After three weeks, Kepi’s weight loss and exhaustion could no longer be concealed, and in the morning as they prepared to start their journey again, Romi refused to get on the travois. “Enough. I’m walking,” he said grimly. “Leave that thing behind. Leave it, or leave me.”
“Don’t be a pissing fool,” Karik snapped, worn to a thread worrying about the situation. “You can’t walk a mile, let alone ten.”
“Then leave me behind,” Romi said.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Kepi’s eyes were huge and wild in his gaunt face as he raised his clenched fists. “Not this shit again!”
“Fine,” Romi yelled back. “When you drop dead in the traces, it’ll be me mourning you instead of you mourning me, you idiot. You can’t do this any more, and there’s snow coming, probably within days. There’s no room for sentiment now.”
“Be quiet, both of you.” Romi and Kepi looked at Taz in surprise. “Romi, even if we left you now, we can’t make it. It’s at least a hundred miles to Selnozi. Karik’s the only one who might have enough strength to make it. You should go for help.”
Karik rejected that out of hand. “I’d never make it in time and you know it, Taz. Please, everyone—can’t we just try?”
“I’m not getting back on the travois.”
“You will if I have to tie you up,” Kepi shouted. “Get on the damn travois, you bastard!” He grabbed at Romi’s shirt, and they struggled for a few moments, before Taz and Karik pushed them apart.
“Stand down, Kepi,” Taz snapped. “Romi, sit down. Both of you.” Romi obeyed, pulling his shirt straight with a wounded look in Kepi’s direction. After a few sullen moments, Kepi sat too, steadfastly ignoring his friend. “This isn’t the behaviour of Darshianese soldiers, and squabbling won’t change the facts. Karik? Sit down, we need to talk about this.” Karik sat down next to Romi, and Taz took up a position next to Kepi. Side by side, it was obvious that neither of them could continue this way—they’d both lost too much muscle, and their sunken cheeks and eyes spoke of too long an effort with too little rest. A day here or there just wasn’t enough. “We’ve got two choices. We can try to struggle on, or we can make some kind of winter shelter here. Karik?”
“I know nothing about winter survival, Taz,” Karik admitted. “We don’t have equipment, or clothes, or stores. We don’t have time to acquire them either. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
Taz nodded. Romi, Karik noted, was being curiously silent. Perhaps he realised the decision was out of his hands now. “You could get to Selnozi, you know,” Taz said to Karik.
“I could—but you’d be dead by the time I got help back to you. I can’t do it. I won’t.”
“All right, I understand. Then we either have to keep moving, or we lie down here and die.”
“I’m going to die on my feet,” Kepi declared.
“You certainly are,” Romi said. “Look, if you left me here with supplies, and pushed on, there’s just a slight chance you could send back help in time. But you drag me with you and you’ve got no chance. Slight is better than none, don’t you think?”
“Nice try, Romi,” Kepi snapped. “But I’m not leaving you behind. How many damn times do I have to say the same damn thing?”
“Romi, Kepi and I can’t move fast enough for that to work,” Taz said. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Then you and Kepi should go to Selnozi, and I should stay with him,” Karik said. Taz blinked at him. “Think about it—travelling alone, if you took the food, supplies—you could do it in ten days. I can provision Romi long enough, even if it snows, if you send help back within a month. We wouldn’t need so much food if we weren't moving. I can survive that long—it’s the deep winter I couldn’t manage.”
“Karik’s, that’s insane,” Romi protested. “I won’t permit it.”
Taz held his hand up to tell Romi to shut up. “Kepi?”
“I don’t like it,” he said stubbornly, but then added, “but it might work. Don’t think I can walk ten miles a day right now, though.”
“Look, this is ridiculous,” Romi said. “I’m the captain, and I’m making the order right now. Kepi, Taz, Karik—go to Selnozi. Send back help for me. That’s it.”
“I thought I told you that you weren’t my captain any more,” Kepi snapped. “I never took that back.”
“Fine, then you owe me no duty,” Romi said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m not involved any more.”
