Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  “No, Pira,” they chorused. Kei had explained how the streets were laid out on a grid, and shown them a map. The inner part of the city wasn’t that big, and he’d told them that, provided they kept away from the inns on the docks, and were careful who they spoke to, they would be fine. He’d given them the name of a Captain Tiko to ask for if they needed to get a soldier to help them urgently. It sounded like everyone who was anyone in Darshek would help Kei or any friend of Kei’s if he needed it. Karik was beginning to realise his uncle was probably almost as important as any Ruler and easily as respected.

  Pira gave them the coins, patted them on the head and then left them. The public menagerie wasn’t that far from the market so they headed that way. The minute they had privacy, Gyo was wild to know what had happened with Arman. Karik had been debating whether he should tell his friend anything—but Arman hadn’t said to keep it secret, only not to ask any more questions. He figured it was probably all right to tell Gyo about his mother. When he was done, Gyo’s eyes were huge with amazement. “So you’re a noble?”

  “I g-guess so. Ll-like Ah-Arman.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense he can tell you about her and not him. Pa says the Prij are really funny about their women, and they have all kinds of strange ideas like thinking nakedness is wrong. He never said anything about the men, though.” His expression suddenly cleared. “I think I know!”

  “Wuh-what?”

  “Well, Arman’s a noble, and your mother’s one—and he said he had control of her affairs—she must be his sister!”

  Karik stared at his friend dumbfounded. “You th-think s-so?”

  “See, it all fits,” he said eagerly. “She has to be someone close to him, and someone he’s in charge of. Pa says that the Prijian women aren’t allowed to look after their own business, that they always need a brother or a father or someone like a husband to do it for them.”

  “R-really?”

  “Yes. So I think Arman must be her brother—he can’t be her father, and how could he be her husband? He’d have you himself if he was. So maybe...she married someone he didn’t like and he died or something and so Arman took you away from her.”

  “M-maybe.” That sounded rather implausible to Karik. “H-he doesn’t ll-like her m-much.”

  “Well, maybe she’s his brother’s wife, not his sister. I think it’s mean of him not to tell you, Ka-chi. You should ask him again.”

  Karik shook his head. “He s-said no. I d-don’t wuh-want to hu-hurt M-Ma and P-Pa.”

  “But how can it hurt them?”

  “D-don’t know. B-but I pr-promised. D-don’t m-make me br-break that.”

  “I won’t,” Gyo said in a hurt voice. “Don’t you mind, though?”

  Karik shook his head. “I did. N-not now. N-not important.”

  “If you say so.” Gyo sounded doubtful, but he let the matter drop.

  The theory he’d put forward occupied Karik’s thoughts for a little while, but when they came to the public menagerie, he forgot about it in the excitement of hearing the sounds of wild animals from within. The attendant collected the small fee from them, giving Karik several smaller coins in return for a rina, and then ushered them inside.

  There had been a menagerie on the spot for a hundred years or so, Kei had told them, for public amusement and to store gifts and oddities brought to the Rulers. But more recently, the academy was using it to see what animals from other lands could be made to breed and live successfully in Darshian. There was a similar one set up in the south, he said. Karik had little idea what to expect.

  What they got were cages of birds and animals set in a rather pretty garden. Fully-grown carchos prowled back and forth behind the bars, and other fierce looking predators Karik had never heard of, let alone seen before. There were people of all races looking at the beasts—he guessed that maybe the Andonese or the Prij might have some idea about what they were, but he didn’t know how to ask them.

  “Look, there’s that boy again,” Gyo said, tugging on Karik’s sleeve.

  He looked, and so it was—the Prijian boy was crouched in front of a cage of brightly coloured songbirds, making whistling noises at them and feeding them bits of fruit from his pocket. Karik and Gyo watched him for a few minutes, until he stood and turned. He saw them and to Karik’s surprise, seemed to recognise them. He grinned and walked over to them, saying something in Prijian. “I’m s-sorry, I d-don’t speak it,” Karik explained.

  The boy did a double take. “Really? Sorry—I’m Jembis.” He held out his hand and they each shook it politely. “But you must be Prijian. What’s your name?”

