“Yes, I know.” Kei turned to Seiki. “Why don’t you just tell us from the beginning? When you started to stammer and then what your Ma taught you?”
It was a long story, for sure, and Kei stopped her many times to clarify things. It certainly wasn’t an easy thing to achieve, and Karik had a sinking feeling that just writing it all down wouldn’t be enough. Part of the problem was that Seiki’s Ma had taught her to sing and had used that as part of the training—but neither of Karik’s parents could carry a tune in a bucket. Ma said she was completely tone deaf, in fact. “Myka can sing,” Kei said a little doubtfully, “but she probably wouldn’t have time to help Karik this intensively. Oh well, we’ll do what we can. Seiki, my dear, if you can do as much with Karik as you can before he leaves, I would be forever in your debt.”
“I want to help,” she said with a shy glance at Karik. “Kei, do you think I could learn to help other people too?”
Kei blinked. “I can’t see why not. If you’re really interested, I’ll introduce you to some of the masters at the academy. At the theatre, there’s a singing mistress—we should get her help. I know at least a dozen families with children who stutter, several who are far worse than Karik. If you could help them, think of how grateful they would be. Would you be interested in that?”
“Anything—I’m so bored now.”
“I hadn’t realised,” Kei said, turning to look at Neka. “We should try and do something about that.”
“If I’ve learned anything from being a father,” Pa said, settling Ma more comfortably against him, “it’s that children—and people—are happiest if you expect things from them.”
“It’s true,” Reis chimed in. “When we went to Kuprij, it was like we really were part of everything, not separate any more. But then we came back and it was mostly the same again.”
“Not the same,” Meda said. “You started working for the Rulers much more, and you’ve been happier for it.”
“We all have been,” Jera said. “Even you, Neris,” he said, poking the fire-shaper in the ribs, which earned him a huge scowl.
Kei nodded then yawned extravagantly, which made Reis giggle. “Oh, sorry, everyone. I’ve not been sleeping so well lately and I’m tired. Would anyone mind if we went home now?”
“C-Can we come back?” Karik asked, and then was shocked at his own boldness.
No one seemed offended, fortunately. “Please, Kei? Can he?” Reis asked.
“You need to ask him. I have no objections. Reji, Jena?”
“Of course you can, Karik,” Pa said.
“P-Pa, Seiki hasn’t s-seen the city. M-Maybe she could c-come with us?”
Pa looked surprised. “I can’t see why not, if Seiki would like to and Wyma doesn’t have a problem with it, which I’m sure he won’t.”
Seiki’s eyes lit up. “Would you really want me to come?” She looked at Meda. “Is that allowed?”
“Of course it is, darling. You would be in completely trustworthy hands, and Karik’s a nice boy.”
Which comment made both Karik and Seiki blush bright red, and that in turn made Reis laugh. Karik didn’t mind though. It really was impossible to take offence at these people.
“Kei, since it’s late, would you all like me to fly you home?” Jera asked.
“Well, normally I’d say no, but since I’ve got these three lazy people...ow! Stop that, you horrible woman,” he complained as Jena pulled his braid. “As I was saying, I’m sure Karik would enjoy that.”
“Oh, let me, Jera, please?” Reis said, turning his soulful eyes on his friend. “I promised Karik I’d take him flying at night, and there’s a full moon now.”
Jera shrugged. “Sure, I don’t mind.”
“Can we, Ma?” Karik turned to ask her.
“I think that sounds wonderful.”
Reis leaned over to Karik. “Just don’t tell Meki,” he whispered. “He doesn’t like to have people scared.”
“I wuh-won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “N-not here, I mean.”
Reis jumped to his feet. “Right, let’s go!”
“Reis, darling, you won’t show off, will you?” Meda said, straightening up and giving her lover a worried look. “Not everyone enjoys going really high up, you know that.”
“Why don’t you come with us, Meda? Neris? Please? I won’t go too high, I promise. We haven’t flown together in ages.”
