Her eyes lit up. “Promise?”
“Word of an officer.”
“Then I’ll hold you to that,” she said firmly. “Go eat your breakfast, captain.”
“Yes, sir, milady sir,” he said, giving her a mock salute and making her smile again. “We’ll be moving in an hour.”
“Don’t remind me. Beast farts,” she said mournfully.
Outside, the camp was bustling, and as Romi exited the tent, Jou led people inside to remove the injured, so they could take the tent down and divide it into three. Romi’s group would be the loser from the deal, but since two of them would always be outside on watch, it wouldn’t be too cramped, he hoped. Soza and Kizinke wouldn’t be having sex in it, at least.
Wepizi and Romi kept the pace of preparations high—they needed to make the most of the day. The weather at this time of year could be uncertain and when it was fine, they all needed to get the miles in.
Finally, the beasts were loaded, Sibu and Reisa safely ensconced on their travois, and the teams ready to say farewell to each. Romi’s eyes became distinctly damp as he hugged each of his team—all good soldiers, all good friends. He knelt and put a brotherly kiss on Sibu’s cheek, since she wouldn’t bear hugging, and a handshake wouldn’t express his feelings. “Be well, Sibu.”
“Next year, Romi.”
“I swear it.”
Jou hugged Karik, and her eyes were wet too—it seemed to be going around. Then she came to Romi and embraced him fiercely. “You look after him,” she said. “And come back safe or I’ll hunt you down.”
“Yes, corporal,” Romi said, grinning and letting her hug him again. “Take care of my people.”
“Yes, sir. I hear you’re going to meet Sibu next year—add me to that and I’ll buy the beer.”
“You’re on.”
Wepizi clapped to call for attention. “My friends, before we part, let me ask Sephiz’s blessing upon our journey.” He clasped his hands and bowed his head. “Benevolent god, we ask you to keep our friends safe on their mission, to prosper their endeavours, and grant them a swift return to their loved ones. We ask you to grant us, your grateful children, a safe and comfortable journey for our injured, and full healing for their wounds.”
After a moment’s respectful silence, Romi spoke. “Thank you, Wepizi. I’ll be drinking razika with you in Tsikiugui before year-end. The rest of you—anyone who comes to Temshek barracks can count on a beer, bed and bath even if I have to pay for it myself, and I want to hear from each of you. No slacking,” he said.
“No, Romi,” his soldiers chorused, grinning.
“Right. Mount up, everyone.” He saluted Wepizi. “Good journey.”
Wepizi bowed. “To you also, my friend.” Then he abandoned formality for a last embrace. “Be careful,” he whispered.
“Always am.”
Romi’s group waited to let the larger one go and then he gave the orders for his people to mount up. “Right—Soza, Kizinke, to the front. Karik, with me to the rear. Forward.”
Staying Power: 26
It was with the heaviest heart that Karik saw the rest of their team depart. The weather shared his mood, it seemed, as the clouds began to gather—it would certainly rain that day. The air was already heavy with damp heat, and rain was falling on the horizon and on the slopes of Mount Arzha itself. As they headed towards the next pass, his thoughts were unrelievedly gloomy, and Kepi and Taz were also quieter than normal, riding without conversing for most of the day. The only ones unaffected were Soza and Kizinke, who chatted cheerfully and rather too loudly at the head of their small line. Soza was in love, it seemed—Karik had seen him giving Kizinke a quick kiss that very morning—and in high spirits with it. Karik didn’t see the attraction himself, but he supposed it took all types.
“They’ll be all right, you know,” Romi said suddenly, startling him. The captain had been riding in silence beside him, respecting his mood, and Karik had quite forgotten he was there.
“I can’t help worrying,” Karik admitted, not even pretending that Romi hadn’t guessed correctly as to what was bothering him. “Sibu was in so much pain.”
“Yes, I know. But she’d be in pain whether she was travelling or not, Netu said, and the sooner she’s back where there are facilities to treat her, the happier I’ll be. They couldn’t be in safer hands. Wepizi’s been leading teams all over Andon for nearly twenty years.”
