Karik bowed in the correct manner as he had been taught, and said, in Prijian, “P-pleased to meet you.”
The old man, Senator Armis, raised an eyebrow, and Arman actually scowled. Karik wondered if he had used the incorrect form of address. “Come here, young man,” the senator said, in perfect Darshianese.
Karik did so, his heart thumping. This man was so tall, easily as tall as his father—Reji—but with a severe expression and steely blue eyes. “So you are Sei Mayl’s child. Tell me, Karik, how do you like Utuk?”
Karik glanced at Arman for help, but Arman wasn’t offering any. Yuko gave him a smile of encouragement, which was also no help since Karik didn’t know what he was being encouraged for. “I’ve n-not s-seen much, sir. S-Senator.” Perhaps he should call him “grandfather”, but something in the man’s look made that seem like a really bad idea.
“No, I imagine not. But you like Ai-Albon, I fancy.”
“Yes.”
“And do you honour your parents, Karik?”
“Yes, s-senator.”
“Then that is how it should be, my boy.” That seemed to be the end of the man’s interest in him. “Ambassador Yuko, Tijus and I have come in person to express our gratitude for your help to my son, and to offer sincere condolences on the loss of your colleague. It’s my belief that you have advanced the cause of both countries by your assistance in this matter.”
Yuko bowed. “You are most kind, senator. Arman is entitled to our help as a citizen of Darshian and as a friend to both our countries. I believe that Karik will, in time, be a friend to both as well.”
The man grunted. “That remains to be seen. Now, Arman, unless you have further business, we should go to the docks.”
“Father, I can take Karik with me now, you don’t—”
The senator raised his hand. “This family is going to see you off as I have decreed. Do you have anything else you need to do here?”
“No, Father. Yuko,” he said, stepping over to the ambassador and clasping his hand, “my sincere thanks. Please tell Lesa I’m sorry this time I couldn’t come to supper.”
Yuko embraced him warmly. “My duty and my pleasure, and there’ll be another time for supper together. Please look after Kerti when you get back.”
“You don’t need to ask. Do you have his things?”
Yuko waved at someone who brought Karik’s pack over. Yuko handed it to Karik in person. “There you are, Karik. Safe trip home and when the time is right, I hope you might return under more auspicious circumstances. I may see you again in Darshek.”
“I hope s-so.”
“Then off you go, lad.”
Arman put his hand on Karik’s shoulder and led him to the door. So far, he’d not said a word to Karik, and he hardly looked pleased now. The journey home wasn’t going to be much fun, Karik suspected.
~~~~~~~~
One thing that had not changed over Arman’s lifetime was the depth of his father’s stubbornness, and he didn’t know why he had even attempted to dissuade him from dragging not only Tijus but also the rest of the family and Mari along, except that it was a silly risk. He knew what his father was up to, of course. He was saying farewell to Arman, certainly, but he was also making a very public statement that Arman was his son, and of the senatorial class. He was poking Mekus in the eye, and Arman really didn’t think that was the wisest thing his father could do right now. But no one else seemed to have any problem with it, so he kept his counsel.
Karik watched him like he expected Arman to sprout feathers, and hadn’t yet said a word to him. Of course Arman’s father’s little cross-examination would have unnerved a hardier soul than Karik, but the boy seemed to be ill at ease anyway, hardly looking like someone delighted to be on his way back home after an unpleasant exile. The missing braid jarred badly, because Karik looked entirely Prijian without it, an impression reinforced by the halting words spoken to Arman’s father. Jena would murder Arman if he handed back a little Prij to her, and he could only hope the changes were truly superficial. Surely not even Mekus could have soiled a child’s mind in just a few short weeks?
Arman couldn’t help feeling resentful of the boy, though he knew it was unfair. So much had been paid, in blood, pain and money for this lad. Karik was valuable for the sake of his parents’ happiness. As Arman’s father had said, only time would tell if there was more to him than that. Arman wasn’t inclined to be charitable, not right at this moment.