“Oh, all right,” Neris said grumpily, pulling Meda to her feet. “Anything to keep you amused.” Karik got the slight impression he’d only been waiting to be asked. Reis’s smile was dazzling. Small pleasures easily made him happy, it was obvious.
“Seiki, I’ll let you know where you can meet us tomorrow,” Kei said. “Thank you for your help.”
“That’s all right, Kei.” She blushed as he kissed her cheek. “Good night. ‘Bye, Karik.”
He waved at her, and then Reis bustled them all out of the room, clearly impatient to show them the wonders of night flight. Neka called her farewells and told them she would see them the next day.
That night, flying in utter and effortless silence against the backdrop of the starry blackness, was the single most astonishing thing Karik had ever experienced. Just as Reis had promised, it seemed almost possible to touch the moon, while below them, the reflection of the moonlight on the harbour stretched out like cold fire, lighting a path for them to follow. He took them over the bay, and Meda called to the dolphins, teasing them into wakefulness with her water play, and they jumped through the fountains she made for them, lit by jewel-like fireballs that hung above the water. Neris threw bigger balls of fire back and forth to Reji, and sent more over their heads, as they floated across the inky water towards the cliffs and over them, to where the vast endless ocean melted into the equally endless night, broken only by the phosphorescence of the waves.
It was very cold so high up, so his parents cuddled close to him and to Kei, although Karik didn’t care how cold he got—he was simply too spellbound by what he could see. In the night, Darshek was just small points of light—candles in windows, uncovered lamps as a few hardy souls walked the streets—soldiers, probably. In the House of the Rulers, several curtained windows showed the residents of the rooms were still awake and Kei muttered something about wringing Meki’s neck if he was still working at this hour.
Finally Meda murmured that it really was late and they should let people go to bed. Reis brought them to rest in Kei’s garden and Ma gave him a hug. “Thank you, Reis. That was truly lovely.”
“Thank you, all of you,” Pa said.
“Yes, thank you,” Kei said, embracing Meda and Neris.
“You’re welcome,” she said, looking flushed and happy in the light from Neris’s flame. “Did you enjoy it, Karik?”
He nodded. “It wuh-was wonderful.” It seemed a rather inadequate way of expressing how he felt. “Th-thank you.”
But the simple words were enough for Reis. “I told you it was fun,” he said, beaming at them all. “We better go. Come to see us again before you go, Karik, I insist!”
Karik promised he would as the three Gifted rose in the air, and then flew off, the movement of their bodies not even making the smallest sound, and soon all that could be seen of them was the small light Neris floated in front of them. It did look just like a slow moving shooting star.
“Well, now that was something, wasn’t it?” Kei said, clapping Karik on the shoulder. “Something to tell the grandchildren about.”
“I’ve flown with Reis before but.... Good grief.” Ma seemed lost for words. “They’re like gods compared with us.”
“Yes, I know. No matter how many times I see things like that, I feel so small and ordinary next to them. Right, let’s get inside, and see if we can scrounge up some tea.”
Risa was considerably surprised to see them come through the back door. Pira had apparently given up waiting for them and gone to bed. “When did you get back? I didn’t hear you come up the path.”
“Oh w
e just flew in,” Kei said casually as if this was completely normal, but spoiled it by laughing at Risa’s confusion. “Tell you later, Risa-ki. Who’s for a bath?”
“Pira and I had one earlier,” Risa said. “Since we didn’t know when you idlers would be coming home.”
Pa scoffed at the description, but then wanted to know how Risa had got on while Kei went off to light the bath stove, and then returned to pour the last of the tea to drink while the bath reheated. Karik sat next to Ma, who took his hand in hers. “I’m still dazed,” she said, grinning at him.
“I never thought I would do anything like that.”
“And a few weeks ago, you thought you would never be happy again, or leave the village.” She squeezed his fingers. “Even bad things can always be turned to the good.”
“Ma, who’s Mara?”
She grimaced. “Ah, well, she’s another bad thing.” At his look of enquiry, she added, “Someone who learned that stolen goods aren’t worth quite as much as ones you earn. But without her, I wouldn’t be with your father, and you wouldn’t be living in Ai-Albon, or know Kei, or have ever come to Darshek. So without Mara, you wouldn’t have had this day.”
