Kei's Gift (106 page)

More hasty, whispered discussions. “Very well. We are a merciful sovereign, and since you have served us well before this, and it seems you have acted in good faith, although with a total disregard for our authority, you shall be spared our wrath. But it would be wise for you to remove yourself to your adopted home along with your fellows. Naturally, you lose your position, and you will no longer be a Prijian subject, though it pains me to say it.”

Arman bowed low. “It pains me to hear it, but I thank you for your mercy.” Which was less mercy than recognising she had no choice, but Kita always excelled at portraying herself in the best possible light to the masses.

Kita stood and Arman bowed again, feeling almost giddy with relief. Was this all going to work?

“Your highness, would you care to try our Darshianese transport?” Lord Peika said, offering his arm as Arman translated.

She hesitated—and then took his arm. “Senator Kizus, attend us.” She named five others to come with her, and then told the rest to go to the palace by more normal means. “Are you going to set our people free now?”

“Yes, your highness. Of course. Jera?”

At once, the audience began to move about freely, and it was clear most of them wanted nothing but to get out of the amphitheatre as quickly as possible. “We wish to address them,” Kita ordered. “Perform that trick again, so I may do so.”

“Speak when you’re ready, your highness,” Arman said.

She turned to the crowd. “People of Utuk, we will be continuing our conversation with the representatives from Darshian at the palace.” The audience stopped moving, and looked up at the platform. “Your sovereign and your senate remain unharmed and continue to rule this nation. We order you to return to your homes and carry on as normal. Any civil unrest or disobedience will be dealt with as usual. This goes for the Darshianese as well—we will not tolerate lawlessness,” she added, turning to the Rulers.

“Of course not, your highness,” Lord Peika said, as if she had the slightest hope of enforcing her bold words. Now they had the main part of their demand, he could afford to be gracious. “Shall we go?”

She lifted her head. “Yes, you may do so,” she said imperiously.

The palace was about a mile away and should have taken only a couple of minutes to reach, but Lord Peika instructed Jera to take his time as Arman showed Kita what her city looked like from above. Two of the senators looked about ready to puke, Kizus was impassive—but Kita was delighted as Arman had rarely seen her, and demanded to be allowed to see the palace and gardens from a series of angles.

Her curiosity was quite poorly timed—but that was often the case with Kita. It was her worst failing, other than her viciously cruel streak, of course.

At last they were landed at the back of the palace in the gardens, just near the large doors which led into the private offices. Jera bowed low. “I hope you enjoyed that, your highness.”

She looked rather flushed and excited. “We did, and would like to do it again once we have finished today.”

“Yes, your highness,” Jera said, giving Arman a sly wink.
Jilki would have her for lunch.

Yes, I know. Play along—she likes to be amused.

Less amusing were the twenty or so guards who came rushing at them—Jera immobilised them on the spot. “Your highness? Would you advise them that we’re here by your consent?”

She waved at the guards impatiently. “It’s all right. We’re in no danger.”

Jera released the guard, and they moved instinctively forward before coming to a halt and snapping to attention. “What are your orders concerning the Darshianese, your highness?”

“Treat them as guests, of course,” she said. “And have someone send for the Lord Commander from Garok. Gentlemen, please do come inside so we can continue our discussions.”

Kita was being gracious. This was not necessarily a good sign, Arman thought, as he followed his former sovereign into the palace.

Lord Peika finally asked for a halt in proceedings in the late afternoon, pleading a headache, but really to allow the Gifted, especially Neka, to rest. It was a good time to stop. Kita needed to consult with Blikus and the Senate in privacy, and the Lord Commander would not return from Garok until the following evening. Some agreements had been reached, tentatively, but they needed the approval of the full senate, and the fine details needed to be worked out and documents drawn up once that was done.

Kita invited the Rulers to dinner at the palace the next night, which was readily agreed to, although an invitation to stay at the palace was politely refused. Arman had warned them Prijian hospitality, at least as interpreted by Kita, was not subject to the same unbreakable law as that of the Darshianese. It was certainly possible she would order the Rulers slaughtered in their sleep, and Jera and Neris could not guard them all the time.

However, after Jera had given her another little flying excursion, and Neris had put on a show for all the attending senators, Kita declared the Darshianese, including Arman, could visit the city freely the following day, provided they did not engage in violent disorder. She even offered to arrange transport from the docks for any of them that needed it. Arman had to come back to settle his affairs—he would find out, he supposed, what Kita’s word was worth then. He would take an escort with him, just in case.

Kita bid them farewell with all appearance of politeness, but Arman knew her well enough not to trust that any more than her hospitality. He was more heartened by the progress they’d made with men like Kizus, who’d accepted the inevitable, and had, indeed, reined in Kita’s tendency to get carried away with her own majesty. When she had begun to make a series of really quite outrageous demands, it was Kizus who had reminded her the Darshianese didn’t have to do a thing they didn’t want to, and that the Prij were in the position of requiring concessions, not making conditions.

That had not pleased Her Serenity, but Lord Peika’s charm did much to smooth her ruffled feathers. He was deft at making every loss of ground appear like the greatest advance for the Prij, and while Kizus probably wasn’t fooled, anything that gave Kita ammunition to present a defeat as a triumph only helped their cause.

All his companions were glad to escape the palace, as was he. Lord Peika may not have a headache, but Arman did. “Good work, general,” Lord Meki said as they approached the ships.

“Thank you—but I’m not a general any more, my lord,” Arman reminded him.

“No, indeed, you are not,” he said dryly. “Congratulations on acquiring Darshianese citizenship. I must get documents drawn up on that when we get back. Never done it before—Peika, we’ll have to make something up that sounds convincing.” Lord Peika grinned at that.