He walked off—Karik leapt up to follow him. “Romi, wait...!” He fell silent as Romi made a slicing motion with his hand, the universal signal to shut up and shut up now. He looked past the captain’s shoulder—and there stood a tribesman, hung with dead game, looking at them all as if they were some strange new species.
Romi walked forward. “Greetings, my friend. I am Romi of Darshian.” He bowed in the correct manner.
The tribesman glared suspiciously, and Karik got a particularly hard look. “Geifeinu,” he said finally. “You’re on our land.”
“I apologise, Geifeinu. We’re trying to get to Selnozi.”
Karik stepped forward. “We need help,” he said simply. “Romi’s sick.”
“What are you?” Geifeinu came closer, and walked around Karik, sniffing. “Are you human?”
“My name is Karik. I’m human. Just Prijian.”
Geifeinu’s eyes narrowed. “Prij?” He spat, a great gobbet of spittle landing near Karik’s boot. “Not helping the Prij,” he said finally, turning and walking away.
“Wait! Please, wait!” Karik shouted, running after him. “Geifeinu, if you could at least help Romi! Please, he’ll die if we don’t get him to Selnozi before the snows. Please, for the love of the benevolent god!”
Geifeinu turned. “Do not mock our religion, filthy Prij. You’re not fit to speak of Sephiz.”
“I am fit because I was born in the love of Sephiz as are all living things. It is you who mocks his name by denying that.” Behind him, Karik heard Romi hiss in a breath. “You mock him by denying help to a lost soul in your country, one who calls on your help in Sephiz’s name.”
Geifeinu’s hand came up to the knife on his belt. “Watch your tongue, filthy Prij. I’ll cut it out.”
“Because I speak the truth and you won’t hear it,” Karik snapped.
Geifeinu stepped forward. Karik forced himself not to move a muscle as the big man leaned right into his face, wafting foetid breath over him. “Those asking a favour, are wise to coat their words in honey.”
“Those hearing a favour being asked are wise to clean the wax from their ears,” Karik answered tartly. “We ask for your help in Sephiz’s name, and in the name of the king and council in whose service we are travelling. Pick which one you want to offend first.”
“Karik,” Romi said quietly. He came up beside him. “Forgive him, my friend. He’s had a very hard journey and is worried for my worthless self,” he said with a bow. “He’s a devoted companion, but he has a big mouth sometimes.” Karik turned and raised an eyebrow at this blatant insult. “He’s right though—we need your help. I am Captain Romi of the Darshianese army. We were separated from our colleagues some weeks ago, but before that, we were travelling with Lep Wepizi of Tsikiugui. If you could help us get to Selnozi, his majesty would be personally grateful, I know that for a fact, as would the Rulers of Darshian. This man is the nephew of Lord Arman of Darshek.”
For the first time, Geifeinu’s hard glare softened, and became confused. “But he’s a Prij.”
“He’s just a brat, actually,” Romi said in a withering tone. “But a Darshianese citizen through and through. He was only born in Kuprij. Cut him open and it will say ‘son of Darshian’ on his heart.”
“Do you mind?” Karik muttered, not at all happy with the idea of encouraging the big man with the big knife to do any cutting at all.
Geifeinu grunted. “Your chatter annoys me. Get your things and follow me—and keep quiet. I get enough talk from my wife.”
That was
all Karik was waiting for. He raced back to Taz and Kepi. “He’s going to help!”
“Oh, blessed gods,” Taz said quietly, then turned to his friend. “We’re going to make it after all.” Kepi hugged him—the relief on their exhausted faces was beautiful, Karik thought, his chest tightening at their joy, their indomitable bravery. Salvation had finally come in the form of one broad-backed, surly tribesman—with breath like a rotting urs beast.
