“I can’t believe...your uncle would be very disappointed in you.” Then Soza stomped off and flung open the tent flap.
There was a moment or two of embarrassed silence while everyone tried not to meet anyone else’s eyes. “You could have handled that more politely, captain,” Karik said finally. “You didn’t need to humiliate him in that manner.”
“He chose the venue, not I, and he’s not exactly amenable to subtle hints, is he?”
“How would you know? You spend all your time looking down at him, so you have no idea what he’s really like.”
Romi really didn’t care to find out either. “Fine, I’m a bastard, but my decision stands—even more so after that display, because if he can’t treat us with respect, he won’t treat them with respect.”
“If that’s your decision, then so be it. Is that all?”
“Yes, go on. But he’s wrong about one thing.”
Karik turned to look at him. “About what?”
“Your uncle. I don’t think he’d be disappointed at all.”
He’d known he was pushing it, so he wasn’t surprised to get another icy glare. “Leave him out of this, captain. I’m the one on this mission, not him.” And then he stalked off, presumably to soothe the injured feelings of his lover.
“Oh, gods,” Taz said with a grin. “This is more fun than a travelling show. He’s been spitting blood all day, you know.”
Romi sighed. “Yes, I can imagine. You can also imagine the depth of my sorrow at that fact. Forget about it, and let me handle the bastard. You two warm enough? I guess soup and tea will be coming out to you in a bit.”
The two soldiers assured him they were fine. Netu had already disappeared into the tent before the fireworks had started, so Romi and Wepizi walked back alone.
“He’s right—you could have handled that more diplomatically,” Wepizi said, stroking his moustache thoughtfully.
“I notice you’re not saying I was wrong to make the decision.”
“Not at all, my friend. But he will cause you trouble, if he can.”
“Let him—he doesn’t have the influence he thinks he does, and I wouldn’t care if he did. Look at how he treats his lover, if you want proof of his attitude.”
“Ah yes. I feel sorry for Karik, being put in that position.”
“He put himself there,” Romi said unsympathetically. “If he wants to delude himself that Soza is perfect, that’s up to him, but I’ve got a team and a mission to consider. The sooner he wakes up to who he’s tied himself to, the better, I think.”
“One would almost think you wanted them to part for your own purposes, my friend,” Wepizi said with a slight grin.
“I don’t think so,” Romi said dryly. “I just can’t stand people making a hash of their life, that’s all.”
“Of course. Why would I think otherwise?”
“Gods, you’re a pain in the arse sometimes, Wepizi.”
Staying Power: 16
Karik hadn’t realised how isolated he could be in a group of over a dozen people, but the week that followed Romi and Soza’s argument had proved it nicely, if he’d ever had an ambition to know. He honestly didn’t know who he was angrier with—his enemy, or his friend for putting him in the distasteful position of having to side with his enemy against his friend. Of course, lieutenant arse had managed to upset Soza as thoroughly as possible, but Soza was being ridiculous.
Worse, so far as Soza was concerned, Karik couldn’t offer him the validation he so clearly wanted, nor agree to ignore Romi’s orders. When Karik had finally said that he had no intention of disobeying the decision, Soza had sulked for days, and only knowing that it would give too much satisfaction to the great arse had stopped Karik from telling Soza to grow up and put his stupid pride aside. He didn’t understand why a man so devoted to science didn’t just want the mission to succeed however it could. He did understand why Romi wanted Soza to keep away from the proud and touchy tribesmen, and he knew perfectly well that Soza had amply demonstrated Romi’s point for him by his display of temper.
But he couldn’t talk to Soza about Romi, or to Romi about Soza, or to anyone else about the pair of them. He didn’t even dare confide his feelings in the letters he was writing to his parents and to Kei, to be sent from Visiqe when they finally arrived there. He didn’t want them to worry, or to give people the wrong impression about Soza and the work they were doing. Soza was planning to write a blistering condemnation of Romi for Arman. Karik would make his own report, but it would have to cover Soza’s own failings, if Karik was to be as scrupulously fair as he always tried to be.
