“No, it’s not. Look, I’m just taking out his stitches. Why don’t you come in and watch?”
She nodded and followed Kei to the bedroom where Arman was trying to hastily prop himself up. “General, I’d like you to meet my sister. Myka, this is General Arman. Or Sei Arman as his people call him. Sei means he’s the son of a senator, which is a little like one of the Rulers.”
Arman straightened in astonishment, but he collected himself rapidly. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Myka. Kei has told me a lot about you.”
Myka wouldn’t go any closer. “Is that colour real?” she whispered. “And where does all that hair come from?”
“Don’t be rude,” Kei chided. “Arman, Myka’s a healer too, as you know. I thought she could talk to you while I finish up.”
He felt Myka reassessing her decision to come into the bedroom, and Arman’s embarrassment. Kei felt a little mischievous this morning, so he ignored both of them, bending over Arman’s stomach and removing the stitches without speaking.
He guessed a staring match was going on over his head, but he just worked slowly, probing with fingers and his gift to make absolutely sure the wound had healed, which it had. “The Prij are bastards,” he heard Myka say fiercely.
He sat up and glared at her. “I didn’t ask you to come in here to abuse him. I thought you wanted to talk to him.”
“I am talking to him. I’m telling him the Prij are bastards.”
He heard a slight chuckle and he looked up at Arman. “I know for a fact at least one of them is,” Arman said calmly. “While my experience of the Darshianese leads me to the conclusion their men are resourceful and their women are beautiful.”
Myka blushed bright red. “I don’t want compliments from you,” she said, moving back against the wall.
“I’m sorry. I can’t really think of something ruder I’d prefer to say. Was that all you wanted to say to me?”
“No!” she said angrily. “Why did you come to our village? Why did you take our people? Why did you kill them and enslave them?”
“Why do you think?”
Kei would stay quiet, he promised himself. Arman had this under control for now. Myka scowled. “Because you’re all bastards, that’s why.” When had his sister picked up such a vulgar mouth? Banji was such a polite young man.
“Then I suppose that’s what it must be. Life must be restful here in Darshian, with such certainties.”
“Are you making fun of my people, you arrogant arse? How could you...? Don’t you have a family? Can’t you imagine what it’s like to have your life ripped in two, to lose all that you hold dear? To have someone you loved more than life killed?”
“Yes. I can.” Arman gave Myka one of his more penetrating looks. “What makes you think I can’t? Isn’t loss part of the human condition, or don’t you think the Prij are human?”
“You’re just animals! All of you.”
“So we may be, and so we’re of no consequence to you. Is that right?”
“Yes,” she spat.
“So when the Prij say exactly the same thing about the Darshianese, and decide the land you hold would be better populated by humans and not animals, then that justifies their actions, correct?”
She advanced a little, her hand raised in a fist. “We’re not animals! We’re human beings, with homes, and loves, and lives, and hopes!”
“Yes, you are. And so are we, Myka. And like you, we have trouble seeing the others are human beings. So I guess you and I aren’t so different after all.”
She was angry enough that she might actually slap Arman, so, ignoring the pain it caused him, Kei grabbed her shoulder and held her back. “Just talk. Lay a hand on him and I’ll throw you out.”
“How can you stand him? He’s...he’s....”
“What? He’s agreeing with everything you say. Why is that making you so angry?”
“Because he’s so calm. How can he be a murderer and just sit there like it’s a perfectly normal thing to be?”
“Then ask him.” Kei made her turn to Arman again. “Is she right to call you a murderer?”
“Yes, she is,” Arman said, no longer calm, his distress rising. But at the same time, he wasn’t trying to avoid this. Kei would halt things if he really couldn’t stand it. At this moment, he could.
“How can you bear to live with yourself?” Myka asked, though there was perhaps a little more confusion and a little less righteous anger in her tone. “If I killed someone...I wouldn’t be able to live in my skin, I really couldn’t.”
