He assessed his condition. “Hurts,” he admitted. “Tired.”
“Hmmm, yes, I imagine it does. You’ve banged your arm or something, haven’t you? I needed to adjust the splint.” Jembis glanced at the other person in the room—he was slightly shocked to see it was Nym, wearing an unreadable expression. If he was reacting to the healer’s comments, he wasn’t showing it. “Now, listen to me, Jembis. You have two grave injuries, and a host of minor ones. You have a bad concussion, and if you’re not careful, you could turn that into a more serious condition. I want you to lie down as much as you can, not to exert yourself, and to stay as calm as possible. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologise, lad. You’re not thinking clearly, that’s obvious. How’s the nausea, the sickness?”
“Bad. Comes and goes. Like being seasick. I take nerf leaf for that.”
“Nerf leaf? What’s that?”
“We use it...I mean, sailors use it. For seasickness. As a tea, or smoke it. I don’t know another name for it. Makes you sleepy.”
“Ah. Know a lot about sailors and ships, do you?” the healer asked casually. “Is that where your family work? Or you do?”
Jembis didn’t want to answer that, so he pretended he was too dull and sick to understand. After a few moments, the healer sighed. “All right, son, you keep your secrets. It’s none of my business, though your family should be told about your situation, and if your workmates are responsible for your injuries, they should be prosecuted.”
“I fell,” he said. “Down some stairs.”
“Of course you did. These would be stairs you’ve been falling down every couple of days or so for months, and stairs that somehow managed to wield some kind of bar to smash your arm and your shoulder and your back. I’ve lived in Utuk for years, never seen stairs that evil, Jembis. Seen a few people like that, though.”
The healer was watching him closely. “I fell,” he repeated. No one believed him, but he couldn’t tell them the truth. Not with them talking about families and prosecutions and things.
“If that’s what you want us to think, then fine. My advice is the same. You’re safe here. I suggest you take advantage of the situation to heal, and don’t be in a hurry to rush back to where you’re going to be ‘falling’ all the time.” The healer looked up. “Nym, he probably doesn’t need constant attention now, but someone should be in earshot. Perhaps you and your father might want to carry him upstairs.”
Jembis didn’t know what Nym would say to that, considering how much he hated Jembis being here—in here—but to his surprise, the man shook his head. “Pa reckons we should just move a cot in here. Like we did before. It’s not going to be more than a month, right?”
“Oh, nothing like, though your arm will take at least six weeks or more to heal properly,” the healer said to Jembis. “Then I’ll leave you to arrange it. Jembis, I know you’re in pain, but the drugs we have might make things worse. Is it unbearable?”
“No. Just find it hard to sleep sometimes. If I don’t move, it doesn’t hurt so much.”
“Then you understand the reason for my advice. The pain will ease soon, I hope, and once you’re over the concussion, there’s a couple of things we can give you to help if you’re still hurting. You just need to give yourself time to heal—and avoid ‘falling’ again.”
“Yes, sir,” Jembis said, feeling uncomfortable under the twin gazes of his companions.
“Good. Now you also need to eat when you can bear it, tea or water whenever possible. Young Jaika has some excellent ideas for things that will tempt you, so I’m sure we can find something you’ll find palatable. The fluid is important, Jembis. The food too, but less so.”
“Yes, sir.” Nym was staring at him in a way which made him nervous. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, son. I better get off for my supper or my wife will have my hide. Goodnight, Jembis. Nym, I’ll see myself out.” He gave Nym’s shoulder a pat as he went past. Jembis wondered if this healer had treated Nym’s brother before he died. He didn’t know what this family did or anything much about them—except they must be fairly well off to own such a big house in this part of the city, and that they had lost a son and brother. He didn’t feel he was in a position to ask too many questions—there were too many things that might set Nym off again.
Nym gave him a hard look. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t get up.”
