Kei went still. “Soza?” he whispered. “Are you serious?”
“Completely. What I suspect happened is that he realised who Mayl was on the journey out, and arranged to have a watch kept on her until he could return. He or his agent must have managed to contact her at some point—it wouldn’t have been hard to slip notes and things to her, in the park or on the beach. And I wouldn’t be surprised if, when we investigate it some more, we find that the man who recruited the person who enticed Mayl off the beach was Soza, and that he provided the drug. Possibly the same drug he used on Karik.”
“And he messed it up—or his henchman did. If he used gerot, it’s easy to get the dose wrong, but he’s probably arrogant enough that he thought he couldn’t make a mistake. Arman, we can’t tell Karik. Does Romi know?”
“Yes. And he agrees—for now. None of it’s proven. We can tell him she died more or less accidentally, and the probable reason. We don’t have to say more.”
“No. If we can prove it was Soza, then we tell him. But there’s no need to bring all this up, especially not now.” Kei stopped his massage, and lay down beside Arman, who put his arm around him. “Do you think Mayl knew him? On the Welensi Islands?”
“No idea. It’s certainly ironic if she did.”
He raised his hand and stroked Kei’s cheek. “The best thing we can do for Karik is help him keep his new-found brothers close to him. They’re already precious and given his history, if they have to be sent outside his family, it will hurt him deeply. They’re his only blood. It makes a difference. You, me, we have blood kin. Now he has too.”
“I know all that. I just want it to be right.”
“My love...it doesn’t have to be perfect. That’s something I’ve realised after all these years, watching people raise their children, coming to understand how I was raised. All that matters is that it’s good enough and that there’s love behind it. The boys are resilient, and will have so many people who we can call on to help. What they need is a constant—up to now, that’s been Mayl. Karik could be that, but so could you.”
“Us.”
“Us. Together.”
Kei closed his eyes and nuzzled against Arman’s whiskery cheek. “So long as we’re together, we can do anything, you and me.”
“Quite. Fate doesn’t stand a chance against us.”
Bearing Fruit: 16
Since the Prij didn’t want her, and no one else had a preference, it was decided Mayl would be laid to rest in the Darshianese manner, at sundown. All day, her body had lain in the mortuary, flowers at her feet and head, a soldier respectfully on guard, and for two hours before they were due to leave, Karik had sat in vigil as a dutiful son would do. He felt very strange—he’d always imagined that the first time he’d do this would be for his Ma or his Pa. No one expected him to do it, or asked him to. He just felt...he should.
Romi had sat with him too, quietly comforting. People dropped by to pay brief, polite respects—Romi’s colonel, their team, other soldiers who were friends. No one knew what to say, and Karik couldn’t pretend he was bowed down by grief, but he was glad, in a strange way. He’d almost wondered if his biological mother would be tipped into her grave like so much waste. At least this was an acknowledgement she’d been a human being, however flawed.
Arman and Tije arrived ahead of Kei and the boys. Tije bowed respectfully, and murmured words Karik recognised as Prijian prayers for the dead—strictly speaking, they should not have been said over her, but he appreciated the gesture. Arman was impassive, staring down at her cold, pale face. Karik wondered what he was thinking, and if he was sad at all. Perhaps it was simply, as it was for Karik, a part of his history that had never really been dealt with.
Kei turned up a few minutes later, the boys brushed and clean, looking a little scared and carrying flowers. Minan held his brother’s hand tightly. Kei led them over to the body. “Minan, Ry-zilim, this is when you can say goodbye to your mama. You can take as long as you want. Or you can go outside if you want to.”
Minan looked up at Kei. “Will she hear, Kei-chi?”
“I believe somewhere she’s listening, dear.”
“Mama?” He reached out and touched the dead woman’s face, but pulled his hand back quickly. Karik guessed he’d been shocked by the feel of the body. He looked up at Kei, who nodded. “Goodbye, Mama. I’ll be a good boy.”
Karik’s filled with painful tears at the sound of the broken little voice, and would have swept his brother into a hug if Kei hadn’t beaten him to it. “Of course you will be. You are a good boy. The best boy. Both of you. Ry-zilim—do you want to say anything? You can touch her if you like.”
