“Ma would kill anyone who tried it with her bare hands.”
“Quite,” Arman said dryly. “Mayl didn’t even protest.”
“So no one wanted me.”
Arman winced, and leaned closer. “Karik...you were wanted, very much. Kei would have had you as his son in an instant. Jena fell in love with you almost the moment she first held you, and Reji is more proud of you than any biological parent can be. Don’t make the mistake I made. Who fathered you, who your mother is, truly doesn’t matter any more.”
“Would you have raised me if you hadn’t thought Mekus was my father?”
Arman hesitated. “Yes, I probably would have, but that only proves I really was unfit for the job. Jena hated Mekus as much if not more than I did, and it never made a bit of difference to her.”
Karik was slipping down into sleep again—Arman’s gently stroking of his hair was helping that along—but he had to ask one more thing before he let himself go. “Should I call you Father now?”
“I’m only your father under Prijian law. There is only one man with the moral or any other right to that title and that’s Reji. It wouldn’t be fair to encroach on it.” Arman squeezed his hand, and brushed his forehead. “Why don’t we talk about this when you’re better? I promise to answer your questions then.”
Karik had something he wanted to say to that, but before he could form the words, he lost the fight to stay awake, and slipped away into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Seeking Home: 17
After nearly two weeks on night duty, Arman’s ability to doze lightly and come awake instantly was nearly as well-honed as it had been during his army days, so he knew when Kei shifted and stretched in the bed next to Karik’s. He smiled at his lover as Kei opened his eyes—he was so soft and confused-looking that Arman would have swept him up for a kiss, if he hadn’t been anchored to Karik by the boy’s hold on his hand.
Kei yawned and stretched again, then sat up. “Hello. Did you have a good night?”
“No, and it’s all your fault.”
Kei immediately straightened, his face a mask of concern. “Is there a problem?”
“Calm down, I’m being facetious.”
“Oh.” Kei got up and came over to examine Karik. The boy was sleeping peacefully at last. His colour was definitely better, and much cooler. He was breathing rather more easily too, but Arman knew very well the pain of breathing with a stomach wound, and Karik’s lung was still not fully healed. He had a way to go before he would be mended. “He’s still doing well—did he sleep much?”
“Five hours or so? He says he can’t stay asleep—is it the pain?”
“Probably, and the tea may be having some stimulant effect—it does in some people, but the benefits outweigh that side-effect. What did you mean about him not having a good night?”
“Not him—me.” Kei arched a graceful eyebrow at him and then took a seat at his side. “You’ve taught him too well,” Arman grumbled. “Damn child answers me back just like his father does.”
The worry in Kei’s expression eased and he grinned. “And this surprises you?”
“No, but it makes for a damn awkward conversation at four in the morning when you’re discussing his real parentage.”
“Ah...and it went...well? You’re not angry, I can feel. So what did you tell him?”
“The truth, near as I could. I told him why I left Mayl, I told him about Mekus, and why I...why I’d given him up.”
Kei stroked his cheek. “And how did he take that?”
“With far more maturity than I would have credited him with, and a smart remark that was just like something Loke might have said.” He smiled a little at the memory. “But it’s all your fault for giving him confidence.”
“Not me. He’s done it on his own, Arman. He’s had the most difficult few months and it’s been a forge that’s tempered him well, I think. He’s a lot tougher than he looks.”
“He still looks like a child, but he no longer sounds like one.”
“Seems like he’s finally made an impression on you,” Kei said, looking rather pleased.
“I’ve never been good with children, you know that. If someone talks to me as an equal, it’s easier.” Kei just raised his eyebrow again—Arman decided to ignore the implied scepticism. “He said something that made me think—he said that I had no business telling him that Mayl cared nothing for him, because in taking him away from her, I’d prevented her forming a natural attachment. I can’t really argue with that. I still think it’s unlikely she’d have made a good mother, but I have only my antipathy towards her on which to base it. He’s not disputing that she cares nothing for him, though. He seems to be looking at it sensibly, though how many of her lies he still believes, I don’t know.”