“I just can’t help it.”
“Of course you can’t,” Romi said gently. “Because you’re a good team mate and a good friend. But now our job is to finish the job our team started, and do them proud. So come on, concentrate.”
The praise surprised Karik and warmed him, and for that alone, he made himself do as Romi ordered. It soon became impossible not to concentrate on what they were doing—the storm hit them not an hour later, and for the rest of the day they were forced to stop and shelter for twenty minutes at a time as the worst downpours came down, then make a little progress as the rain stopped or eased. It was very tiring travel, and made conversation impossible for a good part of the time.
When they finally made camp, the weather didn’t help much to lighten the already strained atmosphere. They were too small a group to avoid each other completely, and everyone had to help erect the tent and do the necessary chores, but somehow Kizinke managed to avoid coming into contact with Karik. Kepi and Taz, who’d made their dislike of Soza very obvious, didn’t speak to Soza or Kizinke at all. Karik pretended he hadn’t noticed the sharp divisions, but when he looked up from cutting up the dried meat and saw Romi’s rueful expression as he watched Soza and Kizinke, pointedly working away from the rest of them, he knew the captain found it a strain too.
Even with the vile weather, a watch still needed to be kept. Romi had reserved the least desirable shift—that in the middle of the night, which meant one’s sleep was thoroughly interrupted—and had offered to either keep it with Kepi or on his own. But Karik, whose sleep was never unbroken these days, had insisted on sharing shift with him. Romi could have done it on his own, but keeping watch solo was hard and lonely, and Karik felt it wasn’t fair to impose that on him. In a funny way, he was looking forward to sharing the watch with Romi again, and the captain’s smile as Karik huddled, yawning, under the shelter as the rain poured down, told him that Romi too was glad he had come.
“Do you think any tewi in its right mind would come out in weather like this?” Romi asked as he offered Karik some tea.
“Probably not, but they’re clever, and they might think that we’d think that, and make their attack.”
“That’s pretty subtle for a dumb animal,” Romi said with a grin. “How come you know so much about tewis anyway?”
“Uh...I had a friend whose father traded in animals. I helped him transport some cubs once from Darshek to Kuprij.” No need to mention that the ‘help’ had been entirely involuntary, and that Jembis wasn’t really a friend, though Karik had long ceased to bear him the slightest ill will. In fact, he often wondered how the boy—now a man, of course—had got on, and whether he had ever escaped his brute of a father. He would never know, Karik supposed.
“You’ve led quite the life, haven’t you?” Romi said. “Did you ever want to do that? Become a trader?”
“No, never. It’s boring. If I’m going to be this homesick, I at least want to see new places, discover new things. Plying the same route by land or sea over and over would kill me.”
Romi nodded. “That’s what I thought about our farm. My Pa and my brothers, well, they like the fact that they know the land so well, that they can predict what’ll happen from season to season. I wanted a few surprises in my life.”
“So you moved to Temshek, hub of all excitement,” Karik said dryly, and Romi laughed.
“When you put it that way, I suppose it was a little illogical. But I’ve been to Andon twice, and to Kuprij, travelled all over Darshian—I can’t complain when the Army has been so good to me.”
“I could
n’t be a soldier,” Karik confessed. “Even Arman doesn’t think he could ever do it again—he only went into it because his father wanted him to, but he’s not a soldier at heart.”
“And who is, Karik?”
Romi’s sharp question made Karik’s heart sink—had he offended the man again? But when he dared glance at him, there was only friendly interest in his expression. “I don’t know. Someone who likes an orderly life, someone not afraid of violence. Someone happy for others to make decisions for him, perhaps. I’m not really like that.”
“No, you’re not. But we need people prepared to make the decisions too—and there’s not so much violence. You’ve not avoided it even being a civilian.”
Karik’s hand came up reflexively to rub the old wound on his stomach. “No, I suppose not. I guess my main reason for not wanting to be a soldier has to do with Kei.”
