“Wuh-what I represent?”
“You remember we talked about why Jos hates you? How you represent things he can’t have, can’t be?” Karik nodded—it had made sense, he thought. “For Arman, I think you represent personal failure. There’s other things there too which I don’t understand, but that much, I know is true. Somehow he needs to see you as you are. A good person with a lot of talent and a kind heart. Someone like him, in fact.” He gave Karik a hug. “Thank you.”
Karik wasn’t sure he’d done the least thing to be thanked for, considering how unhappy Kei was, all because of him. “I’ll speak to P-Pira.”
“Thanks. Just let me....” He lit a taper from the lamp and set another going in the room. “There. Now, don’t worry about me. I just need to contemplate my sins for a bit.”
Karik didn’t like the sound of that, but Kei obviously wanted to be alone and Karik understood that impulse well enough. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. I probably won’t see you in the morning but I’ll be back early the next day and I’ll find you at the academy.”
Karik nodded and picked up the lamp. Back in the kitchen, Pira immediately wanted to know what on earth was going on. “Um, Kei’s tired. He’s going to g-go to bed early.”
“And where’s Arman?”
“Ah-At the House.” She gave him a fierce look, directed at someone other than him but he made a convenient target. “They h-had a disagreement.”
“A disa.... Those two? They never fight. I never hear the least cross word between them. Did something happen while he was away? Maybe I should go speak to the lad.”
She rose to do just that, but Karik laid a hand on her arm. “He s-said not to. He just w-wants to be alone.”
“It’s not right, Karik. After all this time away, Arman can’t spend the night with him now? I shall give him a piece of my mind when I see him.”
Belatedly, Karik saw the flaw in Kei’s plan of Arman and him supposedly ironing out their differences the following night—if Pira leapt on Arman as soon as he got home, it would only make the man angry and much less likely to conduct himself calmly when he and Karik spoke. But then he realised he had a perfect alternative—if he made sure he delivered the note in person, then he could arrange another venue, perhaps the rooms in the House where Arman was sleeping tonight. There must be places they could have their privacy, and if he could resolve this with Arman, even if he didn’t really know what the older man had against him, then that would be the best gift he could give to Kei. He wanted to do something for him—Kei had been responsible for so many good things, and he hated to see him in pain like this.
He let Pira rant a little longer, just nodding at her. Interesting that she assumed Arman must be at fault, when Kei had said it was actually he who’d started the argument. He almost felt sorry for Arman, condemned without a hearing, but he wasn’t going to defend the man to Pira, not until he knew more of what was going on.
She finally ran out of steam, and they ate their supper in peace. Karik wondered if Kei wanted anything to eat, but suspected he was too upset to be hungry. There was always something in the kitchen he could help himself to. It wasn’t food that would ease Kei’s mind right now. Karik had half an inclination to walk over to the Rulers’ House right now and tell Arman to get his backside home, but that wasn’t really a sensible idea. Getting between an arguing couple was nearly as foolish as coming between a mother carcho and her cubs.
Still grumbling a little, Pira left him to wash up their dishes and said good night. Karik hoped she would respect Kei’s wishes—he left the door open and couldn’t hear her attempting to speak to Kei. As he washed their dirty plates, he wondered if Kei’s soul-touching gift had played any part in the argument. If Kei was already unsettled, and he sensed anger in Arman—or felt it himself—might that have made him more emotional than he would have been otherwise? Pa had mentioned that Kei had had trouble controlling his gift at one point, and Ma had often said how she was glad she wasn’t a soul-toucher, and that at least she could prevent people passing anything unpleasant along to her simply by taking her hand off them. Kei didn’t have that option.
He tidied the kitchen, a chore he had willingly taken on as part of his portion for staying in the house, and then thought he would have an early night too. Tomorrow he would try to speak to his father and find a way of getting along together that didn’t hurt the man they both loved, in different ways. If he could find a cure for his damn stutter, surely that had to be possible too.
Seeking Home: 13
It had taken Arman very little time to realise that Kei’s unusual temper was at least partly because he had been wound so tight for so long, and the threat to someone dear to him had affected him as deeply as it had Jena. It was no surprise therefore that he was more than usually sensitive to perceived harm from another quarter. Not that Arman absolved himself from blame—the more he thought about it, the more he accepted Kei was absolutely right. This situation with Karik needed a resolution, and this time, nothing but total honesty would do.
He would let Kei have the time he wanted to calm down before he had to make his monthly inspection to the prison island—a task which in itself usually disturbed Kei even without all this other business. But that didn’t mean Arman would be content to let Kei leave without trying to end any ill feeling. He knew his lover, so he knew Kei would be suffering, whatever the rights and wrongs of their argument, and that was intolerable.
He dressed again and went downstairs to make the necessary enquiries and arrangements. He ordered a simple meal, and spent the rest of his evening making the reports needed by the other Rulers. He wanted to clear his desk so that he could spend the following evening at their home without any distraction—if he was to do this thing with Karik, he wanted to do it well, and that required planning. In the morning, he would ask Vikis if he could put Pira up for the evening—and that way, no one would need to witness any loud or unpleasant discussions. Not that he wanted any such thing—but he’d already found to his cost this was one issue that provoked the stormiest emotions.