“Do you love Kei?”
She stopped waving her hands about and turned to Kei. “What kind of question is that?”
“A fair one,” he said. “You started this, sister mine, and now you’re going to finish it. So answer the question.”
She glared at Arman. “Of course I love him. You’re just being ridiculous now.”
“No, I’m just making sure of my facts. I want you to imagine you and your brother are sitting together talking, just as we are now. Please then imagine that a soldier appears from nowhere, walks up to Kei and stabs him with a sword. No warning, just stabs him here.” He pointed to a place on his own stomach that meant something very personal to him. “Imagine the swordsman walks off, and leaves Kei dying right where he stands now. All you can do is watch him die slowly. You listened to him gasp, you can smell he’s soiled himself, and he’s terrified because he knows he’s dying. All you can do is watch, Myka. Your medicine is no use, and your beloved brother is there in your arms, dying in agony you’re utterly helpless to relieve. How do you feel?”
“Gods,” she whispered as she sought Kei’s hand. “That’s horrible. Don’t speak of such a thing.”
“But you agree it would be somewhat upsetting?” She nodded mutely. “So, Kei spends several hours dying in pain, and then he dies. Shortly after, the swordsman walks back though that door there. There’s a big, sharp knife on the table, and the man who made your beloved brother die in dreadful agony is right there. What do you do?”
“I’d kill him, I’d...I’d grab the knife and kill him!”
“Exactly.” Arman rested back against the pillows, tired and depressed, his mouth tight. “If it was someone you loved, if you had the power, you would use it, and you wouldn’t stop to ask a single question. Most people would—it’s a very natural instinct to want to avenge the death of your loved ones. But you would then be a murderer too. Your law doesn’t allow vengeance killings. So how would you live in your skin then?”
Myka moved closer to Kei. “I...suppose for a while, I wouldn’t care. But then I would care but then...it would be too late. That’s why it’s wrong to kill. You can’t change it,“ she said, her voice now more pleading rather than ranting.
“Indeed, this is true. You asked how I can bear to live with myself and the answer is that for a long while, I didn’t care either. I was angry and full of hate, and only slowly did I understand how wrong I’d been. Then I realised there were some things I could do to at least reduce the harm I’d done. I’m trying to do those things even now, but the boy I killed is still dead. If I had to go back to the time when I killed him, if I felt as I did then, I would probably kill him again. But I wouldn’t now,” he said with an affectionate glance at Kei. “When you have a good, kind person to help you understand things, then it’s possible to lose the anger and the hate. You’re very lucky, Myka. You’ve had Kei with you all your life. I’ve known him for a few months. I am very grateful that I have.”
Myka was paralysed by confusion. Kei left her thinking about things, and came over to Arman’s side to finish taking out the stitches. He wondered what Myka would do. She was a kind person and a clever one, but her emotions always boiled so fast. He felt her turmoil and wanted to help—but this wasn’t something he could fix for her. She had waded in, thinking she would fling some insults at Arman and show the big bad general what Darshianese womanhood thought of him, and instead had found something rather different from what she�
��d expected. It was a healer’s job to deal with the unexpected. Kei would let her do just that.
“We’re not animals,” she said quietly after a long, long silence.
“Neither are we,” Arman said. “If we were animals, then we couldn’t be held to account for our actions. Because we’re human, then there’s really no excusing what we’ve done to your people. What I’ve done, Myka. I had reasons, but they were poor ones, though I thought differently at the time. All I can do is to try and fix the results of those bad decisions. That’s no comfort to the families of those people who died. It’s not like I want anyone to pretend it is.”
Kei pointed to the stool next to the bed. “Why don’t you sit down, Myka?”
She obeyed while Kei finished the stitch removal. “There. It looks good, Arman.” He collected the mess and quickly took it outside to dispose of, collecting a chair from the front room and bringing it back into the bedroom.