If that was supposed to reassure him, it didn’t work, but Jembis had used up all his energy and initiative for one day. He didn’t understand why, even when he’d been asleep for hours, he still felt so tired. Maybe the healer was right and he’d been more seriously injured than he’d realised at first. He could have even died, if this family hadn’t decided to look after him. Considering what they’d suffered, that act of kindness surprised him even more, but the Darshianese were strange. Even Karik, who’d had good reason to hate him, hadn’t been as unkind as he could have been. It had made him even more ashamed of the stupid thing he’d done and the consequences of his act. He wondered if there was any way he could find out what had happened to Karik and Gyo, but he couldn’t really ask anyone here for that information.
Nym was as good as his word, and returned shortly with a tray. “Jaika made some of this earlier, but you were asleep when she came back. Do you want to try it?”
He was very polite, but rather subdued. Jembis was anxious not to upset him. “Yes, please.”
Nym helped him sit up and handed him the mug, all with the same stiff courtesy which made Jembis nervous as to when the man would explode. The tea was surprisingly good—spicy, sweetened with a little honey. Just as Jaika had said, it settled his stomach. “Thank you,” he said politely. “It’s nice.”
“It’s one of her recipes. She’s always messing around with herbs, trying out new tastes and flavours. She and Eido...used to try things out on each other.” A muscle in Nym’s jaw jumped as he finished speaking. “She doesn’t do much of that these days.”
“She misses him a lot,” Jembis said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“We all are.” The jaw muscle twitched again. “So why won’t you tell us about your family? You must have a mother, father—brothers and sisters?”
“My mother died when I was three.” Technically, he’d had a brother for a few hours, but the baby had not even lasted as long as his mother. Jembis didn’t remember anything about it, and it wasn’t a source of pain, just a fact.
“Father?”
“He...he’s a sea captain. He travels a lot.”
“And you travel with him? Why aren’t you with him?”
“I don’t...I mean, I used to. Not any more. Now I’m an adult, I mean.”
Nym sat down on the chair next to him and startled him by touching his cheek. “Some adult. You don’t even have bum fluff. How old are you, really?”
“Nineteen, I told you.” Nym continued to stare hard at him until Jembis wilted. “Seventeen and a half,” he corrected in a whisper. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Why? Will they make you go back to your Pa? Did he do this to you?”
Jembis shrank back in the face of the aggressive questions. “I fell,” he muttered.
“Oh, stop lying! Someone beat you up, and since you’re so embarrassed about it, it has to be someone close to you. So was it your father? Your lover?”
“My lover?” Jembis boggled at the idea. “I don’t have a lover.”
“So it was your father. Why? Did you piss him off too?”
Jembis opened his mouth to angrily deny doing any such thing, but then he remembered exactly what had got his father so mad. “Sort of,” he admitted.
“Thought so. Not that he should have done that but.... You should drink more of that tea,” he said gruffly. Jembis meekly did as he was told. “So your father beats you up and he’s a sea captain. Where do you live? You can’t stay here forever.”
“I won’t.” Jembis was su
ddenly rather cross at being spoken to like this. “I was going to leave today. You’re the one who dragged me back. I don’t want to be here either.”
“If we could find you a safe place for you to go, then we’d both get what we wanted,” Nym said, but he wasn’t as angry as Jembis thought he might be. “This room—Eido made it his. He couldn’t use the stairs. Got sick when he was eight, and it left him with a weak heart. So he had his bedroom downstairs and the garden was where he worked. I...don’t want people in here. No one but him,” he whispered. “Damn it. You lying there...it’s like him but not like him. Sometimes I walk in and for a moment I think it’s Eido...but it’s not. I really hate you for not being him.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know...I was just looking for somewhere safe to get better.” Jembis felt his own eyes filling—he couldn’t control himself today. “I can’t do anything right.”
He clenched his fist and closed his eyes. What a mess he’d made of everything. If he hadn’t done that stupid thing to Karik, none of this would be happening.