Kei brushed his hand along Karik’s forehead. “If I had to bet on it, I would say she would at least have made a far worse mother than Jena—but that’s not to say she would not have loved Karik in her own way, or that, knowing no different, he would have been so very unhappy. I think he’s got you on that one. What did you say?”
“I pointed out that Mayl didn’t protest my taking him from her but that doesn’t really negate what he’s saying. I refuse to feel guilty about it though. Since she married Mekus, and we know he’s completely unfit as a father, I know Karik is better off where he is—and so does he. Still, he took me to task, and rightly.”
“There, you see? And you were so determined he was going to be irrational and rude to you.”
“He was rude—although perhaps no more than Reji is to me.”
Kei’s smile grew very bright, a relief to see after watching him agonise over Karik’s condition for so long. “And you’re tough enough to take it. I’m glad you two talked. I wasn’t expecting it so soon.”
“Nor I,” Arman said dryly. “The child can barely hold his head up and he was quizzing me like a Prijian lawyer. I’m not at my best, it’s hardly fair.”
“Now, don’t whine, it’s unbecoming to a man in your position.”
“What did I say about not being at my best?” Attacked on all fronts. He should just give up.
“Well, yes. And that’s your cue to go eat, wash and get some sleep.”
Arman kissed Kei’s forehead. “I really miss sleeping with you.”
“It can’t be helped, and I really think you’re doing him a world of good. He trusts you. That’s a very powerful thing when a patient is trying to heal. I know Jena is grateful. She says that if she and Reji can’t be there, we make the very best alternative.”
“High praise.” He wondered if Jena was listening to this conversation too. He hadn’t really considered that Neka and the other mind-speakers might be letting Jena use his eyes and ears.
“We don’t, Arman,” Neka said, breaking into his musings. “For one thing, I don’t want Jena awake all night, and for another, I’d ask first. I didn’t want you feeling more uncomfortable with Karik than you need to be.”
“I’m sorry, Neka. I should have realised you’d ask. I’m just tired.”
“I know,” she said with warmth in her voice. “We know what you’ve done for him. It won’t be forgotten.”
He thought he’d done very little really, and only the least he should do considering what he owed Karik and why the boy had been injured in the first place. “I’ll see you shortly,” he said, kissing Kei again.
He needed sleep more than anything, but fresh air and sunlight were good too, so he collected bread and tea from the dining hall and took them outside to the garden. He wasn’t alone—it was a sparkling, lovely morning after the rain overnight, and other people were out enjoying it, walking along the rows of shrubs and medicinal plants. It was days like this that made him glad to be alive.
His shoulders and back ached, an unwelcome reminder that he was no longer a young man—he needed to get some exercise. It was no worse, he supposed, than being stuck at his desk all day.
It felt like it had been many weeks since he’d been
in Andon, though it had not been a month since he’d left Tsikiugui port, rugged up heavily against the freezing wind which held a hint of the snow that still lay thick on the ground. It seemed like years since he’d been in Utuk. Mari and his brother had both written during his sojourn in Andon. The things they had carefully not mentioned worried him. He had not been back to his office to see what reports had come from Yuko—he feared the situation in Kuplik was more unstable than even he had seen. The army would not revolt under Blikus, whatever the Lord Commander thought of Kita or Mekus. But Blikus was nearly seventy, and should have retired years before. If Mekus had a hand in the appointment of his successor, then whoever it was, was guaranteed to be the worst choice available.
The Andonese were worried about the situation too. The entire nation had been mobilised to get the seaward defence system built because they were convinced Kuprij was about to implode and that would encourage the marauders on more southerly islands to take their chances. Andon was well-prepared, but it was a battle it did not want to fight, nor did it want a flood of refugees from Kuprij.
