Bearing Fruit: 14
Karik had wanted to go to the office as usual, until Arman and the others arrived. Romi put his foot down. “No way. Karik, you’re on special leave now if I have to tie you up.”
His lover gave a mildly irritated look, but didn’t object as much as Romi thought he might. “Do you spend all your waking hours thinking about me and ropes, captain?”
Romi put his arm around Karik’s waist and kissed his temple. “Only about half. The other half involves how I can get you to tie me up.”
“Sure it does. I don’t know why you think I’m upset. She meant nothing to me.”
“Perhaps not, but it’s still a shock. There will be things to sort out and I want you to concentrate on your brothers. I wonder what will happen to her body? No one in Kuprij will want it.”
“I was talking to Tije about her and he said that so far as Kuprij are concerned, she’s a non-person. No priest would hold a funeral, no graveyard would take her body. And since there doesn’t seem to be a soul other than the boys, and possibly my real father, who would mourn her...a funeral seems a waste of time.” Karik grimaced and pulled away from Romi’s grip. “Do you think I’m awful for not caring?”
“No. You hardly knew her and what you did know of her, wasn’t very attractive. I know people say you should always honour your parents...but some of them aren’t worthy of it.”
Karik nodded. “I feel so bad for Minan and Ry-chi. When they grow up, they’ll probably remember her as the mother they loved, and won’t understand why none of us feel that way.”
“Really not much to be done about that, love. So long as people don’t go out of their way to insult her memory, then the boys can hold onto their illusions.”
There was a knock at their door, and Romi opened it to find a young soldier, waiting politely. She saluted. “My lord Arman’s compliments, sir, and he asks if you could come across to the colonel’s office. Karik too.”
“Thank you, we’ll come over now.”
Karik straightened his shirt, and smoothed his braid a little. “This will be horrible,” he muttered.
Romi could only agree, and kept his hand on Karik’s back as they walked across the quadrangle.
Colonel Leke met them outside and shook Karik’s hand. “Sorry for your loss, son.”
“Thanks, but it’s not really a loss for me. Are they inside?”
“Yes. I think the mortuary has arranged things as you requested—they’ve tried to make it less medical for the boys.”
“That’s kind, thank you.”
He led them into his office, crowded with four adults and the boys. Romi was relieved to find the children were at least not hysterical, though tears were not far away. Karik crouched and put his arms out for a hug, which Ry-zilim accepted immediately. Minan was more reserved, almost wary.
“Minichi, what’s wrong?”
“Did you take mama away?”
“No, of course not. We don’t know what happened, Minan. Romi and the soldiers are trying to find out. But I didn’t hurt your mama, I swear. Won’t you give me a hug?”
“Yes.” He hung onto Karik rather fiercely then, and as Karik stood up, Minan came with him, carried in his arms. “Want to see Mama, Ka-chi.”
“I know. Ry-chi, would you like Kei to carry you?”
He nodded, and Kei picked him up. “Now, you know your mama won’t wake up, don’t you? She’s not asleep. She won’t hear you.”
“She’s dead.” Minan buried his face in Karik’s shoulder.
“Yes, Minichi, that’s right.”
Karik looked at Romi rather sadly, and then at Kei. “He knows what it means,” Kei said quietly. “Zexu explained it when Mekus died.”
“Good.”
It was a solemn procession down the verandah and to the back of the infirmary. The mortuary was used to store the bodies of soldiers who died, but also any citizens found dead or who were killed unexpectedly, so evidence could be collected and any crime investigated. It wasn’t the most cheerful place, but there was a small side chamber where mourning relatives could come and collect the deceased. It was here that Mayl’s body was laid out, decently covered with a clean sheet, flowers sitting on a side table to disguise the clinical air of the room. She had been found lying on her side, and she was still in that position. To the untrained, she might look almost as if she was asleep, but the stillness and pallor were the give away. Kei and Karik led the boys over to the trestle table, while everyone else stepped back respectfully.