All he could do was to do his job, and avoid talking to either man more than he had to. Wepizi was sympathetic, and made it clear that he would listen if Karik wanted to talk, but again, Karik was wary of him. Not that he distrusted Wepizi, but he definitely didn’t trust Romi, and he wasn’t taking any chances—he’d already put himself out on a limb by publicly supporting him against Soza, and he wouldn’t make himself a hostage to fortune any more than that. He just found it all incredibly tiring and tiresome, and if it weren’t for the fact they were achieving more than he’d ever hoped to, even in this short time, he’d have taken a beast and ridden back to Tsikiugui.
Romi, of course, seemed unaffected by his civilians’ discomfort, and Soza eventually got over his sulk—mainly, Karik thought a little uncharitably, because no one else would talk to him while he was like this. In fact, after Soza stopped sulking, his manners seemed somewhat improved, although if he was hoping Romi would change his mind, he was to be disappointed. In Romi’s position, Karik wouldn’t have risked it either, but he would have died before admitting that fact to either man.
The mission continued regardless of these petty quarrels, and was all that Kei and Karik had hoped for. Karik was keeping careful notes of his discussions with the healers in the settlements, and samples of the drugs and herbs they gave him to take back to Darshek. Already, he had learned of new treatments for heavy monthly bleeding, burns, heart trouble and wound infections which looked very promising indeed and about which Kei would be delighted to hear—this was exactly the kind of information a city-bred man like Jezinke hadn’t been able to provide. Until now, no one had put much stock in the local knowledge of the tribal peoples, although Karik and his uncle had both felt it was a great untapped resource. So it had proved to be, and when he found himself getting depressed over yet another squabble between Romi and Soza (the two clashed on a daily basis over the most minor of matters), he took comfort from anticipating Kei’s reaction to his reports. He wouldn’t see that reaction, not at first. They would be sending off their collections and notes and diaries from Visiqe and hopefully, Kei would be looking it all over months before Karik returned.
Andon was turning out to be even more beautiful and wild than Karik had imagined. The plants and animals were making the most of the improving weather—muddy quagmires and apparently lifeless trees were now clothed in green, early flowers setting bright spots of colour everywhere one looked, the air full of song as birds mated and fought for nesting sites, and game, both big and small, was suddenly much more varied and plentiful. Karik insisted each kill be treated like any other specimen before it was eaten, and though Soza had little interest in fauna, Karik’s experience had taught him that one could not ignore it. How the animals interacted with the plants, what they fed on, and what they pollinated, was all important if the plants were to be successfully introduced to Darshian—and they were not to become pests.
At least he hadn’t had to argue the point with Romi—Karik had made his request, and the order had been given immediately. He wondered if Romi actually gave a damn about the importance of the information, or whether he would agree to anything that didn’t affect the safety of the team. He didn’t much care so long as he got what he needed.
The flat marshes had offered little novelty to their geologists or mapmakers but the hills were much more of a challenge to all of them. By the time they rea
ched them, some five weeks after leaving Tsikiugui, the thaw was well underway, and the low-lying areas were almost devoid of snow. Ironically, it had made the travel harder as snow gave way to slushy ground and mud, but from the collecting point of view, it was a feast. Karik was now alert to the signs of the new life springing up, not just from the soil, but from bare rocks, crooks of trees, and the other places that the Andonese flora used to shelter from the harsh climate. Mosses and lichens played an important part in tribal pharmacology and now the snow had retreated, Karik and the others were busily sampling and drying specimens from every nook and cranny.
It was getting easier, the travelling, even with the continued hostility between the expedition leader and the senior scientist. Now the collecting had begun in earnest, there was simply less time to waste in whining. Soza was already talking about the next expedition they would mount, this time in summer and autumn instead of the spring, and while Karik had reservations about exactly who should go on such a trip, he had none about its necessity and importance.
