“How soon can we sleep in a real bed, did you say?”
“I assure you, my lord, sleeping is not what I had in mind.”
Seeking Home: 22
“More tea?”
Karik looked up and shook his head. “No, th-thank you.”
“Then I’ll finish it, no point in letting it go cold.” Arman poured the rest of the tea into his mug, then sat on the edge of his desk. “How goes the note taking?”
“My brain is s-stupid.” He looked at the notes he’d made again. His writing was pretty bad because of his arm, but they looked unintelligible anyway. Either his brain wasn’t working, or the anatomy of the dolphin was beyond the comprehension of human thought. He suspected the former.
“I doubt that. You should take a break. Walk around, perhaps. If you give me a few minutes, I can take you out to the garden, or I can ask someone to do that for me.”
“Maybe in a f-few minutes.” Karik had been at it for two hours, but he hadn’t wanted to interrupt Arman. After all, he was disrupting the work of a Ruler quite badly enough by having Arman move his office to the private apartments while Karik was recuperating, not to mention actually sharing a room with him as he tried to catch up on his reading. He strongly suspected Arman didn’t normally take half as many breaks as he had done the last few days, although the man had made it seem as if it was quite usual for him to have tea and light refreshments served to him every couple of hours.
It was pleasant though, and very peaceful, working quietly here. Karik had quickly got used to Rulers and clan leaders coming in at frequent intervals. Arman had told him to just ignore them and behave as if he was invisible, and that seemed to suit everyone. He did his best to ignore the discussions, and if there was anything sensitive to be talked about, Arman suggested he and whoever it was went downstairs to his office for a few minutes to chat. It had only happened three times so far.
Kei was back at the academy of course, although he came over for lunch and was back at sunset promptly to have dinner with them both. Karik had been utterly delighted to get out of the infirmary, and the Rulers’ apartments were perfectly comfortable. With a thick door between his room and his hosts’, Karik had even been able to mostly ignore the sounds of their enthusiastic return to a normal love life. Kei was certainly looking happier for it.
Pira had visited, bringing his pack and a sack of honey cakes for him. He felt bad that she was in the house on her own and would be for at least a month, but she told him not to concern himself. She was spending a lot of time helping Kesa with looking after her children, as Kesa had begun work for a pottery, creating decorative glazes. Arman had also offered to arrange a carriage for Pira to come to the Rulers’ House anytime she wanted, so she seemed content, though she’d scolded Karik for the danger he’d put himself in. The fact he’d saved Arman’s life cut very little ice with her—she told him to think of how his mother would have felt if he’d died. Karik was rather glad she hadn’t seen him when he was really ill, if she was this worried now.
The cakes had been good but were now all eaten. However the cooks here in the House clearly took pride in their work, and Karik had never tasted such light and delicious pastries as were regularly supplied to Arman’s office with the pots of tea. The bland soup he’d drunk so much of in the infirmary was but a distant memory and he was, he feared, getting rather spoiled by the luxury of his accommodations. He found it hard to care that much, but did his best to earn the treats by working at his studies to the limits of his slowly increasing energies.
Arman took Karik’s mug from the small table he was using as a makeshift desk, and cleared the tea tray away to the side. He wondered what Arman was working on—he’d been immersed in reports since breakfast. He’d gathered Arman was their expert on engineering matters, particularly on anything to do with roads or transport. He certainly met a lot of architects and engineers, some of whom were advising the Andonese. Karik wondered if he would ever travel to that northern land and see the defences Arman and Lord Jiv had helped institute. Arman had made the country sound so fascinating.
“Hello, you two!”
Karik looked up again and smiled in delight. “R-Reis, you should use the d-door.”
The Gifted man was standing on the windowsill, grinning. “Quicker this way.”
“Yes, but hell on the woodwork. Do you mind?” Arman said, gesturing for Reis to come in.
