. “Want to see Mama,” he said when Tije came back with the tray. “Want to see her now.”
“Then of course you shall,” Kei said, stroking his hair soothingly. “But first, I want you to drink your tea and we’ll wipe your face. Arman has to get the calash for us, don’t you?”
That was his cue to leave and deal with the official side of it all. “Give me half an hour. Minan?” He took the child’s hand. “You’re a very brave boy. We’re all very proud of you.”
Minan’s bottom lip wobbled, and fresh tears spilled down his tired little cheek. To his own surprise, Arman reached over and pulled him into a hug, which the boy returned with surprising force. “There, there. You’re a good boy and we’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
He held the lad until he quieted again, then handed him back to Kei. There wasn’t much they could do for the children right this minute. Arman remembered his own mother’s death and how inconsolable he’d been. At least these boys had a wealth of people to offer them comfort and help—all Arman had had were his brother and the servants. It hadn’t really been enough, and he wanted better for these innocents.
He went to the kitchen and told Pira what was happening, and asked Neka to allow him to report to the other Rulers, telling them he would come to the House that afternoon to discuss it all. Until they had more information, the question of how to put this to Utuk was undecided, but it could wait. He informed the academy that Kei was unavoidably detained and they should clear his schedule for at least the next three days, and then he spoke to Karik.
“Nephew, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just...shocked. No one knows how or why yet.”
“We’ll keep searching. We’re bringing the boys down—is she in a decent state to be seen by them?”
“Pretty much. She’s in the mortuary here—I’ll ask the attendant to lay her out as nicely as they can. I don’t think it’ll frighten them.”
“Good. We’ll be there soon.”
“Arman, I need to speak to you and Kei about what to do with the boys.”
“Yes. Once this business is done, we’ll come back here. We won’t be long.”
“Take your time. She won’t get any more dead.”
Arman was rather thoughtful after that. He really wasn’t sure how Karik would feel about this. He’d made his disgust at Mayl’s utter lack of
maternal feeling clear, but Karik had once, quite rightly, taken Arman himself to task for removing Karik as an infant from his mother’s care. Arman wasn’t sure if, in the future, Karik might not persuade himself that Mayl’s inadequacies were not partly due to Arman’s act. He was sure they weren’t, but the mind did strange things when it came to relationships.
“Is there anything I can do, Arman?” Pira, hands twisting in her apron, was looking worried.
“No—thank you, my dear, but I think you should prepare for guests for a few more days.”
“What will happen to the boys? Such a terrible thing to happen, and so young too.”
“They’ll be well-cared for. Lady Nera has several fine homes lined up, and any number of people who would love them and want them.”
“I suppose. Sad that young Karik can’t look after them, with them being his brothers and everything. Or you and Kei.”
“Me? My dear, I’m nearly fifty.”
“But so very good-looking with it,” an amused voice said from behind him.
Arman turned and gave Kei a slight smile. “Thank you. Are they ready to go?”
“Emia’s just cleaning them up—Tije’s helping.” Kei kissed his cheek, then went hunting for tea. “You know, we’re lucky to have her. It’ll ease the transition somewhat, though it’ll be a painful time. How’s Karik?”
“Bearing up. Still trying to accept it, I think. This has been a very trying time for him. For everyone.”
“Yes—but I’ve enjoyed it too. It’s been rewarding.”
Pira gave Arman a significant look at that, which Kei, pouring himself the last of the tea, missed. Arman didn’t need Pira to point out Kei would make a wonderful father to those boys, but at their age, it was surely impossible. Besides, Karik and Romi would also make wonderful fathers, and it was much more suitable that they took the children on, if they wished to.
But....
No. He was simply too old, and had had his chance. The boys deserved better than him, if not Kei. And all that mattered was what was best for them. So he made himself stop wishing for things that could not be, and turned his mind to the wretched business of disposing of his ex-wife’s affairs, and finding out who had put an end to her selfish life.
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 16