Arman was pleased in a distant sort of way, but all his thoughts now were on returning to Kei. He didn’t give a damn whether Kei’s lover was Prijian or Darshianese, so long as it was
him
.

They were landed on the ship deck with the same care as he’d come to expect from Jera all day, and greeted by the massed crew and hostages, celebrating their triumphant return in fine style. The roar of the shouting, whistling, feet-stamping and clapping was almost shocking loud to his ears, for all he’d been half-deafened in the battle earlier in the day.

Sailors hung off the rigging, waving their borrowed hats, and ships’ bells were rung in an extravagant manner, but for all the exuberance and real joy of his companions, Arman found it hard to join in the jubilation—it felt somehow unreal to him—but perhaps because he was tired, and sick of political machinations.

He searched the sea of faces, and found Kei—but, to his surprise Kei looked rather solemn. Then Arman saw who Kei had his arm around, and one look at Jena’s face told him what had happened.

Karus
.

Lord Meki began to address the assembly, but ignoring all protocol, Jena broke free, tears streaming down her face, running to Arman and flinging her arms around him. Arman caught her as his own vision blurred. “When?” he finally managed to ask.

She pulled back a little. “Yesterday morning,” she whispered. “Gods, Arman, I’m so sorry.” He saw Kei approach but then decide to let Arman and Jena have their privacy.

He embraced her, but refused to weep with everyone watching. Kei came closer as Arman held out his hand to his lover, pulling him to his side. “Can we go somewhere?”

Kei nodded and tugged Jena. “Come back to our cabin, Jena.” Then he kissed Arman gently. “At least you’re safe.”

Arman’s heart felt about to burst through his chest. The pain of his sudden grief rose in his throat, choking him, making it impossible to answer his lover’s concern. It was too much. So close, too late. He’d tried not to hope too hard he would see Karus, but he’d begun to think he just might do so—to have missed the chance to say goodbye by just a day was more cruel than he imagined fate could be. Was this the real price he’d had to pay for his treachery?

He followed Kei and Jena down to the cabin, ignored by the other passengers and crew who were still listening to Lord Meki. Kei closed the door behind them, and drew Arman to him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Arman let Kei hold him, and shed a silent tear or two on Kei’s shoulder, before straightening and turning to Jena. “Please tell me what happened,” he said, taking her to sit on the bunk.

She sniffled hard, and wiped her face on her sleeve. “I gave him your message. He was so happy to get it. We talked about you for an hour or more that night, and he was so at peace the next day—so well, full of energy, wanting to talk about all sorts of things. We...we worked on your dictionary...he said you’d need it for your new life.”

Her voice caught on a little sob. “We were going to work on it again yesterday, so we went into the garden, but he wanted to talk a little more about you, and Loke. And Kei,” she said with a damp smile, looking at her friend. “He missed you.”

“I missed him,” Kei said quietly. “And?”

“And...I just got up to get him some tea, came back and thought he’d fallen asleep. But he wasn’t...it was that quick, Arman. No pain, no warning. His last words were about you and how he loved you.” She began to cry again. “I miss him so much now. I loved him.”

“We all did,” Arman did, succeeding in keeping his composure only until Kei stood and wrapped his arms around him. Then he lost all control, burying his face against Kei’s stomach and weeping out his grief. Was he always to lose those he loved before he was ready to say goodbye?

He felt Jena hugging him from the back, and wondered when she would remember she was supposed to hate him.

Kei knelt so he could look at Arman directly, brushing back his hair off his face. “I know you’re not thinking about it now, but everyone is deliriously happy at being back. Thank you.”

“I made a promise. Perhaps I should have promised to return to Karus and he would still be alive,” he said, his voice harsh with grief, fresh tears falling down his face as he spoke.

Kei shook his head and kissed Arman’s cheek. “Don’t say that. Karus’s time had come, that’s all. He was with you in spirit.”

“He was,” Jena said, making Arman turn. “He loved you as a son and he was so proud of you, of what a good man you had grown up to be. When I told him you were going to rescue all of us, he was so pleased. He thought it took so much courage to go against your breeding like that. And when I told him about you and Kei, it was like it was his birthday and I’d given him a treasured gift.”

Arman clutched her hand, too overcome to speak. Coming so soon after Loke’s death...and even now that he had Kei.... “I feel so alone,” he whispered.

“I know,” Kei said, and Arman appreciated him not trying to argue him out of his sadness. Kei knew what it was like to lose those he loved.

Jena stood up. “Maybe I should let you two be on your own.”

But Arman put out his hand to stop her. “Please don’t. Please...just tell me more about what happened while I was gone...and just....”
Mourn with me,
he wanted to say, but didn’t feel he had the right. “The funeral?”

“Last night. His sister organised it.”

Arman nodded. It was the Prijian custom not to let the sun set on a death if it was at all possible. “Did you...did anyone speak for him?”

“We didn’t go—we servants, I mean. It was very quiet, his sister told me, but I don’t know who came or what was said. Cook and Matez and Siza and I cried in the kitchen for him and....” She twisted her hands. “I suppose we had our own little funeral there.” She wiped her nose again. “Anyway, his sister said I could stay for a few days before she let Mekus know to have me moved, and as I knew you were coming....” She smiled, even as more tears fell. “I couldn’t tell her, of course. But I don’t think she’ll be angry. She’s very nice.”

“Yes, she is,” Arman agreed, having met the woman a number of times. He wished he could have spoken at Karus’s funeral. It was wrong that such an important person, who had educated so many of the elite, should have had such a small and uninspiring farewell. But perhaps it didn’t matter. Those who knew Karus and loved him didn’t need to prove that fact to others.

“She also said he left everything to you in his will. All he wanted was his servants to be looked after.”