Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3)

by Ann Somerville

  Romi said he could, then stood and bowed formally as was expected in Prijian custom. His companion did the same and left. Only once the door had closed, did Romi realise he’d forgotten to ask the man’s name.

  Oh well, it was unlikely he would encounter him again. Romi was just glad he didn’t have to remember all this classification stuff for real—some of the rules seemed a bit on the petty side, though no doubt the scientists would say the same about Army regulations. Right now, he had to get a move on if he was not to abuse the captain’s trust in his reliability.

  But it had been a surprisingly interesting, if confusing, morning. His fellow soldiers had missed out on yet another opportunity to learn something new. Their loss.

  ~~~~~~~~

  After lunch, Romi had another look at the papers, and found them much more comprehensible, though he still thought this Soza fellow wrote very clumsily. There seemed to be a lot more papers by him than were strictly necessary for the purpose, and if he really wasn’t writing for a lay audience, Romi couldn’t see any reason to provide such a mountain of specialist information. They weren’t much use to him, but he felt a little more confident he could hold his own in a conversation with the scientists, and he thanked his unnamed benefactor once more. If he’d had more time, he’d have made an effort to find out who he was and express his gratitude properly—perhaps on his return he would try to find him, though he may have gone by then. It was possible he was only visiting the academy, and if so, Romi would most likely never find him.

  He had just returned the books and papers to the sergeant when Kepi came looking for him and told him to come to the colonel’s briefing room, since the scientists were there to talk to them. They were the last ones to arrive, and Romi was about to take a seat at the end of the table when he jerked up in surprise. There was his mystery teacher, listening intently to a middle-aged Darshianese civilian with a heavily pitted face, a pile of books arrayed before them on the table. The man didn’t seem to have noticed him yet—what was he doing here?

  But there was no time to ponder. The colonel came in, and everyone stood and saluted before sitting and giving him his attention. “Ah, welcome, gentlemen. I won’t waste time since we need to get you all onto the boat fairly soon. Let me introduce Soza of Urshek to you, from the academy. He’s the chief scientist on this expedition.”

  As he sat, the Darshianese civilian stood up. “Thank you, Colonel Kel,” he said with a bow. “I am Soza. This young man here is my assistant, Karik of Ai-Albon. We shall be directing the specimen collection and exploration on this mission.”

  Romi didn’t hear the rest of what he said, he was too busy glaring at his damn companion. ‘Karik of Ai-Albon’? That little shit—he’d known perfectly well Romi had thought him a Prij and had done nothing whatsoever to correct that impression. The man himself saw him staring, and started to smile, before he clearly realised Romi was none too pleased with him. His expression went blank, then he looked away, pretending to be absorbed in what his superior was saying.

  Romi realised they were being asked to introduce themselves, and collected himself just in time for his turn. He stood smartly to attention. “Lieutenant Romi of Temshek barracks,” he snapped, and sat again. Karik looked at him, blushed and looked away. Little shit. Romi didn’t care for games of that type in the least.

  Soza was speaking again. He had a far more pleasant manner in person than in print, though he liked the sound of his own voice, speaking for rather longer than was strictly necessary about things that, really, they would have several weeks to learn. After a few minutes, even the colonel’s pleasant smile looked forced, and his companions shifted in their seats.

  But at last the rambling discourse came to an end. “So there you have it, gentlemen. Any questions?” Romi put his hand up. “Ah, yes, Lieutenant...?”

  “Lieutenant Romi, sir. May I ask what experience you have?”

  Soza smiled happily as if he’d just been waiting for someone to ask. He rattled off a list of his achievements, all to do with plants he’d named, and drugs that had been derived from them, which wasn’t the experience Romi had been asking about. He waited politely until the other man came to a halt before asking, “That’s very interesting, sir, but what I really wanted to know about was the other expeditions you’ve been on.”

  “This is my first, what you might call, field exploration,” Soza said stiffly. “However, my assistant, Karik, has been in the field. Karik, would you like to describe your background to the lieutenant?”