Arman sighed. Set against all that, getting one sixteen-year-old boy back on his feet was small beer, though over the last two weeks, designing strong seaward defences seemed a mere trifle compared with forcing a tired, fevered body to fight what threatened to overwhelm it.
And he’d been sitting like a lump for far too long and was running late. He made amends by fetching Kei breakfast to eat while Arman made his ablutions. Then he fell into the bed, and slept like a stone until just after noon.
Karik was more tired than usual, it seemed to Arman, and once he was bathed, he fell asleep with more ease than he usually did. “That’ll teach him to cross-examine me in the middle of the night,” Arman said, brushing back the unruly hair from the slack face.
“He needs his rest, that’s for sure. I think in a day or so we can safely increase the dose of pijn again which will help him sleep better. There’s still no sign of infection in the chest wound for which I am very grateful. I really think he’s out of danger now.”
Remembering Vikis’s battle with a lung infection after the battle at Tirko Pass all those years ago, Arman shared Kei’s gratitude. “Are you going to your office now?”
“No, actually, I’m giving you the afternoon off. Go and have a walk, a swim even, and stretch your legs properly.”
Arman frowned at Kei. “But what about you and what if Karik wakes up and finds me gone?” He hadn’t left the infirmary for more an hour at a time since Karik had been brought there, but on a number of occasions, he had returned and found a feverish boy anxious for his presence. It had been a small source of pride that even in the depths of his delirium Karik would gentle under his hands and his voice when even Kei sometimes could not reach him. Neither of them could fathom why, but as it had worked, Arman had been careful to stay within close call.
“Karik is well past that fretting, I think. If you wanted, we could make do with a medic to help him overnight....”
“No. This is my duty. I want to do it.”
“All right, you can lose that stubborn set to your jaw,” Kei said with a grin. “If he becomes distressed, I can handle that since he’s clearly rational again, and he can talk to Jena if he needs to. So off you go. You can bring me back a flask of beer from the inn, if you like. Have a proper break. You need it.”
“As you wish.”
Kei was right of course—he was quite stale and his mind was foggy, and he’d hardly had a moment’s true relaxation in months. Though he wished for Kei’s company, there was a liberating feel to being able to walk where he wished without a definite destination in mind, or companions. Lord Peika would probably not be amused to hear that Arman was out on his own, but he refused to have a guard set on him like a dangerous animal. If there were other Jiks out there, so be it. People had reason to hate the Prij and he was one of the main causes of that hatred, so he would face it if he had to. But for now, he walked alone along the sea front, in the opposite direction to the docks and around to the eastern side of the harbour where the wealthier citizens lived, and where there were gracious parks and gardens set against the sea for the populace to enjoy.
There was a long sandy beach there, the only one on this side of the harbour, and where he and Kei had spent many a hot summer’s evening cooling off. Being early afternoon, it was less busy than it would be later when the work of the day was done and people brought their families down to relax at sunset.
He stripped off unselfconsciously—what he would not do in the privacy of his home with Pira or other friends, he happily did on a public beach simply because it was the only practical option. Kei had teased him mercilessly about the inconsistency, of course, but Kei could do with the fun. The water felt marvellous, invigorating, and he swam strongly out into the bay, well away from the weaker swimmers and the children, relishing the hard exercise, stretching cramped muscles, and letting his mind empty. He only stopped when he was nearly a mile from the shore, nearly as far as the large ships were crossing to their moorings. He used to swim like this in Garok when he visited the estate, but it had only been when he had come to Darshek that he had renewed his love affair with this form of exercise. Kei had had little experience of it, though he and the other children in the village swam in the waterhole in the worst of the summer heat. But it was nothing like this, swimming in cool, clean salt water, with no limit to how far he could go other than his own bodily strength.
