“Yes, yes, captain healer Karik sir,” Taz said with a mock salute, then grinned and walked off.
Kepi watched him for a moment or two. “I’m still shaking,” he murmured.
“Me too,” Karik said, holding up his hands. “Can you forgive him? He’s really not himself.”
“I’ll forgive him, but I’m not sure I can trust him just yet. Gods, Karik, a moment or two more—if I’d stopped to take a piss or something....”
“But you didn’t, so don’t think about it. Come on. There’s still a lot of work to be done.”
As Romi slept, they worked quietly in camp, grinding seeds, shelling nuts, doing what they could to minimize weight, and to maximise the amount of food they could bring with them. They were still, Taz had calculated, two hundred and fifty miles from Selnozi, with only a month left before the snows would make their travel impossible in their poorly equipped state. It had already been decided between them that they would travel no more than five hours a day, and for no more than three days at a time before a full day’s rest and foraging. Even pulling the travois, they should, Taz believed, cover ten miles a day, and that would bring them to Selnozi before the snows. It was cutting it fine, but anything more and they would certainly fail, realising Romi’s desperate predictions.
Taz and Kepi would take the brunt of the work. Being heavier and evenly matched physically, they’d decided they would pull the travois together, while Karik took the packs and helped the thing over rough ground. Karik thought it was fair—he could contribute more at the end of the day when they stopped to forage, and someone needed to keep an eye on their sick friend.
Karik could only hope Romi would realise that even as an invalid, he was an irreplaceable member of the team. Even now, his hands shook a little as he recalled the sight of Romi aiming the knife at his throat. It had been too close. Much too close.
Romi slept right through to nightfall, and was very drowsy and subdued when Karik woke him to take some tea and soup. He ate in silence, and as Karik sensed he was deeply ashamed, still worried and sad, he didn’t press him, or mention the events of the afternoon, feeling too raw himself to revisit them himself, and knowing full well Romi was in no shape to discuss them either.
Once the utensils had been cleared away, and Romi helped up to relieve his bladder, Karik got him settled back into bed. “How do you feel?” Karik asked, feeling his forehead—still cool, too cool.
“I’m all right,” Romi said, looking away.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I’m cold,” he whispered. “But I’ll be all right.”
“Yes, you will, because we’re going to warm you up. Taz? Kepi?” The others came over. “Romi’s cold. I’m getting into bed behind him. Kepi, will you get in front? Taz, can you build up the fire?”
“Can do.”
“I’m all right,” Romi said, with a half-hearted glare.
“Yes, you are. And so are we. Now be quiet and let me get comfortable.”
Romi sighed, a hint of exasperation in the sound, and Karik almost grinned. He would much rather have a slightly irritated Romi than a profoundly depressed one. He snuggled up behind the man, but to his surprise, Romi turned to face him. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Romi’s hand snaked up between them and found Karik’s own. “Forgive me.”
“I already did,” Karik whispered, as Kepi climbed into the shelter and got settled on Romi’s other side. “And so does he. Sleep. You need it.”
Romi nodded, and closed his eyes. Kepi rolled over and looked at Karik across Romi’s head. “All right?” he mouthed.
“Yes,” Karik mouthed back. “Good night.” And please let things be better tomorrow.
Staying Power: 31
Of course, the short sharp shock wouldn’t be enough on its own. Karik wasn’t expecting Romi to instantly return to normality, and nor did he, remaining very quiet and downhearted. They had to re-engage his interest, remind him that he still had a crucial role in the team even though he was sick.
As he helped Romi eat a rather better breakfast than he’d managed the day before, Karik explained their travel plans. He was frank in admitting they were changing the schedule to fit Romi into it, but he also explained that with autumn approaching, hunting would become less useful as the game moved south, but foraging would become more productive. “So we need to spend more time each day, but a longer break doesn’t really help. Does that make sense?”
“You’re the expert here, Karik,” Romi said, uncharacteristically passive in his acceptance. “As you said, we’d have starved to death without you.”