Arman was still feeling his side. “It’s astonishing how quickly it went from being agonising to not causing any pain any more.”
“What happened?” Myka asked, and then seemed surprised at her own question.
“I was rolled on by a dying urs beast. This was apparently not good for me,” he said dryly. Myka winced, and Kei explained the extent of the injuries. “I wish I knew how Vikis was doing,” Arman said to him. “Although I’m glad the poor sod didn’t have to endure the wagons.”
“No, it would have killed him, I’m sure. Spear through the lung,” Kei explained briefly to Myka. “Then the lung became infected. By the time I left he was stable. One of the medics suggested we use isek leaves as a tea—have you heard about that?”
She nodded. “Yes, I spent some time at the academy while I was in Darshek and they were talking about it, telling all the healers to use it if they could get the isek plant. The really odd thing is that it works better with leaves that aren’t completely fresh.”
“Really? That makes no sense,” Kei said. “Unless the leaves change as they go off. Maybe like brewing.”
“Is it just leaves that aren’t fresh, or leaves that are actually damaged or diseased?” Arman asked. Myka looked at him in surprise. She’d clearly forgotten he was there.
“I don’t know,” she said politely. “They were still testing it, and trying leaves from similar plants too.”
“It must be interesting, seeing such things being done,” Arman said.
“Oh, that’s more Kei’s thing,” she said sniffily. “I just want the drugs to work. I haven’t got the patience to mess about trying a little bit of this or that to see if it makes a difference.”
“But that’s how you get the drugs that work, Mychichi,” Kei pointed out. “How long did it take Pa to refine the gum stitches? The first ones were very poor—if he’d had your attitude, Arman’s guts would be lying somewhere on the road between here and Trejk Fort.”
“Thank you for that beguiling image,” Arman said, smiling faintly. “I don’t know how he would even have thought of boiling palm rind in the first place.”
“Pa was always doing things like that,” Myka said. “Always had things bubbling on the stove—we never knew if it was supper or medicine.”
“Sometimes it was both,” Kei said.
The room fell silent. Myka was even more confused than before. “You weren’t supposed to be nice,” she finally muttered, scowling fiercely at Arman.
“I’m sorry. I’m not often nice, but sometimes I can’t help myself.”
She smiled reluctantly at that. “Are all the Prij so hairy and brightly coloured?”
“Some are. Most of us are much paler than you, and from the little I’ve seen, we have more hair on our bodies, though not on our heads. No Prijian woman has hair as lovely as yours, I assure you.”
She touched her braid. “Are Prijian women not beautiful then?”
“We think so, although in a very different way. Their eyes are rounder, noses are somewhat longer and narrower, and generally, I would say most are smaller in size and height than Darshianese women, although that varies too. Most don’t let their hair alone as you do—they style and cut and arrange it in curls on the top of their heads. Some even colour it, to make it red or more blonde, depending on what their natural colour is.”
“Why?” she asked, frowning. “Doesn’t that waste a lot of time?”
“A huge amount,” Arman agreed. “The highborn ones spend vast sums on hairdressers and maids to make themselves look even more astonishing.”
“Sounds like they don’t have enough to occupy themselves,” she said with a sniff.
“They don’t. For one thing, our women mostly don’t study past the age of ten, so they don’t read or learn a profession such as your women do.
“No? Why?” She looked at Kei. “Are they feeble-minded or something?”
Kei coughed diplomatically, not sure how to answer this, but Arman took it on. “A woman’s role is to rear children and to run the house. A man’s role is to protect her.”
“I don’t need anyone to protect me,” she said scornfully.
“I have no doubt of that,” Arman said with the smallest of grins. “No woman engages in business on her own, or follows a trade of any kind. We have no women healers—no one would think a woman could do such a thing reliably.”
“But you have a woman ruler. If your women are so stupid, why do you let them rule?”
He shrugged. “No one said it was logical.”
She sighed. “I don’t think I would ever want to be a Prijian woman.”
