Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3)

by Ann Somerville

  Wepizi didn’t give them much chance to look around, and as the light was going already, Karik was glad to get indoors. They were taken to an entrance hall, and requested to change into their indoor shoes before they were allowed into the large main room itself which seemed to be where the other soldiers ate, rested and slept. There were no bunks, just pallets and furs rolled up against the wall. The soldiers already in the hall were sitting on benches close to an enormous circular stove in the middle of the room. The air was fuggy and almost solid after the crisp cold outside.

  Wepizi asked the soldiers near the stove to make room for the visitors, and made general introductions. “Now, drizu for you all, hot food and then the steam room, yes?”

  There was a collective nodding. Karik was most curious to see a steam room, and from what he’d heard from his uncle, it would be just the thing they needed after a long journey and the cold walk. But that was later. They were told to stow their packs against the wall, and generous mugs-full of drizu, the famous Andonese spicy tea, were doled out to them. In very short order, they had all warmed up enough to find their heavy coats and gloves a burden, and then discovered the purpose of the pegs that were arrayed on every wall. He also now understood why the soldiers who’d been in the hall when they’d arrived were sitting in shirt sleeves—with the stove, the tea and the constant arrival of more soldiers finishing their duties for the day, the room was becoming almost sweltering. Despite its wooden construction, he could tell it was solidly built, with high, rather small windows and a central ceiling vent through which the stove’s chimney protruded. On the whole, it was a rather strange cross between sleeping indoors and being outdoors.

  Now they had a chance to relax, he could examine their liaison a little more closely. He was somewhat older than any of their team, perhaps in his early thirties, but still a handsome man with a winning smile, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that reminded Karik of Kei. He was also extremely tall, taller even than Romi who was enormous. Unlike many of the Andonese in Darshek, Wepizi was clean shaven—so were all the other male soldiers, Karik now noted—except for a rather elaborately shaped moustache, which he stroked from time to time as he talked, like a pet. Already he liked this man, and was delighted at the friendliness of his soldiers towards their team, civilian and military alike. It boded well for their expedition.

  He sat back and smiled to himself. He was in Andon at last, and the great adventure had begun.

  Staying Power: 11

  Gods, it was good to see Wepizi again. Still the same rascal, it seemed, as he listened to his friend tease his visitors. Romi had stayed with Wepizi and Lema in their home on his down time during his Andon stay, and had been shocked to learn of her death from a sudden infection. He’d had some very painful letters from Wepizi after that terrible loss, but it seemed now he had got past the worst of his grief.

  The drizu was good, warming a man from the inside rather like the Prijian pijo, but without the cloying richness. Between it and razika, the fiery Andonese spirit distilled from grain and tree sap, the deep cold of this land could be kept at bay indefinitely, and he could see his team relax as they warmed up. Karik was the subject of a few curious looks—Romi decided not to enlighten anyone unless directly asked as to why they had a Prij with them. Soza looked bewildered and a little out of sorts—perhaps he was put out at not being able to understand what was being said. Well, that was Karik’s problem, Romi had decided. If Soza had wanted to put himself forward when he didn’t speak Andonese, that was up to him, but Romi wouldn’t make everyone accommodate his inadequacies. At least, not when it wasn’t life or death.

  The hall was filling up—the barracks were organised into groups of fifty soldiers to a set of sleeping quarters, and it looked like the full complement was here now. Before long, the rich smell of heating meat stew permeated the thick warmth of the hall, and Romi realised he was actually hungry. The food on the boat had been indifferent, and their last meal had been a long time ago. He’d been looking forward to some good Andonese cooking. He hoped Karik and Soza liked their food spicy.

