Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2)

by Ann Somerville

  “No, they’ll see you. Nym, wait here. Karin, come with me.”

  Nym was left with Jembis in the hall. “I could try,” Jembis said. “I’ve done it before.”

  “No, he’s right—they’ll see you.” He put a hand on the lad’s shoulder and squeezed it, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Pa’s really good with people. Maybe he’ll work something out.”

  Jembis stared at him forlornly. “No, Father will get me back. He always gets his way.”

  A moment later, his father put his head through the door. “Nym, Jembis, please come out here. Leave your things, Jembis.”

  Jembis went rigid, but nodded. Nym took his jacket and stored it in the cupboard again with the pack. This didn’t look good.

  When he led Jembis into the store, he found it was full of soldiers. An officer, a man about Pa’s age, was standing near his father, while Ma kept back out of the way—she looked upset, biting her lip. Nym couldn’t see Jembis’s Pa anywhere. “This is the boy? Is your name Jembis?” the officer asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your father says you’re not eighteen and that you ran off.”

  “That’s not true! He told me to go away, that he wasn’t going to support me anymore, and his woman threw me out of her house!”

  Pa gave the soldier a significant look, as if this confirmed what he’d been saying. “Captain, you can see the bruises and the broken arm for yourself.”

  “Come here, lad.” Jembis walked over slowly, but kept his head high, as if he refused to be intimidated. “Tell me how you were injured.”

  “Father hit me a couple of times, threw me against a wall. That’s when I hurt my head,” he said, indicating the now healed bumps, “and got these,” he added, pointing to the fading bruises on his face. “But when we got back to Lisil’s house—Lisil’s his woman—he beat me with a fire iron and broke my arm.”

  “Nym, help Jembis take his shirt off, please,” Pa said.

  The officer, rather to Nym’s surprise, waited patiently for them to do this, and then closely examined the remnants of the hideous bruising on Jembis’s shoulder and ribs. “Has anything like this happened before, lad?”

  “He’s knocked me out three times, and sprained my wrist. He hits me a lot.”

  The officer frowned and turned back to Pa. “And a physician saw this?”

  “Healer Joti, captain. He attends Senator Kydis and his family, and some of the other nobles. He’s well-respected. I can have him sent for, if you like.”

  The man lifted his hand to indicate that wouldn’t be necessary. “How old are you, Jembis?”

  “Four months short of eighteen, sir. Sir, please—don’t make me go back. He’ll kill me this time, I know he will. I don’t even know why he wants me to go back—he told me to go away. He even took my pet and sold it. Sir, please?”

  “Calm down, boy. Right—men, outside. You people, stay in here, and Jembis—you are not to move. Don’t leave the house, or this shop.”

  “No, sir.”

  A tiny seed of hope sprouted within Nym. Was it possible that not all the Prij thought as Jembis’s father did about their children?

  The soldiers left. Nym helped Jembis put his shirt back on, but no one said anything—Jembis just stood, clenching his good hand, looking scared but resolute. Nym tried to think of any way they could possibly sneak Jembis past ten soldiers and not bring more trouble on him or the rest of them, but it seemed impossible.

  There was a lot of shouting—Nym recognised the bellow of Jembis’s thug of a parent, and the calmer tones of the captain. It went on for a long time, and then there was silence. Nym looked at his parents. “Do you think...?”

  Pa put his finger to his lips, and signalled silence. Nym could only wait. What was taking so long?

  Finally the door opened—just the captain this time. “Sorry for the delay. Jembis—in law, you are required to go back to your father—”

  “But, sir—”

  The captain raised his hand. “Let me finish, lad. In law, this is the case. But in law also, we don’t allow parents to break their children’s bones, or cause lasting injury. What I’ve seen today goes beyond reasonable chastisement. As a father myself, I think what’s happened to you is a disgrace.”

  The seed of hope was turning into a sturdy sapling—was this going to work out? “By rights, I should still hand you over to him. But as he’s about to go on a sea journey, and you are unfit to travel, I refuse to do that, and I’m prepared to stand up before my colonel and justify it. As you’re so close to your majority, I think a magistrate would not enforce your father’s position—especially as I’ve told him that if he tries, I’ll bring a prosecution for assault.”

