“Glad to hear it. They give a nasty bite, Ka-chi. I’ve never understood why you’re so fascinated with keeping them. You be careful. You too, Reji. You’re more likely to get bitten than Karik is, you’re such a great oaf.”
Pa looked highly offended. “You’re taking advantage of my wounded state, woman. Wait until I’m mended, I’ll spank you black and blue.”
“And then I’ll dose your food with tirsel leaf, you idiot,” she said, rapping Pa’s head with a wooden spoon, but allowing him to steal a kiss as well. “Karik, there’s something else we wanted to give you.”
“Huh?”
“Close your mouth, son, it makes you look stupid,” Pa teased. “You’re going to be away for your birthday, although with any luck Kei and Arman will be with you to make it a good day, but we wanted to give you our gift now. I’m afraid it’s nothing very special. Jena?”
“Let me get it.”
Karik was wild with curiosity. Usually his birthdays were marked by something practical—a new knife one year, a book several times, or a belt Pa had cut and tanned himself. But with Pa laid up and Ma so busy all the time, he couldn’t think what they might have prepared—his father had already given him new gloves the week before, so it couldn’t be that. Pa just looked at him with an affectionate smile, giving nothing away.
Ma was back from the office in moments. “Put out your hand, Ka-chi.”
He did so, and into it she dropped a small polished stone on a string—no, not a string. He held it up—the cord was made of plaited strands of hair, dark and light. He looked at his mother questioningly. “That’s all of us in that, my son. Your hair, your Pa’s, mine. Because we’re a family, all of us. Stronger together than apart.”
He stared at the smooth, slim cord, made of such fragile stuff, but braided and rebraided, it was as strong as any leather would be. “Thank you,” he whispered as they each put an arm around him, hugging him close. In that moment, he couldn’t have given a damn who had given birth to him. Ma was the only mother he ever wanted.
“Thank you, Karik. I hope I never give you any reason to think otherwise.”
He nodded, finding it hard to imagine she ever could. “Wuh-what’s the s-stone?” It was dark, not quite black and shaped like a large teardrop. It was smooth as glass to the touch—nothing like it was to be found near Ai-Albon.
Pa held it up to the lamp light, and now Karik saw there were veins of colour in the dark brown, almost black stone—reds, purples, even a hint of green. “Comes from the Kislik Range. They mine these for jewellery, sell a lot of them to Andon—they call them tero stones. This isn’t a valuable one—there’s too much stone, not enough colour. I found it last time I went through, and thought of you, so I asked Rin to help me cut it down and polish it. I don’t know why it’s so prettily coloured—I thought maybe you could find out the answer for me.” He lifted the pendant up and put it around Karik’s neck. “There. Do you like it?”
“I l-love it. It’s b-beautiful.” It was the finest thing anyone had ever given him, and he placed his hand over it protectively. “C-can I wuh-wear it all the time?”
“I’m sure you can,” Ma said, smiling. “The stone is tough, and the hair string has a core of thread to stop it unravelling.”
“G-good, thuh-then I’ll wuh-wear it always. Ee-even when I s-sleep.”
She laughed and patted his cheek. “You do that, Ka-chi. Then if anyone ever asks who are your parents, you point at that and say, there they are. Your parents, our son.”
“Yes,” Karik said, agreeing completely. He wished he wasn’t leaving. He’d count the days until he could come home again.
~~~~~~~~
He slept better than he thought he would, but when he stumbled down the stairs in the predawn, both his parents were up. They looked as if they hadn’t got much sleep and Karik would have done anything to make them less worried. Too late to back out now. Ma was making hot cakes, and Pa poured him a glass of milk. “Now, you need to eat properly on the trail, son, even if you’re too tired to feel hungry. You’ll get fresh vegetables in the villages—make sure you eat those. If you get an injury, make sure you tell Risa and the same if you get sick. Better to know early than end up with a nasty surprise. Don’t take on more than you can handle, and tell Risa or Misek if you don’t think you can do something—there’s no room for heroics with loads this size, you understand?”
“Yes, Pa. I’ll be c-careful.”