~~~~~~~~
Geifeinu took one look at Kepi and Taz, the travois, and Romi sitting on it, then gruffly told the two load bearers to get out of the harness. He put it around his own huge shoulders, and hauled it along as if it weighed nothing at all. Kepi and Taz walked behind, Karik beside the travois, his hand lightly on Romi’s shoulder. The jolting of the travois, as always, was uncomfortable and tiring, though Romi was more glad than he had words to express that Kepi and Taz had been relieved of the burden, and of the brave pretence he had played along with as long as he could. Gods, let this be an end to their pain, he thought, looking at their faces, bright with happiness. Karik’s smile was dazzling too, but it was as well to remind them all that they were far from being out of danger. He beckoned Karik to lean down, feigning chest pain, and when Karik bent, he pulled his head closer. “Don’t mention Kizinke,” he whispered against Karik’s ear, “our guides have been Feive and Gizwei all the way. Tell the others.”
Karik looked at him in concern, but then nodded minutely. He understood—good. Romi let him straighten, and then Karik drifted back, quite naturally, and spoke quietly to Taz. Then he resumed his position next to Romi, his smile not quite as wide as before.
They were not, it turned out, more than a mile from Geifeinu’s settlement, and if they had been less tired, they might have realised that. If Geifeinu had not appeared—or Karik’s peculiar brand of diplomacy had failed—Romi had no idea how the debate they’d been having would have ended. He’d been very close to losing his team, and if there was any chance now of saving them, he would do or say whatever it took.
As he’d become used to with the settlements, the arrival of strangers brought people from everywhere, and as Geifeinu stopped the travois, and Karik helped Romi stand, they were surrounded by dozens of hostile men and women. Geifeinu said something in their dialect, and a youth peeled off, presumably to find someone senior to deal with the situation.
Karik wasn’t smiling any more, and he bore the brunt of the suspicious looks and low muttering. Romi plastered a pleasant smile on his own face, but stayed quiet until the crowd parted to allow an older man, scowling fiercely, to come to the front. “You claim help in Sephiz’s name. Why should we help our enemy the Prij? Why should we help those who help our enemy?”
Romi bowed as deeply as he could. “My name is Romi of Darshian. My friends are all Darshianese, and friends of Andon. We were travelling on a scientific mission when our party was divided by an accident near the slopes of Mount....”
“I have no interest in your mission,” the man said. He barked a command, and four men immediately came forward and surrounded Karik. “Take him. Keep him under control,” he said.
“No, you can’t—”
“No, Romi, leave it,” Karik quickly said, though his face was pale with fright. “Just explain it to them. It’ll be all right.”
“Karik!”
But then he was borne off, his arms pinned tight against him. Romi clenched his fist and turned on the unnamed headman. “He has done you no harm. He’s a healer, that’s all. His parents live in Ai-Albon, a village in Darshian. He was born in Kuprij, but raised Darshianese. Why are you treating him like a criminal?”
The man came close to Romi, and poked him in the chest. “Because the man vouching for him is unknown to me, and wants a favour. You don’t like my hospitality? Feel free to leave. We don’t want you.”
“We should go,” Kepi said angrily. “We can’t let them hurt Karik!”
“He’s right, captain. I say damn them to hells,” Taz growled. His words set a low angry rumble going among the watching crowd.
This was getting out of hand. Romi raised a hand to tell Taz to hold his peace. “Friends, how can we reassure you? We travel in the service of your own king and council, and our purpose is for the benefit of your own peoples. Karik is collecting plants to make drugs which will be given back to the tribes to help cure their ills.”
The headman looked unimpressed. “Can you prove any of this? For all I know, you’re not Darshianese at all. For all I know you’re Prij too.”
There was no arguing the logic of that. “No, I can’t. Is there anything we can do to convince you? I would be prepared to be a hostage if you would just get my men to Selnozi. Please, my friend. Look at them.” He turned to Kepi and Taz—surely not even this suspicious bastard could deny their exhaustion. “They’ve been working themselves into the dirt trying to save my life. Please, don’t let them die. I don’t care what happens to me, I just want them safe.”
“Piss on that, Romi,” Kepi yelled.
The headman held his hand up. “Yes, yes, very moving. You would want to help them even if you were Prijian spies.”
