Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  Lord Meki grunted in agreement. “You and Peika need to talk and soon. I think it only fair to warn you that if your nomination is accepted, one of your first duties will be to travel to Andon to look at their defences and advise them. It could be for a month or more. Kei won’t be pleased.”

  “Kei already knows it’s possible. I don’t think either of us will like it, but it’s not the same as being trapped in Utuk without the option of returning for years. Anyway, I just got back. I don’t want to talk of something that may not happen. I’m still not convinced the villages will even consider my nomination, let alone agree to it.”

  “We’ll see,” Lord Meki, looking rather smug. “What about that boy? I thought he would be with you.”

  Arman strove to keep a pleasant smile on his face. “I thought it best to send him home as soon as I could. Captain Tiko’s got it in hand—Karik should be home within two weeks, and I hope that puts an end to it all.”

  “You’ve had a difficult time of it, no doubt. Kei’s had a worse one, though. I wondered who was at more risk of dying from a heart attack at times, me or him.”

  “Oh?” Arman frowned. “When I spoke to him, he seemed to be coping as well as I would expect from someone of his intelligence.”

  “Intelligence be damned. If you ever think you might have to spend so much time away from him, find a way for him to join you. None of us want to see him wither away.”

  “I was trying to keep him safe,” Arman replied, somewhat stung. “And you needed him.”

  “Not as much as he needs you,” the Ruler said sternly. “Take my advice. Don’t keep him from you like that ever again. It’s not worth it. Nothing is worth it, not even me.”