Ry-zilim had to be held up to see. “Mama? Wake up, Mama, it’s me.”
“Ry-zilim, she’s dead. Mama can’t hear us.” That was Minan, being brave. “Kei-chi...why did she die?”
“I don’t know, son. We don’t know how it happened, but she didn’t suffer. You can see how peaceful she looks.”
Minan turned away and hid his face against Kei’s leg. “Don’t want to look any more.”
“Then let’s go outside. It’s all right. You can come back in later if you want to.”
Outside, Karik drew in a deep breath, his eyes wide with unexpressed emotion. Minan clung to Kei’s hand, staring at nothing, his face a mask of misery. Ry-zilim looked back at the door. “Why? Romi, why mama not waking up?”
“Because...maybe she got sick. We don’t really know.”
“Make her better?”
“No, Ry-chi, we can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Romi, fix it! Mama!”
Nothing they could do or say could convince Ry-zilim that his mother wasn’t just asleep and wouldn’t wake up if he called her. In the end, they had to take him back in and let him see, and it was Minan who convinced him. It broke all their hearts to see the older boy patiently, painfully explaining that Mama wouldn’t wake up and that she would have to go into a hole because she was dead. And once Ry-zilim finally understood, he was inconsolable, and was taken outside on the verandah to cry himself into exhaustion, rocked in Emia’s arms. Minan tried so hard not to cry, it hurt to watch him, but when Kei took him onto his lap, he wept too, huge hiccupping sobs of raw grief that made Romi’s eyes fill to hear them.
Once Minan had calmed down, more or less out of pure weariness, Kei transferred him gently to Tije. “Minichi, I’m just going to speak to some people. We won’t be far away. Hold him, Tije—I need to speak to Karik and to the medic here. Be good for Tije, Minan.”
Minan nodded sadly, eyes still brimming with tears, but with no obvious sign he was about to become upset again. Tije wiped his face, then held him in a practiced manner—the lad really had a good way with children. “Take as long as you need, Kei. We’ve got them.”
Kei kissed Minan’s forehead and said they would be back very soon, then the four of them crept away. “Come with me,” Kei whispered.
He wanted another look at Mayl’s body, but as the medic reported, there were no signs of violence or illness. There was lividity on her face where she lay on it, but to Romi’s eye, there was nothing that indicated an injury. Kei questioned the medic, and there was a brief discussion about whether an autopsy would yield any more information, as Kei had her body turned and he examined it closely. Karik and Arman turned away while that was happening—Romi hardly blamed them.
“I don’t think we’d learn anything, and to mutilate the body would distress the children,” Kei said finally. “But the cause of death is a mystery. A stroke or heart attack can’t be absolutely ruled out but is rather unlikely given her age.”
Karik turned. “Drugs?” he asked, looking rather pale.
“Possibly. If we knew why, we might learn how, but since there are no bruises or marks at all, I suspect she went willingly with whoever killed her. Whether they meant to kill her, I have no idea.”
Arman coughed. “Kei, I don’t think we’ll find those answers here.”
“No.” He drew the sheet back over Mayl’s body again, and thanked the medic. “May she learn a better way in the next life,” he murmured. “Karik, you’re in charge now. What do yo
u want to do about her and about them?”
“Can we get out of here?”
Karik gulped a bit as they went outside, behind the mortuary. “Sorry, I just.... I’ve seen lots of dead bodies, just not—”
“Your mother’s?” Kei said.
He glared at his uncle. “She wasn’t my pissing mother. Just....”
“It’s all right to be upset, Ka-chi,” Kei said, reaching for his nephew and pulling him into a firm embrace. “You don’t have to love someone to be upset when they die.”
“I’m not...I just...don’t know what to feel. It’s like...I feel cheated. But when she was alive, I despised her.”
“Give it time, son,” Arman said. “I’m sorry—this is my fault....” He shut up as Karik glared at him, and even Kei shook his head in reproach. “All right, I won’t say any more. Do you want a funeral arranged?”
“What would be the point? It’ll only upset the boys.”