  The room was now very crowded and noisy as soldiers took their place to eat the evening meal. Though the sleeping quarters could seem chaotic the first time one experienced them, they were actually run efficiently. Food was cooked in a central kitchen and brought to the quarters in huge containers. Serving was done on a rota, and food delivered in a strict order, regardless of rank. Tables were transformed from boards and trestles, and cleared away quickly after the meal to be stacked against the walls. Cleaning was also done on a rota, and utensils were stored compactly and tidily in compartments under the stove. Warm living space was always short in Andon, and people got used, at least in the winter months, to living at close quarters without wasting effort or taking up more than their fair share of room. It would be even more cramped in the tent.

  As he talked to Wepizi, he kept a surreptitious eye on Karik and Soza. He admitted to being curious as to how their civilians were finding it all, though he would never ask. Doubtless Karik would share his thoughts with one of the soldiers and Romi could find out that way. He doubted he would ever be able to have a casual conversation with the man, and though he admitted it was partly his fault, part of it was Karik’s superciliousness, of which Romi had experienced more than the rest of the team had. Maybe the pride would get knocked out of him on this trip.

  He wasn’t the only one with a hearty appetite, but at last, the generosity of their hosts sated even the strongest hunger and bowls were surrendered to the cleaning crew. Wepizi called for another round of tea while the meal settled. “You’re lucky, my friends,” he said, sitting back and grinning. “We’re having a mild winter this year.”

  Karik stared. “Mild? Are you joking?”

  “Yes, he is,” Romi couldn’t resist saying. “Don’t tease, Wepizi. I’ve been up here at this time of year and the snow wasn’t so thick then.”

  Wepizi laughed and stroked his moustache. “Ah, caught, caught like a fish. Sorry, Karik, I embellished the truth for humour’s sake. It’s been a cold one. But spring is on its way and that’s no lie. We can go from snow as high as a man to green grass in a week. Our seasons turn fast in Andon.”

  “So you’re not expecting an unusually difficult journey?”

  “Well, as to unusual....” Romi shot him a warning look—Wepizi could get a little carried away with his teasing. “No, my friend. Your beasts may not enjoy the first two or three weeks but that is the easier part of the route. By the time we enter the low country, the thaw will be well underway.”

  “You think the beasts can handle snow this thick?” Karik seemed rather worried. “Perhaps we should have used doigs instead.”

  “No, it will be fine. I would not lead you into danger, I swear upon Sephiz.”

  “Of course you would not,” Karik said with a graceful bow of his head. “My apologies if I implied otherwise.”

  “None required at all,” Wepizi said with a broad smile. “Now, we must bathe. Bring your clean gear, and you can use the laundry facilities tomorrow. Then for the rest of the journey until Visiqe, you will have to learn to love your own stink, I’m afraid.”

  Romi saw Soza apparently ask for a translation, and then watched his face fall as Karik delivered the bad news. Welcome to the reality of trail life, he thought not without some pleasure at seeing the pompous bastard’s reaction. But he carefully showed none of this in his own expression—he had to play the diplomat, a role at which he had been failing badly. They had begun their mission, so he needed to stop sniping at his civilians and accept them, faults and all. It was like having a team member with an injury—a good leader worked it into his plans, not pretended it didn’t affect them. Soza was just a broken leg he had to accommodate. As to what injury Karik was...well, he was more like a headache. Annoying but not debilitating. Romi could handle headaches.

  The third great comfort of Andonese life were the thermal springs that made living in this extreme climate almos
t pleasant—it was not by chance that any major settlements were usually founded over hot springs, and where they were not, there was usually some other compelling reason like access to a fast flowing, ice-free river, and in such cases, the residents had to make do with wood stoves alone, a poor substitute for the endless heat of the thermal springs. Tsikiugui owed its existence to the warmth of the underground vents which kept its waters free of ice and made it a year-round harbour. The barracks, like every other household in Tsikiugui, tapped the power underneath the ground to heat water and warm the buildings under the flooring. The hot springs also provided the peculiarly civilized luxury of the steam room, of which Romi had become very fond on his previous visit.