  “K-Karik. This is G-Gyo.”

  Jembis cocked his head. “Hmmm, ‘Karik’ doesn’t sound Prijian, but you don’t look Darshianese.”

  “Karik’s adopted—his parents are really Prijian, but he lives in Ai-Albon. Where’s your lizard?”

  Karik wished Gyo had kept his mouth shut, but it was too late. “He’s back on the ship. I didn’t want him eaten,” Jembis said with a grin. “Adopted? I never heard of any Darshianese adopting a Prijian boy before. Did they steal you from your mother or something?”

  “No!” Karik said, now really irritated.

  “Well?”

  “He doesn’t know,” Gyo said helpfully. “We know who his Ma is, but not his Pa.”

  “S-shut up, Gyo,” Karik snapped. “It’s nuh-none of his b-business.”

  “Sorry,” Jembis said, and looked it. “I don’t want to cause a fight between you. So why are you in Darshek if you live in Ai-Albon?”

  This was less contentious ground and Gyo was happy to explain. “His Pa and my uncle are traders, only his Pa got hurt so my Pa came up with uncle Risa, and we’re helping them.”

  “Oh, so it’s your first time in Darshek? Do you like it?”

  “Y-yes. Y-you live h-here?”

  “No, not really. I don’t live anywhere—my father owns a ship and we travel up and down the coast taking cargo. Right now he’s buying animals for nobles in Utuk—I’m the one who has to look after them on the journey.”

  Gyo’s eyes were big. “Really? What animals?”

  “Oh, we have tuktuks and little birds, some tewi cubs—”

  “T-tewi?”

  He pointed at a cage where a dark red-furred animal with huge claws walked back and forth, snarling at the visitors. “That’s a tewi—they come from Andon. Really fierce. We’re only taking the cubs, and some carcho kittens. I’ve been taming them, hand feeding them. They take a lot of work.”

  “I’d love to do something like that,” Gyo said with a sigh. “All I ever do is look after plants.”

  “Well, why don’t you come along to our ship and I’ll show you.”

  “On a ship? Karik, do you think it would be all right?”

  Karik’s instinct was to say no—they didn’t know this boy at all, and they’d been told to keep away from the inns on the dock. “You kn-know what Mi-Misek said. N-no inns.”

  “But it’s just a ship, like Aito’s—I went there yesterday and it was fine,” Gyo argued.

  “You’ll be safe enough—we don’t need to go near the inns,” Jembis said. “We’re leaving soon so it’s your last chance—we don’t trade wild animals that often and you’ll be going home, I guess.”

  “Please, Karik?”

  His instincts still wanted to refuse, but Gyo’s life was so dull, and this was his adventure as much as Karik’s. It wasn’t his place to deny Gyo just on instinct. And Karik would like to see young tewis. “All ri-right. J-just for an hour. B-but I wuh-want to see the m-men-menagerie.”

  “Sure!” Now Gyo had his agreement, he was all smiles again. “Jembis, do you know what these animals are?”

  It turned out Jembis was very knowledgeable about animals from all over Periter—while his father only carried them occasionally, they had many friends who were animal traders and hunters. He always visited the menagerie when their ship was in port. He knew how the collection had been built and wh
y there were young animals in some of the cages, clearly born in the menagerie itself. “They never used to breed them at all, but they decided it was cheaper if they could, and the visitors like to see the babies too. They had to build bigger cages though—these are the old ones, the bigger ones are over there.”

  Karik, who had found the small dark cages they’d seen up to then rather distressing, was pleased at the larger enclosures. One of the carchos had two half grown kittens with her, while her mate prowled protectively at the front of the cage. “He’s huge,” Gyo said, sounding awed.

  “He’s overfed,” Jembis said dismissively. “He was one of the first ones they ever bred here. I remember seeing him the first time I came here. She’s wild caught, though. They haven’t had any luck with the tewis—we still have to get cubs from the wild.”

  “The m-mother?”

