Kei's Gift (25 page)

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Arman lay with his arm over his eyes, cursing the situation, his wife, his own blindness, and everything that had brought things to this pass. He had fervently wished never to have anything to do with the Darshianese ever again, but he’d had Kei forced on him. He had hoped to endure the few months until the man was sent back home again simply by ignoring and avoiding him, but Arman had forgotten in whose care he had left him, and chosen to overlook the fact he was dealing with a human being, not a slab of rock. There were details a general should never forget, no leader should ever ignore, and he had failed his own standards. In failing himself, he had allowed Mayl to dishonour him, and in allowing
that
, Arman had dishonoured Loke’s memory by allowing his successor to be abused. Regardless of his feelings for the Darshianese, these were unforgivable sins.

That damn Mykis. He should give the man his marching orders now—Arman wanted no thug as his steward—but it would cause gossip, and unless he had a provable charge to use as an excuse to turn him out without a reference, the man would find other employment and spread lies about Arman’s household. Still, if he broke Arman’s orders over this even in the smallest manner, Arman
would
have him charged, and dismissed without notice. He wondered in disgust how Mayl found such prizes, and how even she could stomach them.

Thank the gods none of them had ever touched Loke, although that was probably more to do with Arman’s father’s favour than Arman’s own. It was almost certain Kei’s replacement would also be tormented unless Arman put a stop to this business now. Perhaps it was time for him to take more interest in the running of the household, but it would mean repeated clashes with Mayl, and Arman had little stomach for it, not when he cared nothing for the house. If she left his personal affairs alone, then Arman would tolerate the rest. If she did not....

He clenched his fist, and noticed his fingers still felt strange. He sniffed at them but the ointment had no odour he could detect. Another shock, to find what he had dismissed as witchcraft and nonsense, was actually effective, the product of rational investigation, not chance. What other secrets did the Darshianese have? Was it possible the Prij might gain more than territory from them? It seemed almost treacherous to think so, but of late, Arman’s thoughts were of a treacherous bent. He’d ceased to be horrified at where his own mind persisted in going.

He would fix this wrong, for the sake of Loke’s memory if nothing else. He cared nothing for the hostages but he would not let Loke’s death be the excuse for injustice and revenge.

With that vow made in Loke’s name, he grunted and rolled over. The tingling of his fingers still bothered him. The ointment numbed the pain of a beating and of bruises, but nothing could dull the agony of a bruised and battered heart.

The languid peace Kei felt when he woke disappeared the second he tried to move, and then he remembered why he was lying on his front so awkwardly. He tried to push himself up, but couldn’t help a small groan as his body failed him. He had to get up, he had to...Arman.... It was late, why...?

“Take it slowly, Kei. You don’t have to get up yet.” The general crouched where Kei could see him without moving his head.

“My lord, I...need to....”

“Piss? I’m sure you do.” There was the slightest tint of amusement in Arman’s voice, which baffled Kei utterly, as did the man’s lack of irritation at his helplessness. This time he groaned more loudly as Arman helped him turn on his side, and then sit up, which hurt his bruised tailbone as much the rest of his back ached.

“My lord....” Kei couldn’t wake up, though he knew he must. “Your breakfast—”

“Was about five hours ago, man, not that you’d have been fetching it in this state. I told you—you have no duties until you recover,” he added in apparent irritation, though Kei couldn’t sense any actual annoyance behind the words.

“Five...? Gods, I slept so long?”

“Indeed. Which is why you need to piss, no doubt. Can you stand?”

“I doubt it,” Kei muttered, but he let Arman lift him to his feet with surprising ease. The man was very well built, and not just for show. There was an awkward moment as his eyes slid away from Kei’s body and Kei realised he was still nude. The Prij were so funny about such things. He cast about for something to cover himself with. Arman told him to wait, before he fetched his own blue robe, helping Kei ease his arms into it.

“Thank you, my lord. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s not your damn fault,” Arman said curtly. “Do...what you need to do, and I’ll see about a meal for you. Use the earth closet.”

“Yes, my lord.” At least Kei wouldn’t have to struggle to the latrines, or face the other servants. He wondered what they were making of his sudden absence from the kitchen, and of Arman fetching and ordering food for him. He hoped Arman had been serious about him not working with the others any more, because he would catch an enormous amount of grief from them if he did have to return to the old routine.

No point in dwelling on it. He could only use this interlude to recover a little, and enjoy the general’s strange tolerance for however long it lasted. Not long, Kei was sure.

He still felt light-headed, so used the walls for support to get to the little earth closet. Relieving his bladder took care of one discomfort at least. He stole some water from the basin to wash his hands and splash his face to see if it would dispel the dregs of sleep, but it didn’t really help that much. His body seemed filled with rocks. As a healer, he knew what he was dealing with—almost total physical exhaustion on top of malnutrition. If things had continued the way they had, he might easily have been dead in a couple of weeks. He had been tired before, hungry before, but never like this. He was so weak, he could hardly stand, and he trembled no matter how much he locked his legs or clenched his fists.

The only place he could sit which wouldn’t appear impertinent was the pallet, and he honestly didn’t think he could get down to the ground again on his own. So he stood leaning on a chair and tried not to look as if he was taking liberties. Arman returned several minutes later, carrying a tray and grimaced at him. “Why don’t you sit on that instead of using it to prop yourself up?”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

Arman sat the tray on the little table he usually used for his meals, and helped Kei to sit. “Perhaps I should put some more of that ointment on you.”

Kei shook his head. “No, my lord, it’s too valuable to waste. It helped last night. I don’t need it today.”

Arman stared at him in perplexity. “How is it wasted when you’re injured?”

“Someone might suffer a worse injury and need it. I can’t replace it down here. The chuo plant grows only in the dry regions.”

