Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  “A b-bit. I keep th-thinking he’ll fuh-find me and k-kill me. Th-that I wuh-won’t be able to s-stop him.”

  Kei grimaced. “I know what feeling helpless is like. When I was a hostage, when I was first at Arman’s house in Utuk, there was a servant there who was in charge of me. He kept beating me because I was slow, or didn’t understand what they wanted. At least, that’s what I thought he was doing it for—I realised after a while that nothing I could do would have been right for him. He just wanted to make himself look like a big man and I was a convenient way to do that. But I couldn’t fight back because if I had, the other hostages from our village would have been punished too.”

  Karik twisted his hands in his lap, Kei’s words stirring up all kinds of unpleasant emotions. “Wuh-were you b-badly hurt? D-Did my m-mother know?”

  “Jena...? Oh, Mayl. Uh, well, she saw some of it happening, I know that. Yes, it was pretty bad. If Arman hadn’t stopped it when he did, well...let’s just say it’s a good thing he stopped it, or Mykis would have had to find another toy.”

  Karik sat up in shock. “M-Mykis? D-Did he carry a c-cane?”

  “Yes, he did.” Kei went pale. “Gods, don’t tell me he works for Senator Mekus now? He didn’t hurt you too, did he?”

  Karik shook his head. “N-Not me. But the s-servants were s-scared of him.” So his mother had brought Mykis with her from Arman’s house, even knowing what he was like.

  “I don’t blame them—I was terrified of him. Still am,” he added with a shudder. “Even now, I have nightmares about him every so often. But you know what was wonderful?” Karik waited for him to continue, since he couldn’t guess. “When Arman found out—he wasn’t home much that first month and hadn’t realised it was going on—he dressed Mykis down so beautifully, and he made sure I saw it. I remember feeling so grateful that someone would defend me like that. It was strange, seeing how I was still a prisoner, but he made me safe. He was amazing that evening—I was in awe of him. When Arman decides to fight on your side, you feel like you can do anything.” The fondness in Kei’s voice would have been heart-warming, if Karik hadn’t immediately thought that having Arman against you was about the worst thing in the world. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?” Kei said quietly.

  Karik looked away. “It wuh-was my f-fault. Urso dying.”

  Kei cupped his chin and made Karik look at him. “Listen to me. It wasn’t. Not even Arman believes that now, no matter how angry he was then. He knows he was unfair to you, and he wants to talk to you about that. But don’t go feeling guilty over something that you had no control over. Urso died because Mekus has had it in for Arman for years—long before you were born, long before I ever went to Utuk. In fact the feud goes back even before Arman was born. He’s just a nasty, vicious old man.”

  “My mo-mother m-married him. Why?”

  Kei let go of his chin, but took his hand instead. “I don’t know, Karik. Perhaps because he’s powerful and she liked that. I’m not exactly unbiased about Mayl, so maybe I shouldn’t talk about her to you.”

  “I d-don’t know wuh-why...J-Jos hates me, my mo-mother sent me away...my fuh-father gave me away. Wuh-what did I do?” He rubbed at his eyes. “I just wuh-want to know wuh-why.”

  Kei sighed. “After we got all the hostages back, they had the same question for Arman as you did—what had they done to deserve such horrible things? And he could only explain that it wasn’t them, it was the Prij, the Prijian sovereign. The hate that had built up in their minds had nothing to do with us at all.” He squeezed Karik’s hand. “It isn’t you,” he said gently. “How could it be? They don’t know you.”

  “But wuh-why does Arman...?”

  Kei gave him a rueful look. “Now, Arman’s a different matter, but I can honestly say he doesn’t hate you. The reasons he gave you to Reji and Jena were not about you, they were about him, his relationship with Mayl and a lot of other things that made him sure he couldn’t look after you as he knew you deserved. Your mother....” He rested a gentle hand on Karik’s head. “Some people don’t know a good thing when they see it.”

  So far as Karik could see, his mother never had a chance to see it, with Arman taking him away from her. But he trusted Kei, and if he thought Arman would talk to him, then maybe he would. “J-Jos wuh-won’t change.”