“They might like to see the burial,” Kei said. “They saw Mekus’s and it helped them accept it. Ry-zilim didn’t really understand it, but he might this time. Romi? Arman? Arman, when your mother died, what did you do?”
“We had a funeral of course, and the interment. Uh....” He cleared his throat. “But I was older. Minan would understand—Ry-zilim might be rather frightened.”
“Karik, with your permission, I could, uh...ask Lady Nera to help with something. Gods, I don’t suppose there’s anyone who would attend, and we have to be careful not to offend the Prij....”
“Whatever you want, uncle,” Karik said, looking as if he was about to cry. Kei looked at Romi across his shoulder, then silently passed his nephew over to Romi’s care. “I’m all right.”
“Yes, you sound it. Let it go, love.”
He just held on, while Kei and Arman kept a discreet silence. Around them, the normal sound of barrack life went on—men and women shouting, weapons clanging, and urs beasts complaining about being put to work. A perfectly ordinary day, but one his lover—and two little boys—would never forget.
Finally, Karik lifted his head and looked over at his uncles with reddened eyes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be, Ka-chi,” Kei said kindly. “Does your Ma know?”
“I, uh, told her this morning. She said she was sorry for the boys and offered to help if she could. Not much else she could say, really.”
“No, I suppose not. I suppose we need to ask Lady Nera about those families now—you’ll need to meet them and decide, Karik.”
Karik freed himself from Romi’s arms, and Romi recognised the stubborn set to his lover’s jaw. “I don’t need to speak to Lady Nera. I want my brothers to grow up with my family. They are my family.”
“So...you’re going to look after them? Or is Jena...?” Kei frowned. “But I thought you said she was past all that.”
“She is. But you’re not. Kei—I want you to raise them with my help and Romi’s.”
Kei blinked. So did Arman. “Me? But...I’m forty-three.”
“Yes, but you don’t look it. Sure don’t act it. You said you would have taken me in an instant, if it wasn’t for...and that was because Arman thought I was Mekus’s boy. It’s all right, Arman,” he said, raising his hand to forestall the apology. “I understand now—really I do. Well, Kei, will you?”
“Me? But why?”
Arman put his arm around Kei’s waist, but though he was staring hard at his nephew, he kept his counsel for now.
Karik sighed. “Because you and Arman would make better fathers than me or Romi right now, and if anyone can fix the harm she’s done, you could.”
“But I’m forty-three,” Kei murmured. “And....”
“And?”
“I don’t deserve it,” he said, looking distressed. “You were the one I should have fought to keep. I gave that chance away.”
Karik’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh...Kei...no!”
“Kei, that’s rot,” Arman said firmly. “You made a decision to accommodate me and my stupidity, and it’s one we’ve both regretted many times, though I dare say Karik had the best of it. But you would have been a wonderful father to him—and if you want to take Minan and Ry-zilim on now, I’ll support you to the hilt.”
“But...you’re so busy. I’m so busy...Karik, how could we?”
“Well, I thought...Emia, or someone like her, could still help look after them, and Romi and I can too, and I’m sure Seiki and Mila would offer advice—Kei, there’s any number of people who would help, but they need a real Pa. Two real fathers,” he said, looking at Arman. “I can’t offer them that—and I don’t want to. I want two brothers, not two sons. I have a daughter and another child on the way. You two can raise them to be decent people, and that’s all anyone could ask.”
Arman frowned. “Nephew, I accept all that, but you’re rather disregarding our age. At least, my age.”
“You swim faster than me, and you still spar with Romi. Do you really want to pass this up—again?”
He flinched. “No. Kei, I really don’t.”
Kei looked at him, his expression anguished, before he turned back to Karik. “I...I don’t know what to say. I understand your wish, I just don’t see how it’s practical.”
“Think about it? The boys need somewhere to stay anyway, and the barracks is not really the place for that. Can they at least stay at your house for a few days?”
“Of course,” Kei said promptly. “They’re wonderful boys, and I already love them to bits...that’s not the issue.”
