Kei's Gift (101 page)

“What’s wrong?” Jera asked. “You were so happy a moment ago.”

“Yes, I was—I am, truly. It’s just...a dear person is going to be sad, and I wish I could spare him that.”

Neka took his hand again. “You’re kind. I’m sure they’ll understand you don’t mean them to suffer.”

“Yes, he will.” He made himself smile. “Thank you—your Gift was a gift to me also.”

“I like to make people happy,” she said shyly.

Jera smiled at her. “Yes, you do, don’t you, my love. I’ll do my part, I hope, when we get to Utuk.”

“Yes, I hope you will. Have you and Reis decided who’s to be on the ground?”

“I will. He says he’ll be happier if he doesn’t have to threaten anyone. I don’t have any conscience where these people are concerned, short of killing them. I’m more than happy to scare them quite thoroughly,” he said with a wicked smile.

“Good,” Kei said. “I don’t want them dead but they could do with a good fright. If they shit themselves with fear, I won’t be crying into my pillow over it.”

Neka laughed. Kei squeezed her hand and stood up. “See you tomorrow. The weather still looks promising.”

Jera waved his hand dismissively. “They’ll let me or Reis know if it looks as if it’s going to blow up again. I’d rather miss sleep than go through all that again.”

“Same here,” Neka said. “You’re horrible when you’re sick, Jerichi.”

“Most people are,” Kei said. “I’m the worst patient I know. Worse than Arman, and that’s saying something. Goodnight.”