Since they would have nine days in each other’s company to catch up on news, he ignored the boy and concentrated on his family. This time they were travelling in two calashes—Mari and his father with Arman and Karik in the first, Tijus and his family in the second—and what a little show they were putting on, with the Darshianese soldiers in full uniform following on jesigs. Senators were not seen at the docks every day of the week, certainly not in their finest robes, nor with soldiers bearing the banners of Darshian, guarding them from any unrest. A curious crowd of idlers and dock workers followed their slow procession to the actual ship, and by the time the calashes had been brought to a stately halt, there were nearly a hundred people watching—Prijian soldiers, merchants, passengers waiting to board, and other denizens of the harbour side. Arman caught the satisfied glint in his father’s eye and had to admire the cunning of the old bastard, as well as his bravery. There were too many witnesses for Mekus to try anything now.
Arman shooed Karik out, then helped Mari and his father descend in regal fashion from the vehicle. Tijus brought his family over, and stood respectfully to one side of his father. “So, Arman, it is farewell for now. Will you accept my blessing?”
Arman stared at his father in surprise, but quickly knelt on one knee and bowed his head respectfully. He felt his father’s hands rest gently on his hair and heard him speak in a tone which he'd once used to such effect on the senate floor. “Let those present witness this, the blessing of a father upon his child. This is Arman, of the line of Armis, my son, and my pride. I ask the blessing of Lord Niko, Ruler of the earth and the sky, upon him and his endeavours. I call on Lord Quek, Ruler of the seas, to carry him safely back to our friends in Darshek. May the gods prosper his work and that of his friends.”
Arman heard the pious affirmations of his family, and a few from the watching crowd, and looked up, his heart full of pride and happiness at this most public acknowledgement of his father’s favour, one he had never before received, nor ever hoped to receive. “Your devoted son thanks you, my father, and calls upon the gods to protect you and the glorious state of Kuprij. May she forever prosper.” This time the affirmations were louder.
“Rise, Arman.” He did so, and then his father took his hands. “Have the embassy let us know when you arrive safely.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then until we meet again.” Arman bowed again, and his father’s grip around his hands tightened before he was released.
Mari took his hands in turn. “May the gods bless you and Kei, and may your journey with the boy be a safe one, Arman.”
“Thank you. And...I’ll remember what you asked,” he added in a low voice.
She smiled. “Please do. Farewell.”
Tijus, for once, was the picture of decorum, and only shook his hands, though there was an unmistakeable warmth in his eyes and his voice as he loudly called the blessings of the gods upon Arman. Temir curtseyed formally but her farewell was also heartfelt. Arman knelt down again to take Tije and Eren’s hands in his. “Now, this is only for a little while until you next come to Darshek,” he said firmly.
“Or you come back to Utuk,” Tije said, all his grandfather’s stubbornness in his high, childish voice.
“Or I come back,” Arman agreed. After all, stranger things had happened. “Look after grandfather and Mari for me, won’t you?”
“We will, uncle Arman,” Tije promised.
“And we will write every week,” Eren added.
“As and when, my dear. Farewell. Honour your parents as
you have done to now.”
He shouldered his packs, and bowed to his family. “I go, a proud son of the line of Armis,” he said loudly. “I entrust you, my family, to the bosom of this nation.”
“Where we will be safe and honoured,” his father said in perfect correctness, raising a hand in final, fond dismissal.
Karik stood with his mouth slightly open. Arman supposed it had all been a bit theatrical for the child and doubtless beyond his language skills, but it had clearly made an impression. The crowd were still watching in respectful silence. “Come on, Karik, we need to get on board.”
The boy shook himself and followed Arman up the gangplank. Arman turned as they reached the deck and waved down at his family. The children responded enthusiastically, his brother more modestly, and his father merely gestured as if to say ‘now be off with you’. Arman had to grin—his family had given him a wonderful gift and he would treasure it until the day he died.
