Arman drew in a breath in shock. “That must have been hard for you as a healer too.”
Kei nodded jerkily. “Yes, it was. Because I had failed too. And for a while, I too thought about death, only for a short while, but then I remembered Myka and my duty. But even knowing the pain I would cause with my suicide, the pain in my heart from losing the two of them, so close together, one so pointlessly.... It seemed, even for just that short while, a way—the only way—to end that agony. So, no, my lord, I don’t blame you for your reactions or what you did. I don’t accept it’s right to kill, but when the pain is so hard to bear...I know sometimes, you just do what you need to, to make it stop.” He lowered his eyes again. “If I’ve caused any offence....”
“No, you haven’t. But you know I have killed without the excuse of grief. I’m a soldier. Does that not sicken you?”
“No, because who am I to judge? If I’m not willing to kill with my own hands, but yet it’s necessary, then can I blame those who will, in my defence or in the defence of others, even my enemy?”
“So you don’t believe that boy at Darbin was evil either.”
Kei looked at him with weary eyes. “You know the answer to that, Sei Arman. If we had attacked Kuplik, if your home, your family, your loved ones were under threat, don’t tell me you wouldn’t look for a bomb or whatever weapon came to hand to fight back. You wouldn’t have it in you to stand and watch. Not you.”
Despite himself, Arman felt his eyes filling, remembering that day yet again. “It was such a cruel death, such an unnecessary death. He died in my arms, in pain, no dignity—how can I forgive, Kei? How can I stop hating a race who took my heart and crushed it?”
He found to his horror, that tears were coursing down his cheeks. What on earth was he doing, sitting here, weeping in front of his servant? His prisoner? He squeezed his eyes shut, and cursed himself for ever starting this stupid conversation. He heard Kei moving, and then a gentle touch on his hand. When he opened his eyes, Kei was kneeling before him, his hands pressed lightly over his own.
“Forgiveness does not mean forgetting, my lord,” he said in a quiet voice. “That boy took something away from you that he should not have. You took away something from him you should not have. Neither of you gained any comfort or benefit from killing. Blame...hate...fear, these bring nothing but harm to those carrying the emotions. I just...want you...to let your memories of your love be unclouded by your hate, and then your friend’s life will be a blessing once more instead of a burden. I want you to heal, Sei Arman, so you won’t be driven by your pain through your days like a beast. Your friend would wish this too.”
“I loved him. Truly, with all my heart and soul. I’m empty without him.”
“Yes,” Kei said gently, his grip a little firmer on Arman’s hands. “I know you are, my lord.”
Arman’s tears wouldn’t stop however much he willed it, but somehow he knew Kei wouldn’t use this weakness against him. He felt...only gentle concern...and no judgement. “Will it ever stop, this pain? Can I ever feel joy in life again?”
“Yes, you can, you will, my lord. I believe you’ve begun to find your path already, but you’re afraid to let go of your hate for fear of losing your love. You won’t, I promise you. Loke isn’t lost to you, and never will be.” Kei put his hand over Arman’s heart. “You carry him here, safe, loved...always.” The hand moved back to cover his own again. “My lord, won’t you let yourself rest, as you’ve allowed me to? Your hatred denies you peace and it’s what you need, more than anything.”
“I have no peace, there’s no rest. My friend’s dead. Loke....”
“Is still beloved, my lord. Still here to let you rest, if you will let him give it. Let go your hate, and let your love heal you.” Kei stood and moved behind him again. Once again, those gentle, clever fingers were on his neck. “Rest, Sei Arman. Be at peace.”
Blind with tears, he closed his eyes again, and let the soothing words drift over his head, Kei’s hands leeching away the renewed ache in his head and in his heart. A minute or two later, Kei touched his face, and when Arman opened his eyes, Kei looked at him kindly. “Go to bed, my lord.” His hand was taken and he let himself be led over to his bed, urged to lie down. “You need to sleep.”
He curled up on the bed and closed his eyes, feeling so very tired and needing an end to this pain. Something covered him and the glow of the lamps beyond his eyelids disappeared. He heard soft shuffling as if at a great distance, and then silence.
