Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  The clerk at the academy reception was flustered, and didn’t want to be bothered with Kei’s request at all. “A problem with your gift? You’ll need to speak to Master Bikel or Master Diza and they’re not here. They might not be here for a week or more.”

  “A week? Are you sure?”

  The man glared at him. “Are you calling me an idiot, boy? Of course I’m sure—all the gift masters and the Gifted are away on an important, urgent project for the Rulers. If you can’t control your minor gift, then you’ll have to wait or do without.”

  Arman. It has to be to do with him. “Can I leave a note to say I need assistance?”

  “If you like. It won’t make them more available, I warn you now.”

  Kei scribbled out the request and details of how he could be located—he thought about mentioning he was a friend of Arman’s but it would sound like pleading. Besides, it was unlikely to make any difference. Nor should it. If the masters of the academy were working on getting the hostages home, then he had no business taking them away from that.

  Dejected, he returned to Reji and gave him the bad news. “You should write directly to your general—he knows you wouldn’t ask for anything trivial and what the problem is. It might only take a half hour for one of these people to give you the advice you need.”

  “I don’t want to disturb them—”

  “Little brother—this country damn well owes you twice over. You went as a hostage, and you brought back that general alive and well. It can damn well spare you the time of one of its academy masters. Now you write and ask him for help, or I will.”

  Kei glared at being bullied, but at the same time, he supposed Reji might have a point. They rode towards the Rulers House and then Kei walked up the path to the front hall. “I’d like to leave a message for Lord Meki—it’s for General Arman,” he asked the woman guarding the entrance behind a huge desk.

  “I can’t discuss the general,” she said, folding her arms.

  “I don’t want to discuss him, I just want to leave a note about him,” Kei said in some exasperation. He’d forgotten how irritating the Darshek bureaucrats could be. Reluctantly, she pushed over some paper for him to write his message. “Will he get this today?”

  “I have no idea, boy. The Rulers don’t answer to me or to you.”

  Actually, they do, Kei thought angrily. The Rulers themselves were generally believed to be honest and hard working—but some of their staff had a rather inflated sense of their own importance and of their masters’. “It’s urgent,” he said, handing her the folded note.

  “Everyone says that, boy. Now, if you’re done, please leave the hall as we have a lot of important visitors expected today.”

  Her rudeness infuriated him and he vented it all over Reji as they sat under a wide shade tree in the central park and ate some pasties Reji had bought from a street vendor. “Who in hells do people like that think they are? I nearly damn well died for this damn country, and I’ve worked for my people all my adult life and half my childhood! The Rulers’ House is open to everyone and always has been! Why does she get to decide who’s important and who’s not!”

  Reji grinned. “You’re damn cute when you’re mad, Keichichi.”

  “Shut up, I’m not cute,” he muttered, ripping into the hot pie with a savage bite. “Someone ought to tell that pissing woman where to stick her pissing pen and how far up.”

  “Yes, they should, but all I care about is that she passes your note on and she can’t do that if she’s doing this.” He bent over and pantomimed someone desperately trying to remove something from their anus.

  Despite his anger, Kei laughed. “No, I suppose she can’t,” he said as Reji sat down. “I don’t even know Arman is being kept there.”

  “Oh, he will be—it’s either there or the camp and if he’s helping them, it’ll be the House for sure.” Reji put his hand on Kei’s shoulder. “Cheer up, little brother, you’ve done what you can for now. If you’ve finished, I have to go see some merchants.”

  Reji’s business took most of the afternoon, and it was much more pleasant travelling back to the inn when the worst heat of the day was over. Kei couldn’t help fretting about whether he’d done the right thing in sending the note—whether Arman would even get the message, whether he could or would do anything about it—and what would happen if he couldn’t. There was the faint possibility one of the masters Kei needed to see would return to the academy sooner than the clerk had said and agree to meet him, but if not, then he’d need to hold on until they did.

  There was a small crowd of people near the inn, blocking their path and Kei felt their anger and excited tempers. “Reji?”

  “Looks like a bar fight,” he said grimly. “Too many sailors with too much time doing too much drinking. The army will be here to sort it out soon.”

  Because of the press of people, Kei couldn’t see what was going on, but suddenly there was a scream and the crowd broke apart as two brawling men sprawled out, almost under the feet of Kei’s beast, making it snort and bellow and rear up. He struggled to get control of it, but the fighting men didn’t even notice him desperately trying to stop his beast stepping on one of their stupid heads. It didn’t help that the drunken rage of the two was like a hammer hitting the anvil of his gift and making him nauseous.

  “Kei!” Reji yelled, but his beast had become blocked by the crowd who were as drunk as the brawlers, egging them on. Kei couldn’t get to Reji, nor Reji to him.

  Kei couldn’t get away from the men without his beast injuring them or the onlookers. With the shouts of the crowd deafening them and the smell of spilled blood, his animal was almost at the rolling eyed level of terror and it was becoming impossible to hold his seat.

  “Knife! He’s got a knife!” a woman screamed. Kei looked down and in horror saw the long flash of steel...plunging up into Myri’s heart...and they all died....

