Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  Arman was silent as he was carried up the street to the square. Everywhere people watched—but no one said a word, not even the children. It was eerie, seeing such big eyed curiosity, but not hearing a single “Ma? Who’s that?”

  The square was packed, of course. At the north end of it, the ten village elders and the clan head were seated. Arman’s chair was placed in front and to the side of the table that acted as a sort of barrier between judges and the crowd. Kei was told to sit in the chair placed next to Arman. He saw Tiko’s men forming a line between the villagers and the crowd—and, to his surprise, the Prijian soldiers were also there, sitting to one side. He didn’t think Arman would be pleased about that.

  The clan head, a grey-haired woman with a straight back and steely gaze, stood and spoke in a clear, authoritative tone. “People of Ai-Darbin, General Arman of the Prij has agreed to face an accusation by the clan. General Arman, please confirm you accept the authority of this clan court.”

  “I do so confirm,” Arman said, in the cold calm voice Kei remembered from his first encounter with the man.

  “Those who make the accusation, let them come forward and state it.”

  A middle-aged man and woman came out of the crowd, holding hands tightly. Their grief and anger were as powerful as it must have been the day their son died, but the man spoke calmly, clearly and loudly enough for all to hear. “I, Jik, accuse Arman of the Prij clan, of deliberately and unlawfully killing my son Timo in this square during the month of Harvest-tide.”

  “And I, Meri, also accuse Arman of the Prij clan, of this crime.”

  The clan head nodded. “Jik, Meri, step back. Arman of the Prij, do you deny this accusation?”

  “No, madam. I admit it.”

  For the very first time, there was a ripple of noise, of surprise, through the hundreds of waiting people. Kei put his hand on Arman’s arm, needing that stability as the waves of emotion hit him. “Do you offer any defence to this accusation at all?”

  “No, madam. I have no defence. I unlawfully and deliberately killed the boy Timo, if that was his name, during the month of Harvest-tide, as charged.”

  That the clan head had clearly been expecting nothing like this was an understatement. She made a hurried consultation with the elders. “Very well, did you have a reason for committing this act?”

  “Yes, madam. I was taking revenge for the death of my servant.”

  More shocked mutterings. Arman was trembling very slightly, although he appeared utterly composed. “Arman of the Prij, your people have different laws. Was this act lawful under your own system of justice?”

  “No, madam. The killing violated our usual practice and my own orders.”

  “Which were?”

  “That if any of our people were killed, ten villagers should die for each Prij death. If I had followed my orders, sixty of your people should have been put to the sword that day.”

  The clan head blanched, and the elders shifted in discomfort. “So you’re saying that according to your own rules, fewer died than might have?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Would you explain why you chose not to follow your orders that day?”

  “Because,” Arman said, his voice now catching a little, “I felt so enraged and grief-stricken that if I began to order executions, I would have slaughtered the whole village. I killed the one responsible for my servant’s death, and handed the matter over to my fellow general, instructing him not to order any more killings. In truth, I didn’t care about my orders at all, only about the death of Loke.”

  “I see.” More hurried consultation. “You lost six men, but you were avenging only one? Please explain why.”

  “Because Loke—” His hands clenched into painful looking fists on his thighs. “He had not quite reached his seventeenth birthday. He...was a childhood friend, my companion for eight years. His mother and he lived with my family for that time. His mother still does. He wasn’t a soldier, just my page. His death—”

  He stopped talking and bowed his head, swallowing back tears. Kei looked pleadingly at the panel of elders to allow him a break. The clan head signalled to someone in the crowd, and shortly afterwards a woman carrying a mug of water came towards Arman, looking rather terrified of him. Kei accepted the water from her, and came around in front of Arman.

  “Drink it,” he said in a low voice. “Regain your composure.”

  Arman accepted the mug with shaking hands and sipped from it twice, then handed it back. He straightened up. “I’m fine,” he said curtly. “Let me finish.”