If it weren’t for Romi’s ability to drive Soza into a fury just by breathing, he would consider the rest of their team perfect for a second mission. Wepizi was a delight—funny, clever and endlessly patient, he was wonderful at handling the tribal people, not all of whom had been as welcoming as Fezerir’s tribe. Only once had they had been refused access to a settlement—it was more usual to be treated with initial suspicion, followed by varying degrees of grudging welcome. Karik was becoming skilled in using the apparent disadvantage of his Prijian heritage as a way of exciting curiosity and breaking the ice. It was a risky strategy, but it worked, and since he and Netu had done so well in their first contact with the tribes, Romi had decreed that they could continue being the ones to talk to the healers. Netu, whom Karik liked a good deal, was a good choice for this, with his easy, gentle manners and solid practical knowledge of basic medical matters. He complemented Karik’s more theoretical knowledge very well, and it had been a good decision on Romi’s part to team the two of them together.
In fact, Karik had to secretly admit, Romi’s decisions were all pretty well considered, and even when he was annoying, he was fair. Yes, he might have taken pleasure in upsetting Soza, but the reasons weren’t based (well, not solely) on his dislike, and Karik had yet to discover him acting purely out of malice. It didn’t make Karik like him any better, but at least it vindicated the vote of confidence Karik had given about him to Arman.
After they crossed the Gunozidei range, they followed the fast flowing Epolniki river, swollen with snow melt, northwest to Visiqe, and now the landscape changed again, from the stark volcanic black rocks of the range to a lush riverine valley, with its own sheltered climate and sense of even greater isolation from the rest of Andon. Here the tribal peoples were much more suspicious of them—a hold over from the occupation and revolution, Wepizi said. It was still necessary to win their trust if they could, because the expedition team had to travel through tribal territory. It took all the charm that Romi and Wepizi could muster to even be allowed to speak to the headmen, let alone question their healers, and Karik’s presence was now much more of an obstacle. After a difficult and not very successful meeting with one tribe, Romi called a meeting between the four of them to discuss how to proceed. Netu suggested that they bring Jou with them on the next visit, feeling a woman’s presence might expose a breach in the wall of hostility where the men could not. Romi was sceptical, but agreed to try the plan at least once.
The experiment was a decided success. Jou’s friendly, open manner charmed the men of the tribe, and the women were amused at the way she shamelessly teased and harassed Karik and Netu, who played up to it for entertainment. The tribe had never seen a female soldier before, nor a Darshianese woman, and they were nearly as curious about her as they were about Karik. She dandled the babies, and let the women play with her braid, and challenged the men to a spar which she won, to the great embarrassment of the village champion, who was dumped on his arse by a girl half his weight. The headman grinned, and his wife mocked, and after that, the visitors were welcomed with open arms.
As they rode back to camp, flushed with success, Romi berated himself for not having thought of bringing Jou with them sooner. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re not infallible, Romi,” she teased.
“All right, I won’t—just don’t tell anyone else.”
Karik couldn’t resist saying, “I think the secret’s out,” which only made everyone grin—even Romi, rather to his surprise. But then they were all in a good mood. It had been a wonderful day.
As they came back to camp at sunset, the rest of the team had already gathered for a welcome cup of tea and relaxation after a day’s hard work in the field. It was warm enough that they now ate the evening meal outside by a campfire, though they still needed their winter gear against the chill. The tent had lost its charm with the warmer weather, and now everyone, even Soza, preferred to spend time out in the open air.
Netu said he would take Karik’s animal, so he removed his packs and went to find a seat beside Soza. “Good day?” his friend asked as Karik sat down.
“Yes, very. She was even more of a novelty than me. It worked really well.”
Soza scowled, and Karik belatedly realised this was just another reminder of Soza’s exclusion from the settlements. “I see. And although Jou has no special training, she’s able to question these tribesman when I am not.”
“She’s a medic, Soza, and you know she’s very adept at the botany—”
“And of course, she’s your little friend, so no doubt you didn’t miss my company at all.” Soza got to his feet. “Excuse me, I have some specimens in the tent.”