Romi gave him an exasperated look. “My friend, if we’re spies, we’re the most incompetent in Periter! What in Sephiz’s name are we doing wandering around the Andonese wilderness instead of plotting mischief in Visiqe? Search our bags—you won’t find maps, or proof of any evil.”
The headman took him at his word immediately, and they were pushed aside as their packs were pulled open. There was a shout of triumph as Karik’s diary was withdrawn, and the headman gave Romi a hard look. “No proof, you say?”
“It’s just Karik’s diary, that’s all—he’s taking notes because he’s a scientist. Read it for yourself.”
The man flicked through it, though Romi doubted he could read at all, let alone read Darshianese. He suddenly thrust it to Romi, open to a random page. “Read it. Out loud. I will know if you are lying.”
Romi took the book, thankful Karik’s handwriting was as neat and precise as everything else he did. “‘The vegetation continues to astonish me. I could spend two years just studying the way the trees deter insect attack. Next time, we must make arrangements to collect insects—maybe I’ll bring Gyo.’” He looked at the headman. “Gyo’s his best friend, from his village in north Darshian.”
The man ignored his words, and just flipped the pages. “This?”
Romi looked, and his aching heart stuttered. “Something else. Let me read something else.”
“No. This.” He tapped the pages.
Romi grimaced, and took a deep breath. “‘We have done all we can to make him comfortable, and now we can only wait for his brave heart to finally fail. It’s....’” He cleared his throat. “‘It’s killing Kepi. He doesn’t blame me, nor does Taz, though I blame myself. I wish I had spent two years with Kei in the infirmary, instead of collecting. Then maybe Romi wouldn’t be dying, and I would not be losing someone....’” He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t,” he whispered.
The man frowned, but he no longer seemed so angry, just taking the book back and flipping the pages again. “What is this?”
“Uh, just the different flowers we were collecting that day. He’s a very good artist.”
“And that?”
A little distressed, and out of patience, Romi was less than polite. “An attack beetle. We were thinking of tying explosives to it to blow up the palace.” A snicker came from someone behind him. “Look—it’s flowers, insects and nuts, not siege engines. Karik is just keeping notes of the things that matter...that he’s interested in. He’s a scientist, a healer. He’s just a kind, clever young man who’s devoted his life to serving our country. All of us are sworn to serve Darshian.” He slapped his chest. “I’m not a pissing Prij! I’m a man of Darshian, an officer in her army. And I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not, it’s the truth!”
The headman looked a little taken aback at his vehemence, and Romi dropped his hand, feeling
rather foolish. Oh, well done, captain Romi, he told himself wryly. Taking lessons in handling people from Soza, that’s what you sound like.
A woman came forward and whispered in the headman’s ear, and they held a rapid discussion, even as the headman watched him suspiciously. Romi wished someone would let them sit, and maybe offer them a drink of water.
More people became involved in the discussion, and it became rather heated. Romi and the others were ignored, and he wondered if they were to just walk off, whether anyone would care. If he had any idea where Karik was, he would be very tempted to do just that. Pissing proud bastards. He tried to keep his impatience out of his expression.
Finally, the headman ordered his people to move away from him. “I am Deptonu. We will help you get to Selnozi.”
“And Karik?”
“He will be returned to you. Come with me.”
Romi would have preferred Karik had been released first, but he wasn’t in a position to insist. They were taken to Deptonu’s hut, and asked to sit on piles of blankets and furs, then they were joined by several people who Romi guessed were the tribal elders. Tea was served, and Deptonu’s wife gave Romi a considered look. “You are unwell?”
“I was bitten by a marsh bug some weeks ago. It seems to have affected my heart. I owe my life to my friends.”
She leaned over and spoke to her husband, then rose. “I will get our healer.”
Deptonu looked at Romi. “A marsh bug? What’s that?”
Romi had used the literal words, but he didn’t know the correct Andonese for it, so he could only describe it. “About so big, attached to my leg here.” He rolled up his trouser leg where, astonishingly, the bruising still lingered, though it was much improved. “Black with a red stripe, yellow dots. We have them in Darshian, but none so big.”
Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 44