Ry-zilim shook his head and buried his face against Emia’s leg. Kei looked at Arman. “Then we should go.”
Romi stepped out to have the cart brought around, and when he came back in, he, Kei, Karik and Arman took the corners of the bier on which Mayl lay.
“Now, gentlemen,” Arman said, then they carried it out onto the verandah. To Karik’s surprise, there was a small honour guard, with Colonel Leke in charge.
The colonel snapped up straight. “Troops, attention! Salute!”
And so Mayl was taken to the cart like an honoured Darshianese, saluted and garlanded, and laid respectfully under a sheet in the back. Her sons, Kei, Tije and Emi followed behind in the calash while Arman and Romi drove the cart the quarter mile to one of the civic cemeteries. There was another surprise waiting for them—they weren’t to be the only mourners. Lords Peika and Meki, Lady Nera, Seiki, Neka and Jera—and the Prijian ambassador—were there, ready to join in the simple ceremony.
As oldest child, and, in theory, chief mourner, it would normally fall to Karik to speak, but he had felt unable to say anything that wouldn’t sound like rank hypocrisy. Arman might have done, but his uncle clearly felt it inappropriate to do so either. In the end, Lord Peika spoke, acting as nominal clan head. “My friends, we come to bid farewell to Mayl of Utuk, and to offer our condolences to her children, Karik, Minan and Ry-zilim, on their loss. At the end of each life, there is sorrow. Naturally we grieve for the person we have known and who has gone. But we know too that we shall return, reborn, cleansed and ready to greet those who we have loved and lost in other lives. So, I say to the spirit of Mayl, go in peace, find atonement for your sins, and may you find happiness in your new life. We shall watch over those you left behind, and care for them.”
Karik and Kei went to the edge of the grave in which Mayl’s body had been laid. “Boys, we have to go now,” Kei said. “If you want to say anything, we’ll wait.”
Minan stared into the grave for a few moments, tightly holding Kei’s hand, but he didn’t cry. Finally he heaved a sad sigh. “Bye, Mama,” he whispered, then tossed his flower into the grave. Ry-zilim imitated him, and said goodbye also, though Karik wondered if he understood.
As the gravediggers filled in the hole, Kei led the boys and everyone else a small distance away, under a tree. Little lamps were lit and passed around, since it was customary, as the grave was filled, to hold a light and think of the departed. Kei explained to the children that everyone was saying goodbye and wishing their mama luck in her new life. “Will we see her when she comes back?” Minan asked.
“You might, sweetheart, but you probably won’t know it’s her. But she’ll be there somewhere. You can always speak to her spirit.”
“Be a good boy,” he whispered. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”
Kei knelt. “You are a good boy, Minichi. Can I ask you a big, big favour? It’s very important.” Minan nodded. “Minan, Arman and I don’t have any little boys of our own, and we get very lonely sometimes. Do you think you and Ry-chi might like to live with us and be our little boys?”
Minan bit his lip. “Will Mama find us there?”
“She might do, darling, but people don’t usually know when their mamas come back, or it would get too confusing.” Minan nodded a little, but he was on the verge of tears again. “Will you come and l
ive with us? We’d like that very much.”
Arman came up and knelt also, next to Ry-zilim. “We would very much like you to be our little boys, Ry-chi, Minan.”
Minan looked at him suspiciously. Arman had mostly kept his distance from the children, because of Mayl, though they knew who he was. “You’re not my Papa.”
“No, I’m not, and I don’t want to take his place. I just want to look after you until you can look after yourself. Look after Ry-zilim too.”
Minan gnawed his lip again, looked at Kei and then up at Karik. “Ka-chi, is it a good thing?”
“Yes, Minichi, a very good thing. It’s what your mama would have wanted.” He hoped the child would never find out how much of a lie that was. He never wanted any child to know they’d been unwanted. “I think you should go with Arman and Kei-chi.”
“All right, I will.”
Kei hugged him, and Arman put his arms around Ry-zilim. “Thank you, Minichi. You’ve made me very happy.”
