Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  Prijian food? No thanks. Reis pulled a comically disgusted face.

  Arman looked at Kei curiously. “Tell you later,” Kei murmured.

  Lord Peika gave a signal, and then they all rose in the air. Kei had had a little experience of this, but had never been taken this high before—he squeezed Arman’s hand and hoped he wouldn’t puke in fright.

  Behind them, the massed soldiers were also being lifted. Neris’s bright trail of lights made it almost bright as noon—to the watching crowds, it must have been like their gods coming to earth. Meda hadn’t been able to resist a final flourish—their path was picked out on the water by a series of pretty fountains which caught the light from the fire balls, as if the Darshianese were flying along a road of glittering gems.

  Arman’s hand was cold around Kei’s, but his lover wasn’t afraid. “It’s beautiful,” he said, putting his arm around Arman’s waist.

  “Yes, it is. Probably a waste of effort, but it’ll give people something to chatter about.”

  He sounded so bitter and sad. Kei hugged him and tried to let Arman feel his love through his touch.

  They were landed at the docks, and met by a large number of Prijian soldiers, including those wearing red plumes who, Arman had told Kei, were the elite palace guard. “Sei general,” one of the officers said, coming up and saluting. “We have carriages for the guests.”

  “They’re not needed, captain. Have your men fall in behind our party, behind the Darshianese troops.”

  “But, Sei general—”

  “Do as you’re told, damn it,” Arman snapped. Kei looked at him in surprise—it was unlike Arman to lose his temper dealing with minions.

  “Yes, Sei,” the man said, shouting orders and marshalling the Prijian soldiers behind them.

  Arman motioned to the Rulers. “This way, my lords.”

  Once again, Neris threw a trail of lights above them, making the street shockingly bright. There were dozens of people watching, just here at the docks and as Jera lifted up all the Darshianese—all seven hundred or so people—a foot above the ground to float down the street along which Kei have been force-marched months before, gasps and cries filled the air. The Rulers ignored it, looking somewhat bored as if this was their normal way of moving about, while Neris played a little, sending balls of flame to dance ahead of them, and over the crowds which grew in number and more awestruck as they went along.

  There was a little angry shouting, and several times, people threw missiles, harmlessly deflected by Jera—the Prijian guard rushed to deal with the assailants, but the Darshianese affected disdain. Mostly people seemed amazed, though the children thought the fireballs were pretty. Arman’s face remained completely blank as he stared straight ahead of him, but Kei sensed his emotions were nowhere near as calm as he tried to appear. He felt the anxiety and curiosity of the other former hostages, but everyone was taking it all in their stride rather well. He himself couldn’t help feeling a little grim satisfaction at being able to return with the upper hand so decisively theirs, when he and his fellows had previously been dragged along in bonds for the entertainment of these same assembled masses. He doubted people would be saying how primitive and unimportant the Darshianese were after this evening.

  They took their time, floating gracefully up the long street, letting the onlookers get a good eyeful of the power of the Darshianese. By the time they arrived in the large square where Kei had first encountered the Prijian sovereign, there were thousands of people, and Prijian soldiers everywhere trying to control them. At the gates of the palace, a flustered-looking senator met them. “Arman, what in hells do you think you’re doing, bringing all these soldiers here, and in this manner?”

  “You have a problem with the correct ceremonial protocol for Darshianese Rulers attending official functions in foreign countries, Senator Vilkus?” Arman drawled. “You didn’t perhaps expect them to be tied up and dragged along like criminals, did you? Not again. I don’t think the Darshianese would consent to be treated that way twice.”

  The man quailed a little as Neris chose that moment to put an especially bright ball of flame over their heads. “Come with me. But the soldiers stay outside.”

  “No, they come into the palace grounds, Vilkus. The Rulers require a proper escort and retinue as much as Her Serenity does. You wouldn’t want to cause any offence, would you?”

  The man scowled, but then signalled for the Darshianese caravan to come inside the palace grounds. After all, he could hardly have stopped people who could float over the gates as easily as dried leaves. “You’re enjoying this,” Kei muttered to his lover.

