Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3)

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Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 24

by Ann Somerville


  Thinking about Soza and Karik, and Daiso, and the yawning emptiness of his love life, made him extremely short-tempered for a while, but a spar with Jou, and a glass or two of razika with the evening meal Wepizi treated him to at a local inn, improved his mood. After all, he wasn’t doing too badly considering how short a time it had been since Daiso had thrown him over, and being out in the field had a way of making all troubles loom large at times.

  Wepizi, wise, kind man that he was, didn’t poke Romi until he had had a chance to regain his equilibrium. At the end of the meal, he lifted the small tumbler of razika he was drinking. “Too much of this, and a man becomes morose. But the right amount, and the world seems more endurable. Is that not mysterious, my friend?”

  “I suppose it is. Maybe we should set young Karik to explaining it for us.”

  “I’m sure he will, if I ask. He has the soul of a teacher—a true gift.”

  “This is true,” Romi admitted, being fair. “Jou says she’s learned more from him in three months than she did in six on her training. My only complaint is that he seems to have inspired our medics to run off and become full healers. At this rate, the army will be short of necessary personnel.”

  “Each one must do what is true to their own heart and inclinations, or they cannot be happy. The army needs healers too, and why restrict those who want to better themselves?”

  “I wouldn’t want to—I’ve always been keen on helping people do just that. I’m not cross at Karik—it was merely an observation.”

  Wepizi nodded. “But...he has disturbed you anyway? Something he said, perhaps?”

  “Not, not really,” Romi said with a sigh. “I miss Dai.”

  “Of course you do, though he was not worthy of you, Romi. A lover who is unfaithful is worse than a thief, for they steal your happiness, not just your coin. But you must not let Daiso destroy the love in your heart, or surely, you will not find someone to take his place. A heart can only respond where there is a welcome for it.”

  “Maybe.” Romi found the subject too raw just then to want to talk about it. “Anyway, tell me about this guide we’re meeting.”

  As they drank a last glass of razika, Wepizi explained the situation regarding the northern tribes, from where Kizinke hailed. The most northern tribes had never been subjugated fully, but instead had engaged in decades of guerrilla warfare with the oppressing warlords, and had been instrumental in their downfall. Even now, Wepizi said, the court and council left them to get on with things. The mountain people acknowledged the crown since the lineage was of their breeding, and each two years sent representatives to pledge allegiance to it and to participate in elections and assemblies, but they paid no tax unless they traded with the south, and sent no men to the army. Many of the younger people worked for a few years in the higher government positions, as Kizinke’s brother did, but the rest of the tribe avoided the cities and towns. They considered themselves the true aristocracy of Andon, Wepizi said, and scorned everyone else.

  With that information in mind, Romi was very curious to meet the man the council had appointed to assist them in the second part of their journey. He proved to be a man of Wepizi’s age, of medium height but quite powerfully built, though he had an effete way of speaking he must have acquired for use at court. He seemed pleasant enough at first, but had a distinctly superior air which grated somewhat if one talked to him for too long. It rather reminded Romi of their other supercilious sod, and he wondered if he would find Kizinke as annoying as Soza over time.

  However, there was no doubt he would make an excellent guide—his knowledge of the routes and conditions of the northern ranges was quite comprehensive. He had another indispensable qualification as a guide through the north—he spoke the dialect of the mountain tribes. Though the tribal people spoke Andonese as well, they preferred their own language, so Kizinke’s skills would come in useful.

  Romi introduced Kizinke to the team, but was forced to apologise for the absence of both their naturalists. Kizinke made polite noises but was clearly unimpressed by the failure of either Karik or Soza to bother attending the meeting. That was annoying enough to make Romi ready to bite Karik’s head off as he saw him rushing across the yard a good two hours after noon, when Kizinke had long since departed. But Karik forestalled him.

  “Gods, I’m so sorry,” Karik said breathlessly. “I tried to get here on time but...anyway, I’m too late, I know. My own fault.”