  Kei took his seat again, but kept his hand on Arman, who continued in a firmer voice. “At the time I felt his death was unfair, since he was a non-combatant, and the use of a bomb...we don’t use such weapons in the army. But the soldiers knew they were risking death and were paid to do a job. It was less unexpected that they died.”

  One of the elders spoke this time. “You say, ‘at the time’, general. And now? You have changed your mind?”

  “Yes...I...I still grieve for him.... But his death is my fault, not anyone else’s.”

  “How so, general?” the clan head asked.

  “Because invading your village was a crime in itself, and Loke died as a result of that. The boy Timo was doing what I would have done, had our situation been reversed. The Prij should not even have been here for Loke to have been killed.”

  Now the shock came from the soldiers—of both sides. He wondered if any of them had ever heard an officer admit fault so publicly. He felt proud of Arman having the courage to do that, but his words would have consequences that might not be easy to predict.

  Arman was still worryingly pale, and Kei insisted he drank more water before they continued. He wondered where this would go now. No doubt the boy’s parents had expected the cold arrogant general they must have encountered that day, and were looking forward to venting their rage and grief on him. Arman’s calm admission of guilt on every point took that opportunity away from them, which might not be a good thing.

  It certainly confused the elders and the clan head. “Before we pronounce judgement, does any one wish to say anything, either for or against the accused, or about the victim?”

  Jik stepped forward and faced Arman. “Yes, Seya. I want to tell this man what losing our only child did to me and my wife. He used to work our fields, but now we have to ask other people for help. We come home, and his smiling face isn’t there. There is no one but ourselves to talk to now, no one to brighten our old age, and all we have now is our sorrow. That is what you have done, general. Did it make you happy?”

  Arman looked at him squarely. “No, it did not. I offer sincere regrets for my actions. They were wrong and criminal, and I apologise. I accept whatever punishment you choose to mete out for that crime.”

  “Pretty words,” Jik spat. “But where is my son for all that, you murdering Prij bastard!”

  “Jik, that’s enough,” the clan head said sharply. “Anyone else?”

  No one else wanted to speak, and the clan head looked ready to call an end to the court. Kei got to his feet. “Seya, with your permission?”

  She frowned at Kei. “Yes?”

  “Seya, I am Kei of Ai-Albon, healer, and one of the hostages as some of you may know.” He saw some of the people nod, and felt their curious sympathy. “I don’t wish to speak for General Arman—but no one is speaking for the boy Loke, who was wrongfully killed as much as Timo was.”

  “Are you calling my boy a murderer?” Jik shouted, trying to push forward but Tiko and the other soldiers blocked his path.

  Kei turned in his direction. “Jik, had anyone been harmed in the village when Timo threw the bomb?”

  “No! But there were hundreds of soldiers—”

  “Yes, I know. But was Timo under personal threat?”

  “Of course! The Prij...they walked in, took over—”

  Seya held her hand up. “What’s your point, Kei? Timo isn’t on trial, General Arman is.”

&
nbsp; “Yes, I know. I’m just saying that Jik and Meri have exercised their right to accuse him over the death of their son. He’s not accused them over the death of his friend, so I will. I accuse them of aiding and abetting a deliberate and unlawful killing through inadequate control and education of their son.”

  The reaction was all Kei could have predicted, people shouting, Jik’s face becoming red with fury. Tiko had to struggle, with the assistance of some of the cooler heads of the clan, to keep order. “What in hells are you doing?” Arman asked furiously, tugging at Kei’s sleeve to try and make him sit. “You have no right—”

  “I do. I want justice for Loke, even if you won’t argue for it.”

  But Arman wouldn’t accept it. “Clan head! Madam! I demand you have him withdraw that accusation!”

  The clan head ignored Arman until calm—of a kind—was restored. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works, general. An accusation has been made. Jik, Meri, step forward.”

  “Are you joking, Seya? This damn healer, he’s crawling up this general’s arse for some favour or other—how can we trust him?”