  “Well, they have to kill her to take the cubs,” he explained. At their look of horror, he shrugged. “It’s the only way—full-grown tewis are just too dangerous to try and catch. You can drug the babies once you catch them, but the adults are impossible. All the ones you see here were caught the same way, as cubs, and raised in the menagerie. Maybe that’s what happened to you, Karik—your mother was too dangerous and they took you off her.” Karik scowled, not caring for the joke at all.

  “His Ma’s a noble, Arman said. I think she’s Arman’s sister.”

  “G-Gyo!”

  “It’s all right, I won’t say anything. A noble, huh? Is she rich?”

  “Arman’s Pa is rich,” Gyo said.

  “Gyo, th-that’s enough. Wuh-we d-don’t know she’s his s-sister.”

  “Sounds like this Arman is keeping a lot of secrets from you—are you sure you trust him? Maybe he’s trying to keep your inheritance from you, if your mother’s family are rich.”

  Karik turned to glare at both of them. “I d-don’t want to t-talk about it. I-I-if you k-keep it uh-up, I’ll ll-leave.”

  Gyo took his arm. “I’m sorry, Ka-chi. I won’t mention it again.”

  Jembis smiled in apology. “Don’t get all upset. It’s just talking. Come on, they’ve got pesquils over there, and I love watching them getting fed.”

  Karik was too cross with his friend and their new companion to enjoy watching the lively pesquils at first, but Gyo was so eager to placate him, and the little birds were so funny with their antics and squabbling, that he felt his bad mood dissipating. It helped Jembis had stopped talking about his family and was instead regaling them with tales of a pet pesquil he had as a child. As they walked away from the cages, Gyo asked Jembis, “So does your mother live on the ship too?”

  “No, my mother died when I was three. My father never remarried—he’s got a woman in Utuk we stay with, but I don’t like her,” he said with a scowl.

  “So you don’t have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. Just me and my father.”

  Karik, who had still been feeling rather annoyed at Jembis, now was a little sorry for him—at least Karik had always had two parents to love and protect him. Maybe this was the explanation as to why the older boy was so fascinated by his history. He didn’t seem to be malicious, just curious, and he had been very amiable the way he’d taken the time to show the menagerie and explain the habits of the animals. He was very eager to be friends with them, as if his life lacked in companionship.

  The menagerie itself wasn’t very large, but by the time they had seen all the animals, and Jembis had told them all about each species, it was well past noon, and both Karik and Gyo were hungry. Jembis said he knew the best pie seller in Darshek, and certainly the hot pastries were very good. That and a big piece of melon they bought from another stall allayed hunger pangs and their thirst. It had begun to drizzle, so the plan of visiting Jembis’s ship now seemed a good idea. They got a lift to the docks on a cart carrying bean sacks, and in a few minutes were let off near where the tall ships were being loaded with cargo. “That’s ours,” Jembis said, pointing.

  The ship was somewhat smaller than others waiting at the dock, but Gyo was still very taken with it. “When I’m older, I want to sail a ship,” he said. “Just once, maybe to Urshek.”

  “Maybe y-you’ll get ss-seasick,” Karik said to tease him.

  “Don’t be mean, Ka-chi. Jembis, do you get sick?”

  “Sometimes, but I just take some nerf leaf and just sleep it away. It’s only if there’s really bad weather.”

  “N-nerf leaf?”

  “It grows in Andon—the animal traders use it to keep their catches quiet while they’re moving them about. It makes them sleepy if they eat it. Some of the sailors smoke it but it makes a horrible stink. Father won’t let them do that on board.”

  Karik nodded, making a note to mention it to Kei when he saw him that evening. It wasn’t something his mother had ever mentioned so perhaps it was new to them both.

  There were only a couple of men on deck who waved to Jembis as they came up the gangway. He let Karik and Gyo look around a little but seemed eager to get them below deck. “We don’t want to be in the way when the last cargo is loaded. Besides, I need to feed the tewi cubs, and put water in with the birds.”

  Fascinating as the boat was, Karik was much more excited by the idea of seeing the infant tewis. He could smell the animals before they came down the stairs to the lower deck, and heard the mewing and growling of baby carnivores. Jembis called to his charges quietly, soothing them with his voice. “There’s a couple of rich nobles in Utuk who want tame tewis and carchos in their gardens. I think they’re crazy, but they’re paying so we do what they want. I just get them used to me handling them so they don’t attack humans. They think I’m their mother,” he joked.