  But first, two weeks’ accumulated grime had to be sluiced off. Jou and Sibu went to use the women’s facilities, while the rest of them followed Wepizi to the men’s washroom. Again, it was a model of efficiency. Drying cloths and soap were dispensed, dirty clothes collected and stored for them, and clean ones put on hooks. Then they went into the main washroom and clustered around large barrels of heated water to soap and rinse off. Naturally Karik and Soza managed to avoid sharing water with him, but Romi was curious to see what Karik looked like naked. The reality surprised him. Slightly built he might be, but his musculature was far from delicate—in fact, he was as wiry and tough looking as any of Romi’s soldiers. Nothing like flabby Soza and his skinny legs. Karik was small but perfectly formed, even down to the neat reddish blond curls around his cock.

  Almost perfect—Romi was shocked to see a hideous scar, clearly of some years’ standing, which defaced the flat stomach and lower chest. If he wasn’t mistaken, that had been a life-threatening injury and he wondered where on earth someone who lived such an unexceptional life had got it. Perhaps a riding injury? Or a carcho attack? He thought the latter was unlikely, given the placement of the scar. He would have to get someone to sneakily find out the story of it.

  He was careful not to let Karik see him looking, or to show any overt curiosity, since staring in a public washroom was simply rude and led to misunderstandings. It didn’t stop Wepizi’s frank interest though, and when Romi caught his friend’s eye and gave him an enquiring look, Wepizi just grinned but said nothing.

  It was so good to be clean, and he luxuriated in ridding his hair of grease and dust. Managing long hair in such a climate was hard, he knew that, which was why most Andonese men and even many of the women, kept their hair short, the better to dry it quickly in the cold. Wepizi, seeing them all struggling with their braids, signalled to one of the attending soldiers and more cloths were brought for them to wrap up their hair in. “I recall this problem now,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Such a lot of fuss for so useless an adornment.”

  “And how long do you spend in the mornings grooming that object under your nose?” Romi snapped back, which made Netu, standing near them, grin. “I think it takes less time to curry a beast than you take to shape that hideous growth.”

  “My moustache is my pride, you heathen. If it was not wise for me to have it, the benevolent god would see fit to make it fall out.”

  “And so he must want us to have our braids. Hanged by your own words, Wepizi.”

  Wepizi bowed. “And so it is, so it is. I am a sluggard when I joust at wits with you.”

  There was a suspicious sound behind Romi, but when he turned, he saw only innocent expressions, and on Karik’s face, a cool, unreadable look. Cheeky bastards.

  When they were cleaned to their satisfaction, Wepizi led them to the steam room. Just as the cold outside was like a slap to the face, the humid heat here felt like they were walking into a wall. Wepizi walked in unconcerned, and told them to sit where they liked. Soza was about to sit on the bare bench, which would have been amusing, but Karik warned him to put his cloth down first.

  Once they were settled, Wepizi clapped his hands with pleasure. “Now, is this not luxury, my friends? Now, let me make an offering to Sephiz in thanks for your safe arrival.” He laid fresh conifer branches over the hot rocks in the corner of the steam room, filling it with the clean sharp scent of the forests, cutting through the steam and inviting them to breathe deeply. Then he took the ladle attached to a small barrel on a shelf, and dipped out some liquid. “Oh, benevolent Sephiz, all honour and gratitude be given to you for the blessing of our friends,” he intoned, then threw the liquid onto the stones. It sizzled immediately and threw steam up into the air, making them cough. “We, your children, thank you for your bountiful gifts.”

  Within moments, Romi felt himself relax as he might have done after a pint or two of good beer—as he’d already discovered on his first visit, alcohol dispensed in this manner had a way of going straight to the head, if only briefly. Wepizi was wafting steam in his direction and inhaling deeply with obvious enjoyment. Karik looked rather overwhelmed by the alcoholic steam, and had gone a deep pink, but didn’t seem to mind the sensation. Soza couldn’t stop coughing for a least a minute, and then shot Wepizi a look which clearly implied he thought the Andonese had just tried to kill him.

  “Is it not good, my friends? Truly, razika is a wonderful gift from Sephiz.”