The captain himself came to meet them, bowing respectfully as if Arman was actually a Ruler, which was entirely unnecessary. “I’ve prepared a cabin for you. You don’t mind sharing, I hope?”
“No, that’s fine. Yes, Karik?”
The boy had been staring rather dazedly down at the dockside. “Um, y-yes.”
Arman nearly made an impatient remark, then reminded himself Karik had doubtless had a very hard month. “Then let’s get below. Captain?”
The cabin was small, as was only to be expected, but there were separate bunk beds. Arman suggested that Karik, being smaller and lighter, take the upper one, and the boy listlessly agreed. The captain told them a cabin boy would be available to assist them once they sailed. Arman thanked him and waited for the door to close behind him, then he sat on the chair at the small writing desk.
“You must be relieved to be on your way back.” Karik jumped, as if he hadn’t expected to be spoken to, and then nodded. “Is there something wrong, Karik? You don’t seem overjoyed to be leaving Utuk.”
“I am,” he said in a quiet, dull voice which made a liar of his words.
His passivity annoyed Arman. “Then perhaps you could show that. I, and more particularly my family and the embassy, were put to a lot of trouble to get you out of Mekus’s hands. I had expected you to at least be grateful.”
Karik’s head snapped up at that, and rather to Arman’s surprise, his green eyes were narrowed in anger. “Sh-should I be gr-grateful you took me from muh-my mother?”
“Your mother? Do you mean that—” Arman hissed in a breath and bit down on his temper. “Are you telling me you want to stay with Sei Mayl?”
“No...n-not now. Wuh-when I was a b-baby. You l-left her and t-took me. Th-then you g-gave me away. Sh-should I th-thank you for that?”
Arman stared in astonishment and rising fury at this creature, stammering his way through Mayl’s lying accusations. “You have no idea of what you speak, boy. You don’t know the circumstances, and I will thank you not to bring this up to me or anyone else ever again. A man has died. My family has put itself in the path of a very dangerous man, and a good many people have put themselves to considerable trouble to get you home. You’re luckier than you could possibly know that I took you away from Sei Mayl—but if you would rather be back in Mekus’s house, I suggest you pick up your pack and walk off this boat before it sails. I won’t carry an ungrateful serpent back to Reji and Jena to nurture.”
Karik’s nostrils flared, and his cheeks grew red. “Y-you left her. For K-Kei.”
Arman nearly struck him then. “I did no such thing, and if you ever say that again, I will throw you off this boat myself. Make your mind up. Stay or go, but don’t ever repeat Mayl’s filth to me or to Kei. If you value her over your mother, then get out now, and stop wasting my time and my patience.” Karik just stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Well, are you going?”
“No.”
“Fine. Then stop speaking of matters you don’t understand. After the time I’ve had, I’m in no mind to put up with it.”
He stalked out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him. If he knew that there was more accommodation on this boat, he would ask for another cabin, but it was clear they had had to rearrange things just to clear a decent space for the two of them.
He walked quickly up on deck, trying to get his temper back. Being attacked by Karik in that way was rather like suddenly being savaged by a pet hisk—the boy was normally so quiet and timid, but clearly a month of being fed lies by Mekus and Mayl had given him some balls. Not quite the improvement his parents would be looking for, from having sent their son out on his great adventure.
He stood at the rail, staring down at the sailors still loading the ship. His family and the crowd had gone, of course—he hoped his father’s act would not have dire consequences for the family. He slammed the rail with his fist—to have lost Urso, for his father to have risked so much, and to have it flung back in his face like that.... To think he had ever regretted giving him up to Jena. Oh, he would be glad to see the back of that boy and the end of this matter.