“And you—your bow has saved us too, don’t forget. But now you can make snares and help set traps. It won’t be long before you can do that as well as any of us. How’s the leg?”
“Still sore.” Karik gave him a stern look. “All right, it hurts like all hells. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Yes, there is, and after you finish that honey cake, I’ll show you.”
One of the things he had learned early on in Darshek from Kei was how to give a therapeutic massage, and whenever he was home, both his parents would beg him to rub their backs or legs, stiffened from hard work and long standing. It helped to have some tido palm oil to smooth things, but the important thing, Kei had emphasised, was the skin to skin contact—and maintaining a healthy attitude to one’s patient. “You heal with your fingertips,” Kei had always said, “but also with your heart. If you gave a massage to someone you hated, you’d probably kill them.”
But today, he wanted to heal, not kill. He sat Romi on a blanket and removed his trousers, wincing at the mottled purple appearance of Romi’s leg. It was improved on a couple of days ago, but still hideous. “Strange to think something the size of my thumbnail could do all this,” Romi murmured.
“So now you’ll be even more respectful of beetles,” Karik joked. “Where does it hurt the most?”
“Everywhere,” Romi said, lying back. “It’s like the world’s biggest bruise.”
“Well, it is, I guess,” Karik said, laying his hands carefully on Romi’s skin, then began very gently to rub. He had to be careful—the bruising was severe and the skin fragile—but if he could help the blood disperse, then the pain would ease eventually. It wouldn’t happen quickly, but his main aim wasn’t so much to help Romi’s leg. Romi, he’d noticed, liked to touch and be touched, and as he and Karik had become friends, Karik too had become subjected to pats and squeezes and hugs—it was just the way Romi liked to show his approval and affection. So what Karik was doing was trying to show Romi some of that in turn, but in a way that didn’t cross the line into areas he just couldn’t think about just now. A massage was an act of friendship, Kei said. Even love, if one wanted it to be. It healed the person giving as much as the person receiving. Karik hoped that was true.
The weather was growing drier as they moved into autumn, and today was another fine, warm day. Though there was work to be done, and Kepi and Taz were busy, neither of them would resent the time taken to help Romi, so it was with an easy conscience that he worked on Romi’s leg, a companionable silence between them. After a little while, Romi’s eyes closed, and a little while after that, he was asleep again. That damn marsh bug had done so much damage. If it could do such harm to someone so strong, what effect would it have on a child, or an elderly person? If there had been time, Karik would like to capture some of the beetles, but there wasn’t—he just hoped that Kei could help Romi heal if any effects lingered. It was truly terrifying he could be laid low so fast.
Stupid man, thinking his death could ever be a good thing. Even when Karik had been most angry with him, he’d never want him to die. Suffer something painful like haemorrhoids or something, yes, but not die. And now...no, he couldn’t imagine it. A world without Romi was inconceivable. Strange how their lives had become so intertwined, and yet, with luck and in a few short months, they would return
safely to Darshian. After that, they might never see each other again. Karik stopped for a moment and frowned. No—that was unacceptable. There had to be an answer for that.
He heard footsteps and turned—Kepi, walking quietly so not to disturb his captain. “How is he?” he whispered.
“Still tired,” Karik said. “Let him rest.”
“Of course. You need anything?”
“Just the blanket—I want to let him sleep as long as he can. I’ll rub his leg a little more, then come and help.”
But Kepi waved him back. “You look after him. We’ve got everything under control. Taz is going to try and take another tevinu. “ He fetched the other blanket and gently covered Romi up. “He looks better.”
“Yes, he is, I think. He needs to be in an infirmary, but this is all we have.”
“He’s got you, that’s all he really needs. We’ll be back later.”
Kepi had it wrong. What Romi really needed was someone like Kei, who’d not only be able to care for his heart, but who would have picked up on his strange thinking sooner, and spared them all a lot of worry.