  The unreserved apology took away the impulse to tick him off. “Never mind—he’s got business to attend to but will be back in three days. We’re not leaving at least for another five.”

  “Oh good—I’ve got so much to do....” He recalled to whom he was talking and his manner became a little more formal. “I brought the notes and things to put with the shipment.”

  “Come along and make sure it’s all in order then. We can’t send it for a few days—there’s flooding in the lower reaches and all boats are staying moored until it eases.”

  As Karik followed him over to the stores, Jou caught sight of him and rushed over. “Hello, stranger,” she said with a grin.

  “Oh, hello, Jou. Sorry I’ve not been back, I’ve had so much to do.”

  “I know—did you see the new guide?”

  “No, I missed that. Soza—” He stopped speaking and Romi got the impression it was because it would sound like a criticism of his lover if he continued. Soza had managed to stymie Karik’s visit after all, the bastard. “Anyway, I’ve got these notes to put with our material.”

  “You really should check everything, Karik,” Romi said. “It’s going to be impossible to retrieve anything that’s missing by the time you get back.”

  Karik agreed, and they spent an hour looking over the carefully packed collection. “No, that’s all perfect, just as I thought,” he finally declared. “I’ll just put this with the rest of the documents.”

  “Is that all you’re sending back?” Jou asked. “What about gifts for your family?”

  Karik gave her a guilty look. “Gods, I’ve not had a moment free—and there are at least a dozen people I should get things for. But I have to get back to the academy—”

  Romi put his hand on Karik’s shoulder. “Make time,” he said firmly.

  Karik seemed too surprised at his action to object. “They understand—”

  “Make time,” Romi repeated. “If anything happened to you, the last thing they would know would be that you couldn’t spend an hour finding a keepsake for them. Soldiers have to write home once a month, Karik—because it’s too easy to forget about those who have to stay behind and worry.”

  “I don’t forget!”

  “Then prove it,” Jou said. “Romi’s right. It’s important. I know you’ve got your work, but your Ma will be hurt if you don’t send her a little something back.”

  “Ma would just want a medical text, but she doesn’t read Andonese.”

  “What about your Pa?”

  “He wants a doig,” Karik said, grinning suddenly.

  “Er, they probably sell those in the market....”

  “Maybe they do, but I can’t get one here. I can never think what to get,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

  He looked harried—his lover running him ragged and giving him precious little thanks for the effort, no doubt. Romi made a decision. “Corporal, this calls for military assistance,” he snapped.

  She saluted smartly. “Right you are, captain. Come on, Karik, we’ll go to the market and find those gifts if it kills me.”

  “But—”

  “No arguments,” she said. “I’m under orders. You don’t want me on a discipline, do you?”

  “No. All right, but I’m not sure this comes under the heading of running the expedition, captain,” he said, giving Romi a wry look that didn’t hold the irritation he expected.

  “Pastoral care is my concern. Now go and complete your mission. Jou, if you’re back in under an hour, you really will be on a discipline—go enjoy yourselve
s, you pair.”

  “Absolutely, captain,” she said, giving him another salute and a grin, and then she hauled her friend off.