“I know, son. I’m more concerned about Gyo than you.”
Ma set some hot cakes down in front of them. “Stop fussing. You’re just making him worried. Misek and Risa know what they’re doing, and they’ll hook up with the other travellers too.”
“Yes, I know. Eat up now, Karik. You won’t get hotcakes like this for a week at least, and even then it depends on who billets you in Ai-Beyto.”
Karik nodded, spreading butter on his cakes and adding some honey. He noticed Pa didn’t have much of an appetite. He really hoped they’d be all right without him.
He finished the cakes his mother gave him, and she tried to press him to eat some more, but he’d only get stomach ache if he did. He thanked her politely, knowing she was trying to show her love for him with her cooking, and wishing there was something he could do for her in return. He put his hand over the stone pendant, hidden carefully under his shirt, and smiled a little—he would only have to look at it, to remember how much they loved him.
At last, Pa got slowly to his feet. “All right, son. Give your Ma a kiss and let’s be off. Risa won’t want to waste any time.”
Karik obeyed. Ma hugged him fiercely as if she wasn’t going to let him go at all, but all she said was, “You enjoy yourself. It’s a big adventure with your best friend. And give my love to Kei and Arman—tell them to treat you right or I’ll be after them.”
“Yes, Ma,” Karik agreed solemnly—as if he would ever say such a thing to either man. But she knew that and wasn’t serious. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear.
“I know, Ka-chi. Now off you go.”
He saw tears in her eyes again. He gave her one last hug and then picked up his packs, stacked neatly in the corner.
One of his father’s fire sprites lit the way up the street, where Karik could see the small lights of lamps up at the stables. Misek’s family had turned out in force to see them off—his wife and daughter, Pijli and Nev, Banji and Myka and their two children, and the head of the family, Rin and his wife Meis. Meran gave Karik an uncertain smile and he grinned back to show there were no hard feelings. Pa had told him he’d had that little talk with Meran, diplomatically suggesting Karik would prefer to just be friends with her. She’d taken it well, so Pa had reported, to Karik’s relief.
Risa finally came over to them. “Everything all set, Risa-ki?”
“Everything’s fine, Reji. Hello, Karik—that’s a fine coat, you’ll need that for sure,” he said, shivering a little in the dawn chill. “Got your gloves and scarf and waterproof? Can’t go back for things, you know that.”
“Y-yes. M-Ma gave you the m-medical kits?”
“Yes, they’re all stowed and so’s the bedding. All I need is my crew,” he said, grinning at Misek and Gyo being hugged by Pia and Keira. “Reji, I’m still going with two by two on this. I figured it was less boring for the boys and easier on the beasts.”
“It’s up to you, Risa,” Pa said peaceably. “You know the job. Two by two is fine until you get to the range, unless you get really foul weather. You look after my boy, you hear?”
“Yes, I will. I’m glad to have you along, Karik. You looking forward to it?”
“Y-yes,” Karik lied, putting a smile on his face.
“Good,” Risa said, clapping his shoulder, obviously happy to believe what he wanted to hear. “Right, men, let’s mount up. Reji, I’ll send messages back, there’s no need to worry about Karik.”
“I’m more worried about you, brat,” Pa said. He pulled a small pouch out of his coat. “Now that’s just a little spending m
oney for Darshek, Karik. Ask Kei about the best way to use it—there’s not enough to get into trouble with, I hope.”
Karik accepted the small leather sack with surprise. He’d seen coins a few times but had never used them. “Th-thank you, Pa, but I d-don’t n-need it.”
His father just ruffled his hair. “Of course you do, son. You want to buy a pastry while you go sightseeing, you need money. It’s not like in the village. Now, on you get. Like your Ma said, you enjoy yourself.”
Karik gave him a careful hug, then threw his pack into the back of the wagon where Risa was stowing their belongings. He climbed up into the driving seat on the passenger side—Risa would handle the driving, at least for the first few hours.