And then at last...at long last...blessed peace.
Chapter : Utuk 6
Kei had grown used to an unpleasant feeling of disorientation and spiking pain upon waking, but if he waited a moment or two, and moved slowly, he would be able to sit up. He waited, expecting to hear Arman call his name—but there was only silence. He sat up and looked around—to his surprise, the general was still on his bed, apparently asleep, the first time Kei had woken before him since he had come to his service.
He got up carefully, pleased his legs were steadier and the pain somewhat less, but regretting the headache which he had inflicted on himself the night before. He went to the bed, and yes, indeed, Arman was fast asleep, looking young and peaceful, even if his mouth was drawn down in a sad line. Kei didn’t begrudge the man his rest, even though helping him to it, and fighting his way through the incredible waves of pain and grief that had boiled off him so suddenly and so powerfully, had stretched Kei’s control to the limits, for which he was now paying.
He relieved himself and wondered what he should do—he couldn’t face going to the kitchens to ask for his breakfast, and didn’t trust the staff not to refuse him if he did. He wouldn’t wake Arman even if he dared. He needed to sit, though. He pulled up the low stool Arman used when he pulled on his boots, and set it next to the end of the bed. Then he sat leaning on the bedpost, watching over the man who had disrupted his life so thoroughly and who now dominated it and his thoughts.
He’d been wrong to think Arman had lanced the boil of his pain—all he had done was bury it under politeness and duty, before it had erupted in an emotional explosion with alarming suddenness and ferocity. It had taken all Kei’s understanding, all his control and skill to try to help this agonised soul. Had it worked? Kei fervently hoped so.
He was dozing against the bedpost when he heard a movement, and looked up to see Arman’s drowsy eyes looking back at him. “Kei,” Arman whispered.
“Are you well, my lord?”
Arman nodded, and then reached for his hand. Puzzled, Kei let him take it. “Thank you. I haven’t slept so well in months. I owe you a debt.”
“I’m glad, my lord. You needed the rest.”
Arman still held his hand, still seemed rather sleepy and sad, but where his pain had been sharp and agonising to sense the night before, it was now a deeper, dulled ache, more like a healing bruise than the slash of a knife. “I hadn’t realised how exhausted I’d become. You were right...I was no better than an animal, the way I was behaving.”
“You were in pain. There was a reason.”
Arman stiffened, and Kei felt his guilt spike a little. “I was in pain, but there was no reasoning. Today I feel like a man, with a man’s griefs still, but with a man’s strength and control. I...can see the events...that day...I can look at it honestly now, I think.”
“You need to, my lord. Your friend deserves that honesty, and it will give you the peace you seek.”
“Yes, it probably will. I’ll try hard to be honest with myself, and remember your help. Thank you, Kei-gidu.”
The honorific pleased Kei, but more than that, knowing indeed, Arman really was calmer, truly gratified him. “You’re welcome, my lord.”
Arman sat up, yawning, scratching his messy golden hair. At last he had woken up properly. “You know, you should really call me ‘Sei’ or ‘Sei Arman’,” he said in what was obviously an effort to change a painful subject. “Or just ‘Arman’ as Loke did. ‘My lord’ is the Lord Commander, who I de
cidedly am not. You can use my name, if you want.”
“Yes...Sei.” The word seemed awkward. “I suppose it’s because ‘my lord’ is the only title we use, and if I call you by your name, I might do so when it’s inappropriate and then people will talk.” As they already did, Kei thought darkly, thinking of the abusive terms flung at him, and the sniggering gossip of the kitchen maids. For such a prudish race, the Prij spent a lot of time talking about sex.
Arman sighed. “True, and if I’m honest, I don’t like ‘Sei’ either. Being reminded of my caste doesn’t bring me pleasure. Do as you wish. I don’t want to make you feel awkward.”
“Thank you...Arman,” Kei said, which earned him a smile. “Should I ask for breakfast?”