He swam a long circuit back to where he had left his clothes, then lay on the sand with a sigh. He could easily go to sleep now, he was so exhausted, but he needed to get back. He’d only had about five hours sleep a day since this had started, and he had grown used to longer rest than that. He was getting soft—his father got by on that little sleep and always had done. But his father was inimitable in many ways. Arman had really missed him since he’d come home from Utuk, and his first duty once he was freed from caring for Karik would be to write to him. He did not want to fritter away the closeness they had finally built up.
He had no money on him, so he had to beg a flask of beer from the inn near the academy that Kei occasionally frequented, but on hearing it was for Master Kei, there was no problem about credit. He was even pressed to take two flasks, in case Kei should run short, but he declined. Arman was amused at the idea that as a Ruler, he might have been extended credit for his own sake, but not half as eagerly.
Kei was helping Karik eat the bread and soup mixture which was his staple for the moment. “Ah, you look a little fresher.”
“I went for a swim. So should you, it would do you good.”
“Perhaps. I might wait until Ka-chi here can join me.” The boy rolled his eyes at Kei for that. “Come on, Karik, it’ll only be a month or so before you’re racing me home again.”
“Maybe a bit longer than that,” Arman said quellingly, remembering how long it had taken for his own wounds to heal and for him to feel right again. “How do you feel, Karik?”
The boy gave him a slight smile. “Still tired. Better.”
“Excellent.”
Karik dropped off to sleep again as soon as he had finished eating. Arman presented Kei with his beer and explained about the money. “I need to give you an allowance, I think. Or the state should. Damn it, Arman, not to even have the coin to buy a beer for yourself.”
“Normally you’re with me and you carry the funds. Besides your name is as good as coin in this city.”
“Yours will be soon enough. The Prijian Ruler is already famous.”
“For all the wrong reasons, I fear. Will he really be healed in a month?”
“Oh, I should think so. Perhaps not up to running, but the incisions will have easily healed. We can probably move him out of the infirmary soon—I was thinking of the Rulers’ House, unless you object.”
“No, it’s an excellent idea.” The apartments set aside for his use had been redecorated, and so far as Arman knew, were finally now ready for occupation. There w
ere two bedrooms, a proper office and a front room—much more space than they normally needed, but Karik could be put in the second bedroom in comfort, and be close to medical help should he need it. And Arman and Kei could, thank the gods, share a bed again. If Kei thought they wouldn’t be making love because the boy was in the other room, then he had better think again. He needed to touch Kei like that again.
“And what evil are you plotting?”
“Just complete moral turpitude.”
“Oh good, my favourite,” Kei said, kissing Arman quickly, and sliding his arm around Arman’s waist.
It was blessedly peaceful, sitting there with Kei, for once without the constant strain of worry. Once Kei decided Karik was out of danger he had looked years younger. Arman didn’t know how Kei would have coped with Karik’s death and was more grateful than words could express that Kei had been spared it.
Arman had missed this more than the sex. Just talking to Kei, holding his hand—here, he wasn’t Lord Arman, and Kei wasn’t the Master of Healers, it was just them, the way it had been for so long. If there was anything he regretted about moving to Darshek, it was that such times were rare. Living in Ai-Albon had been easy and there had been plenty of time to talk, to kiss, to take long walks together. But it had been a dead end for them, and Kei had a great future ahead of him at the academy. Everyone had known that—Lord Meki certainly had—and so, inevitably, they had come in search of it. They had both achieved so much, but the price had been high.
Looking at Karik, Arman wondered if the boy really knew the price he too would pay if he followed the path Kei had mapped for him. Being apart from one’s family and clan ate deeply into the soul of a Darshianese, and even with the hostility Karik had faced from a minority of villagers, the clan still claimed him as their own. What Kei proposed was a hard, lonely life. To look at the boy, so slight and rather frail as he was now, it seemed impossible he would be hardy enough. But as Neka had said, there had to be a core of toughness in him to have withstood all he had. This last week had proved it. And if Kei was right, then Karik also had a glittering future ahead of him. Arman admitted to being curious to know if he would achieve it.
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 57