  “No, I’m afraid he might not, just as Mykis won’t. But you can’t let him make you feel ashamed of who you are. Being Prijian is nothing to be ashamed of. They make very good lovers for a start,” he said with a cheeky smile.

  Karik flushed. “I d-don’t like the Prij.”

  “You’ve met a few unpleasant ones, so you’ll just write off the entire race, even if that means writing yourself off as well? I thought you were smarter than that.”

  He scowled. “Th-they’re mean and st-stupid and they huh-hurt people.”

  Kei was giving him a look which Karik knew perfectly well meant he was being an idiot. Which he knew he was anyway. “Well, yes, some of them do, I can’t argue with that. But of course there are no stupid Darshianese at all.”

  “I d-don’t want to be Pr-Prijian.”

  Kei sighed. “No, I can see that. You’ve had pretty much the worst possible introduction to your people. But there are some good ones—a lot of good ones. You’re a good one for a start. You’re Prijian and you’re Darshianese at the same time, just like Arman. You needn’t be ashamed of that.” He stood up and held out his hand. “The sun’s going down. We should go in.” Karik accepted his help to stand. “You’ve got taller since I last saw you.”

  “L-Losing the br-braid made me sh-shoot up.”

  Kei laughed and ruffled his hair. “Oh, that’s a good one, I’ll remember that. Let’s go and get those lazy parents of yours out of the bath.”

  As they walked back down the path, Kei said casually, “While you’re here, I’m hoping you might meet some friends of ours that I wanted you to meet the last time you were here. You’re not planning to go on board any more ships, are you? I can nail your feet to the ground now, if it’ll save time.”

  “No s-ships. N-Not ever.”

  “Good, good, so long as that’s settled. I’m glad you came up again. I’m going to make this a week to remember for you, I promise. You deserve a little bit of fun after all you’ve been through this year. Now I wonder if Risa’s left us any cakes....”

  Seeking Home: 9

  Kei was true to his word, as Karik knew he would be. The first thing they were to do was to visit the academy, Kei remarking dryly that it was fortunate he was strangely at liberty to escort them, which made Karik’s mother grin. Kei mock-scolded her and Neka for their plotting, saying he’d thought it was odd how his week’s schedule had been mysteriously freed of meetings and teaching, and that he’d actually complained about it to Pira because he’d wanted to keep busy while Arman was away. Risa excused himself for the day—they were, after all, still up here on clan business which had to be done—but he insisted Karik’s father stay with Jena and Karik since it was such a rare treat for them to be all together in Darshek.

  The very first thing Ma wanted to do was to meet Neka again. It had been eleven years since the two of them had seen each other in person, so Neka had arranged to come to the academy to meet them. Karik and Pa watched the two women greet each other with joyful cries and long hugs. “You look just the same,” Ma said, pulling back. “It’s so unfair.”

  “You’re aging gracefully, Jena. I see you brought the reason for your grey hairs with you,” Neka said, smiling at Jena’s partner and son.

  “Come over, Karik—you remember Neka, don’t you?”

  “Of course he does,” Neka said, giving Karik a kiss and accepting a hug from Reji. “Oh, you have to come to the House, Meda and the others absolutely insist. They want to see you again and meet this boy of yours, since they’ve heard so much about him.”

  Kei put his hands up. “All good things,” he said hastily. “When, Neka? I wanted to take them to the library and then there a
re some plants—”

  “Oh, you and your smelly plants,” Neka said, shaking a finger at him. “Dinner tonight? I already asked Pira if that was all right with her.”

  “You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Well, if Pira says so, I guess we’re allowed. But I want to steal them before that.”

  “Of course. But come early? Wyma wants to be there and you know he can’t stay up late these days.”

  “We’ll come for tea before sunset, I promise.”

  “Good. Jena, I have to go to the Rulers’ House but I’ll see you later.” She hugged her friend and then waved goodbye to them.

  “Goodness,” Ma said, coming over to them. “The House of the Gifted—Karik, do you realise what that means? They hardly invite anyone there. You must have made a good impression on Neka.”

