“Looks like. He can’t fend for himself with that arm, but he says he wants to leave as soon as he can.”
“He’ll leave when he’s safe and well and has somewhere to go,” his mother said, a determined set to her jaw. “He’s young for his age, and legally a child anyway. Letu, we need to help him.”
“We’ll certainly try. Nym, this makes it even more important that you hold your temper around him.”
“Yes. That’s why he lied to you, Ma. He thought you or Pa would hurt me because you’d get angry. I think his Pa talks with his fists.”
“He better not come near that boy while I’m around then,” Pa said. “I’d like to see how he handles someone near his own size and weight. You leave his future to us, and if you want to make up for what you did, you help him get well. Jaika, you can help, but Nym’s right—you make too much noise for a sick person.”
“Pa!”
His mother grinned. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, daughter mine?” She tugged Jaika’s braid affectionately. “Still, I think it would be good for you and for Jembis—the boy can’t have many friends if he ended up hiding in a stranger’s garden.”
“I don’t think he’s got any,” Nym said. “I’m guessing he lived on the ship with his Pa. He’s not mentioned anyone, and since he wants to leave, if he had somewhere to go, he would have.”
“Then we’ll be his friends,” Jaika said. “It’s what Eido would have said to do, right?”
Nym made himself smile. “Yes, he would have. Jembis said to thank you for your tea, by the way—it helped settle his stomach.”
She blushed. “Oh! I’m glad. I cried all over him this afternoon, and then I realised he was feeling sick.”
“Sounds like our young guest has had a very trying day,” Ma said. “I recommend a quiet evening until he gets to sleep, and Nym, you need to get some proper rest. You look so tired.”
He’d been doing half night shifts, Ma and Pa sharing the other half, so he really did need his sleep. “He doesn’t need someone awake all night anymore. It’ll be easier from now on.”
“Good. Now—more pie, anyone?”
Nym made another pot of Jaika’s special tea when they were done. His mother gave him a hug and a kiss before he went back to Jembis’s room. “I’m always proud of you,” she whispered. “I know this is hard, but it’s a good thing you’re doing.”
“Thanks, Ma.” He wondered how it would feel to grow up without a mother—it gave him a shiver of fear as he thought about the possibility of losing her, but he made himself put it aside. No need to add imaginary sorrow to real ones.
“I’ll bring the cot down. You go on back in,” Pa said, so Nym did just that.
He found Jembis still awake, staring rather forlornly at nothing in particular. “You look bored. I don’t think we’ve got any decent books in Prijian—do you read Darshianese?”
Jembis gave him an embarrassed smile as Nym sat down. “Don’t read at all. Don’t need to.”
Nym paused as he reached for the empty mug at Jembis’s side. “You don’t read?”
“Can’t read. Never learned how. Never had no schooling—Father didn’t see any reason for it.”
This shocked Nym almost as much as learning how his father had beaten Jembis. “But everyone needs to read!”
“I don’t. Most people I know can’t. I know some of the numbers, and I can count just fine. But books aren’t much use. I learn everything from listening and doing.”
Nym couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t imagine not being able to read and write. Reading was one of his great loves. They all read, even Jaika, who didn’t really like to study. Eido even used to write little stories for her when she was younger and read them to her to amuse her. “But there’s more in books than you can learn from the people around you.”
Jembis shrugged. “Maybe. But I still can’t read.”
Nym poured the boy some tea, still trying to digest this. He supposed he did know that there were a lot of illiterate people in Utuk, but in the ten years since they’d lived here, he’d managed to avoid actually meeting anyone who came right out and admitted that not only did they not read, they saw no reason to. He would have to talk to Ma about this, he decided. It wasn’t right. “How are you feeling? Do you want to sleep again?”
“I’m tired but not sleepy. My arm hurts too much.”
All the rough handling Jembis had had that day wouldn’t have done his broken arm any good at all, Nym thought guiltily, as he handed the boy his tea, helping him to sit up a little. “Pa says it’s the swelling. That’ll go down eventually, won’t hurt so much.”
“Your father’s a healer too?”