He left the cabin, feeling a mixture of joy and fear and some sadness. He needed to talk quietly to Arman to untangle all these emotions and make some sense of them, and help Arman with his own mess of feelings. Three days—three days and Jena would be safe and he could, truly and finally, go home. And this time, he wouldn’t have to take Arman away again.

~~~~~~~~

They ran into more bad weather, but this time, between their mind-movers and Kira, their wind-shaper, and with enough warning this time, no one had to suffer any seasickness. Reis and Jera kept the ships steady, and Kira managed to blow the worst of the storm away. Arman welcomed not having the distraction of the unpleasant motion of the ship, or of Kei having to spend long periods away ministering to the sick. Selfish of him, but he found it less worrying when Kei was working quietly in their cabin on his text and not having people imposing on his still healing gift. Not that Arman ever expressed this to his lover, because he knew what his reaction would be—but it still gave him some peace of mind.

After the joy of discovering the hostages were still alive, tension mounted again on the ships as their destination grew closer. Lords Meki and Peika had had all the language lessons they were going to get—now, they and Arman spent all their time with Neka, speaking to the clan leaders in south Darshian and making plans. They wanted no nasty surprises when they confronted Kita.

Kei grew quieter as the time drew closer. He was worried, Arman well knew, for Arman’s safety. The risk was lower than in many battles he’d engaged in, but Arman couldn’t lie and pretend it was non-existent. He was, after all, relying on people who’d never used their abilities for any non-peaceful purpose, and who were completely untried. They would do their best—but this was a new and enormously dangerous task he’d set for them. The Rulers were worried too—not on their own behalf, but like any good leader, on the behalf of those they were leading into conflict. Ultimately, it all depended on Arman’s planning, and his knowledge of the ground and of Kita. He’d never had this level of responsibility resting on him before—never had so much to lose either. Kei’s fate if he himself died, gnawed at his gut like a starving hisk.

Finally, his head pounding furiously with a severe headache, he called a halt. “My lords, we’ve done as much as we can,” he said finally. “We should all make sure we rest tonight.”

“Agreed,” Lord Peika said. “You’re rather pale, general.”

“A headache, nothing more, my lord. Kei will treat it.”

Lord Peika smiled. “Ah, the joys of one’s own personal healer. Meki, you and I should have insisted on one ourselves.”

“Kei’s done well enough for us,” Lord Meki said gruffly. “Goodnight, general. You’ve done good work.”

“Thank you,” Arman said, bowing a little, and collecting a lamp to see his way out. “Don’t forget, we need to be ready at dawn for the transfer.”

He closed the door, and then stretched his back. His ribs hurt and so did his leg, from being squeezed into a cramped and uncomfortable chair for days. He needed a walk—and then he needed to find Reji before returning to his cabin.

The storms of the morning had long since blown away, and the sky was moonless, the stars sparkling clearly in a completely cloudless sky of perfect darkness. All the brighter lights on the ship were dimmed in case any Prijian patrol boat were lurking—they were still a hundred miles at least from the tip of Kuplik, and a patrol this far from the main island was unlikely, but couldn’t be ruled out. Even Arman’s lamp was guarded so the light spilled downward, not out to the gaze of any ship lookouts. He took a moment or two to adjust his vision before walking carefully toward the rail, not wanting to deal with a broken leg or Kei’s lecture on the subject. To his surprise, there was someone there, lit only by a small flame sitting above the rail. “Reji?”

“Oh...Arman...sorry, I was lost in thought.” The other man turned to him. “I thought you’d still be with the Rulers.”

“No, we’ve done enough and my head’s about to explode. Actually, it’s you I was coming to see.”

“Oh? Something wrong? Nothing to do with Kei?”

“Yes, to do with him, but nothing wrong. Not yet.” He drew a sealed letter out of his breast pocket where he’d had it all day, waiting to speak to Reji. “You know as well as I do I might not come back alive from this.”

He handed the letter to Reji, who frowned. “Is this your will?”

“Not...exactly. Reji, you’re the only person I can really talk to about this, because Kei means as much to you as he does to me, and you’ll understand my reasoning here. Has Kei explained what Bikel told him about the injury to his gift? How it happened, how I help him and so on?”

“Yes, as much as he knows, I think.”

“So you understand what my death might do to him if it occurs at this time.”

Reji grimaced. “Yes, I do. Which is why I wanted to come on this mission and keep your sorry Prijian arse in one piece.”

Arman smiled, even though it was hardly a joking matter. “Yes, I know. But there’s a limit to what you or I or anyone can do, whatever else we want for him. I just wanted you to be the one.... He has to do whatever he needs to do to survive...but if he chooses not to survive...that’s a letter for him, saying if he can’t bear the pain, I don’t want him to linger where he has no will to live.”

“You’re telling him to suicide?” Reji drew himself up to his full height and glared. “You don’t have that right.”

“I’m not telling him to do a damn thing. I’m telling him that if I’ve gone, he needs to do what he needs to do. And you need to let him, damn it! Please, I’m asking you not to tether him to this world if he can’t stand it, and I’m asking you to help him if he wants to try.”

“You forget,” Reji said coldly, “you don’t need to ask me to help Kei.”