  “As you wish it, Meki,” Arman said, not wanting to argue with the man. “Shall we find Lord Peika?”

  ~~~~~~~~

  He was in his office, looking through his piled up messages, and the sun had dipped low over the horizon before Kei arrived, out of breath and apologetic. “Sorry, sorry, I got trapped by our new teachers and I couldn’t just push them off. Can we go home now?”

  He sounded like a child anxious for his birthday present. Arman grinned at him and rose immediately to get his packs. Kei shouldered one, and they walked hand in hand along the sea front back to the house, only just enough light left in the sky to see where they were going. “Meki looks terrible,” Arman said, keeping his voice low in deference to the other people on their path.

  “Yes, he does. I won’t lose him. Not like this.”

  Arman squeezed Kei’s hand in response to his fierce tone. “He seems more worried about you than himself. Gave me quite the lecture about abandoning you. You know I thought it was the best thing to do, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” Kei stopped and forced him to swing around to face him. “Look, I’m not going to say it was easy or pleasant, or that I got all that much sleep before we heard you were coming back. But I would have survived. I’ve been through worse.”

  “Yes, I know,” Arman murmured, holding Kei close to him, “and I was responsible for that too. I wished I’d had you there. I needed your advice. I could have done with your calm wisdom.”

  There was a rueful-sounding chuckle next to his ear. “You wouldn’t have thought me calm if you’d seen me after I thought you were really going to stay down there. There was some tantrum in my office, I assure you.”

  “I can imagine. Meki wants me to promise I won’t ever think of doing that again—of course, this is just after he blithely tells me if I become a Ruler, I’ll be shipped to Andon for a month. I can’t promise it. I just hope those circumstances never arise again, but there are things more important than our individual happiness.”

  “Yes, I know that. I knew that when I agreed to be a hostage, and I knew it when you told me your plans. Meki does not dictate to you and me as a couple. Ever. And if, fate forbid, you’re in such circumstances again, I trust you to do the best you can. You can trust me to accept it. If you’ll allow a tantrum or two,” he added with a wry smile.

  His eyes showed how much that acceptance had cost him, and Arman saw now why Meki had been so insistent. But at the same time, Kei was no weakling. He had endured worse than Arman ever had, and had come through it with grace and courage every time. “Throw all the tantrums you need, but let’s just hope nothing will part us in the future. Meki’s not the only one whose heart can’t take the strain.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  Tiko gave Karik a funny look after Arman walked away from them out of the barracks. “Oh, lad, you’ve haven’t gone and annoyed our Ruler-to-be, have you?”

  “Huh?” Karik was so caught up in his anger, he had to take a few seconds to work out what Tiko had actually said. “R-Ruler?”

  “Not yet, but if Lord Meki gets his way.... Did you have an argument with Arman?”

  “N-not exactly. Wuh-when can I g-go?”

  “Just as soon as my men get the supplies from the quartermaster and the beasts hitched to the cart.” Tiko looked him up and down, then held out his hand for Karik to shake. “Sorry about Arman, he can be a real bastard when his nose is out of joint, although he’s a decent enough human being if you can get past the attitude. You know, I last saw you when you were six weeks old. You’ve grown a bit since then,” he said with a smile. “What happened to your braid?”

  “C-cut it.”

  “Oh. Was it bad? I know you were tricked into going—I was sorry to hear about it. If something like that had happened to my grandson, I’d have been frantic. I know your friends were, and your parents.”

  “It wuh-was....” He clenched his fists. “I d-don’t....” What could he say? How could he begin to describe his feelings? “I....” But he just couldn’t find the words.

  “It’s all right, lad, I can see it must have been upsetting,” Tiko said, a gentleness in a voice clearly not used to speaking that way. “I’d take you home myself, but I can’t be spared right now. To be honest, this late in the day, I think it’s a bit hard to make you start the journey.” He put his finger to his lips in a conspiratorial manner. “Tell you what. How about you come stay with the wife and me tonight and we’ll get you away at dawn. Arman won’t know, and you’ll be fresher. There’s no need to make you suffer for his bad temper. Would you like that? My wife’s a wonderful cook.”

  Karik was torn between wanting to be on his way, and accepting the undeniable wisdom of Tiko’s words, but finally he nodded. “Th-thank you.”

  “No problem at all, lad. Let me tell Pek and Mita to stand down, and to come to my house before dawn. I think Kei won’t be pleased with Arman about him doing this, but at least we’ll make you welcome. What Arman doesn’t know, won’t choke him, eh?”

  Yet again, Karik was amazed that people who barely knew him were prepared to be nicer to him than his blood relatives. But he liked Tiko instinctively, and he already knew Kei trusted him completely, so there was no risk. He was tired from the long journey and the cramped conditions and Arman’s constant hostility. A night in undemanding company might help him make sense of everything. Then again, he suspected it might take a good deal longer than that.

  Seeking Home: 2