  Karik nodded, and stood. “Yes. I studied at the academy in Darshek, then I spent some time collecting plants on Darshian plain and in the eastern hinterland. I was offered a scholarship to continue my studies into natural production here in Urshek, and I’ve been here for six months.” He gave a little bow, and sat down, looking at Romi as if daring him to challenge the facts of that dry recitation.

  Romi was hardly encouraged by any of that, but didn’t want to say so in front of the colonel. The fact that the supposed leader of this mission had no field experience at all, and his assistant had very little, didn’t exactly give him confidence in either man.

  The colonel had had enough. “Right, men, if that’s all, our guests need to return to the academy. Lieutenant, as the senior soldier in the group, I want you to take charge and ensure you all get down to the docks in good time to board the Storm Wave at sunset—she departs with the tide, and if you’re not on board, you won’t be going on this mission. See the officers posted at the dock before you board.”

  “Yes, sir,” Romi said, snapping off a salute.

  The colonel returned it and left the room, as did the other men. Soza wanted a word with the colonel and hastened after him, leaving Karik behind to pick up the books.

  “Want a hand with those?”

  Karik seemed surprised at the offer, but then nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Romi picked up a few of the heavy volumes, wondering exactly why Soza had decided to bring them all the way down here and not use them, and followed Karik out of the room and across the exercise yard towards a waiting calash. Karik stowed the books with great care in the vehicle and thanked him politely. As Romi saw Soza approaching from the other side of the yard, he asked Karik, “Why didn’t you tell me you spoke Darshianese?”

  Karik gave him a cool look. “You didn’t ask.”

  “But you knew damn well I thought you were Prijian!”

  Karik’s expression went blank. “I am Prijian. Excuse me, I must collect the other books we left with your sergeant.”

  And then, to Romi’s exasperation, he walked off. What did he mean, he was Prijian? If he was Prijian, why was Soza introducing him as being from a little village in the north? Why the braid and the perfect Darshianese? Little shit.

  “Ah, lieutenant, I see you’re getting acquainted with our rising star.”

  “Not exactly acquainted,” Romi muttered. “He doesn’t give much of himself, does he?”

  Soza found that amusing. “Well, you know, he’s got very little he needs to prove, not with his connections. He’s of noble Prijian blood, and is the favourite nephew of Lord Arman and Master Kei in Darshek.” He leaned toward Romi a little. “Of course, I say ‘nephew’ but rumour has it that the relationship with Lord Arman is what you might say, more paternal than avuncular,” he said with a knowing wink.

  Romi had no interest in gossip and couldn’t give a damn about Karik’s alleged connection with the pissing Prijian nobility. “Is that his excuse for being so mysterious?”

  “Is he mysterious? I’d not noticed. Of course, he and I are very close. Very close,” he added archly, then leered in quite a repulsive manner.

  Suddenly realising what the man was implying, Romi moved back in disgust. So this Soza was taking his lover with him on this mission—Karik’s credentials were probably less important than his services in bed. The hair bracelet Romi had noticed on Karik’s wrist as he was packing the books was undoubtedly a gift from this oily
bastard. “Congratulations,” he said coldly.

  “Thank you. I thought it best to let you know how things stood. I wouldn’t want any misunderstanding to occur.”

  It was clear from the intent way Soza stared at him, that Romi was being warned off. “Don’t worry, I’m not in the habit of getting into ‘misunderstandings’ with other people’s lovers. I just hope he knows what he’s doing because Andon’s no place for someone hoping to get by on ‘connections’. Excuse me, I must check my pack. I’ll see you on board.”

  Soza bowed politely—the man was like a Prij, he bowed so often—and then went to speak to the calash driver. Romi left him there, and wondered what in hells he’d got himself into.