  Karik didn’t know what to say to that, but Pa did. “Well, of course he did, love—he’s our boy.”

  “Huh, then it’s a wonder he wasn’t barred from there for life,” she said, grinning up at Pa.

  Kei took Karik’s arm. “They never change, do they?” he whispered in Karik’s ear.

  “N-not that I’ve s-seen.”

  Kei straightened up. “Right, Jena, a little decorum please, and remember to call me Master Kei at all times.” He looked offended at her hoot of laughter. “Do you see what I have to put up with?” he asked mournfully. “Oh, Master Pitis!” He hurried over to a Prijian man in blue robes who bowed low to him. “Come and meet my friends, Pitis.”

  Karik stared at the newcomer, a short middle-aged man with a genial expression. He smiled at them all. “Welcome, I am Pitis.” He nodded at Karik and repeated the same thing in Prijian, which made Karik flush in embarrassment.

  Kei cleared his throat. “Ah, Pitis, Karik’s Jena and Reji’s son—I told you about him. The discoverer of kariken? Jena of Ai-Albon?”

  Pitis smacked his forehead. “Oh, blessed gods, of course. My apologies, Karik. It’s an honour to meet you,” he said, bowing again.

  Karik bowed as he’d been taught. “I am honoured also, Pitis-gidu,” he said in Prijian, remembering the correct phrase. He glanced at Kei who nodded in approval. “Please allow me to introduce my parents.” He was amazed he remembered all that Prijian—those damn lessons had sunk in after all. But he switched to Darshianese for the rest of it. “Th-this is my mother, Jena, and my f-father, Reji, of Ai-Albon.”

  “Of course, I have heard of you, healer Jena. You’re spoken of very highly here at the academy.”

  Karik was amused to see his mother blush like a girl. “I could never match your reputation, Master Pitis. Karik, the master is the one who discovered the properties of the yusus plant. He’s doing wonderful work on pain relief—definitely one of our finest chemists at the academy.” Karik nodded—he remembered his Ma’s excitement when the news came from Darshek. The problem was getting enough quantities of the plant to refine—so the villages still made do with pijn, but Ma remained hopeful the yusus plant could be grown in larger amounts and thus supply all who needed it. “I wondered if you have read Master Jezinke’s latest paper?” She began to enthuse to the man, who nodded eagerly as she spoke.

  Kei put his finger to his lips and signalled for Pa and Karik to come to the side with him. “I’m sure they’ll be at this for ages,” he whispered. “Come to my office.” In a louder voice, he told Ma where they’d be—she waved at them distractedly and they left her to it.

  The whole morning was like that—meeting people, getting caught up in conversations, other people passing by and joining in. Even in the library Kei was waylaid, which he didn’t seem to mind at all. Karik and his parents were drawn into everything quite naturally, and Karik soon forgot whether he was speaking to a Darshianese, a Prij or an Andonese. Several times he found his small amount of Prijian to be useful, to understand a phrase their companion couldn’t quite make clear, and for the first time in his life, people were more impressed by what he was saying than how he was saying it.

  Kei took them to lunch in the small dining hall where the masters and students alike sat down to eat. “I think we need to catch our breath,” he said as the food was brought to the table. “Karik, I’m amazed how much Prijian you know. You want to keep that up, it will serve you well.”

  “It certainly will, son,” Pa said, sounding pleased with him. “You know more than I do and I’ve been trying to pick it up for years. Mind you, most of it’s not fit for polite company.”

  “Neither are you most of the time,” Ma said, cutting herself some bread. “Master Pitis was very complimentary about your accent, Karik. He said it was charming.”

  Karik flushed. “I d-don’t like speaking it,” he muttered.

  “Why not? It’s just another way of getting a message across,” Kei said. “And with so many Prij in Darshek, not to mention the Darshianese in Kuprij, I think we should all try to learn the language. There are many more Prij who speak our language than the other way around, and I wish it wasn’t the case. As for the lack of anyone speaking Andonese....” He shook his head. “I think we might have to pay people to study it—nothing else works.”