Misek and Gyo were likewise mounting up on their own wagon. Risa cracked his whip and yelled to get his lead animals moving, and with roars from the beasts and the creaking groans of the heavily laden wagons, they started to move off at a slow walking pace. Karik turned to wave at his Pa, smiling cheerfully—but Karik knew it was forced. Still, he had to play his part too to make things easier for his father, and there was no point in worrying him. He put an equally bright smile on his own face. “Bye, Pa!”
“Good luck, son!”
He kept looking a little longer, acknowledging the waves from Meran and Keira, but all he really wanted to see was Pa’s face.
“I hate this bit,” Risa said quietly as the wagons rumbled on, the dawn sky gradually brightening into gorgeous pink and gold to their right. “The goodbyes. I miss them every time. It’s the worst part of this job. Reji’s the same—says it breaks his heart every time to leave you and your Ma behind. I think he’ll give it up soon. A man can only do this job for so long before you can’t bear leaving home any more. Reji’s done it for twenty-six years. That’s a long time. Too long.”
“Oh.” Karik hadn’t known that. If it was true, then he was glad, because he hated Pa being away for months, and so did his Ma. His father had often talked about them joining him, but until now, it had only been on short trips to Ai-Beyto or to Ai-Tuek. Ironic that the moment he had finally got his wish, he himself hadn’t been able to go.
“Anyway, at least this trip I’ve got the three of you. We’ll have a great time. It’s not the most interesting time of year from the plant side of things, but I like travelling in the cold. It’s easier on the beasts too, so long as we don’t get too much rain.”
He was being unusually chatty and Karik figured Risa was trying to put him at his ease. It was all right—he liked Risa, and under the sometimes stern exterior, he had a perfectly good sense of humour. It wasn’t his fault Karik was already missing his parents.
Voyaging: 5
Given his apprehension, Karik was surprised how enjoyable the trip was turning out to be. Risa quickly turned over driving duties to him to give him the experience of handling such a heavy load. “Mis and me will have to keep watch at night,” he explained as they rode, Misek and Gyo a little way behind so they didn’t have to eat their dust. “So you lads will have to do the driving while we sleep in the wagons. Think you can manage that?”
“Y-yes.” Karik had done a lot of beast handling and driving, although never of a wagon this heavy before, or one joined in tandem with another. After a day or two he was already used to it, learning the way the wagon moved, and the beasts responded. It was tiring—but he was used to hard work. He was learning a lot about beast behaviour and the care of the animals pulling such heavy loads over long distances. He wondered if anyone had ever bothered to collect all the information about urs beasts in a single book. One could write a book just about the problems beasts had with their feet.
The road was good—it had been a personal project of Arman’s, Risa said, both to improve wagon and cart design, and to institute a programme of road improvement along Prijian lines. Travelling in the deep wet season was now possible where it hadn’t been before, and amazingly, a fast cart and good beasts could now make the entire journey from Darshek to Urshek in just under four weeks. Even if Risa didn’t admire Arman for his general good qualities, he’d be a personal hero for this achievement alone.
The scenery was dull a lot of the time, although not as much as he feared—there was always just enough variety in the landscape, a sandstone outcrop, stands of trees, new crops, small herds of wild jombekers and here and there, the flash of activity that meant hisks seeking cover. At each waterhole, he made a note of all the different tracks he found, even discovered the large markings of carcho feet a couple of times, although they never saw any, somewhat to his disappointment. Birds were everywhere, chasing mates, building nests for the upcoming breeding season, preying on small mammals—and occasionally on each other. There wasn’t much time to write up his journal—he tried to do that for a half hour each night, working by lamplight—but he was able to press leaves, feathers, and bits of dry snake skin into it, and collect unusual stones, each of which reminded him clearly of where they’d been when he’d collected it.
He never rode with Gyo during the day, but he shared a bedroll and the shelter of the wagon with him at night—and there was always the evening campfire, easily his favourite time of the day. By then, they were all tired and needing food, rest and to stretch, but they were never too tired to talk. The older men had the more exhausting role since they insisted on taking the night watch. Even taking naps during the day in the backs of the wagon didn’t make up for it, but Misek and Risa claimed they didn’t mind, and that they’d catch up a little when they stopped in the villages. Sleeping on the bean sacks was, as his father had promised, surprisingly comfortable, and sharing them with Gyo let them talk as they weren’t able to do during the day.