He carried on massaging Romi’s leg, then left him sleeping peacefully while Karik attended to his chores around the camp, all the while keeping an eye on his patient. His friend, Karik amended as he looked down at Romi. He crouched, and soothed a wrinkle that had appeared on Romi’s broad brow. He wished he could will away Romi’s illness, but it just didn’t work like that.
Romi’s eyes opened as Karik removed his hand. “Hello,” Karik said, smiling at him. “You had a good rest.”
Romi grimaced. “I keep hoping...I’ll wake up and be normal.” He indicated he wanted to sit up, so Karik helped him. Even that slight effort made him pant, and Karik wondered how he would bear the jolting of the travois. It wouldn’t be an easy journey for their captain.
“I know what that feels like. When I was stabbed, one of the wounds got infected—I was deathly ill for about two weeks, and it was well over a month after that before I really stopped hurting and feeling weak. It just went on and on—I got so tired of it. But fretting about it just made it worse. I think the best thing is to accept that it will take time, see it as just another task, and try and distract yourself.”
“Hard when everything makes me tired.”
Karik knelt and let Romi lean back against him. “I know it’s hard. None of us think this is something you can just get over in five minutes. But you will get better. You already are, a little.” He touched his friend’s face. “Your colour’s better. Your breathing’s better. Even the fact you’re sleeping so easily is good. I’m not saying this just to cheer you up. I do know what I’m talking about,” he said with far more confidence than he felt—but Kei always said that was the greater part of a healer’s job anyway.
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Do you feel like doing some work after lunch?”
The sudden light in Romi’s eyes was painful to see. Karik felt so sorry that Romi didn’t believe he served a purpose any more. Did he not know how much he meant to the rest of them—how much Karik needed him?
Lunch was a simple meal of berries boiled with honey on camp bread, and sweet tea—they had been lucky with finding honey, and were using up the bounty since it was difficult to transport. “This is very good,” Romi said, licking his fingers. Karik was delighted to see him eating with more relish than he’d been doing up to now.
“The berries are a bit tart, but they’re good for us, so the honey helps the medicine go down. I wish there was some way of getting butter—Taz refused to milk a tevinu for me, which I thought was unreasonable of him.” Romi arched an eyebrow at him for the joke. “He’s trying for another big animal, but even if he fails, we’ve got a lot of dried meat, and those fish.”
“He shouldn’t risk it,” Romi muttered, poking the fire.
“Kepi and I told him to be careful. He knows what’s at stake. We’re in a dangerous situation, there’s no avoiding that—we were before you got sick, we still are. But like you said, we’re a good team, and you’re a good leader.”
“Was, you mean.”
“No, you are,” Karik said firmly. “Don’t you abdicate now, you bastard.”
Romi’s eyebrows lifted again. “You’ve got pretty foul-mouthed lately, you know that?”
“It’s the company I’m keeping,” Karik said with a grin, then he became serious again. “I need you. Kepi needs you too. What you said to him about moving to Temshek, he’s really going on about that. It’s given him something to look forward to—he’s talking to Taz about it too. They’re both excited about it.” Romi wouldn’t look at Karik, and just poked morosely at the fire. “Now what’s wrong?”
“I’ll probably have to leave the army. I’ve no special training, not like Sibu, and you have to be completely fit. No one with a bad heart can be an officer. Kepi can’t depend on me being in Temshek.”
Karik sighed. “And Kei says Arman’s a rotten patient. Look—you were dying a week ago. Now you’re not. If in two months’ time, you’re still unwell, then your whining might be justified. Until then, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I’m not whining,” Romi said, frowning at him. “I’m telling the truth.”
“No, you’re whining. You think you’ll be like this for the rest of your life and that’s silly. You’re just being a stupid whiny brat.”
“You’re the damn brat. Little snot.”
“Stubborn arse.”
Romi snorted with laughter. “You’re insubordinate, soldier.”
“How fortunate that I am neither,” Karik said sweetly, which only made Romi laugh again. “Now, I need more cordage, and you make it better than me, so that’s your job. Are you comfortable? Need to move?”