  “Maybe a little,” Arman said, a slight smile on his lips.

  The Darshianese soldiers were taken to a courtyard where, Arman was assured, they would receive a good supper. “You trust the Prij not to poison them?” Lord Meki asked quietly as they were escorted through the palace.

  “No. But I trust Jiv and Tiko to ask the food to be tasted before they touch it. I’ve warned them. I warn you too—Jera, that’s especially in your case. You’ll be a main target.”

  “Got it,” the mind-mover said. “Permission to dump poisoned food on people’s heads, Meki?”

  Lord Meki seemed rather amused at the idea. “With pleasure.” Now Kei hoped something would be found, which was very wrong of him. He didn’t realise he had this capacity for vindictiveness. He hoped he grew out of it, or that it only applied to the Prij.

  But he still wanted to see Senator Mekus wearing a bowl of soup.

  They were led to a large room, and for a moment, Kei had a sudden painful memory of that day when they had all been rounded up. Arman squeezed his hand. “It’s not that room,” he said quietly. “They don’t use that for banquets.”

  Kei gulped down the sudden nausea, grateful for Arman’s words. Footmen came to meet them, and to escort them to their seats, the Rulers near where the sovereign would sit and the other Darshianese down a long table near there. All of them but Arman.

  “What’s going on?” Kei asked as footmen tried to usher him to a chair. “Why haven’t you got a seat?”

  “Ah. It seems as translator, I’m a servant, and servants may not sit in front of Her Serenity at a meal.”

  “What?” But a blare of horns and a beaten drum interrupted Kei’s outrage, and then the sovereign and her senators swept into the room. Everyone bowed, the Darshianese a beat behind, as the woman took her seat. Arman went to take up position behind Lord Meki. Kei looked at him. “You need to sit,” he hissed.

  “Protocol,” Arman said. “Go and be seated.”

  “No.”

  Lord Meki turned around. “Kei, take a seat please.”

  “No. Arman isn’t sitting, I’m not sitting.” He’s not a servant. None of us are.

  Kei? Kei turned to Gonji. What’s wrong?

  Arman isn’t being given a seat because they think he’s a servant.

  Right. Gonji got to his feet. A few moments later, the other clan representatives did, as did Jera.

  Lord Meki looked at Kei, then at Arman, and then finally at Lord Peika. Then he got to his feet too, and was joined by his fellow Ruler.

  Their actions caused a ripple of comment from the Prij, and the sovereign leaned towards her translator to speak to him. “Her Serenity wants to know why you are all standing?”

  Lord Meki turned and bowed. “We didn’t realise servants can’t sit in front of Her Serenity. Since I and Lord Peika are servants of our people, we shouldn’t sit either.” The translator spoke quickly.

  “And I serve my clan,” Kei said.

  Kei! You’re making a fool of yourself and of me! Arman gave him one of his fiercest glares. Kei grinned back.

  “I likewise serve my clan.”

  “And I.”

  “And I.”

  Her Serenity turned redder and redder as each Darshianese made a similar declaration. “Are you trying to turn this meal into a farce?”

  “No, your highness. We would just like a cha
ir for our good friend and colleague, Arman. If it pleases your highness.”

  She glared, and then snapped her fingers, and a sharp command. A footman went scurrying off. “Could you not have just asked?”

  “We thought you already knew Arman wasn’t a servant,” Lord Meki said politely.

  She frowned. “He has a chair now. Sit down, please.”

  Lord Meki bowed. Arman’s face was like thunder as he watched the table being hastily rearranged. “Was any of that strictly necessary?” he growled at Kei and Lord Meki, sitting down at last and glowering at them.

  “No. It was just fun,” Kei said.

  “You would jeopardise the peace to get me a damn chair?”

  “No. I’d poke these pompous fools for that.”

  Now Kei could sit next to Arman, which they both needed, and since he felt he had provoked his lover enough, he sat with perfect politeness as the first dishes were served. It was a quite acceptable vegetable soup, and he was about to tuck in, when Arman shook his head. Wait until the senators taste it.