He jumped as a damp cloth brushed his cheek, and when he opened his eyes, he found Nym looking at him with a regretful expression. “I’m not making a very good job of looking after you, am I? I’m not blaming you for getting hurt. I just wish you’d found another garden to hide in. But if you had and no one had found you, Joti says you’d have died.”
“Maybe it would be better,” Jembis said bitterly. “Father doesn’t want me, you don’t want me, I lost Cecu...I’m useless.” He didn’t normally give into self-pity. The life he led, it just made him vulnerable to more abuse. But he was so very tired now. Maybe this was as far as he was meant to go. He’d never seen himself as an old man—survival was a habit, not something he had to do at all costs. Once he got out of this house, he didn’t know what would happen to him, and right now, he didn’t really care.
The cloth dabbed at his face again. “However bad it is, at least you’re alive,” Nym said in a low voice. “You can still make it better, change it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Look—this has been a bad day...for both of us. I apologise for my actions earlier. I dishonoured Eido’s memory—he hated unkindness or anger, and in his name, I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know. It was a mistake.” Nym’s eyes were still so desperately sad. “Are you hungry?”
“No. The tea’s good. Thank your sister for me.”
“Thank her yourself. For some reason she really likes you being here. I guess I’m getting used to it. But I still want you to go—when you’re ready.”
“I want to leave. I could go upstairs.”
Nym shook his head. “No, it would mean more work for everyone, carrying things up and down and there’s a lot less room up there. It makes sense for you to be here. I’m being foolish, I suppose.”
“I don’t think you’re being foolish,” Jembis said diffidently. “You’re just sad.”
“I still should know better. I’m going to have supper with the others, and then set up the cot. Will you be all right for an hour or so?” Jembis nodded. Nym picked something up from the little table by the bed. “Ring this if you need anything. It, uh, was Eido’s.”
It was a small brass bell, with a bird sitting on the handle. “I’ll be careful with it,” Jembis promised. Nym put it on the bed cover where he could reach it. “He liked animals?”
“He liked all living things. He loved our garden. It’s so wrong that someone who loved life so much....” Nym scrubbed roughly at his eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”
Jembis stared after Nym’s retreating back, and then carefully examined the bell. It was delicately decorated, Prijian-made, and good quality. Eido must have loved beauty as well as life. Jembis found himself wishing he could have met this boy who had been so well loved and was missed so much. He also wished he could ease Nym’s pain—or at least that the gods had not chosen to lead him to this particular house. The priests said the gods hated the Darshianese. Jembis had never understood the logic since the gods created everything and directed everything, so they must have made the Darshianese and caused them not to believe in the Prijian gods. But then he knew more of the superstitions of sailors than of his religion, and a sailor would insist he’d been led to Nym’s home for a reason. He just hoped the reason wasn’t to hurt these kind people any more.
~~~~~~~~
Nym took a few moments to compose himself, to wipe his eyes and to try to present a calm face, before he went into the kitchen where he heard the sounds of the evening meal being prepared. Everyone was busy—his father was working at the stove, Lomi was washing pans, his mother was making a pie of some sort, and Jaika laid the table. “Oh, I was just going to see if you were ready to eat,” his mother said. “How is he?”
“Tired. I’ll set up the cot after supper. What do I need to do?”
She put the pie she’d been making into the oven. “Bring that big pot over from the stove. Letu, Lomi, are you done?”
In a few minutes, everyone was seated and his father ladled out bowls of stew. His mother cut bread and passed it around. Nym had little appetite, though the food smelled delicious. He was struggling before he had finished half his bowl. “Nym, are you all right?” Ma asked. “You seem rather low.”
“Just tired. Not really hungry.”
“Well, don’t force yourself, dear. It’s been a stressful day, what with Jembis running off like that. He did himself no good either, silly child.”
Nym couldn’t allow the lie to stand. “Ma, he didn’t run off. I threw him out.”
Everyone went very still, staring at him in shock. “Son?” his father asked finally. “Why?”