“No, let’s wait until a stiff breeze wouldn’t knock you over before you have to face Mykis and his lovely crew. How do you feel? You look tired. I’m sorry for inflicting that outburst on you last night. Please forgive me.”
He looked so young, so earnestly worried, it touched Kei. “Nothing to forgive, my lord...Arman. Seeing your pain made me sad, not angry or irritated...or disgusted,” he added deliberately. “I was glad to help, and would do so again. As for me, I feel better. I am tired, but not in a bad way. I shouldn’t try to learn a game like kezi from a master strategist while I’m not at my best.”
Arman smiled a little. “Karus is the best kezi player in Kuprij—I know, because I’ve played against generals and admirals and they’re nothing in ability compared to him. I can teach you more of the game if you like. It would please Karus to have someone other than me to play with. He knows all my tricks.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good.” He swung his legs out of the bed. “Let me order our food, and then we can go over there after we eat.”
Over breakfast, Arman told Kei how he’d first encountered Karus, and that led to a more general history of Arman’s childhood. He’d lost his mother in childbirth at the age of eight—a common tragedy for the Prij, who were more fertile than the Darshianese, but who lost more of their infants in childhood and more of their women in producing them.
Kei also learned, more from what was not said than what was, that there was no love lost between Arman and his senator father, although Arman was fond of his older brother who lived on a family estate to the north of Utuk and who would one day inherit his father’s senatorial status. Karus was very much a father substitute for Arman, and the pattern on which he had formed himself which, to Kei’s thinking, was a very good thing, but meant Arman would be faced sooner rather than later with the loss of another person close to his heart. Karus was frail—one day soon, Jena would not be there to treat the next cold, or help him if he fell, and Prij medicine offered no real treatment. It made Kei wish there was some way of letting Jena stay that didn’t mean cutting her off from her village—but there was not. When she returned home, Karus would have to get along without her. As would Arman when Kei left. He hoped, by then, Arman would really be healed. He’d made a good start.
It was much easier today. Before, Arman’s polite consideration had the brittleness of duty and pretense about it, and Kei had not been able to trust it. Today, he was much more at peace. His grief, his deep sadness was still there, but he had set aside a heavy and damaging burden of anger and hate upon his soul. It showed in every line of his body, everything he did or said. Kei could only feel glad for him.
Kei finished his breakfast, and sat sipping his pijo as Arman ate. He was coming to enjoy this strange, delicious drink made from beans imported from islands far to the south of Kuprij. The drink was warm and smooth on the tongue, and lit a pleasant fire in his belly. Something else he might actually miss when he returned home, although it wasn’t enough to keep him here when the war was over. Other things would, possibly, if he didn’t have the many ties he did. Of course, he assumed he would be welcome. That was unlikely. The Prij, even after twenty years, still ruled at a distance from the Darshianese, and never mixed with them. There were no others of their race in Utuk, Jena said, other than the hostages, and while intermarriages were not forbidden outright, there was such a strong social taboo on them, they never occurred. Sad. The two peoples could give a lot to each other, more than the crops, mineral wealth, labour and taxes that were all the Prij seemed to want from their subjects.
Arman called him back to himself. “Kei? You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”
“Sorry, my lord, just thinking about the Prij and Darshian.”
“Solving all our problems in that clever brain no doubt, Gidu.” Kei flushed a little at the compliment. “Forgive me, but there is something I need to ask. You told me of your parents’ death—but I understood you to be the son of the clan head, whom I spoke to in Albon.”
Arman wasn’t outright calling him a liar and Kei could sense no suspicion, but he hastened to explain anyway. “Fedor is my father by adoption and my uncle—my mother’s brother. It’s the custom of my clan for a senior family member to adopt orphans of their relatives, where the children are unmarried or under the age of majority. As I was above that age, I could have refused, but I was happy to let it happen. I honour him as my father and my uncle, and he’s been unfailingly kind to my sister and me. There is no distinction in our law between adopted and blood children. It’s a very common thing.”