  “Kei!” someone yelled, but he was already falling off his animal and plunging down, down, down....

  ~~~~~~~~

  Arman limped slowly up the stairs, utterly exhausted, but also more elated and hopeful than he had been in a very long time. He’d been given the fastest of educations into the strange world of the Gifted, what they could do, what they would do and what it would take to get them to cooperate with each other, let alone him. There were two dozen of these astonishing people in Darshek, but in the end, only eight had consented to help in the plan. He’d spent the afternoon with colonels, naval captains, teachers, Rulers.... It had been dizzying, but maybe they really could achieve a rescue at a cost of no civilian life and even very few, if any, military deaths. That would please Kei, he thought, smiling at the thought of him.

  He rang for his food and once the servant had come to receive his order, he washed, too tired to be bothered with the full bath which had been very enjoyable indeed the previous night, but which was a lot of trouble since he had to have assistance in and out. All he wanted to do was to eat and then sleep, for it would be an early start the following day. At least this time, all the meetings were to be held here in the House now the Gifted had consented to cooperate. There was so much to do before the ships set sail to Kuplik.

  He dressed again in one of the soft nightshirts provided for him and an over-robe, which afforded him a measure of dignity, and sat down at the desk to rub his aching leg—he might have to ask Siv to come up and massage it tonight. Then his gaze caught on something on the desk. Gods—Kei’s book. He needed to return it at the very least, maybe even ask for permission for the healer to visit him.

  He’d been told the food would be a little while, and this errand wouldn’t take long. He rang the bell again, gathered up the book and pulled on a pair of the soft, embroidered slippers he’d been encouraged to wear as often as possible in the House to protect the wooden floors. A maidservant appeared. “Yes, general?”

  “Would you be kind enough to ask if Lord Meki can see me, and would you also arrange for Siv to attend me in two hours, if s
he’s free?”

  “Yes, general. Lord Meki has left orders you can see him any time, so I can take you there now and then find Siv.”

  He hoped Lord Meki wouldn’t mind his trivial request, but he felt it was important enough, at least to himself, to endure the annoyance if it came.

  Lord Meki’s personal chambers were on the floor above Arman’s—he’d learned only Lord Meki lived in the building all the time, although all the Rulers kept their offices there. There were apartments reserved for them which were used a good deal, the other Rulers usually spending two or three days in every week there conducting business, and returning to their private homes with their families the rest of the time. Lord Meki had been widowed some time ago and had given up his country estate to his son and his wife, no longer wanting the trouble of it. He now lived permanently in the House, and would do until he retired or died. Arman could think of many worse arrangements for a man dedicated to serving his country as Lord Meki undoubtedly was.

  The maidservant knocked on the door and held it open for Arman. Lord Meki looked up. “General, what can I do for you?”

  “It’s a rather small request, my lord, but I need to send a note and a book to someone and I don’t write Darshianese. Is there anyone who can help me?”

  Lord Meki was dressed as Arman was, more or less, and Arman had caught him at the tail end of what looked a very simple supper. “Certainly—I’ll have my secretary come to you this evening. Who are you writing to?”

  “My healer, Kei. You met him, remember?”

  “Ah, yes. You seem to have become good friends with him—one of the hostages, I understand? Now that’s a story I’d like to hear one day.”

  Arman smiled. “It would give me pleasure to tell it, my lord. But what I really need to do is return this book of his.”

  “Book?” Arman held it out. Lord Meki took it and looked rather puzzled. “What’s this?”

  “Something you might be interested in, my lord. Kei is writing a field medical guide for soldiers and people like farmers who might be unable to have a healer come to them quickly. It’s intended to be simple and straightforward, but dealing with everything from small injuries to really quite serious conditions.”

  “Really?” Lord Meki opened the book at random, and read the contents of one page, and then another. “Good gods, this is well written, general. Did you help him with it?”

  “Rather the opposite, my lord. I’ve been translating it into Prijian and learning a great deal in the process.”

  Lord Meki handed the book back to Arman. “You said he was gifted?”

  “Yes, he’s unusual in that he has two gifts—soul-touching and mind-moving.”

  Lord Meki stared. “Are you sure? That’s extremely rare, you know.”

  “No, it’s true, I swear.”

  “Then let’s have your young healer up to work with us, general. We need all the gifted with additional talents that we can get for advice, and since this lad is special and clever and a friend of yours, I think he qualifies. Leave the book in the House—I’d like to look at it—but I’ll send my man up to you to draft your note this evening and it will be delivered in the morning.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Arman said, delighted he hadn’t even had to ask to be allowed to see Kei again. “I’ve just had an idea as to how we can avoid the signal beacon problem, by the way.”

  “Oh? Tell me more.”

  Twenty minutes later, Arman hobbled back to his room with a sense of a job well done. He’d brought Kei to his Ruler’s attention and the medical text as well, which might ensure it actually got distributed, and Arman would be able to tell him the good news and much besides in person. Better than that, Kei was to work with them on the project. The thought lifted Arman’s mood despite his intense weariness. He would sleep well tonight.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Kei tried to move and immediately had to turn his head to throw up, his nausea overwhelming him even more than the horrendous throbbing in his head. Someone touched his face and he cried out at the added agony. The touch and everything else disappeared then....