Lord Peika cleared his throat—it was getting dark, and it was time for them to leave. “Everyone, may I invite you all to offer your final farewell to Mayl’s spirit?”
Everyone stood, holding the lights, heads respectfully bowed. Karik still had no words to say in his heart to her. It might be wrong, but it was just how it was. The boys were sad, and he felt for them. That was as much as he could muster. Everything else was just incoherent emotion.
Romi brought smiles to the children’s faces by throwing a shower of fire sprites ahead of them, leading them gently away from the grave and their loss. He and Kei let them play with the little fireballs, chasing them about, while the other adults spoke politely to each other. Karik thanked everyone for coming, as did Arman. “Ambassador, I was surprised to see you.”
Tir Kamus bowed. “Ah, I’m not here in an official capacity, Tir Karik. I came to show respect to your good self and your honoured father. I am sorry for your loss, and for the boys.”
“Thank you. I know they’ll appreciate it when they’re older and understand.”
“Yes, of course. Ah...and I think His Serenity won’t mind me saying that her crimes die with her, and we hold no anger towards her children. If at any point, they wish to seek Prijian citizenship, their applications will be treated sympathetically.”
Karik could feel Arman’s surprise, even standing behind him. “That’s very kind, Tir Kamus. I’m sure my un...father, and uncle Kei, will raise them with a proper understanding of their heritage.”
“As is right and decent, of course. My lord, good night.”
They said goodnight to the others then took the two carriages back to Kei’s house. Normally when a Darshianese died, there was a meal for the mourners—often, in Karik’s experience, a time of laughter and joy and love. But nothing special had been arranged, because Kei wanted as little disruption to the children’s routine as possible. They simply sat down at the big table in the kitchen, Kei and Pira making the supper, Karik and Emia making sure the boys ate.
Ry-zilim was only a little quieter than usual, and probably mainly because Minan was so subdued. He had little appetite, and Kei gently dissuaded Pira from trying to coax him to eat. “I think maybe today, it’s all right,” he said. “Karik, perhaps you and Emia could put the boys to bed. Minichi? Say good night to everyone. That’s a good boy.”
He kissed his new son on the cheek, and hugged him, as did Arman, then Karik picked Minan up to take him to the bedroom. Emia carried Ry-zilim, but only after he’d got a kiss too, and a hug from Kei and Arman as well. The boys already accepted Kei as the natural voice of authority. It might take a while before they saw Arman that way but Karik thought they would settle in easily here. Much better for them than the barracks.
He helped Emia undress them. Minan took the tero stone from around his neck. “Here, Ka-chi. I looked after it for you.”
“Thank you.” He closed Minan’s hand around it. “I tell you what—you look after it some more, because I’m going to see if I can get a stone just for you and just for Ry-chi. Then we can have one each, and everyone will know you and I are brothers.”
Minan nodded, staring at the stone, and then up at him. “Are you going to live here too, Ka-chi?”
“No, Minichi, because there’s not enough room. But I visit here a lot, and I should see you at the barracks too. When you come for your jesig riding.”
Ry-zilim suddenly let out a squeal, then giggled. “Jesicks.”
Karik smiled. “Jesigs, yes, that’s what they sound like. Noisy creatures,” he said, tickling the boy a little. “Minichi, I’ll be around a lot. You’ll see me nearly every day, I hope.”
“You’ll come back?”
“Yes. I was here today, wasn’t I?” He closed his hand over the one holding the stone. “I promise to come back. But now you and Ry-chi have to have a big sleep. Are you tired?” He brushed his hand through Minan’s short curls.
“Mmmm. I feel sad, Ka-chi.”
“Yes, I know.” He put his arms around his brother. “It’s been a sad day for you. But it’ll get better. Goodnight.”
A hug and a kiss each, and another promise to return, and then he left them to get the rest they needed. But leaving was a lot harder than he thought it would be.
~~~~~~~~
“Poor little dears,” Pira said as Karik and the children left the room. “But I’m so glad you’ve decided to take them, Kei. I think they’re lucky little boys to have you as Pa.”