Reis floated in through the window and rested lightly on the carpet. The last time Karik had seen him was five days ago, when he had turned up at the infirmary just as Kei and Arman were debating how best to transfer Karik to the House. Reis had only come over to deliver an apology for Seiki, who had been unable to visit because of a ‘big secret’, or so Reis had said, looking as if he was about to burst for keeping the confidence.
“Not a bad secret,” he’d assured Karik, before telling Arman to lift Karik into his arms, and then flying both of them over the roofs of both academy and House, and in through the upper story windows of Arman’s apartment. It had taken all of two minutes to get Karik from the infirmary to being tucked up in a wonderfully comfortable bed. Reis had stayed to chat and then promised to return once Karik was recovered a little more.
Which was now. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he announced.
“Oh?” Karik glanced at Arman, who looked a little shifty. That made him suspect his companion already knew about this. “Where?”
“In the garden. I’m to bring you. Both of you. Do you want to walk down, Arman, or would you like to fly?”
“I don’t see why I should turn down a chance to fly if Karik’s going to be floating as well.” Arman helped Karik to stand. “Shall we?”
Karik was very glad not to have to use the stairs. He could, with help, but it still hurt a lot, and he got thoroughly exhausted when he climbed them. Kei insisted he had to do it at least once a day, but he’d already done it this morning, so had no conscience about using Reis’s help. Besides, flying was fun.
The journey was only to the garden, under one of the large spreading trees. Kei was already there with Seiki and a woman Karik didn’t know, together with a young boy of perhaps nine or ten years of age. Seiki came to him at once and gave him a very careful hug. “Oh, you look so well, Karik—I thought you would look worse.”
“I’m m-much better.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t visit.”
He was just glad to see her now, looking so happy. “It’s ah-all right.”
“Have a seat, Karik.” Arman indicated the bench, and Karik did as he was told. “Seiki, why don’t you introduce us?”
“Oh, yes! Karik, this is my mother and my brother Sevi.”
“M-Mother?” Karik stared at the woman in blank astonishment. This was the very last thing he’d expected. “H-How?”
“She just turned up a few days ago. I’m so happy, Karik! We’re going to live here in Darshek.”
“I’m g-glad.” Her mother looked as pleased as she did, though rather care-worn behind it. Her brother hid behind his mother and stared at everyone, apparently too overawed or shy to speak.
“Seiki, dear,” her mother murmured, nodding at Arman.
“Oh, I forgot. Ma, this is Arman.”
“Seiki, you should say ‘my lord.’ Begging your lordship’s pardon,” she said, blushing as she bowed.
Arman grinned. “It’s quite all right. I have it on good authority that the Rulers of Darshek don’t tell the Gifted what to do, isn’t that right, Seiki?” Seiki flushed as red as her mother had, and Karik wondered what on earth that remark was about. “Anyway, we’re all friends here. I am Arman, Karik’s uncle.” His uncle? Karik stared, but Arman ignored his surprise. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, holding out her hand, to the woman’s confusion. “And you are...?” he prompted.
“Meya, your lordship. Meya of Ai-Rutej.”
“Why don’t you have a seat, Meya? Sevi, you and Seiki can sit on the grass if you like.”
Meya looked utterly s
candalised as Arman sat down casually next to Kei, who hadn’t said a word but had been grinning happily at them all. He turned to Karik. “Sorry not to tell you about this, Ka-chi, but Seiki wanted some time to get used to having her family around her again.”
“I underst-stand. Where wuh-will you live?”
Seiki took his hand. “We’re all staying in the House of the Gifted for now, but we’re looking for a place in the city. Wyma says it’s fine if I want to live with Ma. I can live like a normal person. I’m so happy, I could explode!”
“Oh, I hope you don’t. That would be messy,” Reis said solemnly, which made Kei chuckle.
“Arman, I was talking to them about possibly minding our house when we go south. Lord Meki is happy for them to stay in the Rulers’ House if something more suitable can’t be found.”
“I’m sure we can arrange something. Will your husband be joining you, Meya?”
“No, your lordship,” she said, as Seiki’s smile lost some of its brightness.
“Ah. I’m sorry.”