  Kei couldn’t help flushing at this slur. “So, it’s all right for you to exercise your lawful rights because it’s someone you love, but I can’t do so on behalf of a boy for whom no one else will speak? A child beloved by both mother and friends, who now grieve for him?” He turned back to Seya. “I’m a soul-toucher. Ever since I first encountered the general, the most marked feature about him was the pain he bore over the loss of this child, his dearest friend. It made him cruel, unthinking and fuelled a bitter loathing of our kind. I would be the first to admit he terrified me—he terrified all the hostages because of that hatred. I honestly believe, both as a healer and as a soul-toucher, General Arman was not fully in control of his mind for many weeks after that. Even now, he’s depressed, and suffers nightmares and a sorrow easily as deep as that of Timo’s parents. Do you not have a mind-speaker here who could verify that?”

  “Kei, please shut up,” Arman muttered.

  But Seya held up her hand. “General, will you allow a mind-speaker to do this?”

  “No!” he shouted, his hands gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles.

  “Then you say Kei is lying?”

  “No...please, just—” He bowed his head. “Kei wants someone to speak for Loke. I’ll do so. He was a child without any fault of temper or arrogance, kind and thoughtful, devoted to me and to his mother, a bright, joyful, loyal and utterly beloved soul. I loved him as tenderly as a brother and to the day I die, I will mourn him, as will his mother.” He turned a little to look directly at the crowd. “I would beg you, if you curse our race, to exempt him from that because he doesn’t deserve it. He wished no Darshianese harm, and never harmed another person in his life. I claim responsibility for his death. I was the one at fault. I make and support no accusation. I don’t want his name bandied about in this manner either,” he added, glaring up at Kei.

  Kei was sorry to add to Arman’s pain, but this was too important to drop. “Seya, Timo killed to protect what he loved. Arman killed because what he loved had been torn brutally from him. To call it a deliberate act is to ignore the circumstances.”

  She held up her hand. “Very well, all the speakers’ words will be considered. General Arman, please wait while we confer. You can be taken inside if you want?” Arman shook his head. “Kei, please attend to your patient. Everyone else, restrain yourselves. I won’t allow this to be turned into a free for all.”

  Kei crouched at Arman’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice. Arman was shaking and pale, and in some physical pain. “Let me have you taken back to the house—they can bring their judgement to you there.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have spoken. You’ve made things worse.” Arman looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. “Why invite those people’s hate?”

  “Why let them portray their child as a helpless victim? Someone let him get his hands on a mining explosive. Someone didn’t tell him it was wrong to kill. The boy, so I heard, was Loke’s age. Old enough to know his act would bring consequences on his head, young enough that someone should have made sure he wasn’t running loose that day. He and whoever had charge of him were irresponsible enough not to care who his bomb killed or maimed—what about those soldiers? Weren’t any of them married? Did they have children? It wasn’t just those six, was it? It’s like the Ai-Vinri hostages—the effects of their deaths ripple outwards. If Timo’s parents didn’t tell him that, didn’t stop him or try to stop him, then they are partly responsible for his actions and his death.”

  “Would you fight so hard for anyone, healer?”

  “Yes. Without hesitation. It’s not because I’ve crawled up anyone’s arse,” he added with a scowl.

  “Ignore that. It means nothing when they know nothing.” He still gripped his chair as if he was afraid he would fly out of it. Kei put his hand over Arman’s right one. “Gods, what are they doing? I admitted the charge. Why don’t they get on with it?”

  “I don’t know, but your hands are cold.” He stood and turned to the crowd. “Will someone please bring me something hot to drink and another shawl?” Arman was still dressed in the nightgown, with his heavy cloak concealing it—he should have been warm enough, but stress added to the effect of the weather. “Please?”

  At first, there was no movement, but then he saw Reji’s mother moving away, hopefully in search of something warming. He crouched again and held Arman’s hands, feeling worried about him and what this all was doing to him. Arman stared down at his lap the whole time, and refused to acknowledge his presence.