“So you won’t kick her backside?”
“Well, maybe not so hard as I might do,” she said with a small grin. “And little Lady Mara has done another good thing, though she didn’t mean to. Neka said today was the first time since Seiki arrived that she’s stopped fretting about her family and how much she misses them for any time at all. Neka told me earlier that she’d had us invited specially because you and Seiki are similar ages and she hoped you might distract her a little. We never thought it would have this benefit though. If she can help you, it might help her realise it’s not all bad, being up here.”
“She’s nice and I’d like to help her too. Ma, why do the Gifted have to stay in Darshek? Are the Rulers afraid they’ll hurt people?”
She lost her smile. “That’s what people think is the reason—that the Gifted are kept under control so they can’t do any harm. But they’re not brought here to protect everyone else—it’s to protect them against other people. Someone like Seiki would have been killed before the wars. Even Kei and your father and I would probably have been murdered. After the wars, the Rulers decided the only way to keep them safe was to offer sanctuary to the Gifted here, and it’s been like that for nearly two hundred years. That’s why we have the law about the Gifted coming here—for their benefit, not ours. Seiki thinks it’s hard, being separated from her family. But even now, if she stayed in Ai-Rutej, she would eventually find life was insupportable.”
“But her Ma—her Pa—they could come and live here. You said you would live here, if I needed it.”
“Yes, I know, Ka-chi, but it’s a choice most of the parents make. I think it’s because they fear their children, though they love them. And Seiki’s Ma can’t leave her son or her husband behind for her. It’s why the poor child is so unhappy, though.” She leaned over and kissed his temple, holding him close to him. “I knew you would understand a little of what she feels. It’s not easy being different, to stand out and be a target. Or to be rejected by those who should have a care for you. But there are still things in life to enjoy and she, like you, can still do so many things. The choice is yours, as it is hers.”
Karik could only nod. He’d had the most bewilderingly exciting day, so much to see and to think about. He needed time to make sense of it all. But life certainly looked brighter and far more interesting than it had for quite some time—and that was very nearly the most surprising thing about this day, with all its wonders.
Seeking Home: 10
Never in his life had time passed with such speed as the next week did. From the moment he woke in the morning, until the evening when he crawled into bed, exhausted, happy and his mind brimming with all he had seen and done, the days were filled with new and mostly fascinating experiences. True to his word, Pa invited Seiki on their excursions, and Kei managed to be with them for most of them, though he still had a few teaching commitments at the academy he couldn’t neglect. Karik rode his first jesig at a farm outside the city, and he and Seiki clung giggling to the long necks of their mounts as they trotted across a field while Karik’s parents watched in obvious amusement. One of Kei’s friends took them on a sailing boat to the far side of the bay, where they picnicked on a sandy beach, and Kei tried to teach them how to fish in the sea—he was hopeless at it, though Pa caught enough for their lunch. Risa drove them in a cart along the coast so they could see the quarries, and watched barges being loaded with the stone. And there were the Gifted who had them to visit twice more, to Reis’s obvious delight.
They also visited a Prijian family that Kei and his parents had known since Karik had come to live with them, who had once lived in Ai-Albon, though Karik didn’t remember them at all. Vikis had been a soldier under Arman during the war, amazingly, though to see the genial, sedately rotund man now, it was very hard to imagine him in any kind of a fight. His wife, Kesa, was a quiet, rather shy lady, who was especially pleased to meet Karik, though she never said why. Karik was fascinated to see their four children, all younger than him, all with braids, and as fascinated by him as he was by them. He hadn’t realised there were other Darshianese Prij—or Prijian Darshianese—and between them all, it seemed to Karik they represented the spectrum of what that meant. Vikis and Kesa spoke Darshianese with very strong Prijian accents, though Vikis was quite fluent. Kesa was not so easy with the tongue, but she still spoke it, even to her children, who could speak both languages like natives. And then there was Karik himself, who could stumble out a few phrases in Prijian, but for all intents and purposes, only spoke the language of his adopted people. It made him wonder exactly what being ‘Prijian’ meant, and how far removed he would have to be from his birth culture before he would no longer be identified that way. He certainly envied Vikis and Kesa’s children, so easy in their dual identity, and at least here in Darshek, welcome to both peoples.