“So am I, but if a man makes a mother choose between her child and her husband, then there’s no choice. I’m just sorry I made my girl wait for me.”
Seiki laid her head on her mother’s knee. “It’s all right, Ma. I know it was hard for you.”
“Not as hard as living with myself for sending you away, dear. I was wrong to do that. If your Pa won’t see that, then too bad.”
Karik was delighted for his friend’s good fortune, but he couldn’t help but wonder if they were storing pain up for themselves. After all, her brother was now separated from his father, her mother from her spouse. He just hoped the three of them would find the strength to overcome the fracture of their family.
“The state will do everything it can to assist you, of course,” Arman was saying. “I believe Seiki said you’re a potter? We’ve always a need for skilled workers here.”
“I’ll do anything, my lord, so long as I can keep my children safe and with me.”
“An admirable sentiment in a mother,” he agreed politely. “There’s no hurry for you to find employment. The state pays an allowance to Seiki, more if she decides to work for us, and accommodation will be provided free of charge. Sevi will be found a place in a school as soon as you’re ready.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, bowing her head.
Seiki turned to him. “How are you feeling, Karik?”
“I’m f-fine. S-Studying again.”
“And ready for your voice lessons again when you’re fit,” Kei hinted. “I had Mistress Titira bending my ear about not letting you slack off too much for too long. I pointed out you were lucky to be breathing at all, considering—apparently this is a mere triviality to be overcome with hard work.” He pulled a face, which made Seiki laugh.
“I can come over every day once you’re up to it,” she said. “Does it still hurt?”
“A bit.” A lot, sometimes, but he didn’t think there was any point in saying that to her. “I’d l-like to start work again.”
“And Ma can help, can’t you, Ma?”
“If the lad wants me to, Seiki. Goodness, you’ve become a forward young lady,” she said, stroking her daughter’s face fondly. “I don’t want to push myself where I’m not wanted.”
“Nonsense,” Arman said. “Any family of Seiki’s is as welcome as Seiki herself.”
“I’d l-like your advice,” Karik added. “The s-sooner I s-stop stammering, the b-better.” Inwardly he cursed the stutter which had reverted almost to what it had been before he’d been hurt. Titira was right—he couldn’t afford to stop working on it just because he was injured.
Seiki’s mother spoke with Karik and Kei for some time about exactly how she had helped Seiki. Kei was clearly storing up the ideas, and Karik wouldn’t be at all surprised to find one of his students had been set on the task of researching why the exercises helped. He recalled there were other people who’d asked Kei for help with their stammering—if Meya wanted to, she could work with Seiki and the academy for a good while.
Seiki’s brother hadn’t smiled once since Karik had arrived, and once his father had been mentioned, the boy had become rather sad-looking, big eyes mournful, his hand clinging to his mother’s shirt. Was anyone concerned about this boy at all?
He glanced at Arman and found him staring at Sevi too, as if his thoughts were running in the same direction. Then Karik remembered how Arman had introduced himself. ‘Uncle’—it felt right, and at the same time, rather odd. Kei had explained that the reason Karik’s Pa had insisted Kei was Karik’s uncle, was because Kei was his Pa’s adopted little brother. But Arman wasn’t, and he and Kei weren’t married either. Still, if Arman wanted to use the title, then that was up to him. It was rather nice to be acknowledged as a relative.
Seiki and her family only stayed a few more minutes before Kei and Reis walked back with them to the academy. Kei was visiting Wyma to make his usual check on him—Arman would normally have gone with him, and Karik felt bad that he’d had to alter his routine so much. But Arman seemed untroubled as they made their slow way back across the lawn. Kei had prevented Reis giving Karik a lift back to the apartment, saying Karik needed the exercise. That earned his uncle a scowl which Kei had cheerfully ignored.
“I wonder if a walking stick would help,” Arman said.
“D-Doubt it,” Karik said. Walking wasn’t a problem, not any more. But climbing those pissing stairs was.