He resigned himself to sleeping badly that night, and so he did. He was awake when the knock came at his door, and he was dressed and walking down the stairs of the House mere minutes later. It was still quite dark, but he couldn’t risk Kei would set off before he got there. By lamplight, and then the dim pre-dawn, the carriage moved quickly along the quiet streets. He instructed the driver to call a halt at their destination, and then he stood by the carriage, waiting.
He had judged it very finely, for it was only five minutes or so before Kei came out of the front door, pack over his shoulder. He closed the door quietly, turned, and started as he saw Arman. He walked quickly down the path, and came into Arman’s embrace without the least hesitation. “I’m so very sorry,” Kei whispered.
“You have no reason to be,” Arman said, kissing his forehead. “You were right, and I know it. Now, did you eat? Breakfast or supper?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, we’ve got time in hand since I’m giving you a lift to the docks, and I brought you a few cakes and a flask of water, so get in and you can at least eat.”
“Why are you doing this? I was so horrible to you last night.”
Arman kept his arm around Kei as he urged him to get into the carriage. “You had cause, and I didn’t want you to travel today with this on your soul. I know the prison always upsets you. I wanted you to know you don’t have to worry about this. I’ll talk to Karik and try to be as honest as I can with him. I swear I will.”
They got settled and Arman told the driver to move on. Walking to the docks would have taken Kei nearly an hour—he simply refused to order a carriage on his own behalf—but the jesigs would have them there in minutes. He regretted that Kei had not had more time to sleep. From the look of him, he’d had very little if any of that, on top of no supper or breakfast. The man would have passed out.
Kei leaned against him, holding his hand, offerin
g silent apology and silent forgiveness at the same time. “Could someone else not have done it this time?” Arman asked. The prison visits were a duty Kei had taken on five years ago when he became Master of Healers. Arman thought it was a ridiculous waste of his time, but Kei insisted the state had a duty to make sure that the inmates—those who were too dangerous, recalcitrant, or simply insane to work on the prison farm or suffer other punishments within the society itself—were treated humanely and kept in good health. It was a worthy ambition, but it was an unpleasant task for a soul-toucher, to have the crazed emotions of insane and criminal minds inflicted on him.
“I’m arranging for a team to handle it, but there are new sanitation arrangements being made and I want to be sure they’re working as we want them. There are two prisoners we are thinking of releasing—I need to examine them to see if they are really reformed. I fear they are not, but they must be given a chance. It’s only fair.”
Arman kissed him again. His Kei, so determined to be fair and just, even when it hurt him. “I truly love you. I wish I deserved you, but I love you anyway.”
“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”
“Enough. You were under stress, and my words were out of turn, as were the thoughts behind them.”
They had come to the docks, and the lieutenant in charge of the soldiers going with Kei saluted smartly as he recognised Arman, for all he was not wearing his official robes. Arman took shameless advantage of his position to send a soldier for mugs of tea for them both, and insisted Kei ate and drank before he got on the boat. They had at least an hour before he needed to board. They sat peacefully in the carriage, holding hands and speaking quietly about Arman’s mission, and what Kei would be doing at the prison. It did Arman more good than a night’s rest would ever have done. “Will you nap before you arrive?”
“I’ll try. I’ll probably sleep now. I’m so glad you came, Arman. I was so angry at myself for what I said to you. I shouldn’t have denigrated your father like that—what he did was generous, and he sent you home to me.”
“It’s all right—you’re quite correct, the nobles don’t work as hard as some, though my father has always tried to serve his country as I serve mine. He’s never been paid for that, as I am not.”
“Which is wrong, really. I should speak to Meki about an allowance—”
“No, you won’t,” Arman said firmly. “I’m happy as we are.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Arman held him a little closer. He had a good mind to pull rank and cancel this visit over Kei’s head, but Kei would find that an incredible liberty. He just wished the man didn’t seem so tired and sad. “I’m going to take a few days off when you get back. Do you think you can clear your schedule at all?”
Kei put his hand on Arman’s forehead. “Hmmm, no fever, your pulse is normal—you don’t sound sick, so it must be my hearing. I could have sworn you just said you were going to take some time off.”
“Idiot. Have you forgotten that was part of the deal if I agreed to be a Ruler?”
“Well, yes, and then you promptly disappeared for three months.”
“Yes, so they owe me some uninterrupted time with my lover, don’t they. Can you clear things?”
“I’m going to damn well try.” He smiled for the first time that morning. “Do you think the foundations of the House are up to it?”
“You don’t want to shock Karik?”
“Him? You remember who his parents are, don’t you? Pira might be alarmed, though.”
“Very true. I’m sure the House can cope.”
Kei smiled again, and then kissed him. “I need to get on board.”
Arman hugged him tightly, making Kei protest but not with any seriousness. “Now get some sleep, and come back safely. You’re back in the morning?”