  “You mean, I can stay?” Jembis’s eyes lit up with hope. “I don’t have to go back?”

  The captain turned to Nym’s father. “You understand I’m bending the law here—but I don’t like that man, and I don’t like what he’s done to his boy any more than you do. I think I can give the lad a breathing space of a month until his father comes back. Will his arm be healed by then?”

  “Just about. If...Jembis wasn’t here, his father could do nothing, right?”

  “If he wasn’t here, that would be his father’s problem.”

  Pa nodded. “Thank you, captain. I’ll make sure Jembis stays out of trouble and is safe.”

  “You do that. Jembis? Keep a low profile, stay out of sight, and do what these people tell you. Lieutenant Letu understands my situation, I think.” Nym was surprised to hear the captain refer to Pa by his old rank, but maybe that was how army people were.

  “Sir, what if Father comes back?”

  “He might—but he’s sailing tomorrow. If he does come back, have someone send for me, Captain Janis, at the Ukiron post. If he’s violent—lock the door and keep indoors.”

  “I’ll handle it if he comes back,” Pa said.

  “Don’t think he will, actually. Ard Ujinis has a reputation, and not a good one. I don’t think he’ll want to be hauled up before a magistrate to explain why his boy nearly died, and had to rely on the Darshianese for help.” The captain smiled. “He was trying to make out that you lot had kidnapped him. I pointed out that people might ask why Jembis had been out on the loose to be ‘kidnapped’ and why he hadn’t been taken to a physician. That shut him up. Anyway, I’ve done all I can. Don’t give him an excuse to bring me back here.”

  “No, we won’t. Thank you, captain.” Pa came up to shake the man’s hand.

  “You’re welcome. It’s a funny thing, you know. The Darshianese captured me during the war, when I was just a young corporal. We were held up near Darshek for months, and treated decently. I never thought I’d see Utuk again, but we were all sent home. My wife was damn grateful, let me tell you. Consider this my thank you,” he said, smiling at Nym’s mother.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, smiling back.

  Pa saw the man out, then came back in and shut the door. “Gods,” he said with heartfelt fervour. “That was a lucky escape and no mistake.”

  “I can stay? Father won’t take me away?” Jembis asked. He looked rather dazed. “Is it really all right now?”

  Pa smiled reassuringly at him. “For now, yes, son. But we need to make plans, and get you out of Utuk, at least until you’re of age.”

  “Pa, is there word from his aunt?”

  “Not yet—might not ever come. Jembis, I was waiting for a reply before I told you this, but I’ve been in touch with Karin’s brother in Temshek, to see if he can use another farm hand. He’s got stables there, and with your experience.... Would you be willing to live in Darshian for a while, until things calm down?”

  “Yes, sir, I would! When can I go?”

  Pa laughed at Jembis’s eagerness. “Whoa, young fellow, don’t get ahead of yourself. I won’t have an answer for a week. But I’ll start other enquiries. So long as you don’t mind the idea of living with the likes of us for a while, we can find an answer. But until then,
you just keep doing what you’ve been doing, heal up, and trust us.”

  “I will. Thank you. Nym...I’m really going to be safe.”

  Nym grinned at his friend. “Yes, you are,” he said, pulling the lad in for an enthusiastic hug. For a few moments, the burden of grief seemed almost feather-light. They had saved an innocent and kept him safe. It would have made Eido very proud.

  Landing Softly: 10

  Dear Karin and Letu

  Unseasonal rains have lowered the amount of gerun leaf I could send you. With dryer weather, we might get a second crop but I’m sending you what we have gathered. I think you should prepare for a shortage of the winter herbs, as it has been very wet all through the south.