“At least when you’re healed, you will be grateful for your good health. I know I was.”
Some consolation. He looked at the tall staircase in dismay. He was too sore for this. He would wring Kei’s neck, or he would if he could reach that high.
“Lean on me,” Arman said. With his strong hand under Karik’s armpit, and the other firmly gripping his belt, it took some of the strain off the wound, and Karik found he could actually climb without needing to rest every couple of steps. He still had to stand and get his breath back, gulping in air and trembling with the effort, as they reached the top. Arman kept a careful hold of him, waiting patiently until he recovered. “I think we’ll save climbing the Treyk mountains until you’re healed, what do you say?”
“I th-think the st-stairs are higher.”
Arman chuckled a little and urged him to walk slowly along the corridor. “I’m sure they feel it.”
Instead of returning him to the desk, Arman had him lie on the long chair and propped him up with cushions. “Take a break. Nothing is to be achieved by overdoing it.” Karik found it hard to argue against it, and leaned tiredly back against the pillows. “More tea? Some water?”
“Water, pl-please.”
Arman fetched him a mug from the pitcher standing on the side table, and helped himself to some as well. He leant on the desk, his arms folded as he sipped the water. “And what’s your opinion about Meya’s decision? I saw you looking at the boy.”
“I th-think it’s hard. S-Someone will suffer, wuh-whatever they do.”
Arman’s eyes narrowed. “But Seiki’s your friend, she’s happy. Surely that’s all that matters.”
“B-But if her br-brother hates her wuh-when he grows up.... Or her m-mother misses her h-husband.”
“Yes, indeed. A very hard choice, which of two children should suffer, and will her brother be angrier at his father for driving his sister away, or his mother for taking him away from his father?”
“Sh-she’s trying to d-do the best thing. No easy ah-answer.”
Arman sighed and set his cup down. “No, there isn’t. With the best will in the world, Seiki’s father would have a hard time uprooting his family when he’s got a farm to run. Her mother has the option of working in the city. Her father does not. I hope that this decision doesn’t bring Seiki more pain in the future.”
“She wuh-wants to go home. Why c-can’t she?”
“I thought Kei explained this to you. There are very good reasons why the Gifted have to live up here under our protection.” Karik
just looked at him. They both knew that mind-speakers did not pose the public danger or invite the kind of hatred that the Gifted fire-shapers and mind-movers did. “Tell me this. If we let her go back to Ai-Rutej, even supposing her father would allow it—which I don’t think he will from what I know of the case—or if her village elders will, what are the implications for people like Reis? How does it make the other Gifted feel if some of them are allowed to leave and others not? And what does that mean for Darshian’s covenant with them?”
He seemed to really want an answer, waiting for Karik to think it through, and not showing the least impatience when moments stretched into minutes. “The G-Gifted rule th-themselves. So if th-they’re n-not together, there is no c-control. If there is j-jealousy, they c-can’t live in ha-harmony?”
“No, they can’t. Karik, it’s not the Rulers who made the law about the Gifted living here. It’s not the Rulers who enforce it. If Seiki wanted to leave, she could—but she would either be dead, an outcast, or back in Darshek within a year. The villages can’t cope with a harmless blond-haired boy—how do you think they feel about someone with her powers, or Reis?”
Karik already knew all this, but he felt depressed something Seiki had wanted so badly as to see her mother again, would cause another child pain—yet there was no other solution. “You see the reasons for things are often more complex than seem at first,” Arman said quietly. “I hope Meya’s children forgive her decisions made for the best motives, whatever happens. I hope Seiki will come to forgive her father in time. I don’t think he’s a bad man. I think he’s dealing with something few parents have to, and making the same choice that many others have made. It’s easy to judge him harshly at this distance, without knowing what is in his heart.”
Karik nodded, knowing Arman was making a more general point, and one which was well taken. “‘Uh-Uncle’?”
“Ah, I wondered if you would say anything. Do you mind? You were asking what you should call me, and I... well I thought it more appropriate than any alternative. If it offends you—”
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 62