“Not really. He was in the army as a medic until he gave it up to work with Ma’s clan—they’re herbalists, one of the best known families in south Darshian. But we all got practice looking after Eido. He used to get colds and things, hit him bad. That’s what killed him—a cold turned to a lung fever and Joti couldn’t save him.” His jaw worked as he tried to keep his voice calm. “We always knew he probably wouldn’t make old bones because of his heart. But we didn’t think he’d die so young. He was only eighteen.”
Jembis stared at him with concerned blue eyes. “You were really close?”
“He was my best friend. I’ll miss him to the day I die.”
Jembis nodded slowly. “But at least you can remember him. I don’t know what it would be like to have a brother or a friend like that.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Nym snapped. “Because it pissing hurts when they die.” Jembis lowered his gaze quickly, his fingers tightening on the mug, and Nym realised he was frightening him again. “I’m sorry. It’s not you I’m angry at—it’s....”
“I wish I knew what to say. I always say the wrong thing and people get mad at me.”
“People like your Pa? Why did he hit you this time?” It suddenly occurred to Nym this was rather tactless. “I mean...if he had a reason to.”
“I lost him some money he was hoping to make. He doesn’t like losing money.”
Nym stared at him. Jembis was tall enough, but not heavily built—hardly a worthy target of anyone’s anger, even Nym’s own. That someone—his own father—could beat the shit out of him over money beggared belief. “Maybe I’m better off than I thought. At least my family aren’t like that.”
“No,” Jembis said wistfully. “They’re nice. You’re lucky—I mean, not with Eido dying and all that—but you’ve still got so much. You have a really good life.”
Nym nearly said something trite in response, but then thought about Jembis’s real situation. Illiterate, without family or friends, no trade, no skills that Nym knew of, and a propensity for annoying people—what kind of future did he have? Would he end up as part of the indigent population of Utuk, begging, thieving, living on what miserable charity they could find, being rousted up by the soldiers whenever there was trouble in the city, imprisoned or flogged for their petty crimes? The poverty in Utuk scared Nym—Eido had hated it, and it was one of the only things that had ever got him angry, hearing about people dying of starvation in a city of golden statues, or from illnesses the Darshianese knew how to treat, but the Prijian underclass were too ignorant or too poor to seek treatment for. Nym hated living in Utuk sometimes, and never more than these last few weeks.
But he said none of this to Jembis. “Drink your tea. Are you sure you don’t want to eat? Ma made a fruit pie.”
Jembis winced. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry. Tomorrow?”
“When you’re ready. I’m warning you though—once you can eat properly, Ma and Jaika are going to see it as a personal mission to fatten you up.”
“Don’t plan on staying long enough to get fat.”
And what could he say to that, when he’d spent most of the day telling the boy to leave? Nym didn’t want him to stay. It was just that he didn’t want him to leave, if all he had to look forward to was a wretched, unhappy life.
His thoughts were interrupted by h
is father bringing in the low cot that they had often used when Eido was sick and had needed attendance. They hadn’t used it to now because they didn’t dare sleep with Jembis so ill. Nym had slept on it many times—he just hadn’t thought he would ever need to again.
“Thanks, Pa,” he said, rising and helping his father settle the thing on the floor. He would have to fetch his pillow and blankets later...but no, there was Jaika with them. He smiled at her to thank her, but despite her curious look, she didn’t come into the room. She just gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you, brother mine,” she whispered, before she dashed off, giving him no chance to respond.
The odd gesture surprised him. She wasn’t prone to doing things like that with him—at least, not lately—though she used to kiss and hug Eido all the time. Nym had always thought it was the age difference—she was only three years younger than Eido, but a full six younger than Nym. Now he had to wonder if it was something about himself that made her less obviously affectionate. Maybe he put her off and he hadn’t even known it. He wished he hadn’t—he loved his sister, even though she annoyed the hell out of him sometimes.