“I found him touching Eido’s braid and I...I lost my temper. I thought he’d been snooping around, but he was just looking for his clothes.” He looked down at his unwanted food. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
No one said anything, and as the silence lengthened, he felt tears pricking his eyelids again. He couldn’t stop crying today.
Someone took his bowl away. He didn’t look up. They would be ashamed of him for breaking the rules of Darshian hospitality and their own generosity. “I’ll uh...go.”
“No, wait, son,” his mother said quietly. “Look at me, Nym.” He obeyed and found her watching him with sad eyes. “It’s disappointing you did that. But I’m proud you admitted your fault, and that you went and brought him back. You do realise it was a very dangerous thing to have done.”
“Yes, Ma. I wasn’t thinking—I was just....” His breath hitched suddenly. “He was touching it,” he whispered. “And he’s in Eido’s room...I just...couldn’t....” He couldn’t continue and had to scrub his eyes fiercely.
His mother got up and came around to him, wrapping her arms around him which broke him down utterly. He turned his face to her bosom and cried like a child, his heart breaking. “I’m sorry,” she murmured stroking his head. “Oh, my darling boy, I’m so sorry.”
He dimly heard chairs being moved and footsteps as people left the room. When he lifted his head, he found that only his father remained, and had moved to sit next to Nym and his mother. “Pa, I’m sorry. I did the wrong thing.”
“Yes, son, you did, but so did I because I knew you didn’t want Jembis here and I overrode you.” He reached out for Nym’s hand and squeezed it. “If I’d known it would hurt you this much, I’d have told Joti we just couldn’t have done it.”
“But he had nowhere else to go. I understand.” He sniffed hard and Ma handed him her handkerchief. “I just don’t know when it’ll stop hurting.” His eyes welled up again—really, this was so embarrassing.
But his father’s eyes were wet too, and he felt his mother’s breath hitch in a sob. “I don’t know either,” Pa said in a choked voice. “I’ve never lost a child before, so I don’t know how you get over it. All I know is that I know how you feel, Nym. Gods, I know how you feel.”
Nym put his arms out for his father, and th
en they were a tight mass of misery, clinging desperately to each other in their pain. After a minute or so, someone else joined them, and Nym realised Jaika too had felt the need for solace in her grief. We have each other, he thought helplessly. Why isn’t it enough?
Though it was distressing, in a funny way, it did help, at least a little. At least Nym didn’t feel so alone in his sorrow, knowing they felt what he did, and understood. At last, when Jaika sniffed and said, “Ma, the pie!” it was a welcome break in the emotional storm as his mother rushed to the oven to rescue their dessert. It let them wipe their eyes and blow their noses, and smile sadly at each other. If Eido had been there, he’d have laughed and then told a silly joke to cheer them up—the idea of them all crying over him would have been too ridiculous, he’d have declared.
Jaika took some pie to Lomi in her room, and then just the four of them finished their meal together. Time was, Nym thought, when the family hardly ever ate alone—there were always friends or their cousins dropping in to join them. But not since Eido had gone. Their grief had left them isolated, the pain a muffling barrier between them and those closest to them.
As they finished their dessert, Jaika spoke. “Nym, if you don’t want to look after Jembis any more, I don’t mind doing it,” she said, rather diffidently as if she was afraid to upset him.
“No, I’ll do it. I feel I ought to, to make it up to him. Besides, you’re too noisy.” She stuck her tongue out and he tapped her nose, but there was a wistfulness to the teasing, like it was just for form’s sake.
“Son, I appreciate you want to make amends, but if you’re going to be angry with him, you won’t help him,” Pa said. “He’s suffered enough brutalisation for one lifetime.”
“Yes, I know, and I won’t be angry with him. Actually, I need to talk to you about him.” His parents were solemn-faced as he revealed what he had learned about Jembis’s sorry life. “He’s terrified we’ll turn him over to his Pa or the army.”
“We won’t be doing that,” his father said heavily. “Pissing thug of a man—and he’s turned his boy out on the streets? Without a care for his future?”
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 68