“He doesn’t like us? But what about Arman?”
Karik shook his head. “It’s not that—he has a lot of friends who are soldiers, and admires the good work the army does but...during the war, he was a hostage. Ten of the hostages from Ai-Vinri were killed right in front of him—by soldiers. It nearly destroyed him—you know, being a soul-toucher and feeling them die.”
Romi winced. “Oh, gods. So, swords, violence...?”
“Fighting, any kind of physical threat, even people wearing armour...he can’t bear it—it makes him physically sick. If I’d become a soldier, it would have put a barrier between us, and I couldn’t do that to him, even if I’d wanted to go into the army.”
“I didn’t know,” Romi murmured. “I thought it was just the kind of blind prejudice I hear so often—that soldiers are so crude, and insensitive, and stupid. To hear people talk, you’d think we weren’t human at all.”
Karik couldn’t help it—he flushed to his ear tips, knowing that he was guilty of some of these attitudes himself. “You’re not so bad,” he mumbled.
Romi grinned. “Oh, so you admit that we do have our good points?”
Karik glared at him. “Some of you do,” he said tartly, which only made Romi grin wider.
The rain eased and became nothing more than drips from the overhanging tree. The two hours passed surprisingly fast, and Karik was sorry when it was over—it had been the most pleasant time of a not very pleasant day. Romi sent him back to the tent to wake Soza and Kizinke, holding the watch until the others took over. There wasn’t much room in the smaller tent, and he had to be careful not to wake Kepi and Taz crawling over them. He set the lamp down and shook Kizinke’s shoulder—instantly, the guide came upright, and to Karik’s horrified surprise, had a knife in his hand, aimed right at Karik’s face. Karik froze, wondering if Kizinke knew what he was doing. “It’s me, Karik,” he said urgently.
Kizinke held the knife in place for a moment longer, then slammed it back into a sheath somewhere under the blankets. “Filthy Prij,” he spat, though quietly, then got up, shaking Soza’s shoulder, and utterly ignoring Karik, who was still in shock at the unexpected attack.
He didn’t mention the strange incident to Romi when the captain came back in and got into his own sleeping pallet, but it kept him awake for an hour or two. So Kizinke resented his birthright—that explained some of the hostility, Karik supposed. But between that, and Soza’s lack of popularity, it didn’t make for a happy journey. All he could do was hope they would get to Mount Arzha quickly, do what they needed to, and return as fast as they could.
The lousy weather continued for three days, and their progress was slow, though not unreasonably so. Once the rains moved on further up towards Mount Arzha, the going was faster. There was little collecting being done, though there was usually time for some investigation as food was sought, and Romi’s bow continued to bring down game in the same neat way, letting Karik see the birds up close and examine them before they were cooked. He preserved a few feathers for his own sake, and as gifts for Meran and Keiji, who loved such little souvenirs. As he pressed them into his diary, he wondered how his friends were, and how long it would be before he saw them again.
Kizinke and Soza continued to keep themselves separate. Kizinke’s lips curled into a sneer whenever he passed Karik, though he never said a word, and though Romi once or twice frowned to see it, he never commented on the man’s behaviour. Nor did Karik mention it when they shared the night watch—what was the point, after all? Kizinke didn’t like him—he wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. It was his problem, not Karik’s.
Soza was more civil, though Karik did nothing to encourage him. He and Romi had reached a kind of uneasy truce—Soza did what Romi told him to do, and Romi passed those orders through Kizinke. It meant the constant arguments which had plagued the earlier part of the expedition disappeared, although the cold silences which took their place were almost as hostile, at least to Karik’s mind. But it was undoubtedly more efficient, and though Kepi and Taz blatantly ignored Soza, at least it wasn’t Karik to whom he turned to complain about his treatment. That was one effect of Soza’s close relationship with Kizinke that Karik didn’t mind at all.
Despite the weather, they made better time than planned, and within twelve days of splitting from the larger group, they had made their base camp. It was good to stop and be more settled, and it was also good to be back doing what Karik loved—exploring the natural environment, and just wondering at the way plants and other organisms interacted so tidily.