He rubbed the kiss mark on his cheek thoughtfully, thinking he needed to do better all round, then realised he had left his father alone. When he turned back, he found Pa sitting next to the bed, talking quietly to their guest. Or rather, Pa was talking. Jembis looked rather sullen, as if he didn’t want to have this conversation. Nym came back into the room—Pa was talking about ships, and sailors. Maybe trying to find out more about Jembis’s father, he guessed. Pa wasn’t getting much out of Jembis though. Nym decided to rescue the boy. He put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Pa, Ma said he needed a quiet evening, remember?”
Pa grunted. “So she did. My apologies, Jembis. I’ll leave you in Nym’s hands. But if you need anything, you remember—we want to help you, all right? Good. Well, I better go find your Ma, Nym. You wake me up if you need me.”
“Yes, Pa. Good night.”
As soon as his father left, Jembis turned to glare at Nym. “You told them! I asked you not to!”
“I didn’t think you meant I couldn’t tell them. They’re my family. I trust them and so should you. Ma and Pa only want to help you—and Pa says if your father comes around and tries to hurt you, he’ll have to deal with him. Pa’s trained—he won’t stand any nonsense.”
“I asked you not to tell anyone,” Jembis persisted.
“I didn’t actually make a promise. I won’t tell anyone else, and neither will they. We can’t help you if we don’t know the truth.”
“Don’t want your damn help,” the boy said rather sulkily. “You don’t have any right to push me around or tell me what to do, or keep me here.”
“No, we don’t, and no one’s forcing you. But if you leave, where will you go?”
Jembis gave him a dirty look, then turned his head away. “Not your concern.”
“No, I suppose not. Look, you can leave any time. You’re not a prisoner. But Ma and Pa want you to stay, and they want to help you. If you’ve got so many other options that you don’t need the help, then fine. But if you had so many other options, why did you end up in our garden?”
“Leave me alone, will you?”
The boy was getting fretful and cranky, and despite sleeping for hours that afternoon, looked worn out. It was Nym’s fault that Jembis was so out of sorts, and so he didn’t bite back. “I’m just going to set up my bed and go to sleep. I won’t annoy you any more. Do you want to piss?”
Jembis reluctantly allowed Nym to help him do the necessary, and to clean him and settle him, but once that was all done, he turned his face away, making it clear he’d had more than enough of everyone. Nym couldn’t really blame him. He vowed to himself to do better tomorrow, and be nicer to this fellow. Jembis had so little, and Nym and his family were lucky, for all their grief. The least he could do, in Eido’s memory, was share a little of their good fortune until Jembis was ready to leave. And then, having done the right thing, they could both get on with their separate lives as was the natural course of things in this world.
Landing Softly: 5
For the first time in what seemed an endless period of being sick and in pain, Jembis woke with something remotely resembling an appetite, though it wasn’t enough to make him want to ask for food just yet, or to wake his sleeping companion. In fact, as he looked over at Nym on the uncomfortable looking cot, he frowned. Big-mouthed bastard. Inconsistent too—one minute throwing him out, next minute hauling him back bodily to this house. He hadn’t appreciated being interrogated by all those people yesterday, and if they thought just because he was stuck here for now, that they had a claim on him, they were wrong. He was grateful—but they didn’t own him.
He felt a little better today. His head still hurt, so did his arm—but the fog had lifted, and thoughts were connecting properly. He could remember what had happened the previous day without too many gaps. If his arm hadn’t been broken, he probably could have left today or tomorrow, but arms took a long time to heal. He was lucky, he supposed, that it hadn’t had to be taken off. He’d known several sailors who lost arms because of breaking them—and a couple had died from the operation too. The Darshianese physicians had an odd reputation—people muttered darkly that they used witchcraft, and did awful things to their patients. But Jembis had noticed some of the wealthy clients for their animals, when he’d visited their homes to help deliver and settle the creatures, had had Darshianese healers in attendance, and the Darshianese as a whole always looked healthier than your average Prij. Karik had said his mother was a healer—he didn’t seem the type to like anyone having evil magic used on them. He’d been a nice, sensible boy, like his friend. Jembis hadn’t really noticed any of the Darshianese being that superstitious, though it would be hard to be more superstitious than sailors.