“And you as Ma,” Kei said, standing to kiss her cheek. “Just think—you won’t have to bully me any more because you’ll have them.”
Romi grinned as Pira smacked Kei’s hand. “I’m sure they’re much better behaved than you. Now, I’ll just clean up in here and then go to bed, I think.”
“Leave it, Pira,” Arman said. “We’ve got any number of willing bodies who can wash up. You get to bed—we’ll need our rest from now on.”
“Probably true. But I won’t be those boys’ Ma, your lordship. It’s bad enough this creature calls me that—I insist on grandma.”
Arman grinned at her as Kei pouted. “Quite right. Good night, dear.”
She accepted a kiss from him, and a bow from Tije, then went out. Romi and Tije took the rather broad hint Arman had delivered, and cleared up the supper mess. Karik came in shortly afterwards, looking rather sad and pale. Tije nodded at Romi. “Go on,” he said quietly.
Romi wiped his hands and went to Karik’s side. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. No, really. It’s just been a weird day. I feel tired more than anything. Arman, do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I do. I feel I ought to feel more—but I can’t. Except for the boys, of course. They were very brave today, I thought.”
“They were. Any decent parent would have been proud of them,” Kei said, picking up his tea.
“And now they have two,” Romi said. “Congratulations on becoming fathers.”
Arman grinned, but Kei looked thoughtful. “Romi—are you absolutely sure?”
“No. But that’s why it would be the wrong decision. You two are sure. And I’m already Romi-Pa—that’s enough.”
Kei chuckled. “I love that name. Arman, you’ll have to be Pa—they can’t say your name anyway, and somehow, I can’t see you enjoying being ‘Armichi’.”
“Gods forbid,” Arman said, wincing. “And you?”
“Oh, I’ll be Kei-chi. No need to confuse them, and I don’t want to be Papa like Mekus was. I want the adoption put through as quickly as possible.”
“Of course, and this time, I’ll get it registered in Utuk. There won’t be anyone to object.”
Karik bit his lip at that—Romi wondered if he remembered events seven years before, or if something else was bothering him. “I’ve decided.” Everyone looked at him. “I’m going to write to Cirin.”
“Ka-chi? Why?”
“Because...he deserves to know. And because the boys deserve an acknowledgement. I want to write to Zexu too, because he’
s been so good to them and he must be worried—he probably has no idea where they went. I’m sick of the truth being hidden from people. The boys can’t be raised in a lie, or in ignorance. Promise you’ll tell them the truth this time, Arman.”
Uncle and nephew stared at each other, until Arman laid his hand over his heart and made a little bow. “I swear it. But Karik—Cirin won’t thank you.”
“I really don’t care. He shouldn’t have slept with her if he couldn’t handle the consequences, and for all you know, he’d be pleased to know. He’d probably like to know what happened to her.”
Tije came over to the table, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Karik, if you would allow me to, I can arrange it with Father, handle it personally. It would be an honour to be of assistance.”
Karik stared up at his cousin in surprise. “Um...that would be great. Thank you, Tije. You must be horrified by all this—it’s not a pretty story.”
“No, it’s not. But today I got another two cousins who I think will be very fine men, my uncles have two new sons, and my cousin, two new brothers. I think that’s worth celebrating. My family will offer prayers at the temple for your happiness, Karik, uncle Arman, Kei.”
“Thank you, Tije,” Arman said, looking pleased, if rather surprised. “And in fact, I think we should drink to our sons, and to their brother. It’s the least we should do.”
So Arman broached their small store of Prijian wine, and solemn toasts were offered in the children’s name. “But this isn’t the Darshianese way to do things,” Kei said once glasses were emptied. “There should be a party. Noise, food, beer. Especially beer.”
“Kei, once Reis and the others find out, there’ll be a party, trust me,” Romi said. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if the barracks wanted to do something. Beer is guaranteed if they do.” Kei gave him a grin for that—the barracks’ brew was justly famous, and Kei was an enthusiast.
“That honour guard,” Karik said. “That was really nice of the colonel. I just hope he didn’t arrange it because he thought I was grief-stricken, because I’m not. I’m not glad she’s dead but I’m not sorry either.”
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 19