  Gift of the deity or not, it was a congenial habit. Drinking alcohol of any kind was forbidden in the barracks, and public drunkenness frowned upon as an act of poor self-control. But sitting in the steam room and getting ever so slightly intoxicated with one’s fellows served the same purpose as going for a beer or two after the day’s duty was over, and in this climate, was a good deal more pleasant. Romi stretched out, using the heat to ease the stiffness in his muscles. He also took note of the changes in his friend. Wepizi looked thinner, and behind the ever-present smile, sadness lingered in his dark eyes. Lema’s death had been such a tragedy—she had been a truly kind and loving woman, a perfect foil for Wepizi’s mischievous, cheerful nature. Romi had envied their happiness, but its loss had broken Wepizi’s heart, possibly irreparably. Now he wished he’d been more assiduous in writing. The problem with distance was there was so little he could do for his friends, but at least he would have several months to keep Wepizi company now. Perhaps he would find a little peace in the wilds of his own country.

  More men came in as they took their turns at the washroom, and every few minutes, someone would throw a small amount of alcohol onto the rocks, making a little bow as they offered the evaporating spirit in honour of Sephiz. All the Andonese Romi had ever met were deeply devout without being po-faced about it. It was an attractive religion, demanding nothing of its believers other than gratitude for the many good things in life, and that all acts be carried out with love. To live without love, to act out of hate, were the worst sins in Andonese culture. The Andonese never questioned whether a relationship was right or moral—all they ever wanted to know was whether it was based on genuine, mutual affection and consent. Hence their objections to brothels—sex without love was deemed an offence against their god’s gift of life, and a sign of a poorly controlled appetite too, though the Andonese were practical enough to understand the need for physical relief. The Andonese were moderate even in their condemnation of immoderation.

  The steam room was an important part of the social interaction for the Andonese, and the same was true in the barracks, so it wasn’t unusual for the men to spend an hour or more lounging around, talking and relaxing. Romi had been looking forward to doing just that, so he was rather annoyed, after a very short time, to notice Karik looking worried, and to then realise the cause was pissing Soza. “Are you all right?” he asked the man, who had gone rather red and was fanning himself frantically.

  “The heat—I can’t breathe....”

  Wepizi sat up, his expression concerned. “Ah, one’s first time can be difficult. Please, Romi, bring your friend out to the cold bath.”

  Karik looked to Romi for guidance, and with an impatient flick of his hand, he indicated for him to bring the bastard along. “Men, take your time. Enjoy it while you can.” There was, after all, no reason to cut everyone e
lse’s relaxation short.

  Wepizi led them to where cool, though not icy water, stood in a plunge bath, and showed Karik by example what to do. Romi followed, shuddering at the shock which made his heart race. Soza, of course, took this fresh surprise as mortal offence. “Blessed gods, give me some warning next time,” he snapped as he got out of the water almost as quickly as he’d entered it, wrapping the towel around his skinny hips and glaring at Romi and Wepizi.

  “Feeling better, are we?” Romi drawled, not at all fazed by his anger. “Karik, maybe you’d better take him back. Everyone else will return to the sleeping quarters soon. Do you need any help?”

  “I can manage,” Karik said coldly, wrapping his towel around him. “Come on, Soza.”

  There was no reason to linger in the cold pool, so Wepizi and Romi dried themselves, then sat on the benches by the low stove. Not as warm as the steam room, but pleasant enough, and since there was little privacy in the winter, it was a chance to sit and talk quietly to Wepizi. “That,” his friend said, looking in the direction in which the civilians had gone, “is a very beautiful man.”

  “I suppose so. Unfortunately, he belongs to that pissing fool who went with him.”

  Wepizi looked wide-eyed in surprise. “Him? Surely not. Are they in love? Truly?”

  “So it seems.” Romi wouldn’t like to swear it was actually true love, but Karik was as solicitous as a wife of his lover, so there had to be something there. Surely only love could blind him to the man’s faults.