  He kept waking and being sick and in pain, people close by him making him cringe away from their touch and their emotions. He begged them to leave him alone, to keep away, but he couldn’t tell if they heard him and he couldn’t stay awake long enough to find out. It went on and on until he was exhausted, unable to fight either pain or distress. At last, he was given something to drink that was icy on his tongue, and the pain, at least, disappeared and the world faded out again.

  There was bright sun in the room when he woke, still nauseated, and he couldn’t remember where he was. He felt someone close by—he turned his head. Reji, lying asleep, looking drawn and worried. Kei raised a shaking hand to the pain in his head, and found a lump with a cut or graze on it, above his temple. How had he been injured? Why did he feel so sick and...disconnected?

  Carefully, so not to wake Reji or fall over, he got up. He had to hang on to the bed to stand. What was wrong with him?

  His shirt was vomit-flecked and covered in blood, so he pulled it off, grimacing at the state of it. The only clean one to hand was one of Reji’s but he didn’t think he could manage trying to find another so he took it. He wanted to use the washroom to clean up, but where were his boots? He looked around and spotted them by the door. As he bent to pick them up, trying not to pass out again, he saw a note had been put under the door. He sat on the only chair to shove his feet into the boots and then unfolded the note. His vision wouldn’t behave—he had to squint past the blurriness and the throbbing in his head to read it, but eventually he realised it was a message from Arman. “I need your help,” it said.

  Gods! Arman was in trouble. Reji was still asleep—should Kei wake him? No, he looked tired. Money? Did he need it? He couldn’t ride a beast, but maybe he could pay someone to take him to the city...did he have enough for that? He had no idea.

  He couldn’t think. Best to get moving and hope for the best. He put the purse of coins in his pocket, kept a firm grip on Arman’s note and opened the door quietly. The stairs were a challenge, but he hung onto the rail grimly. The innkeeper said something to him but he didn’t want to talk to anyone, so he just waved and got out of the inn as fast as he could.

  The sun was too bright, and he feared he would throw up again, even though he felt completely hollow. For a moment, he couldn’t even remember which way he had to go.

  “Are you all right, lad?”

  He squinted at the elderly man looking at him in concern. “Rulers’ House,” he mumbled. He brought up the note. “Here.”

  “Oh, you want to go east, that way, lad,” the man said, pointing the direction. “But you don’t look in any state to walk that far.”

  Kei peered at him in dismay. “Cart?”

  “A cart? A wagon might give you a lift, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I have money,” he said, going for his purse.

  “No, lad, they’ll give you a ride for free. Let me find someone for you.”

  Kei could only nod mutely in thanks, and hang onto the post at the side of the building where he stood. There were people everywhere and he felt them like shards of glass cutting into his skin. He tried to hide in the shadows, avoiding being brushed against. Only his hand tightly clutching Arman’s note gave him strength to keep upright.

  He was close to passing out when his new friend returned. “Come on, lad, I’ve found a wagon driver heading into town who’ll take you to the Rulers House, or close enough.”

  The old man laid hands on him, and Kei had to grit his teeth not to cry out from the pain of it. He would not throw up, he would not throw up....

  He let himself be tugged along a short distance around a corner. “Is this the lad?” someone asked.

  “Yes—he’s a bit unsteady, looks ill to me.”

  “Maybe he’s drunk.”

  “Oh, use your brains, man—does he smell of drink? And see? Look at that knot on his head. No, he’s s
ick—his friend will help him if you get the boy to where he’s to meet him.”

  His friend. Arman. Arman would help...no, Kei had to help Arman. “‘m all right,” he muttered, and with the help of a strong arm, climbed slowly into the back of the empty wagon which smelled of cured jombeker hides and would have made a healthy man want to be sick.

  He buried his nose in his shirt and breathed shallowly, but the jolting, smelly ride was pure misery for him. All he could do was rest his head and hope it wouldn’t take too long.

  “Wake up, lad—come on, boy, you’re here. Are you all right?”

  He looked up blearily—the wagon driver had climbed into the back of the wagon to find out what was wrong with him. He accepted his assistance to stand, and managed not to fall down again immediately despite his sudden dizziness. “Rulers’ House?”

  “Right here. I can’t take you up the drive—can you walk?”

  He nodded, and let the man almost carry him out the back of the wagon. At least the fresher air was a relief, although the sun was bad. “Do I pay you?”

  “For taking you where I was going anyway? Don’t be daft. Look, lad, are you sure you are supposed to be here?”

  Kei thrust the note, still clenched in his fist, under the man’s nose. “Arman needs me.”

  “Er...all right. You head up the path there and find your friend. Don’t pass out,” the man added darkly.

  Kei nodded, then stumbled his way up the path he recalled from somewhere...when? It was easiest if he just watched his feet—if he looked up, the world wavered back and forth. There were stairs, which were a challenge, but the rail helped. He shoved the big doors open with his shoulder and almost fell inside the cool, darker hall inside. The desk—he had to go to the desk first.

  “Can I help you?” a woman asked him.