  You’re serious.

  Completely.

  Kei looked at his plate, and felt queasy. Suddenly this wasn’t fun any more. Not that it really was at all, but he’d been trying to lighten the mood.

  None of the senators dropped dead, perhaps unfortunately, and so the Darshianese could eat. Arman was still slightly cross, but mostly he was just tired and rather anxious. Kei recognised some of the senators, including the odious Mekus. The Lord Commander sitting next to Her Serenity, kept glaring at Arman. Kei wanted to poke his tongue out at him, but instead squeezed Arman’s leg under the table, which raised a little smile from him. “Behave,” Arman whispered. Kei gave him an innocent look.

  They were barely halfway into the soup when the sovereign began to ask Lord Meki questions, and Arman had to translate. It seemed the Prij had actually agreed the substantive part of the Darshianese demands and were quibbling over minor details of tax, import duty and legal administration in south Darshian. Kei had expected more resistance. Jera and Neris really must have made an impression. But they had better watch what they ate over the next few hours.

  It was all stiflingly dull, and for the Rulers and Arman, not even a respectable meal, as they were constantly talking to both sovereign and senators. The Lord Commander kept up his steady glare at Arman, but never spoke to him, and hardly at all to anyone else. The rest of the Darshianese were ignored, which suited Kei fine, and Arman could eat food he probably preferred when they got back to the ship. Kei was just glad he was now off his leg.

  The courses were interminable, and far too rich and extravagant. Kei, who had always been taught not to waste food, struggled to finish everything on every plate put in front of him, but finally had to admit defeat. I’ll be sick if I eat another thing, he thought at Arman, using some of the water to wash the greasy taste away. The wine was too heavy too, although it wasn’t unpleasant—he just distrusted the fact it was so much stronger than beer. Being drunk here would be a very bad idea.

  You’re only supposed to pick at each plate. No one eats everything.

  Kei stared in disbelief. What a dreadful waste of food!

  Yes. Another reason I hate these things with a passion. Arman smiled politely as his mostly full plate was taken away.

  Kei was about to remonstrate with him when Lord Meki cleared his throat. “Your highness, there’s just one more matter before we finalise things.”

  “Oh? We thought you were done.”

  “There’s the question of compensation, your highness.”

  “Compensation? For what, pray?”

  Lord Meki drew some papers out of his inner pocket. “For the murdered hostages from Ai-Vinri, for three women raped while in your custody, seven men who were seriously assaulted, and for the theft of three hundred sacks of grain and other stores from the villages. We’ve made a list of our requirements in this regard.”

  “You can’t possibly be serious.” This from the Lord Commander.

  “I regret that I am, sir.”

  “Why was none of this mentioned before?” Senator Mekus snapped.

  “My omission, I’m afraid. But I’m afraid we do have to insist on it.”

  The sovereign signalled to Mekus to sit down. “We were at war with your people. Acts of war require no compensation.”

  Arman didn’t wait for Lord Meki to answer, getting to his feet and speaking in Darshianese, forcing the sovereign’s own translators to work hard. “No, your highness, the hostages at Ai-Vinri were murdered, the victims of a Prijian crime and an injustice. No Prijian subject, as the hostages were at that point, should be attacked while under your protection. Besides, they were in receipt of your hospitality, as were all the hostages—you proclaimed this yourself. No Prij should allow a guest to be raped. As they have been, you should make reparation.”

  “A gue—” She stopped as Kizus whispered something in her ear. The Lord Commander also said something to her. “You’re twisting our words.”

  “No, your highness, those are exactly your words. You said they would receive Prijian hospitality. And yet they were beaten, raped and killed while receiving it.”

  “You were the one who brought them to us!”

  Arman bowed. “Yes. A crime for which I am making atonement. But I never expected them to be raped, your highness. At the very least, you have a duty towards the children, for they will be half Prijian.”

  The woman was furious, but Arman radiated cold anger, and not a little shame and guilt. Kei put a surreptitious hand at the small of Arman’s back. “We shall not,” the sovereign declared coldly.