  A wrong righted, Romi thought with satisfaction, and felt a little more cheerful for it.

  ~~~~~~~~

  As he handed Jou the last of the small parcels to be taken back to the barracks, Karik was torn between pleasure at imagining the delight his little gifts would bring his friends and family, and guilt that he really shouldn’t have spent an entire afternoon in such a frivolous manner. He handed her the list they’d made. “Are you sure you don’t mind writing the notes?”

  “Of course not,” she said cheerfully. “As you said, you’re busy and I’ve got nothing much to do until we leave.”

  “Well, if you’re sure. Thanks, Jou—but I better run and find Soza. It’s very late.”

  She pulled a face at the mention of the man she disliked so much. “Why on earth he had to run you around like a servant, I have no idea. Anyway, come by the barracks soon—we miss you.”

  “I will. See you later, Jou.”

  Soza’s expression was furious as Karik rushed into the library. “Where have you been? I was expecting you back hours ago.”

  “I’m sorry—I just had some errands to run.”

  “Errands? Lazing around with your friends at the barracks, I warrant.”

  “I wasn’t. Anyway, I helped you with those maps though I was late on account of it.”

  “Yes, and perfectly grudgingly too.”

  Karik drew breath to protest this blatant misinterpretation of the facts, but then realised he was about to make a scene in the middle of the Visiqe academy. “I apologise,” he said with an effort. “Shall we go and have our supper?”

  But that wasn’t enough to mollify Soza, who proceeded to lecture Karik about how he would never make a reputation as a researcher if all he cared about was having fun. He didn’t shut up even when the food was served, and Karik was forced to take refuge behind his mug of spiced wine, nodding and making noises where appropriate, and wondering if it was too late for him to tell captain Romi that he wanted to stay in the barracks after all. There seemed little point in defending himself to Soza—when someone was this angry and irrational, his experience told him it was a waste of time to argue with them.

  “You don’t appear to be listening to a word I’ve said, young man.”

  “I’m sorry...would you like another glass of razika?”

  “Yes—call the waitress, will you?”

  “Why don’t you let me get it?” Karik said, desperate to get away from the sound of Soza’s voice. Gods, how was he going to get through the next part of the journey without quarrelling fatally with the man?

  To his surprise, Soza seemed rather more pleasant when he returned with his drink, as if he had quite forgotten his irritation, urging him to drink his wine, and even suggesting he had another mug. Karik agreed, though he was wary of being set up for more criticism—but Soza really did seem to have put his anger aside, and was even pleasant, complimenting him on finding an important specimen during the visit to the market the previous day.

  Karik was beginning to feel a little odd, and rather hot—he must have had too much to drink, he realised. “We better go,” he said. His mouth felt a little numb—he hoped there hadn’t been something wrong with that last mug of wine.

  “Are you all right, Karik? You look a little pale.”

  “A bit dizzy,” he admitted.

  “Here, take my arm.” Soza left coins on the table for the waitress, and led Karik out of the dining hall and around the corner to the inn.

  Once in the room, Karik really began to feel peculiar. “Maybe you better lie down.”

  “Good idea....” His tongue felt thick and unwieldy. “Oh. I.... Feel...shtrange....”

  “Why don’t you lie down? You’ve had a lot to drink.”

  This was true, Karik thought muzzily, but even when he lay down, the room still seemed to spin. The unpleasant feeling of floating only increased as he closed his eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “Let me get a cloth.”

  Karik couldn’t work out why a cloth would help, but then he was finding coherent thought rather difficult—his thoughts skittered about, hard to hang on to. He clutched at the bedclothes in a desperate attempt to get rid of the dizzy, disembodied sensation, but it only got worse. Had to be the wine....

  Something cold and wet was placed on his forehead. “You seem rather hot—why don’t I loosen your clothes?”

  Karik nodded—thought he nodded anyway, though he couldn’t be sure he actually had—and lay unresisting as Soza undid his shirt laces, then his trousers. He felt a hand over his genitals, and then fingers tugging at his loincloth. “Don’ think they’re hot.”

  “Nonsense, you’ll feel much better with this loosened.” Karik wanted very much for Soza not to do this, but he couldn’t make the words come out, and his arms were too heavy to move. “Now, isn’t that better?”

  “Nuh....”

  “Ah, I see the gerot is working nicely.”