~~~~~~~~
Karik’s legs collapsed under him as Arman stormed out, and he had to sit down on the bunk, his fist against his mouth to stop himself throwing up. Had he really just said all that to one of the most important men in Darshian? To uncle Kei’s lover? He had never been that rude in his life. But he had been so angry...and so had Arman.
Gods, what should he do now? Trying to talk to Arman about it would probably just end up with him storming out again—or worse. Karik had seen how he’d had to restrain his fists, and knowing Arman was capable of killing made it entirely credible he might have harmed Karik for his insolence.
He had achieved nothing—no explanation, no apology, no acceptance. Arman was now more distant than ever, but then this rejection hardly hurt more than what he had already done.
The boat had not yet sailed and for a few desperate moments, Karik almost considered doing as Arman suggested, because he didn’t know if he could face the voyage with Arman’s hostility, and then his parents’ kind but unknowing sympathy. But he didn’t want to be in Utuk, he didn’t want to be Prijian, so all he could do was as he had done for four weeks—and the whole of his life, really—and endure. Would it all be better when he got back to the village? Right now it was hard to think it ever would be, but the alternative was no alternative.
He discovered he was shaking, and gripped his arms to try and get some control back. Nine days to Darshek. Several weeks after that before he got back to Ai-Albon. He couldn’t fall apart now. There was just too long to go before he was safe.
Seeking home
The trip was nearly as painful and lonely as the time he’d spent confined at Mekus’s home. Arman treated him with an icy courtesy which left Karik with no doubt that his father despised him, and robbed him of the courage to confront the man again. That didn’t prevent him feeling a constant anger, a continuous outrage at Arman for his high-handedness. He wasn’t a child—Arman had no right to forbid him to say or think anything. But every time he tried to say this, his tongue refused to cooperate, and Arman gave him no opportunity for civil conversation. From the moment he woke to last thing at night, Arman left the cabin—spending some time on deck, Karik knew, because he saw him often, either sitting staring out at the surging ocean or talking to the sailors. He left Karik strictly alone. That didn’t mean he was abandoned—the young cabin boy made sure he got his meals, knew where to find things and what to do in bad weather. But to Arman, Karik was just an unwanted piece of cabin furniture.
Angry as he was with the man, Karik couldn’t help but also wonder how this would affect his relations with Kei, his parents, even the village. Arman was well-loved and well-respected, friend to many people Karik personally liked and who were important to him. He had an uneasy suspicion Arman’s animosity would make his own difficult position even worse—and he couldn’t imagine Kei would still want him at the academy. Arman’s opinion would carry more weight wit
h Kei than Karik’s did—it would only be natural. The bright future Kei had painted for him was now to be an unreachable dream. If he was lucky, his father would still let him be a trader. More likely, he would end up stuck in the village doing odd jobs for whoever wanted them, like Lori did. But Lori was tall and strong—and Darshianese. Karik couldn’t even offer that to people.
Even the prospect of returning to his parents couldn’t cheer him, and his mood became darker with every mile closer to home. Gero, the cabin boy, was worried about him, and had timidly asked if there was anything he could do. Karik had roused himself out of his black depression long enough to reassure the lad, but had then sunk back into introspection. Like Arman, he spent a lot of time on deck, at least when it was fine. When it rained, or became dangerously stormy, he could only hide in the cabin. Arman went elsewhere—he never said where.
After eight days, the rising excitement in the crew told him they were approaching Darshek. Of course—they were less than a day from being home. Karik didn’t know how he was to get home, or even when. He had no idea what had happened to his things—his birthday gifts had not been in the pack Arman had brought down, and Karik didn’t know if Gyo had taken them home, or if they were still at Kei’s house. He felt like he was of no importance to any of the people making decisions about his life, and it only made him angrier.
The ship had been hugging the coast all that last day, and finally he could see the huge cannons that defended Darshek Harbour. He went down to the cabin to collect his things, and brought his packs up to the deck. He was almost of a mind to just walk off once they had docked, but that was not only impractical, but also ridiculous.
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 34