Karik groaned quietly as Soza got up. That had been such a mistake on his part. Sibu noticed his expression. “What’s up his nose now, Karik?”
“Um.”
Sibu, not being a stupid person, rapidly put the facts together from Karik’s glance over at where Jou and Netu were unsaddling the beasts. “That man’s worse than a baby,” she declared. “I know he’s your friend, Karik, but really.... Is he an only child or something?”
“I really don’t know,” Karik said. “I don’t think he’s had much experience working with large groups of people.” But then, neither had he himself, Karik thought.
“And he won’t get any more if I have anything to say about it,” she said emphatically. “If I had him under me, he’d be on a discipline every day of his miserable life.”
“If he was under you, he’d probably prefer a discipline to that,” Reisa said, which made her punch his arm and try to wrestle him to the ground. At least it covered Karik’s embarrassment at the frank criticism of his friend. For the first few weeks, the soldiers had been more circumspect but now, ironically, the more friendly and equal they felt with Karik, the more honest they had become. While he cherished the comradeship, it made for some uncomfortable conversations—he tried not to take offence since there was no malice involved, and the biting observations all too accurate. He just hoped Soza didn’t think he was participating in the insults.
Fortunately, Soza’s anger was short-lived, and he returned to eat supper without referring to the matter. He was getting better at this kind of thing, Karik thought, ever hopeful that Soza and the rest of the team would one day work smoothly together. He seemed to have realised holding onto grudges in a close-knit group like this just rebounded on him, and while he didn’t seem to be able to stop these little outbursts, at least he didn’t sulk for so long afterwards.
As used to the travelling as they had all become, the first glimpse of the tall towers of Visiqe, nestled at the base of one of the huge mountains in the Geriziq range was very welcome. The city was situated above the Jivinki where it split from the Epolniki river, conveniently near an easily traversed pass through the range, and so was the major trading hub in north Andon, as well as its political centre. Its position had allowed the war lords to dominate the country for so long—it had improved its defe
nces considerably from those days, Wepizi said. Evidence of that was obvious as they rode closer—the city was surrounded by a huge wall, breached only in two places by massive gates, and patrolled by well-armed soldiers. Though the marauding tribes and warlords had long ago been beaten back by the Andonese and destroyed by internal dispute, no one was taking any chances.
Even the beasts seemed impatient to be done with this part of the journey, or perhaps it was the eagerness of their riders, but there was a spring in everyone’s step as they got to the gates and Wepizi presented his bona fides. Romi had them ride in tidy formation down the crowded streets towards the barracks, but Karik could hardly concentrate for all the sights and sounds. He had thought Darshek huge...but Visiqe was enormous. Not in area, because it was confined by the wall and the mountains, but it was so tall, so crowded...so...large in sound and smell and vision.
Karik had never seen so many people together, not people dressed in such a riot of colours. He’d expected nothing like this, after his brief glimpse of drab, flat Tsikiugui and knowing the sober and respectable Andonese who lived in Darshek. It was like all of Periter was crammed into this small space and each person was determined to be noticed. Even the buildings demanded attention, many defying the risk of earthquake with their tall turrets, imitating the snow capped peaks behind them—only the mountains did not sport colourful flags, nor ring with bells that hung from every available support.
Wepizi was clearly amused at their astonishment. “Is it not the most beautiful city in the world?” he asked Karik.
“Is beautiful the word?” Karik murmured. His only reference was Darshian’s two capitals, and of the two, Darshek was the more gracious—ordered, elegant and carefully controlled to prevent the centre of the city becoming the sprawling mess of its southern cousin. Visiqe was everything that Darshek was not—it was a riot, architecturally heterogeneous, with no obvious plan or thought. It hung its dirty washing out in public, literally and metaphorically, since even on the short trip to the barracks, Karik glimpsed the crowded squalor of the underclass, displaying their dingy clothes on lines across every alley.
Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 21