  Your young Jembis arrived two weeks ago, and is settling in well. He really knows a lot about beasts, and since he saved the life of a sickly calf we’d given up on, he’s made himself popular. Jini is mothering him shamelessly, which he doesn’t seem to mind, and is attending to his education. She’s enclosing a note with this, and one from him. Alis and Pai report he’s a hard worker, and that ‘you can forget he’s a Prij’. Which might not be praise in his eyes, but it is in ours, as you know. I don’t suppose you’ve heard any word about his aunt. We’re in no hurry to send him back to Utuk, but it would be nice for him to know about his kin.

  Hope this finds you well. It was good to have recent news of you through Jembis. Our thoughts are with you at this time, and we pray for the spirit of Eido. You’ll be pleased to know that the marker is in the cemetery as you requested, and his memory is safe with the clan.

  Give my love to Nym and Jaika,

  Your loving brother

  Geidi

  ~~~

  Dear Karin and Letu

  I hope you and the children are well. We think of you often these days, and it was lovely that Jembis could report you are getting on with your lives despite everything. This is just a short note because I’ll let him tell you his news. I suppose Geidi forgot to mention that Hiron and Ceri are expecting again? Perhaps by the time the baby is born, we might have seen you again. Jembis says that Utuk is suffering disturbances again—it’s very worrying.

  When we went to Temshek three weeks ago, we visited the cemetery. There was a wild hisk sitting in front of Eido’s marker, scratching its bottom and looking very much at home. I thought that would have amused Eido.

  Don’t have much to add from the last time I wrote, so I’ll say good bye and let Jembis tell you the rest of it.

  Your loving sister

  Jini

  ~~~

  Dear Nym

  Your aunt is writing this for me, but she says I don’t have to be nice about her just because of that. {He wasn’t supposed to tell you that!—Jini} The journey from Urshek was fine—your cousins let me help with the driving for a bit, though I had to be careful because of my arm. You can tell Joti I’ve been doing the exercises every day, and Alis has been getting me to lift sacks of beans too. I really like the farm—I thought it would be boring, but because it’s by the river, you get all kinds of birds and things, so when the day’s over, Alis and Pai sometimes take me down there to fish. Too cold to swim just yet, but they say it’s a great place to do that. It’s much nicer here than in Utuk—it’s almost like being back in Andon, only warmer.

  I’ve been working hard in the stables. I hadn’t realised how much work jombekers were when there’s a big herd—your uncle is teaching me about them and how to milk them and so on, so I can be in charge of them. Even when I stop with the animals for the day, your aunt makes me do my reading, and she’s started to teach me how to write the characters. Tell Jaika she’s right—it’s very slow, probably because I’m stupid. {No, he’s not!—Jini} Your aunt says I might be able to write a letter to you myself in a few months. I don’t know if I will or I won’t, but I’m working at it.

  Your uncle says he’ll take me to Temshek next time they have to go into town. I’m a bit nervous about that, but there are a few Prij living there, he says, so maybe I won’t be so unusual. I’m glad they don’t live in Temshek itself. I could get used to living on a farm. Your aunt is a really good cook—she didn’t tell me to say that! Alis and Pai have been very kind to me, but I still miss all of you, and think about you all the time, even when I’m busy. Did your father get any word about my aunt? And has my father caused you any more trouble? I hope not.

  I’ll write again when your aunt and uncle are sending their next shipment.