“Stop fussing. I’ll tell you if I need something.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Karik said sternly. “I don’t want any nasty surprises,” he added, deliberately using Romi’s own words against him.
“Yes, yes. Don’t be a nag, Karik.”
Karik shook his head at the man, then fetched the plant material they would need.
With Romi leaning on him, they worked peacefully together, Romi using the sun to warm his eternally chilled body. He dozed off more than once, but Karik chose to ignore it—when he woke up, Karik pretended nothing unusual had occurred. He didn’t know if Romi was fooled, and Romi wasn’t letting on. Until reality replaced pretense, Karik would play along for Romi’s sake. He couldn’t help but worry that Romi’s grim prediction about his future would come true—he could only pin his hopes on his uncle’s skill and the knowledge in the academy. The rest was up to Romi and his own strength and fitness.
Taz returned a few hours after noon, a small tevinu doe around his shoulders. “Kepi’s on his way back—I just passed him. Hello, Romi. Look, I finally got one on my own.”
“You shouldn’t be hunting on your own,” Romi snapped. “Why in hells wasn’t Kepi with you? I told you over and over—no solo hunting. What if you’d been hurt or one of these damn bugs had bitten you too? Well, soldier? Explain yourself.”
“Sorry, Romi,” Taz said, coming to attention. “I just wanted to get one more game animal.”
“Don’t care. Do it again and you’ll go in my official report. Is that clear?”
Taz saluted. “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Damn well better not. Now get on with butchering it. You’ve left it a bit damn late to smoke it.”
“I thought we could do it overnight, captain.”
“Then get to it, soldier.”
Taz saluted again. Romi grunted and turned back to his work. Over the top of his head, Taz dropped Karik a wink, and walked off with the dead tevinu to deal with it, grinning like a fool. “You’re getting slack,” Romi grumbled. “Just because I’m sick, that’s no damn excuse.”
“Quite right,” Karik agreed, secretly delighted. It might have been more pretense, but it had been an impressive display. “Speaking of slack, g
et a move on, captain. Cordage doesn’t grow on trees, you know.” That got him a roll of plaited bark smack in the face for his cheekiness. Strangely, he didn’t mind it at all.
Staying Power: 32
When Karik, Kepi and Taz had talked about how they would get Romi to Selnozi, all of them had been open about the fact it would be hard, maybe even impossible. It had made not the slightest difference to their decision, of course—but after Romi’s suicide attempt, they realised that the exact degree of difficulty would somehow have to be concealed from him. It was therefore perhaps fortunate that Romi was forced to face backwards by the way the seat was arranged, and that he was in so much discomfort from the jolting, and so exhausted by the end of each day, that he didn’t really have much chance to notice just how hard it was for the rest of the team. Bravely, Kepi and Taz maintained a graceful insouciance about their fatigue until Romi fell asleep, usually no more than a few minutes after they’d stopped—then the two of them would collapse, unable to move for easily an hour or more. By nightfall, it was like being surrounded by corpses.
At least they had anticipated this. Their food supplies meant that Karik could have done no foraging at all and they would still have enough to eat for a week—what he was able to find supplemented their stores and further reduced the efforts that might be needed by tired men. The frame Kepi had made meant setting up a shelter took mere minutes, not the hour or more that it had before, and Karik could do it quickly even on his own. And their plan of stopping every fourth day gave Kepi and Taz a chance to recuperate, something Romi needed too, because he got no rest at all while the travois was moving, and his stamina was still dangerously low.
The worrying thing was that, with the extra load and the now rougher terrain, they really weren’t making ten miles a day—more like eight at the very most. There was nothing that could be done about it—they had to stop constantly to lift the travois over uneven ground and rocks, and it just wasn’t possible for Kepi and Taz to walk non-stop, or any further than they were each day. Even with the reduced mileage, his friends were losing condition at a devastating rate. Each time they stopped for a full day, it helped, but Karik realised their gamble was going to fail. They didn’t talk about it, and all three of them remained cheerful in front of Romi. But they were still too far from Selnozi, and it was getting colder every day.
Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 43