“Hmmm. We allow adoption, but the children are never really considered of the same rank.” Kei heard him mutter something in Prijian, but couldn’t make it out what he was saying. “It sounds a close and supportive clan—but your father, your uncle, seemed so unmoved by being forced to lose you as a hostage. Are you all so stoic?”
Now Arman’s emotions were stirred, although why, Kei didn’t know. “We’re not stoic, far from it. But do you reveal your weakness to your enemy so easily?”
“I revealed it easily to my enemy last night.”
Arman stared at him intently, clearly waiting to see how he would respond. “I’m not your enemy,” Kei said in a low voice, wondering if he was betraying Darshian and all his kin, but not caring much. “I would never hold such a thing against you, any more than I would hold Karus’s cold, or a patient’s broken arm. If you’re afraid I’ll become too familiar with you because of it, don’t be.”
Arman nodded. “I know you wouldn’t. There is a grace about you...I hope your village appreciates you, and honours you for what you are when you return, because you’re a remarkable man. I’m grateful that chance, however unfortunate to you, gave me the opportunity to meet you.”
Now Kei really flushed with embarrassment. “Thank you, my lord...Arman.”
“It’s only my honest opinion on the subject, and you deserve my honesty after last night.” Arman held Kei’s gaze with his powerful, blue-eyed stare for a moment longer, and then his expression relaxed. “Now, let’s take you to Karus, and see if he can wear you out again. Oh, there’s a bit of news that should make you happy—it’s Her Serenity’s birthday at the end of next week, and she’s declared all the Darshianese can attend the festival in her honour. Senator Mekus is sending the notices out today. So, if seeing Jena made you so cheerful yesterday, you’ll probably faint with delight next week to see the rest of your friends.”
Kei grinned to himself. Arman unknowingly spoke the literal truth, and Kei reminded himself to work with Jena on his control before next week arrived. “I’ll be looking forward to it. Thank you, Arman.”
Another genuine smile. Careful, Sei Arman. Keep that up and it could become a habit that will be hard to break.
~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure you want to do this today?”
Kei tied off his braid—Arman was always surprised by the ease with which he managed that enormous rope of hair—and gave him a long-suffering look. “I’m fine. You’ve been more than kind but you know it will only cause more talk if I don’t get back to my regular duties soon.”
“I don’t care about the gossip of servants. I care about you being made ill again.”
“Fetching y
our breakfast won’t make me ill, and since gossip entertains Mykis’s staff so much, why not deny them their fun for a while longer?”
Arman shook his head, secretly pleased Kei’s spirits were high enough for him to argue with him, but not wanting to show it. “As you wish.”
“Thank you, Arman.” The quick smile, and the use of his name, also pleased Arman in a way he suspected was probably a little unwise.
“Just be careful,” he said gruffly.
“Yes, my lord,” Kei said with apparent respect, but his dark eyes were full of mischief as he left the room. When he looked that way, Arman’s heart felt a sharp pang of loss—it was so like the way Loke used to tease him. He never thought anyone would tease him again this way. He was still amazed it was one of the enemy who had. But Kei was not his enemy, not any more. He felt it to be so, knew it in his heart.
He should dress, but instead he sat waiting for Kei to return. It was ridiculous he should be afraid what might happen to his servant while simply getting a meal for him—but after what had happened to Kei, Arman couldn’t be complacent. Kei had barely begun to lose the fear that came into his eyes every time he left Arman’s rooms, and he had only just healed enough to return to duty. The bruises were still lurid, and he was still somewhat stiff and awkward on rising. Every time Arman saw Kei wince, he wanted to rip Mykis’s lungs out and serve them up as a sacrifice to Lord Quek—only the sea god would probably refuse them as being as tainted as their owner.
With pure relief, he saw Kei come back soon enough, bearing a food tray and with no sign he’d been attacked in any way. “What happened?”
“Nothing. There was only the cook, and she said nothing to me.” But the relief in Kei’s own voice told Arman he had not been anything like as sanguine as he’d pretended, and he cursed himself again for having let things get so bad.
Kei's Gift Page 22