He found Vikis and his family very nice, and wondered why they had left the village, especially as it was clear that Vikis’ skill was something the clan could really do with. He asked Pa that question that evening as they bathed. “Well, son, I think you can probably work that out for yourself, after the way you’ve been treated lately.”
“S-Someone huh-hurt them?”
“No, nothing that blatant. Vikis and Kesa were well enough liked for themselves, and he’s a damn good wainwright. But they realised that it was never going to be easy being Prijian in our village, and though they didn’t mind so much for themselves, they wanted their children to grow up in a less narrow-minded environment. For them, it was a good decision, though it was the village’s loss. I wish for your sake they had stayed.”
“Or yuh-you had left?”
His mother looked at him. “Do you wish we had, Ka-chi?”
Karik didn’t even have to think about it. “N-no. Good th-things come from bad th-things.” There was no guarantee his life would have been any better living in Darshek, and he mostly enjoyed his life in the village, despite the harassment. He could have got that living in the city, just because of his stammer.
“Quite right, son,” Pa said, ruffling his hair. “But you don’t need to think you have to stay stuck in Ai-Albon for ever. People move around according to their ambitions and their needs, and you wouldn’t be the first young person to come to the city for a few years.”
The question of Karik coming to work with Kei had naturally been in his mind the whole week. He still didn’t think he could bear to leave his parents, but he saw now it was possible to be happy living in the city. If he could mend the rift with Arman, he might even look forward to doing so. But he said none of this to anyone. He still needed time to think.
The possible cure for his stutter was something they all wanted to find out about. The very next day after meeting Seiki, Karik had gone with her to meet the singing mistress at the theatre, so Seiki could explain
what her mother had taught her. The woman, a Prij from Garok called Titira, understood it immediately. “It’s about phrasing and breath control,” she’d said. “Exactly what I teach my students. Ideally, you and I and Seiki would work together, applying what she describes and the exercises I use, but if there’s no option, then you will have to do it on your own, at home. It will be hard work, young man.”
“Karik’s not afraid of hard work,” Kei told her.
“Yes, but it’s not just effort,” Titira said. “Effort must be applied consistently in the right direction. I suggest you begin at once, and then come to see me before you leave so I can judge how you are getting on. Seiki, you and Karik must start at once.” Her words brooked no argument—she was rather terrifying. But she was also thorough and knowledgeable in a manner which inspired confidence, and he thought it might be possible after all to follow Seiki’s advice and finally defeat this thing which had been a plague on his life since he was seven.
So Seiki’s accompanying them on their jaunts not only entertained her, but also gave her the chance to teach him and correct him. He paid close attention to the way she spoke, and noticed how she handled the sounds that frequently tripped him up. Part of it was taking enough time to speak, she told him, watching how he breathed, being more measured in how he pronounced words. “When you first start, you’ll sound odd, but there’s no point in being self-conscious, because you already sound odd, right?” Which was a fair point, he acknowledged. She said the singing had helped her learn to control the range and tone of her voice, and to breathe at the correct time.
Kei and Ma spent a good deal of time listening to the two of them working on his speech, and Ma tried very hard to understand what was going on. There was no doubt Seiki had a better instinct for what was needed than Karik’s Ma, though. He would really have to depend on himself and no one else once he was back home. He wanted to be able to speak normally so much he could almost taste it.
Pa and Risa had decided they really had to return to the village eight days after they arrived in Darshek, so on the day before they were to leave, Kei took Karik back to see Titira—this time without Seiki, at Titira’s insistence. She listened to him talk to Kei and considered that his speech was slightly more fluent. “It is such a shame we can’t have you here for a little longer, young man. Determination can only get you so far, and since you’ve had only a rudimentary instruction, I fear you may not really be able to achieve as much as you could.”
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 47