  There were jombekers in the hold to provide food for the babies, and Jembis got them to help him milk three of the she-animals. To Karik’s delight, he was allowed to hand-feed one of the tewi cubs—its eyes were still blue, but its teeth were very sharp even at such a young age. Somehow he didn’t think the idea of a fully grown tewi or carcho wandering loose sounded very sensible, even a so-called tame one, but the cubs and kits were cute and affectionate, very greedy for the milk and scraps of meat.

  Not long after they started the long task of feeding the animals, there were loud shouts from up on deck, and the boat shuddered, much to Karik and Gyo’s alarm. Jembis assured them it was just the boat shifting as it was loaded and said that as long as they kept below deck, they’d be fine. “I usually just hide down here until it’s all done, otherwise I get asked to lift stuff,” he said, winking at them.

  As they worked, he started to speculate in a general way about Karik’s Prijian past. Karik tried to be polite, not wanting to interrupt the enjoyable time they were otherwise having by telling Jembis to shut up, but the conversation made him uncomfortable, even though Jembis wasn’t actually asking him for more information. The older boy finally picked up on his discomfort, and changed the subject. Karik really wished Gyo had kept his mouth shut, and resolved to have a word with his friend when they left the ship. He was sure Arman would be cross if he knew the history of Karik’s birth was being spread about.

  They spent easily two hours feeding the animals, helping Jembis clean the cages and putting oil on the feet of some of the tuktuks and other birds. The whole time the boat rocked and swayed, but they were getting used to the movement and after a while Karik ceased to note it. Jembis said it was normal, and seemed unconcerned.

  However, it was probably getting late. “Wuh-we should g-go,” he said, handing back the last bird to Jembis.

  “If you like, but have some tea before you go? It’s Andonese—you won’t have had it before. I’ve got some cakes too.”

  Gyo seized on the idea enthusiastically. “We’ve got time for that, Karik. I’m thirsty.”

  Karik nodded—a little delay would do no harm, so long as they got back soon. “Good,” Jembis said with a bright smile. “Here, keep playing with these, they need to get as used to people as they can, and to h
andling. I won’t be long—I just need to go to the galley.”

  As Jembis left, Gyo explained, with his superior experience from Aito’s ship, that the galley was the ship’s kitchen. “Maybe we can have a look around before we go? They must have finished the cargo loading by now.”

  Karik was bothered by something. “The boat’s still moving.”

  “Aito’s ship bobbed up and down too. Not like this, but this is a smaller boat, so that’s probably why.”

  Karik accepted the explanation, because he had no knowledge of such matters. Still, the longer they were on the ship, the more anxious he was to go. He felt very sorry for the animals in their little cages, and worried about the fate of the tewi in his lap. It was one thing to take its chances in the forests of Andon, but to be a plaything for a rich man, and maybe ending up shot by an archer when it became too dangerous—it felt wrong to him. Carchos belonged in the open spaces too. He decided he really didn’t like zoos or cages, not unless there was a reason other than entertainment.

  Jembis was only a matter of minutes. “I hope you like it sweet—the flavour’s very strong but it’s good with honey. Sailors swear by it,” he said with a wink, handling them metal mugs and setting down a sack of cakes which the baby tewi Karik was holding immediately wanted. Jembis picked it up by the scruff of its neck and wagged a finger in its face. “Don’t be greedy—you just had your milk. Come on, drink up, Gyo. Then you can tell your Pa you’re a real sailor.”

  Gyo took a gulp and then coughed. “Oh.... It’s strong.”

  “Only way to drink it—have a cake with it.”

  Karik sipped his—it was pungent, not entirely pleasant, but it tasted better than it smelled. With the sweet cakes, it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t something he was keen to try again. “N-not h-having any?”

  “I could only carry two mugs,” Jembis said with a shrug. “I’ll have some when you go—there’s always some in a pot in the galley.”