Well, Joti hadn’t killed him or used any magic Jembis could detect. If he’d had any magic, he’d have taken this damn headache away. It could last for weeks, he knew that from experience, and this was a worse crack on the head than he’d had before. He could live with it, though, and at least this time, he didn’t have to work with it.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
The soft whisper startled him, but it was only Jaika in the doorway, looking bright-eyed and cheerful. “Yes. He’s not.”
“I know. Feeling hungry?”
“A little.”
“I know what you need—some fresh jombeker milk. Lomi got some from the market this morning. Would you like that?”
Jembis nodded—he’d had jombeker milk before and it was good, though most Prij didn’t drink milk at all. She smiled and left, then he tried to sit up a bit. Lying down all the time made him feel so vulnerable.
“Hey, be careful.” Damn—they’d woken Nym. Jembis smiled as the man came over, hoping to allay any bad temper, but Nym didn’t seem annoyed, or particularly sleepy. He helped Jembis adjust his position, then sniffed, pulling a face. “I think I need to give you a wash today—feeling up to it?”
Jembis clutched the bedclothes up to his chest. “I can wash myself.”
“Not with your arm out of action, you can’t. If you prefer, I can get Ma to do it.”
Jembis flushed hot. “No!”
“I don’t see why not—she washed you twice already. Ah—this is one of those Prijian things, isn’t it?”
“She shouldn’t be looking at me without clothes on,” Jembis said primly, scandalised. Even knowing the Darshianese had a much more relaxed attitude towards such matters, he was still amazed Nym could be so casual about his own mother washing a complete stranger. “I’ll do it myself. I’m not that dirty.”
“You are,” Nym said firmly. “Keeping clean is especially important when you’re sick. So you better just get used to the idea that you’re going to have a wash and that’s final.”
“Do you always push people around like this?”
“When they need it, yes. Don’t I, Jai-chi?”
&nbs
p; His sister, coming into the room with a mug in her hand, smiled at him. “Don’t you what, Nym?”
“Boss you around.”
“Oh yes—he’s horrible. A real bully.” But she gave her brother a kiss on the cheek anyway, which seemed to please him, as if he wasn’t expecting it. “Here, you can help him drink this. Jombeker milk is really good for broken bones, Joti said. Ma got Lomi to buy in extra.”
“I don’t want people to go to any trouble,” Jembis said, worried he was beginning to be too much of a nuisance.
“It’s no trouble,” Jaika said cheerfully, then leaned over and sniffed. “Poo—you need a wash, Jembis.”
“That’s what I was telling him,” Nym said. “But he’s gone all shy on me. Maybe you could do it for him, Jaika.”
“No!” Jembis said, appalled. “I’m not letting a girl touch me.”
Jaika giggled. “Bet you change your mind about that sooner or later. Or maybe you prefer boys touching you.”
“Jaika, don’t be vulgar,” Nym said as Jembis’s blush got even hotter. “This is about hygiene, not sex.” Jembis really didn’t know where to look when Nym said that. “Run along—and, Jai-chi, don’t go missing again today? Ma gets so cranky about it.”
“She told me off this morning, brother mine, so don’t start. She says I have to go to the school today or she’ll start giving me lessons here.” Jaika pulled a face. “But the school is boring.”
“So’s being ignorant,” Nym said unsympathetically. “Do as she tells you. It’s only another year.”
“Don’t see why I need schooling if I’m going to work in the business.”
“Because you might want to do something else, that’s why. Shoo. You’re making Jembis all embarrassed.”
She put out her tongue but did as her brother said. Nym shook his head as he helped Jembis take the mug of milk. “She’s fifteen and she thinks she knows everything. Wait until life proves she doesn’t.”
Jembis didn’t know what to say, so he sipped the milk—it was good and perfect for his limited appetite. He was still wondering how he could get out of this wash business. The Darshianese were obsessed with being clean. Most people he knew went months without an all-over bath, and for sailors, it could be even longer, though Jembis liked to swim in the sea in the warmer months. If he’d been washed twice since he’d been hurt, then that was plenty.
Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 69