  Your friend,

  Jembis

  ~~~

  Dear Jembis

  It was wonderful to get your letter and hear that you’re enjoying yourself. Jini and Geidi are really nice people. {and Jini, I’m not just saying that—Nym} I’m sorry to report we’ve heard no more about your aunt. Bren will keep asking, but it looks as if they’ve moved away. Pa was talking about asking Captain Janis for his help, but we thought we should give it a month or two more, since there’s no great hurry.

  Speaking of Janis, your father came back a couple of weeks ago and was making all kinds of threats, trying to force his way into the shop. Pa sent Gemi off for the captain and he came around and arrested your father for making a nuisance of himself. We haven’t seen him since, and Janis says he thinks he convinced him that there’s no point in making a fuss since you’re gone for good. Janis was pleased to know you’re doing well—he and his wife came for supper last week, would you believe? We’ve been here ten years and never had a Prij for a meal with us (well, except you.) He and Pa get on really well, and they were talking like old friends about their army days. I thought that was odd, considering they were on opposite sides of the war, but Ma said she’s seen it before, and that ordinary soldiers don’t really hold grudges. Whatever the reason, it looks like we have another Prijian friend.

  Doesn’t mean we don’t miss you. I could say it’s a lot quieter since you left, but if I’m honest, it’s noisier because Jaika hasn’t got anyone to keep her out of mischief! She’s still attending to her schoolwork, and she said to tell you that she wants you to work hard, because she’s looking forward to your first letter. I hope you end up writing better than she does because when she writes notes for the shop, it looks like a bird’s walked over the paper with inky feet.

  I’ve been doing a lot of work in the garden because of spring being around the corner. Some days, I still find it hard—and now it’s not just because I keep expecting to see Eido there, but also because I miss you being around. It sure makes the digging go faster if you have some company. I can’t spend as much time out there as I’d like, because we seem to get busier and busier. The demand for Darshianese herbs and medicines is booming, and Joti says any Darshianese healer who wants to, can name their own price. I don’t know that many more of us will move here any time soon, though. There was a really bad riot here just after you left, and there were fires that spread nearly down to our part of the city—fortunately they didn’t reach it, but there were a lot of people killed and hurt, and a lot of houses destroyed. Pa is starting to talk about selling up, though I don’t really know how we can do that just now. You know I’d be happy to move back, but with business so good, it’s hard to close down that income to the clan.

  You’ve discovered one of my favourite places, that spot by the river. Geidi and Pa used to take me fishing there when we visited them. Fish cooked on an open fire is the best meal in the world. I don’t remember the names of the birds, but I was never very smart about those things. Maybe you can teach me when we come to visit, if you’re still there. It sounds like you’re fitting in just fine. Joti sends his regards too, and says he’s pleased you’re exercising the arm. I bet you’re just happy to have the use of it again.

  Ma was going through our things a few days ago, and found a book about the animals of Darshian that we all used as children. She said I could send it to you—it might help with the reading lessons. When you’re done with it, I know Jini will have a use for it.

  Better close this now as it’s late a
nd I have to get up early tomorrow. I’ll write again soon.

  Your friend,

  Nym

  ~~~

  Dear Nym

  Thank your mother very much for the book. I’ve been working hard at it, and now I can read some of the pages without Jini’s help. I’ve been copying out some of the words too, just to get used to holding the pencil. It’s a lot harder than milking jombekers. Have you ever noticed the characters for ‘jombeker’ are really pretty? Doesn’t make sense, when they’re so ugly.

  I’m sorry Father caused you more trouble. By the time he catches up to me, I’ll be well past eighteen. Pai thinks it’s really strange that I don’t love my father. Does that make me a bad person, do you think? It’s like he’s a stranger to me. Just someone I’m frightened of. I don’t think he could even tell you anything about me. You and Jaika know me better than he ever did.

  I was thinking of you this evening as I was fishing (didn’t catch anything.) I wish there was a way for you to be happy about the garden. Do you think it would change if you left Utuk? I know everything seems clearer to me now, and I’m much happier. Knowing that I don’t have to expect a clip over the ear because I looked at someone funny helps a lot. It’s also being in the one place and having a room of my own. This is the longest time in my life I ever spent on dry land, and the longest time in one place, and you know, I don’t miss being on ship one little bit. I miss you and your home, but I don’t miss a boat I lived on for fifteen years. Alis wanted to know if I was going to go travelling again. I said I didn’t know. I’m not finding it boring at all, and they seem to like me being here too. Have you heard anything from my aunt?

  We’re going to be busy soon with the jombekers dropping their kids and the beasts calving. Your uncle warned me it will mean a lot of sleepless nights, but I told him I’m used to that. I’ve sat up more nights nursing sick babies than I have spent on dry land. At least this time, I won’t be alone. I have company all the time now—anytime I want to talk to someone, there’s always someone around. I would really miss that if I left.