Romi rather thought it was the only thing that mattered, given all that had happened to these children. “It’s a good place to start,” he said. “Karik, let Kei decide without pressure. Right now, we need to take the boys somewhere they can rest and get used to this.”
“I should go with them—but you don’t need to come with me. I’ll want you around later though.”
“Are you sure?” Romi asked quietly. Karik seemed calmer but was still rather brittle. “I can find the team something to keep them occupied, and Colonel Leke won’t mind.”
“No, but I do. Please? I just want life to be as normal as possible.”
“Romi, we’ll make sure he’s all right,” Arman said. “I’d appreciate you continuing to liaise with the colonel for me and keeping me apprised of what’s happening. I have to go to the House at some point—I’d like to be able to give them some concrete answers.”
“Of course. Karik, we should clear out the quarters of the boys’ things. Leave the rest of it to me, love.”
He couldn’t prevent the shock to Karik’s system Mayl’s death had caused. He just hoped the shock Karik had given Kei and Arman wouldn’t, in the end, lead to disappointment for all of them.
Bearing Fruit: 15
Kei felt Karik’s instincts to keep things as normal as they could under highly abnormal circumstances, were sound. To that end, he warned Pira and Emia, through Seiki, not to fuss or behave in any particularly different way when they brought the boys home. Minan had become rather withdrawn, and refused to be separated even for a moment from his little brother. Kei left them with Emia and Karik, since the children were the most familiar with them, and he felt it would be good for Karik. Arman left to go to the House, and after a little consideration, took Tije too, so that their home was as quiet as they could make it, and as unexciting. What the boys needed, as much as comfort and care, was time and peace to accept the news. If Minan felt more secure with his brother, then that was where they would allow him to be.
Pira’s instincts were to fuss, naturally, but Kei persuaded her that the best thing she could do was to make the home as welcoming and normal as she could, though she could cook all the little treats she wanted as neither boy had much appetite, and might not do so for a while. Tempting them with tidbits would distract them and would probably be all they would manage today, at least.
Pira was just one of the many things he had to consider as he turned Karik’s surprising proposal over in his mind. Really—it was ut
terly impractical. Pira was sixty-nine, nearly seventy, and in no fit state to run after two small and active children—they already had to get someone in to do the heavier work, much to her chagrin, though everyone had soundly rejected the idea of her moving out of the house. This would be her home as long as she lived—and no plan for the children could depend on her leaving. Kei wouldn’t stand for that, nor would Arman.
He was surely too old. He would be in his dotage by the time the boys had grown up, and what they needed was a young fit person as a parent—someone like Karik and Romi, in fact. But even as he told himself that, he knew in his heart at least, he didn’t feel that old. As he sat in the garden, watching Karik and Emia with the boys, talking quietly to them and answering their questions about their mother, he felt such a pull towards them. Minan was so like Karik had been at six, and Ry-zilim was such a winning child. They would be a blessing to anyone who would take them, and the astonishing thing was that Mayl hadn’t seen it at all. Kei couldn’t understand how anyone could be immune to these two—he’d known far more obnoxious and trying children who might have repelled an unmaternal soul, but all Mayl’s sons had a sweetness about them Kei found irresistible.
All day he turned it over and over, while at the same time, trying to be there to help the children—and Karik too, for his nephew had taken this news rather more to heart than they might have expected. After lunch, when the boys had gone to lie down with Emia for a much-needed nap, and Pira went for her customary afternoon rest, Kei took Karik out into the garden again, and sat on his favourite bench. “Now, Ka-chi.”
Karik gave him a stricken look, and then buried his face in his hands. Kei pulled him into a hug and held him as he shook. “It’s all right, Karik. It’s all right,” he murmured, laying his cheek against Karik’s bright blond hair. He wondered if it would be all right. Ever since Mayl had turned up, he’d been afraid for his nephew, and worried this would unbalance him. Karik hadn’t needed this on top of the business with Soza, or on top of starting a new relationship and a new career.
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 17