  It was raining as dawn broke, and chilly with it, so he was glad to have his new coat. At least everything he had brought with him on the trip that he would need for the return, had been packed for him. After the weeks of humid heat in Utuk, the colder weather was welcome, though if the rain continued, it would make their travel slower and unpleasant, if not outright dangerous on the mountains. Pek and Mita turned out to be young soldiers only a few years older than Karik, cheerful and competent at their tasks. They set a smart pace, Mita driving the small cart which held the tent, food and bedrolls, Pek following alongside on another beast. To his regret, Karik would be a useless passenger on this journey, which did nothing to cheer him or help him shed the sense of being unwanted baggage in too many people’s lives.

  His companions were amiable enough, and glad to get away from the barracks, but
Karik had little or nothing in common with them. His stutter discouraged them from chatting much to him directly, though he wasn’t excluded from their own, somewhat banal conversation. Both were from Darshek, best friends from childhood and the sons of soldiers, so it had been all they had ever been interested in. His Prijian identity and the professions of his parents caught their attention for a little while, but talks around the campfire tended to centre on beasts, officers, weapon work and their girlfriends. Karik, being only able to talk with any authority on one of those topics, just nodded and made acceptable noises as the two friends talked enthusiastically about things in which he had not the slightest interest. He wished he had his journal to write in, but that, like his birthday gifts, had not been in his pack. He’d find out what had happened to them when he got home, he supposed.

  The wet weather died away as they reached the top of the Kislik range, but the dryer air was also much colder, making them hunch into their coats, and adding a spring to the step of the beasts, since they much preferred the cold. They reached Ai-Kislik in four days, and much to Karik’s chagrin, Edi and the other traders were there. The looks he got on account of his missing braid, and the whispered comments that he could, unfortunately, hear quite well, made him want to jump on one of the beasts and head off on his own. Instead he gritted his teeth and endured the curiosity and the stares, and the questions that were in everyone’s eyes but never spoken. Now he understood how much Risa and Misek had protected him the first time he’d passed through this village.

  Pek and Mita were thoroughly enjoying themselves, since they had never been further on their own than the Kislik Range before. Karik found them tiring at times, and missed Gyo’s rather more intelligent conversation. He felt more homesick than ever, and wished himself home now, instead of being more than a week away.

  Two days out of Kislik, camped for their noonday meal, he noticed a rising cloud of dust. Someone was riding along the road towards Darshek. They had been passed by a couple of carts a day, and once or twice by people on beasts. Karik paid no more attention to it, as he drank his tea and listened to Pek praise his camp bread, something he did at every meal as if the man had never eaten decent fire-baked bread in his life. Pek wasn’t that bright, but he was very well mannered, so Karik found it hard to be annoyed at him for being a little on the repetitive side. He supposed it would actually be an advantage to be less than imaginative if one was to be a soldier. It was his idea of a hell, but then the army wouldn’t want someone the wrong colour and entirely too small for a real fight.

  He could see the cart now, and the man was waving at them. He squinted—and then got up, his mug of tea forgotten in his hands. “Pa?”

  “Karik!”

  Pek took the mug from Karik, or he would have dropped it. “Pa!”

  He started to run as the cart came to a halt. His father leapt from the driving seat, and also ran. He stopped short to let Karik run into his outstretched arms, and then hugged Karik with a crushing strength. “Oh, Karik, oh, gods. You’re really safe.”

  Karik couldn’t speak for joy and relief, and found he was weeping suddenly, his face buried in his father’s broad chest. At no point in the last five weeks had he felt so safe, or welcome.

  His father was happy to hold him as long as Karik wanted, rubbing his back and murmuring words of comfort, easing the deep ache in Karik’s heart that he had held tight for so long. But finally Karik recalled they weren’t alone, and pushed away, sniffling. Pa kept an obviously protective hand on his shoulder, as if he was afraid Karik would be taken from him. “I’m going to take you home. Let’s get your pack.”

  They walked over to the soldiers who had obviously decided to wait and see what was going on. “I’m Reji of Ai-Albon,” Pa said in a voice that brooked no dispute. “I’ve come to get my son. If we can have his things, you lads can head back to Darshek.”

  Pek looked at Mita, who frowned. “I’m sorry, but our orders from Captain Tiko are to take him home. That’s what Arman wanted.”

  Pa took a step forward, and Karik was amazed to see the anger in his father’s eyes. “Pissing Arman is not going to tell me what is happening with my boy, do you hear? Karik is my responsibility, not yours, and I’m not having him brought back home under guard. I thank you for looking after him, but he’s not your concern any longer.”

  Mita seemed taken aback, and after an exchange of glances with his younger companion, made his decision. “All right, but if Tiko complains, I’m sending the complaint your way.”