“Yes, with the tide.”
“Then I’ll pick you up and we’ll go home. I’ll tell the academy you’re working at home—you’re not teaching?”
“Sounds like I’d better not be.”
“Quite.”
He got another kiss, and Kei jumped down, a spring to his step which had been missing when Arman had first seen him this morning. “I’ll be home tomorrow. Play nicely with Karik now.”
“Yes, Ma.”
Kei stuck his tongue out, waved and walked over to the ship. Arman watched him board, but thought it was silly to wait until the ship set sail.
“Back to the House, my lord?”
“Hmmm? No, let’s go back past the new harbour development—I want to see how they’ve got on.” He gave the ship one last look, and then signalled for the driver to start the carriage off. It had been some trouble to meet Kei this morning—but he had never expended so small an effort with so much benefit, and his heart was pounds lighter. It gave him confidence that dealing with Karik should not be beyond him either.
~~~~~~~~
Karik heard the quiet opening and closing of the front door as Kei left, but it was really too early to get up. He’d slept uneasily, worried about Kei and the situation with Arman, but in the cool pre-dawn, his anxieties seemed a little foolish. All he and Arman had to do was agree to be civil. Karik just had to put aside his own grievances—they were to do with events too many years ago to be picked over now. He would rather have Arman as a friend than an enemy, but he would settle for agreeable acquaintance, if he had to. Perhaps if he returned to Darshek next year, and Arman got to know him better, saw him acting and being treated as an adult, he might learn to dislike him less. Arman had to be smarter than Jos, surely.
He rolled over and succeeded in getting a little more sleep—when he woke, the sun was bright through the windows, and if anything, he was now running late. Pira was in the kitchen, of course. “Good morning, sleepyhead. There’s a note for you on the table from Kei.” He nodded, and accepted the hot cakes and butter from her with a yawn. “Perhaps you should take a day’s rest, young man. You can overdo this book-learning, you know.”
“But there’s s-so much to learn about.” That was the thing people never understood—to him, it wasn’t tiring to read the books, or attend the lectures. The things that tired him were boredom and ignorance and having to pretend he wasn’t as bright or interested in things as he was. Being in Darshek was like being infused with raw energy. But Pira equated books with being stuck learning her letters when she would have rather been out earning an income. There was a massive gulf between their attitudes, and he didn’t even try to bridge it. Long experience told him he would never succeed.
He raced through his breakfast, splashed water on his face, washed his hands and ran out the door. Most of the students would already be at the academy—at least he wasn’t expected at a class until the afternoon. He and Seiki were going to look up the uses of some plants Kei had drawn their attention to in the garden, and this afternoon he had an art class. How exciting that would be, he thought, resigned to the fact it would be anything but—he liked to draw, but Rorik sucked every drop of fun out of the activity. Oh well, not everything had to be wonderful to be useful.
He wasn’t that late by the time he got to the House of the Rulers, so he was rather surprised to be told by the clerk at the reception that Lord Arman had already left and no one knew when he would be back, although he was to meet the other Rulers that afternoon. By then Karik was supposed to be in his class with Rorik.
He bit his lip, wondering what he should do. Perhaps he could come back at lunch and see if the man had returned then. If not, he would leave Kei’s note and then pray that Pira held her tongue—a forlorn hope, since she felt it was her duty to correct her two charges as if she really was their mother. He almost felt sorry for the tongue lashing Arman would get if he didn’t manage to head him off.
He left the building and started to walk across the square between the House and the academy. A jerky movement caught his eye—that strange man again. This time he wasn’t clenching his fists, not that Karik could see, for one hand was inside the coat that was really
too heavy for the warm weather, and the other was in his pocket—but the angry expression was the same, and the muttering. He was staring at the House again. Karik turned to see by what he could possibly be so fascinated—and noticed a carriage drawing up to the front of the House, bearing a passenger with a distinctive long blond braid.
It seemed luck was with him after all—or perhaps not. Other people had noticed Arman’s arrival, and a small group of well wishers had gathered around the Ruler. Karik came a little closer, not wanting to have Arman disappear inside the House, but also not wanting to intrude on the people so pleased to see Arman back safe from Andon.
He could tell Arman really wanted to get away, though he was being polite without encouraging people to linger. Then Arman lifted his head and spotted Karik. For a moment, his expression grew stern, but then he raised a hand and waved, signalling for Karik to wait. Unfortunately, more people discovered Arman’s presence and the number of bodies between Karik and him grew like thurls on a corpse. Karik fumed silently. This was a bad idea. He could come back at lunch—Arman wouldn’t be going out again if he had a meeting in the afternoon.
He couldn’t even signal to Arman he was going, but he thought Arman would work it out. He turned—and then saw the stranger from the square pushing his way through the crowd. Now that seemed very odd, somehow. He wanted to see what the man was up to, so he used his slight form to advantage, slipping between people to get closer to Arman.
Arman saw him and frowned. “Karik? Just give me a minute or two, please.”
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 51