  “Andonese is impossible,” Pa said. “It’s like chewing gravel.”

  “It’s a very orderly language, Arman says. But it’s curious how many words Prijian and Darshianese share—we have a woman working on the roots of the tongues here and she’s convinced that both peoples got their languages from a third nation which no longer exists, and we’ve both changed it over a thousand years or more into our own separate languages. Andonese doesn’t belong to that root, she says.”

  “So the P-Prij were once uh-us?” Karik was confused.

  “No, son, it means that long ago our people may have come from an area where there was a common language, or there was an invasion where the language was forced on our peoples.” Pa looked thoughtful. “It has to have been a very long time ago, and I know our records don’t go back much past the civil war.”

  “The Prijian records go back at least five hundred,” Ma said. “So Karus said. The senators like to trace their lineages back that far, though he always said that most of their family trees were pure fiction. The history isn’t though. He said that once the Prij were a small island race, mostly farmers. Only in the last century has their population growing so large that it gave them ambitions for more land, and success bred greed. He was so interesting to talk to,” she sighed. “I miss him still.”

  “So does Arman,” Kei said. “So do I. But we have several people from Kuprij working here who remind me of him a good deal. Very clever people.”

  “But th-their sc-science is all n-nonsense,” Karik said, confused. “The t-tutor wuh-was teaching r-rot.”

  “Some of the stuff they teach children is rot, you’re quite right, especially in the natural sciences,” Kei said. “Their medicine is ridiculous, and despite all the learning they’ve had access to since the war, many of their physicians are too wedded to their superstitions to change, and use religion to justify their ignorance which is quite inexcusable. But on the engineering side, the Prij are our masters, undoubtedly, and if it’s to do with metal work or glass, they are unmatched even by the Andonese. They make the most wonderful musical instruments, and their singers are the finest you will ever hear. They’ve also got a lot of experience in acclimatising plants and animals and we are learning a lot about that from them. The Rulers here would not have Prijian teachers working with us if they had nothing to teach.”

  “Anyway, Ka-chi,” Ma said, “there’s plenty of ignorance among our people, or have you managed to convince people to stop killing merkos yet?”

  Karik spent the rest of the meal feeling rather thoughtful about what they had talked about. He caught Kei looking at him several times. He knew what his uncle was doing, of course. He just hadn’t expected his parents to agree with it—Ma had been rude enough about Prijian learning in the past. But she was right about the fact that there was a lamentable blindness to simple facts among the people with whom he�
�d grown up. At least Prijian children had the excuse they were taught badly. The children in the village had only to talk to the people around them to know differently.

  They’d eaten lunch rather late, so it was a short afternoon spent in the garden, talking earnestly about Kei’s new attempts at acclimation and the tests they were performing with the new drugs upon hisks and other small animals. Despite the fact his father was not formally trained, Karik was surprised how much he knew about the work Kei was doing. For some reason, he’d always thought of Kei as mainly his mother’s friend, though Pa and Kei had known each other longer. But now, especially with the hint Ma had given them the night before, he realised that Pa’s friendship with Kei was a very deep one, one on which they both depended. It was just usually, with Arman around, Kei’s need for his father’s friendship wasn’t so clear.

  Kei obviously relished having both Karik’s parents with him, and it didn’t need much imagination to work out that his uncle had really been suffering from his lover’s absence. Soul-touchers needed people around them to survive, his mother had once explained—to be isolated for any length of time was pure hell for them. Karik had been very grateful he was not gifted when she’d explained that. He loved his solitude, though he also enjoyed the company of people with similar minds. Which was why this day at the academy was one of the happiest he could remember.

  The sun was still high in the sky when Kei called a halt. “We should go,” he said. “I don’t want to keep Wyma waiting.”

  “But you said before sunset, Kei,” Pa said. “It’s hours before that.”

  “Yes, I know, but Neka was being polite. She would have had Jena there all day if we’d not been around. You forget not everyone finds her a pain in the neck the way we do,” he said, patting his mother’s backside and leaping smartly out of the path of her retaliatory hand. Kei was such an idiot sometimes, Karik thought fondly.