  Lord Meki got up. “Then I regret the negotiations are finished. Your island will be blockaded and you will not be able to trade with any other nation, nor with your territories.” He signalled everyone to stand, and he began to walk out. The guards blocked the doors—Jera picked them up and sent them up to the ceiling. “Goodnight, your highness,” Lord Meki said. Neka, put everyone on alert. We’re returning and not on friendly terms.

  They all moved to the doorway, Lord Meki looking grim and Arman still angry. Jiv, get your people ready, Kei heard Arman tell the soldiers. There could be a real fight in a minute or two.

  “Wait!”

  The shout had come from Senator Kizus, who then said something rapidly in Prijian to the sovereign. There followed a quick fire exchange between the Prij which Arman didn’t translate, at least out loud, but from the intent expression on the Rulers’ faces, Kei guessed there was a mental dialogue being carried out. The rest of them stood, waiting for a sign as to what to do.

  Finally one of the other senators approached them. “Please, be seated, we will discuss this.”

  “No,” Lord Meki said coldly. “We will not discuss anything. We have injured and murdered people and we will not allow this to pass.” Huh, Kei thought to himself. He hadn’t even wanted to bring it up earlier that afternoon.

  “But we wish to discuss the terms.”

  “We will dictate the terms. Your soldiers marched into our villages and did the same. How does it feel, senator, to be on the receiving end?”

  The man turned to the sovereign to explain and she barked back a command. “She bids you sit.”

  “Tell her to jump off a cliff,” Jera murmured.

  “We don’t take orders from the Prij any more,” Kei said loudly, and there was a quiet chorus of assent from the others. At the same time, he did wonder if Meki and Arman were pushing something far less important than the peace itself. He wondered why Arman had suddenly stopped being conciliatory.

  More exchanges among the Prij. Kei was beginning to be a little afraid, despite Arman’s determined look and the Rulers’ hard expressions. The Rulers had never dealt with the Prij before and Arman wasn’t a diplomat. What if they were making a mistake?

  The sovereign dismissed the senators with a wave of her hand. “Please...gentlemen...would you be kind enough to sit?”

  It sounded like she was stabbing a
knife into her hand with every word, but it was—technically—polite. “For what purpose, your highness?” Lord Peika said, his voice as cold as Lord Meki’s had been.

  “To...accept...your request...and finish our meal, of course.”

  Lord Meki bowed. “With pleasure, your highness.”

  The red-faced guards were brought down from the ceiling to be placed back in position like dolls and the Darshianese all trooped back to the tables as if they’d merely stood to relieve themselves. “All Prij are bastards,” Kei muttered, and Arman turned to look at him. There was the faintest smile on his lips. “And you’re the biggest one,” he added.

  Arman squeezed his fingers under the table. It was an important point. It’s also important to reinforce her subordination to us. It’s like training a jesig.

  If she was a jesig, I’d have her knocked on the head.

  Yes, well, I won’t argue with that. Then Arman had to return to translating.

  The Prij were in a hurry to finish the meal after that, and a formal signing of treaties was arranged for the following day. The clearing of Kurlik Pass would begin as soon as Jera and Reis were taken to the mainland, and troops would start to leave Darshian as soon as the Darshianese arrived. Lord Peika and some of the Darshianese troops would remain in Utuk to form a diplomatic mission until a permanent ambassador could be appointed, and Lord Meki would establish temporary command in the south until the local leaders could form their own Council of Rulers—negotiations on that point had already begun, Arman had told Kei.

  The northern troops would take control until the southerners had rebuilt their own army, and the Prijian infrastructure was handed over to the Darshianese. The north and south ends of Darshian had always had their own governments, with a close affiliation between them. This would be restored. The most important thing was to reopen the communication between the two ends of the country, but they would also need to reunite to keep the Prij under control. No one expected them to accept peace this easily. Arman had told Kei there were Gifted in the south, apparently, but they had long been in hiding, and as yet, their cooperation had not been secured. The northern Gifted would be important in gaining that, and it was possible some would remain in the south for a month or two for that purpose.