  Staying Power: 3

  Karik was still seething by the time he’d collected the academy property from the sergeant’s office and returned to the main yard. To think he’d been hoping to see that arrogant bastard again! He’d thought he was a good-looking, intelligent man with an unusual curiosity for a soldier, but it had turned out he was the same kind of narrow-minded idiot Karik had encountered so many times before. It wasn’t his fault the man hadn’t even stopped to ask if he spoke Darshianese. Karik just got tired of the confusion that resulted when he responded in another language than that used by the questioner. It happened so often that people thought he was Prijian, he never even thought about it any more. If someone spoke to him in Prijian, he responded that way—same if they used Andonese. He’d had a perfectly normal and friendly conversation with that stupid lieutenant, even with all his ‘official business’ nonsense, so why was the man jumping all over him now as if he had a right to know Karik’s background from the second he’d encountered him?

  Soza was waiting by the carriage. “Oh, you remembered, well done.” He saw where Karik’s glare was directed—towards where that enormous arse was talking to some of the other soldiers. “I see he’s ruffled your feathers. Not a good start, really. I didn’t like his attitude much.”

  “Nor I,” Karik muttered, getting into the calash after Soza.

  “Perhaps we should inform Colonel Kel that the lieutenant’s services won’t be needed. We have more people than we need, after all.”

  Karik’s head jerked up in surprise. It had been agreed that neither of them should make any judgement on the soldiers until Arman had a chance to look them over. “Isn’t he the one with the most experience in Andon? And he speaks fluent Andonese—I don’t think we can afford to let personalities come into it. If he’s the best man for the job, I don’t care if I like him or he likes me.”

  Soza laughed and leant forward to clap his hand on Karik’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’re right, but I wonder if he would be so logical. Somehow I suspect he’s of a rather narrow intellect—unimaginative. All right if he needs to deal with beasts or travelling, but you don’t need a clever mind for that.”

  Karik, whose own father dealt almost entirely in those matters and still managed to be one of the most broadly intelligent men he’d ever encountered, forbore from pointing out the two things were not mutually exclusive. The man himself was still talking to his colleagues, and totally ignoring Karik and Soza. Great arse. He hoped his uncle would find a good reason to turn him down.

  While Soza went to see Master Jezinke and report on their meeting, Karik went to where their stores were being readied for transport to the ship. There was a good deal to be taken, though nothing like as much as there was before Karik had diffidently explained to Soza how very different it was working in the field, and that really, books would be a hindrance, not a help.

  There was still no getting away from the need for vast quantities of note books, ink, pencils, pens, labels, paper wallets for plant material, and many, many small cloth bags for seeds which was the one thing they had to bring back, if at all possible. Karik was still rather dismayed by the volume of it all—when the bags and wallets were full, they would take up even more room, although they were planning to send material back in stages which should ameliorate the problem.

  Since his mentor was unused to field work, it wasn’t unreasonable of him to take some of the comforts that Karik had long ago eschewed in favour of easy travel. His own personal gear was rather more modest, being just a single pack and a bedroll. When he had first set out collecting for Kei, both his father and Arman had given him useful advice on how to minimize the amount he had to hump from place to place, and how to travel in relative comfort while still keeping his belongings in a single pack. The flysheet he used for shelter from wind and rain was the only other thing he normally took, but on this trip he would have the luxury of a tent, one of the large ones used by the Andonese military.

  He couldn’t help feeling a little decadent for travelling so wastefully. But this mission was on such a large scale compared to his own little forays that perhaps such feelings were unnecessary. He couldn’t wait to get on with it. He wished he was on the ship and a-sail already—apart from anything else, it would be just nine days until he would see his parents again, and his uncles, and Reis and Seiki and Mila and Jes.

  Soza took longer than Karik was expecting—the drivers grumbling about there not being enough time to reach the ship if they didn’t hurry—but finally he came in, all smiles and apologies. “Sorry, the master wanted my advice. Are we all ready?”

  “Yes, we should really go.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll head straight down to the ship in the calash and speak to the captain and meet you there. Let’s hope our soldiers know where to go and are on time.”