  Gerot? He tried to struggle upright, but his limbs refused to obey him. He stared at Soza. “I had to guess at the dose, of course, and I might have overdone it.” Soza had drugged him? “The Andonese don’t keep nearly as many records as I would like. Still, I have to say I’m gratified by the results. I hadn’t expected it to be so fast acting. I will have to take that into consideration next time.”

  He felt himself being rolled over onto his front. “Huh...?”

  “Shhhh. You know, you’re a very handsome man. Lovely, even. Everyone thinks so.”

  Soza’s words were spoken by his ear, and he tried to move away from them. “Don’....”

  “It’s all right. I just want to touch you. I’ve wanted to touch you since the first time I saw you.”

  Karik felt his buttocks being parted by Soza’s moist hands, and even in his confused state, knew this was something he did not want Soza to do. “No.”

  “So lovely. But you’re very cruel, Karik. So arrogant, the way you think you’re so much better than me. Siding with that fool of a lieutenant, supporting him—arguing with me too. I don’t like it at all. That man has been making a mockery of me ever since Darshek, and you’ve been helping him. I can’t let that go on, now, can I?”

  Soza was right over him now, and Karik was pressed into the bed, a finger rubbing up and down between his buttocks in a most unpleasant way. Soza had a hand on Karik’s neck, forcing his face into the pillow until he could hardly breathe. He certainly couldn’t make his words understood, even though in his mind he was yelling at Soza to stop, not to do this, begging him....

  “You’re quite exquisite, but you have to learn that you’re not as important as you think you are, you know. You’re only a student. You need to learn some respect. You belong to me, and you’ll do what pleases me, not anyone else.”

  No. Don’t.

  Soza’s fingers dug cruelly into his hips now, and probed intimately. Karik’s weak struggles had not the slightest effect on him. “Shame I didn’t buy any oil, but needs must.”

  It hurts...please don’t.

  “Uh...now that’s harder....to do...than I thought it would be.”

  Don’t...gods, it hurts so much....

  “Now we just....maybe a little spit...yes.” Soza grunted as Karik screamed into the pillow with the agony of his thrust, tears of pain and shock running unseen down his face. It was like he was being split open—even being stabbed hadn’t hurt like this. It felt like Soza was shoving his fist inside him. He flailed weakly, but even Soza’s small strength was easily enough to overpower him. All he could do was cry with the lancing pain as Soza continued to pound into him, ripping him apart with every thrust.

  It seemed to go on forever. Karik would gladly have died to end the agony, to end this incredible betrayal. When Soza finally stopped, Karik still wept, unable to control his reaction to the pain and the horror of it all, and drowning in a nightmare that c
ontinued even once the assault ended.

  Soza was moving around the room, doing what, Karik had no idea. In a few moments, he came back to the bed, and Karik was terrified he was going to fuck him again. But all he did was pick up the discarded cloth, wipe Karik’s face and then bend to kiss him in a parody of affection. “That was wonderful, it really was. And I can do it any time I want now—I’ve got a good supply of gerot. I needed to teach you your place, Karik. You won’t remember me telling you this, but I have a feeling you’ll learn your lesson anyway.”

  Karik couldn’t believe Soza was saying all this—was this the same man who had taught him so generously all those months before? Even the bad-tempered Soza of the trail and of recent days wouldn’t do this—would he?

  He heard Soza get into bed, and then the lamp was turned down. Trembling, he hardly dared breathe as he waited for his rapist to settle down. Using the pain, his terror, he made himself fight the drug to stay awake so he could escape. He waited until he was sure Soza was asleep before moving. It was still incredibly difficult to make his body work—even reaching down to pull up his trousers seemed to take hours. He was terrified when his efforts to get up just led to him falling to his knees—terrified that Soza would wake up and do those things to him again. He didn’t even dare risk trying to get his boots on. He just wanted to get out of here, away from the monster who had taken the place of his friend, away from all that he wanted to do to Karik. He would do it again, he said he would. Karik couldn’t let him do that.

  He had to hold onto the wall every inch of the way, and the back stairs were impossible—he half fell rather than walked down them, unable to feel his legs properly, praying no one would come up and see him in this state. If he could just get into the fresh air and clear his head, then he could....

 

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