  “Healer, here, take this.” It wasn’t Reji’s mother, but Tiko, holding out a steaming mug of tea. Kei thanked him and made Arman hold it and sip from it. Only when he was satisfied at least some of the liquid was inside him, did he stand again and draw Tiko off a little away so he could speak privately.

  “Are you going to be able to keep control?” he murmured, looking at the people massed in front of him. The emotions he felt were a confusing mixture of anger and puzzlement, and even still some curiosity for the Prijian general slumped in the chair. There wasn’t, to his relief, the degree of mindless fury he’d expected—only Jik and one or two others who may have been relatives, were still that angry. The rest seemed to be considering all they’d heard.

  “If you don’t pull a trick like that again, we might,” Tiko said tartly. “Have you lost your mind, provoking people like that?”

  “It needed saying.”

  “Yes, but now?”

  “When else? Tiko, listen. Arman says now he’ll cooperate with the Rulers, subject to some assurances, but he can’t think of a way to rescue our people. It’s just....” Kei lowered his voice. “He doesn’t know...you know...and it might make a difference if he did. Can you ask them what to do?”

  Tiko’s frown lifted. “He did? Of course I’ll ask them. This is good news, Kei.”

  “I hope so. He really wants to help. I swear that.”

  “Yes, I think he does. You know, his men aren’t happy with him saying the Prijian invasion was wrong.”

  “No. But it still was wrong. He’s just accepting the truth. Look, they’re back.”

  Tiko moved back to his position. Kei sat down again, and took the mug out of Arman’s unresisting hands as the elders filed into their seats and Seya stood. “General Arman of the Prij, will you hear our decision?”

  “Yes, I will,” Arman said quietly.

  “You’ve been accused of deliberate and unlawful killing. We find that accusation is not proven.” Kei heard the crowd, as one man, draw breath to shout a protest at this astonishing finding but Seya held up her hand. “The charge was that it was deliberate—in our usage, that means cold-blooded or premeditated. After hearing the evidence, we find you did not kill the boy Timo with a clear mind, or cold-bloodedly. However, the killing was unlawful, both under your laws and our own. We therefore impose six months’ labour upon y
ou, to be undertaken in this village by the command of the elders, to compensate the village for the loss of Timo. However, you also have the right to demand compensation on behalf of the boy Loke’s mother, because we judge he was also unlawfully killed. Do you wish to do so?”

  He shook his head. “She’s well-provided for, and nothing will bring her child back. I accept your punishment, but I’m unable to carry it out at the moment, as you know.”

  “Yes, I know, and you are not held liable for that inability. However, it stands until such time as you choose to return to serve it. Jik, Meri, you have been accused of aiding and abetting deliberate and unlawful killing. That accusation is not proven. But you are judged guilty of aiding and abetting unlawful killing by reason of your inadequate control of your son, and for that, you are severely censured. Since no compensation is demanded, that issue is closed. No one is now to carry forward grudges, blame or accusations, nor to seek further retribution over this—this matter is now over. I have spoken. General, you have our thanks for agreeing to this proceeding. We are all aware this was entirely voluntary on your part.”

  “You have...my thanks...madam. I....” His voice faded as he swayed a little and turned pale again.

  Alarmed, Kei stood and put his arm around Arman’s shoulders to help him sit up. “Please, end this, Seya,” he begged. “He’s had enough.”

  “Yes, agreed. Felik, Rei, make sure he’s cared for until he’s fit to leave.”

  Felik signalled and men came over to help carry Arman back to Rei’s house. Tiko grabbed Kei’s arm. “What in hells is wrong with him?”

  “Just strain and lack of sleep, I think. Just keep everyone away—they’ve had their pound of beans from him,” Kei said bitterly. And please, let this be an end to this, finally.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Arman didn’t remember much about being brought back to the house, as he’d suddenly felt so dizzy it was all he could do not to pass out. He found himself being lowered onto a bed, and Kei’s worried face hovering over him. He grabbed at the front of Kei’s shirt. “We...have to leave now?”