“You’re much better off here, I promise you.” He smiled charmingly. “I should apologise—I haven’t offered you congratulations on your marriage.”
“You told him?” she asked Kei.
“Of course I told him. We talk about you all the time, Mychichi.”
She poked him in the side. “You do not.”
“Oh, but we do,” Arman assured her. “Kei said his sister was beautiful, clever and brave, and of course he was right.”
“You didn’t say that—he’s making it up!”
“I didn’t just say you were beautiful, clever and brave. I also said you were a pain in the neck a lot of the time. Ow!” He’d have to start wearing his braid inside his shirt until she grew out of the habit of yanking it. “You see why we all grow our hair so long, Arman? It gives our women the means to control us.”
Arman smiled. “Then I really am going to clip mine off.”
“Oh, don’t!” The two men looked at Myka, who put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.
“Why not?” Kei asked.
“Because...well, it’s sort of pretty,” she mumbled.
Kei glanced at Arman who obviously appreciated the irony. “It runs in the family, what can I say?” He stood up. “Myka, you must have things to do, and I have to call on people. Perhaps you should be running along.”
“There’s not much to do, really. Meis is cooking but she always cooks. So is Sira. Banji’s run away, Fedor has told everyone when to come—it’s at sunset, I forgot to tell you. All I have to do is change my clothes and put my hair into something resembling a bride’s piece. Pijli is going to help me do that.”
“Well, I still need to call on people, and there are things I want to get from Pa’s library.”
“And...him?” she asked quietly as if Arman wouldn’t notice her pointing at him discreetly.
“I’ll be staying put, and out of harm’s way,” Arman told her. “Kei needs to see his friends.”
“Isn’t that boring for you?”
“Very. But I don’t read Darshianese very well yet, so the books are no use, and I can hardly expect a steady stream of visitors as charming as you.”
Arman made his sister blush every five minutes. It was fascinating—one wouldn’t think a person could turn that particular colour. “Maybe I could....”
“Myka?”
“I could...stay for a while, while you’re out. Not all day,” she amended. “But a little b
it. He could tell me more about these poor Prijian women.”
Kei was confused. He couldn’t work out why Myka was offering, and from the look on her face and the turmoil he was sensing, neither could she. “Perhaps another time, Mychichi,” he said.
But to his surprise, Arman intervened. “If she doesn’t mind, I would welcome some company. But Myka, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t...I just...would like to know more. You won’t attack me, will you?”
Arman stared mutely at his leg and back at her. “No,” he said gravely. “I doubt I could. You can run faster than I can if I try.”
“All right. Kei, go away. I can look after your patient for an hour or so. I am a healer, after all.”
Something in her eyes made him realise she was referring to his angry words of the night before, and he suddenly understood what she was trying to do. “Yes, you are, and a good one. I tell you what—you can have a look at something Arman and I have been working on. I’d like your opinion on it.”
Arman nodded, clearly understanding the book would let them stay off possibly contentious issues of conversation while allowing Myka to overcome her fear and prejudice. Kei fetched the text, and then bent and kissed his sister’s cheek. “I’m very, very proud to be your brother,” he whispered. “Now, don’t hurt him, I have to get him up to Darshek in one piece.”
She shoved him away with a scowl. “Oh, go away, brother mine. If you see Banji, tell him where I am and that Fedor needs him at his house an hour before sunset. And I want you in a clean shirt.”
Kei bowed. “Yes, lady Myka. Whatever you say, lady Myka.”
“Go sit on a thurl’s nest, lord Kei. Shoo.”
So he shooed, wondering what on earth Arman was going to make of it all.
~~~~~~~~
Kei’s sister may have offered to sit with him to prove something to herself, but she’d stayed for curiosity, and to try and understand why her brother had come back so changed. She didn’t come out and say that, of course, but she was such an artless girl, her thoughts and concerns could have been written on her forehead.
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