Arman sighed. This was going so badly. “No, I know...I’ve just been trying to think how to make sure my death doesn’t destroy him.... I suppose you’ll hate me for this suggestion too, but I need to make it. Bikel told me there’s another option. Should the worst happen to me, and Kei breaks down as we fear, then you should drug him for the entire return journey and get him back to Bikel. If Jena has come back, ask her to assist you.”

“But Master Bikel said he couldn’t help,” Reji said, still holding the letter as if it was a thurl poised to strike.

“He can’t, no. But Neka can—if she consents and Kei truly wishes it. He said it’s possible for a Gifted mind-speaker to completely erase a mind—take a person back to infancy, in fact. Destroy every memory, every pain.... It would take away Kei’s injury as if it had never been, possibly even eradicate his gift, although Bikel wasn’t sure. It’s never been done on a gifted person—and the last time it was done at all was nearly two hundred years ago, during the civil wars.”

Reji drew in a sharp breath. “Wipe away Kei’s mind? Are you serious?”

“If it were a choice between that and him killing himself, which would you want for him?” Arman asked. “It’s only something a young person might contemplate because it would take years for them to be remotely normal again...but do you see? It could give Kei that second chance.” He rubbed his forehead, wishing the pounding in his head would stop. “It would be a last resort. And if you were there, at least he would have someone who loved him to bring him back.”

Reji stared at him. “He would forget you...forget he loved you.”

“Yes. But as I would be dead, it wouldn’t matter.” He gave Reji a half-smile. “And perhaps we could try again in the next life.”

“You’ve known about this since Utuk and you still brought him with you?”

“He would never consent—”

The man raised his hand. “No, not that...you’ve had this in your heart, this burden...Arman, no lover should have to contemplate letting the one they love forget them this way.” He clenched his fist and his face contorted in distress. “Our memories...it’s what carries us from one life to the next...it comforts the spirits to know those behind them recall them with love. If Kei forgot you...your spirit would be lonely, lost...crying in pain....”

“Better that than Kei crying in pain,” Arman snapped, unnerved by Reji’s reaction. “You know him, you love him—do what you can to help him if I can’t. You said you loved him enough to send him away—I love him enough to send him home. Take him home, Reji, if I can’t be there.”

Reji put the letter in his breast pocket. “I’ll do what it takes,” he said solemnly. “But the best solution is for you to come back alive so, much as I dislike you, I’d prefer you to do that. Don’t ever mention any of this to him if you do. It’d upset him.”

“Yes, I know, which is why I’m talking to you, not him,” Arman said, his headache and the subject making him irritable. “But the same goes for you—your death would bring him almost as much pain as my own, so keep your damn head, and his, down and out of sight tomorrow until it’s safe. I don’t want him to have to cut your braid.”

“Nor I his. “ Reji gave him a humourless smile. “Guess you’ll have to live a while longer if we’re to have one of yours to cut.”

“I was planning on doing so. I’m going to him now and I’ll see you at dawn—the beasts need to be ready by then.”

“Wonderful, I’ll need to be up an hour before. But as you command, general,” Reji said with a mocking bow. “And get some sleep, you look like urs shit.”

“One would imagine you were concerned for my well-being,” Arman said sardonically, “but I fancy you’re only thinking about the hostages.”

“Yes, of course. And Kei. Besides, funerals at sea are an unpleasant business.”

Arman gave the other man a knowing tilt of his head. “Goodnight, then.”

Reji only nodded as Arman walked away, but as he got to the stairs and looked back, Reji was staring out to sea again, the little flame still dancing on the rail. He would keep his word—Arman just hoped he wouldn’t need to.

The ship was quiet—no sailors calling out to each other, no passengers talking in the corridors, not even the roar of a bored or angry urs beast to break the stillness. It was if everyone and everything was on tenterhooks, waiting for the dawn. In less than twelve hours, he would be back in Utuk and then they would see if all the planning, all the fears, all the effort, would bear fruit.

Kei was working at the desk and turned as he came in. “I felt your headache from outside the door—come here and let me mend it for you.”

Arman went to him gratefully—the headache was now affecting his vision. In the past, once it got that bad, all he could do was lie on his bed with a cloth over his eyes and wait for the pain to stop. Now he had only to sit on the bed, bow his head and let Kei’s gentle, clever fingers work on his neck and forehead. As it always did, it took mere seconds for the pain to start to ease, and in a minute or two, all that was left was a kind of dull, slight ache where the pain had been. “Gods, thank you. I was close to screaming with it.”

“And why did you let it get so bad before coming to see me?” Kei asked, kissing his forehead. “I could have let you work in peace if you’d come to me when it started.”

“Sorry—we were in the middle of an intense discussion and I could hardly excuse myself on such trivial grounds.”

“Your health isn’t trivial,” Kei muttered. “Are you back for good now, or do you have to run away again?”

“No, all yours. Have you eaten?”

Kei nodded. “A hour ago at least. You?”

“We had something brought to us. I can’t say I was hungry.”

Kei leaned over, blew out Arman’s lamp and turned the desk light down low. “Are you tired? You still seem to be in pain—what’s hurting you?”

“Everything—I’ll be fine. I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing Kei under his ear. “How goes the text?”

“To be honest,” he said, sighing heavily, “I’ve been staring at the same words for the last four hours and wondering when you would come back.” He let his lips touch Arman’s gently, but didn’t deepen the kiss. “I don’t know that I’ll sleep too well tonight.”