  In Karik’s experience, punctuality was definitely not something one had to worry about with the army. Soza left him to it, and the two carts were quickly hitched. Karik rode down alongside them to the docks on a beast, and then watched as the carts were efficiently unloaded and the boxes and sacks carried up the gangplank.

  Soza, already on the boat, watched anxiously as the items were carried on board, and fussed about their disposal, wondering if things would be kept dry, or if they would be mixed up with other goods. Karik reassured him the stores would be fine and would arrive perfectly safely—the ship’s captain was a personal friend of his Pa’s and his vessel had been chosen for its reliability and excellent reputation.

  Soza gave him a rueful smile. “Forgive me, I can’t help but be anxious. It seems such an enormous thing we’re doing.”

  “It is, but it’s still something many people have done before us in different ways. It’ll be fine. Have you been shown our cabin?”

  Soza’s expression darkened. “I have, and I’m not impressed. I was told we were to be given first class accommodation. What we have isn’t fit to keep an urs beast in. I’ve complained to the captain but he says there’s nothing better on board. Hardly what I call acceptable. If so many other people would not be inconvenienced, I would insist we remove ourselves and wait until a ship meeting our requirements was in dock.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Karik was puzzled—with Captain Temu being his Pa’s friend, he was surprised he would pull a trick like this. “Can I see it?”

  “Follow me.”

  Karik did so, wondering what could have happened. Even a large ship of this size would usually only have one, at most two, first-rank passenger cabins, which were charged accordingly, but their passage had been booked some time ago, and Temu had been very grateful to get the business. If left to himself, Karik wouldn’t have bothered with a cabin, but someone of Soza’s importance, not to mention his inexperience, could not be expected to bunk with the soldiers in the hold. Had Temu mismanaged things and booked another passenger for the best cabin? It was possible, Karik supposed.

  When they got to the accommodation deck, Soza threw open the cabin door. “Do you see? How are the two of us supposed to sleep in this?”

  Karik blinked. He walked around the well appointed, neatly made cabin, sat on the comfortable bunk, and then looked up at his companion. “I don’t understand the problem, Soza.”

  “It’s minute! There’s no room to move, the beds are h
ard and narrow, and there’s just that one tiny window! Impossible conditions, impossible!”

  Karik bit his lip. “Um, actually...this is the nicest cabin I’ve ever seen. I think it’s probably finer than the captain’s.”

  Soza stopped pacing and stared. “You’re surely not serious. There’s barely room to turn around!”

  Karik really didn’t know what to say. Compared with living in a tent, this was luxury, and he’d travelled on enough ships now to know this was well above the normal standard. “There usually isn’t much space on a boat anyway. The captain hasn’t tried to cheat us, I assure you. If you want more room, I could bunk with the soldiers. It’s what I normally would do.”

  Soza wiped his brow, and then gave Karik a bright smile. “I’m revealing my lack of experience, aren’t I? I’m sorry, it was just nothing like what I was expecting.”

  Karik smiled back reassuringly. “That’s how I felt, the first time I was on a boat.” Although that cabin had been much smaller and far less nicely done out than this. Still, to the new traveller, he understood the surprise. “You get used to it, and really, the space is well thought out. You will find it’s much more comfortable than you imagine, and in rough weather, you’ll be glad the cabin isn’t bigger, and that the window can’t let in the rain more than it does.”

  Soza gulped. “It gets that bad?”

  “It can do, though the route from here to Darshek is one of the safest in Periter, I’ve been told. Only very inexperienced captains or small and poorly constructed boats come to grief, and Captain Temu is a very good man, so my father says. My uncle...I mean, Lord Arman, also recommended him.”

  “Ah. Well, if his lordship is happy with him, then so shall I be. Well, we’re finally here,” he said with a grin. “Excited?”

  “Very. We’ve got hours before we sail though—if you wanted to go back on shore, there’s time.”

  “No, no, best get used to it. I’ll need your guidance, I’m afraid,” he added mournfully.