Gyo was enjoying himself. Having his father’s undivided attention on this trip was obviously a real treat, and if Karik felt a little jealous, the fact he himself was seen as such a necessary and valued part of the team did his own confidence a world of good. For the first time in his life, he was treated as an adult with adult responsibilities by people other than his parents, and he liked it, liked it a lot. It also pleased him Risa really did seem to enjoy his company, and listened to his views with solemn interest. Karik’s stutter sometimes hardly made an appearance when he talked to the older man as they drove.
It was thus something of a shock when they reached Ai-Beyto to find himself abruptly placed back in the role of a child, and a useless passenger—not by Risa and Misek, but by the people who greeted them, and who were to host them for the night. At least they didn’t comment on his colouring, since most of them had seen him before on his previous visits. But it was galling Gyo was deferred to as an equal member of the driving team simply because of his height, and Karik, who’d become used to being Risa’s right hand man, was ordered about and called ‘boy’ as if he was six, not sixteen. His stammer came back worse than ever, and even the comfortable beds didn’t make up for the humiliation. Risa understood Karik’s feelings, but there wasn’t anything to be done except to be on their way as soon as they could the following morning.
As they left, two men bringing two wagons from the village joined them. The same thing happened at Ai-Kislik, except it sent four men and wagons with them. It made sense to share effort if possible, and the bean harvest was a particularly difficult time for traders. It made things easier for everyone, because there were more people to share the watch, more people to lend a hand when they damaged a wheel—it was fixed and replaced within two hours, hardly longer than their midday break.
It also meant more people around the fires at night, and more stories to hear, and Karik sat quietly and listened, happy to let other people carry the load of conversation. His presence was cause for curious comment, and that led onto some discussions of the Prij and their habits which he found both fascinating and slightly horrifying.
That was all harmless enough, but it didn’t stay that way. On the day they had passed the ruins of the old Prij fort and the graveyard that held hundreds of dead soldiers, the war was a natural topic to m
ull over as mugs of tea were sipped after the evening meal. One of the drivers from Ai-Kislik, Edi, was even a former hostage—but all the men remembered the war and the hostage taking in surprising clarity. When Edi learned that both Gyo and Karik’s mothers had also been hostages, he was keen to talk about his experiences. Misek and Risa hardly encouraged him, but to outright forbid the topic would have caused an argument trail fellows couldn’t afford. Unfortunately, Edi didn’t seem to take the subtle hints to shut up, nor did his companions from his village.
The experience of Ai-Beyto and Ai-Kislik had been similar to what Karik’s father and Misek had described. The more northern villages had had the most warning to get their people out safely, but it hadn’t lessened anxieties, and they’d had the longest to wait for the advancing Prij army. “Of course, we’d heard about Ai-Darbin by then so none of us were going to put up a fight,” Edi said, sipping his tea, his companions nodding.
“Wuh-what happened at Ai...Ai-D-Darbin?”
“That boy was killed by General Arman. I thought everyone knew about that,” Edi said, glancing at Misek. Karik didn’t miss the older man’s frown, and if Edi had been more perceptive, he’d have known to leave this alone. But he didn’t. “Young fellow, about your age in fact, threw a mining explosive at the army, killed some soldiers. He was executed there and then by that Prijian bastard, right in front of the whole clan—in front of his Ma and Pa, so I heard. No one was going to fight back after that.”
Karik stared at Edi in shock. It was one thing to know Arman had killed as a soldier—quite another to know he’d killed a young boy in cold blood.
Gyo cut across his thoughts. “Were many other people killed?”
“You know, that was the funny thing about that war. We had the big battle here at Ai-Kislik and a lot of Prij died then, and then a few more further south—but apart from that boy, the ten hostages who were murdered were the only other Darshianese who died apart from the soldiers at Ai-Kislik and Fort Treyk.”
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 7