The weather continued to be intermittently wet and unpleasantly humid when it wasn’t actually raining. Collecting in such conditions was hardly enjoyable, but the soldiers never complained. For his part, Karik was quietly thrilled by the specimens being found—almost everything being brought to him was new to their records, and the keen observations of his companions were building a fascinating picture. It was difficult to contain his enthusiasm and Romi let Karik lecture him endlessly about the discoveries as they worked in the field and kept watch together at night. “Sorry,” Karik finally said one evening when he became conscious he had talked about nothing but botany for nearly the entire shift.
“What for?” Romi said, poking the fire. He loved playing with the flames, just as Karik’s Pa did—it was a fire-shaper habit, he supposed.
“For boring the arse off you again.”
“You weren’t.”
“Liar.”
“Little snot,” Romi said with a grin. “You weren’t, honestly. You’re really interesting when you’re worked up about things, and besides, I’m always happy to learn. You’re a good teacher.”
“I just talk about what interests me,” Karik muttered, embarrassed.
“That’s part of it, but Soza can do that and have me yawning in minutes. It’s a talent. Wepizi said so too.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t expected Romi and Wepizi to have ever discussed him. Of course they had, Karik chided himself. They were friends. “Do you suppose they’re all right?”
“I’m sure of it,” Romi said firmly. “They’ll only be a week or so from Visiqe, and in another month, Jou will be speaking to your uncles in person and telling them the latest news. Your parents will be glad of that.”
“Yours too?”
Romi shrugged. “They’re used to me being away. Unless they get a message from the village to say I’ve died, they’ll assume I’m fine. My Pa doesn’t like to be seen to be worried about me.”
“But he cares, surely.”
“Yes, he does. But you know farmers—no wasted effort.”
Karik nodded. The farmers who visited Ai-Albon tended to be on the phlegmatic side too. “My parents have always let me know what they’re feeling or thinking. They’ve never treated me like a child.”
“They sound like good people. Did a good job raising you too.”
Karik could only nod, embarrassed at the praise. Romi was like his Pa in that respect too—in another life, Romi and his father would probably be good friends. Never be a chance for it in this one, he thought.
E
ven in a week, they had collected an invaluable stock for researchers to work on, and Karik couldn’t resist saying as much to Soza as they began the final preparation of material for transport. “I expect to be extremely busy working on all this, certainly,” Soza said.
“You and the researchers at the Darshek academy both,” Karik said, distractedly checking that each wallet was correctly sealed, and not really paying too much attention to Soza’s reply.
“None of this material is going to Darshek, Karik. I will be taking it direct to Urshek once we arrive in Tsikiugui.”
That got his attention and he laid down the wallet he’d been checking. “Uh, no,” he said, frowning at the older man. “It’s going to Darshek and the collection will be evenly divided.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Soza said sharply. “I’m the leading expert on Andonese flora—it’s inconceivable I will not be the person to direct the use of this material.”
Karik stood up. He was conscious that they were being watched—Romi had stopped what he was doing and was looking at them with a concerned expression, while Kizinke was scowling. “I’m sorry, Soza, but you’re mistaken. Kei and I discussed this in detail.”
“Nonsense—Master Jezinke and I were perfectly clear about the arrangements. You wouldn’t have been involved—you’re hardly senior enough to make such decisions.”
Karik felt his hands starting to curl into fists and made himself relax. But before he could answer, Romi walked over, apparently casually, chewing on a stick. “Something the matter, gentlemen?”
“None of your concern, captain. Karik has become confused about a small issue, that’s all.”
“Hmmm. Care to tell me how small?” Romi said to Karik.
“I....” He stopped, trying to make sure he had his facts straight. No, he was absolutely certain Kei had said all the material was to go back to Darshek for distribution, and his uncle had been particularly interested in the Mount Arzha specimens. “I understood all the collected material was to go back to Darshek, and there it would be split between the two academies.”
Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 36