  “If Tiko complains, I’ll be happy to deal with him. The man’s a father, he’ll understand. Now, can we have Karik’s things, please? Karik?”

  Karik ran over to the cart, only too happy to relinquish the soldiers’ company for that of his father. He brought his pack over, and his father nodded. “Have you had your meal? Then we’ll be off. Thank you, lads. I’ll make sure Tiko knows what I asked. You won’t suffer, I’ll see to that. Tiko knows me, don’t worry.”

  That seemed to ease their minds, and the two soldiers said farewell without too much regret. Pa loaded up the cart and turned it around without the least delay, and got the beasts moving at a good clip. Karik noticed it was Pa’s fastest vehicle, and if he kept up this speed, they would get back to Ai-Albon at a record rate.

  But it wasn’t sensible to ride the beasts that hard, not when there was just the two and no back up animals, so Karik wasn’t surprised when his father slowed the animals down to an easy trot. “Sorry, son, I just wanted to put some distance between us and them in case they changed their mind. I guess I was being a little foolish, but it’s been a tough few weeks.” He put his arm around Karik’s shoulder and risked a quick glance at him. “They cut your hair.”

  “No, I c-cut it.” His father glanced at him again, but there was no accusation in his eyes, just surprise. “I didn’t wuh-want them to t-touch it. So I d-did it mys-self.”

  Pa ruffled his hair as if to say he understood. “If you knew how much we missed you.” He reached into his pocket and drew something out—the tero stone on the hair cord. He looped it over Karik’s head, then pulled him into a tight one-armed hug. “Welcome back, my son.”

  Karik felt his eyes get tight and itchy, and knew he would cry again if he wasn’t careful, so he rubbed his nose furiously with one hand, while the other tightly clutched his precious gift. “You’re n-not mad at m-me?”

  “Not at you. Not at all. There are a few people whose backsides I would like to kick from one end of Darshian to the other, but you’re not one of them. Gyo explained everything—he’s pretty upset for landing you in that mess.”

  “N-not his fault. J-Jembis played a tr-rick. B-but he tried to huh-help.” He explained what had happened in Mekus’s office. “He’s just l-lonely.”

  “Lonely or not, it was a damn stupid thing to do,” Pa said in a fierce tone. “But I’m sorry to hear the boy is being hurt by his father—that’s not right. No parent should do such a thing.”

  Karik looked down at those words and thought of Arman. His mood didn’t go unnoticed by his father’s sharp eyes. “Karik?”

  “N-nothing, Pa.”

  “Yes, I bet. You don’t need to talk about it, not if you don’t want to. All that matters is that you’re safe. I think you took twenty years off my life, and Jena swears she’s got ten more grey hairs.” His words were light, but there was a slight wobble in his voice. When Karik looked up, he was amazed to see tears in his father’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Pa,” he whispered, moving closer on the driving seat. Pa kept a firm hold on him as they drove, not speaking, but showing with his embrace that it would be fine if Karik wanted to tell him anything.

  They were only a day out of Ai-Beyto, but even with the speed his father was making, they couldn’t reach that village before nightfall. To Karik’s relief, Pa didn’t stop at the large campsite near a main waterhole, but at a smaller one four miles further one down the road, where a small spring rose among the rocks, providing shelter and pro
tection for them and their animals. “This is one of my favourite places to stop,” Pa said, as he used the cart to block the entrance to the rocky enclosure—a natural stockade. “But you can’t use it for more than a small cart and a couple of beasts, more’s the pity. Get the fire started, son, I’ll pitch the tent. At least neither of us will have to sit watch tonight.”

  Karik set up the wood and kindling that his father had collected on his journey to Kislik, and then it took just a moment to set it going. A pair of fire sprites gave them all the extra light they needed.

  Supper was just dried jombeker meat, nuts and some camp bread, washed down with strong tea—it was the most pleasant meal Karik had had in weeks. He and his father chewed in companionable silence. Karik could tell he was being given space and time, and appreciated it. “P-Prijian food’s huh-horrible,” he said, taking a good slurp of the tea. He never thought he would miss good old ordinary tea.

  “Yes, so Kei said. Reckons it’s too rich—at least what the nobility eats is. I suppose that’s what they were feeding you?”

  Just a gentle question which Karik could answer with a nod, or expand upon, as he chose. “I h-hated it, Pa. I m-missed you so much.” His eyes were getting full again, and he put his food down as an unwanted tear rolled down his face.

  Pa put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it. “I know, son. Did Arman tell you we were all set to come down to Utuk to live with you and him for two years, until you turned eighteen? That was until we got the news it had all been settled. We wouldn’t have let you be trapped down there. Even if you were at Mekus’s house, we were planning to come down and see if we could somehow get to see you.”

  Karik sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. His father handed him a handkerchief to use, murmuring that his Ma would appreciate him not ruining the new coat. “I d-didn’t know anything. Ah-Arman...Ah-Arman didn’t....” He hung his head, unable to continue, even to his father—and with him right here, there was no doubt in Karik’s mind who his true father was.