“You’re a stubborn idiot, but have it your way. I’d ask a physician to come and look at you, but you wouldn’t consider that good enough, I suppose.”

Arman was now truly annoyed. Kei wanted to eat the food in front of him because he was very hungry and it smelled delicious, but he couldn’t afford to anger his master while he was so weak. “If you wish it, my lord, I would be grateful for the kindness.”

“Huh. Darshianese for ‘let’s humour the Prijian fool’.” Kei looked up in amazement at the slight mocking tone. Arman wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t frowning any more. “Do you think you need a physician?”

“Most likely not, my lord. The bruises will heal, and I can’t feel any infection. If I move around, I won’t stiffen up. Uh...but I don’t think I will be able to lift anything heavy for a day or two.”

“A day or two? Try a week. You’ll stay with me until you heal properly, and if you try to lift anything heavier than a spoon, I will give you some other pain to distract you. Now eat. I haven’t got all day to attend to you.”

“No, my lord.” Kei turned his attention to the food, and tried to eat as politely and quietly as he could, given he was so ravenous. There was a hot sweet drink he’d seen served from the kitchens but never tasted, which warmed him all the way through and did much to help him wake up properly. He savoured it, wondering if he would ever taste it again, and enjoyed the rare pleasure of not being hungry or forced to work while he was starving and sore. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have nothing to do. The general sat at his desk and ignored him, reading through papers. Kei wondered why he had not gone out as usual, but didn’t risk irritating the man by asking.

He could get used to having a full belly again too. He couldn’t finish everything provided, to his regret, and Arman gave him a sharp look as if to ask why he had not eaten it all. “I can’t finish it, my lord. If you leave it a while, I could try—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kei. I’ll have fresh brought later, if you want it. Do you want to get dressed? You can keep the robe on if you want.”

The robe was wonderfully comfortable, but it was the only one Arman owned. The man lived very simply for someone who owned such a lavish house. “My clothes...the ones I had yesterday?” He couldn’t see them anywhere.

“I sent them to be washed. Where are the others? You have more, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lord—but they’re probably still wet.”

Arman’s brow creased into puzzlement. “All of them? How can all your clothes be wet?”

“Um...Mykis wanted me to be clean. I had to keep washing them.”

Arman threw the pencil he was holding down on the desk. “So, in addition to beating you, and starving you, he expected you to appear spotlessly clean. How...thorough of him.” Kei felt Arman’s disgust as he considered his steward. “Never mind, keep the robe. It’s not like you’ll be going anywhere today.”

“No, my lord. Is there something I can do to assist you?”

“I doubt...wait, you read and write?”

“Yes, of course, my lord.”

“Do you read Prijian?”

“No, I don’t know the letters.”

Arman said something quickly in his language, to which Kei could only give a puzzled look in answer. “And you don’t speak it well enough yet either. But you speak some, I believe.”

“Yes, a few phrases.”
Mostly insults.
Kei wondered if Arman wanted a demonstration.

Arman sighed. “So much for Her Serenity’s plan of you all learning our tongue. I need to see to that. There is a task I’d like carried out, but I don’t know if you’re up to sitting for a couple of hours.”

His backside hurt, but all his aches were tolerable so long as he wasn’t straining himself. “I’m fine, my lord. I’ve been enduring worse for some time.” Which earned him another piercing look as if the general thought he was being mocked. “I’d like to help you,” Kei added as meekly as he could.

“All right.” Arman took the tray and put it outside the room—on the floor or into a footman’s hands, Kei didn’t know—and then moved Kei’s chair closer to his desk, even giving him a cushion to sit on, which helped a good deal. All this kindness made him wary, as if he was being set up for even greater chastisement, but all he could detect from Arman was a faint distaste for the situation, and not a little genuine concern for Kei’s well-being. Of the former intense loathing that had clung to him like a cloud, Kei only sensed echoes. He supposed the man was putting the fact of his race aside, and trying to treat him like any other servant. Kei wanted to fit into that role and not remind Arman of his hate. It was much easier on both of them this way.

But it couldn’t be ignored for long. Arman described the task he had in mind. “There isn’t a decent Prijian-Darshianese dictionary which uses the Darshianese characters, not our phonetic representation. I’ve a feeling we’ll need such a thing soon, and if you’d like to make a start on one, it would help.”

Kei went still, his heart sinking. “My lord, can I ask why you might need such a thing?”

Arman’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Kei. “To read Darshianese documents and books, of course.”

“I can’t, my lord. You’re asking me to be a traitor.”

Kei braced himself for verbal abuse, or worse. From the look in Arman’s eyes and the emotions Kei sensed, there was a real risk he would be struck. But then Arman’s hands unclenched. “Yes, I can see how you would see it that way. In fact, it would make no difference to our campaign—only after. It would help in dealings when Darshek falls, but it won’t hasten that event.”

Kei looked down at his hands, gripped tightly in his lap. “Do I have your word it has no military implications?”

He heard a snort of anger and thought he had shattered the fragile truce. Long moments passed without a word from either of them, but then he heard a sigh, and risked lifting his eyes to the general’s. “I won’t swear by Lord Niko because I doubt that would carry any weight with you, but you have my word on my name and my mother’s memory. I surely don’t need to explain to you it’s hardly regular for a prisoner to insist on oaths from his captor.”

“I thought I was a hostage, my lord.”

“Don’t push me, Kei.” The chill in Arman’s voice made Kei’s hands sweaty with fear. The general glared at him for several painful moments. “I would never ask another man to betray his loyalties. I wouldn’t ever be able to trust them again if they did.”

“And do you trust me, my lord? I could badly mislead you on this project, if I so chose.”