Kei's Gift (34 page)

He shook her. “Shut up,” he said in a low, threatening tone. “Stay here and care for him, and shut up or you will surely bring death on your head. I don’t care what you say to me, but your tongue will bring grief on your people. You’re all in danger now, so for the sake of whatever gods you hold dear, be
quiet
.” He stood up. “I’ll tell Karus where you are. You stay with Kei until I return. If anyone comes in, treat them with a damn sight more politeness than you’ve just shown me, or I won’t be able to protect you.”

He grabbed the note he’d written and stalked out of the room, his hands shaking with anger and worry. He thrust the note at one of the guards and told him to deliver it to Senator Mekus, telling the others to make sure no one went in or out of the office without his say so. He needed to find Blikus and report to him, but his thoughts were back in his room, on a friend who was no longer a friend, and an enemy who was not that either. Mekus had
no
idea what a damn shitty mess he’d made. Arman clenched his fists as he strode angrily through the palace corridors. Maybe one day the man would be forced to face the consequences of his acts, for a change.

Kei cried out as the pain in his head spiked. He couldn’t even see...but then cool, gentle hands on his forehead stole a little of the ache in his head, and it was the pain in his heart...that awful, ripping pain of loss and...then a void....

“Lie still, Kei.”

“Jena, the...deaths...make it stop...I keep feeling it.”

“I’m sorry...I can’t do anything...lie still and wait for the headache to ease.”

Her hands kept stroking his face, but all he wanted to do was curl up and wish the world to disappear. He’d never felt
anything
like that before and he couldn’t get the sensation to go away...he could still feel all the terror. “
Why?”

“Because the Prij are cowardly, evil thugs who have no sense of justice. I wish we’d never encountered them or learned of their existence.”

Kei agreed, although he was too heartsick to summon the anger Jena clearly felt, and which washed through him. “
Jena...stop...I can’t bear to feel your hate.”

She was silent for a moment, her hands stilling, and then the emotions he felt from her dropped away almost to nothing. She began the stroking of his face again. “
I’m sorry, I was so angry, I forgot to control it...but gods...Myri, Syra...all of them, all dead.”

“I know. How could they do that? We were
nothing
to that Mekus fellow. It was like putting down a sick urs beast, but without the mercy.”

“I want him to die.”

Kei forced his eyes open, gulped down the nausea this caused, and gripped her hands. “No! That makes us the same as them.”

Her eyes were full of angry tears. “They think we’re murderers anyway, or have you forgotten what Arman thinks of us?”

Arman.
“Where is he?”

“Who cares? He’s a vicious killer, and we were fools to think otherwise. Are they still going to force you to serve him?”

“Probably, the sovereign ordered it. Will you...go back to Karus? He’s not like...not Arman.

Her expression softened slightly. “
No, he’s not.”
“I can’t bear you being forced to work for that bastard.”

Kei didn’t know how he would stand it either, but not for the reasons Jena had. He was so...even her company made him ache inside. He wanted to be alone, but he was never alone any more, always supervised, under guard, being watched. He never wanted to feel the touch of another human soul as long as he lived.

“Can you help me sleep? I need to not feel anything for a while?”

“Of course.” She moved his head into her lap, and covered his eyes with her hand. “The pain might go in time.”

No, this time, he really didn’t think it would.

~~~~~~~~

Blikus was sympathetic to Arman’s carefully neutral complaints about the way the hostage executions had been handled and said he would speak to Her Serenity about them, but he had no interest in the personal impact on the Darshianese, any more than Arman would have done a few short months ago. Had
he
changed or had he just realised more of what was going on? When had the welfare of the hostages—not just those two he knew best—become of any concern to him?

Concern or not, the matter was over as far as Blikus was concerned, telling Arman to get his servant home and not to worry about returning for the celebrations. He would not be missed, and if he were, Blikus would make his excuses, he said. Arman thanked him. He still had to check whether the removal of the bodies and the survivors from the hall was going smoothly. It was—the corpses were gone, and the floor strewn with sawdust to soak up the blood. There were still thirty or so hostages sitting subdued and frightened in the hall, so he told Peyo to speed up getting them home. He wondered what the masters of the households to which they belonged would make of their servants’ tale, or if they would even care. Most likely the ones who had lost servants would complain about the inconvenience, and that would be it. Arman had few illusions about the other members of his class and their attitudes to those of lower rank.

He gave orders he wasn’t to be disturbed and entered his office quietly. Jena was sitting on the floor with Kei’s head in her lap—she gave him a fierce glare as he approached.

“How is he?”

“Much afflicted, thanks to you.”

“Jena...you’ve made your point. Kindly cease to speak to me in this manner in this office, or you’ll force me to have to take notice of it.”

She glared again, but when she stopped doing that, she looked more exhausted than anything. “I don’t want to wake him, but he can’t stay here.”

“Agreed, and you need to get back because Karus will worry.” He shook Kei’s shoulder gently. “Kei.”

She touched his face. “Wake up.”

Kei opened his eyes, and grimaced, shrinking from the touches of both of them. “Please...let me alone.”

“No one’s going to hurt you. I just want to get you home.”

“Home? We can go home?”

The sudden hope in Kei’s voice sent guilt through Arman. “No, I’m sorry—I meant my house. Can you stand?”

Kei nodded, but there were fresh tears in his eyes as he let Arman help him up. “I thought...I just want to go home.... Let me go, Arman, please.”

The soft plea came close to breaking Arman’s heart, but he could only shake his head. “I’m sorry, not yet. Soon, I promise.” Kei nodded, but tears spilled down his cheeks. Jena wiped them away for him.

Arman got him to sit, and Jena to fetch some more water. After a few moments, he seemed a little better. “Jena, I’ll arrange a calash for the three of us. Keep him awake, please.”

She nodded sullenly, and Arman left only long enough to send orders to the stables to have a jesig-drawn calash brought for him.

With Arman’s support, Kei walked to where the carriage was waiting. He no longer seemed to be about to faint, but was withdrawn and silent, responding in the briefest way to any questions. Arman felt strongly he wasn’t trying to be rude or slight him. It was as if he couldn’t bear to interact with anyone, even with Jena. The woman glared angrily at him all the way to Karus’s house—Arman couldn’t blame her, but he wished she realised the danger she put them all in. If word of her behaviour and her familiarity with Arman got back to Mekus, Arman wouldn’t put it past the senator to have her removed, possibly killed, as a bad influence. Mekus had the same attitude to the Darshianese he did to jesig breeding, which was that you culled the ballsy ones so the rest of the population was more tractable. Jena would be culled in an instant if Mekus saw her now.

It only took a few minutes to get her to Karus’s house, but before she left the carriage, Arman took her arm. “Please, I beg you, be gentle with him and don’t let him worry about Kei. I’ll tell him more but don’t take revenge on him for my sins.”

She shook him off. “Don’t worry,” she said coldly. “Vengeance is a Prijian habit, not mine. Take care you don’t add to
his
pain, my lord, for he suffers more than you can possibly imagine.” She leaned over and touched Kei’s face. Kei moved and opened his eyes, but said nothing to her, and almost didn’t seem to notice she was leaving. She left the vehicle without another word.

Gods
. How could Arman explain this to Karus? It was one thing to be quelling rebellions in south Darshian, decimating troublesome villages and towns to keep them under control. It was quite another to do so right under Karus’s nose, and to hurt those he called friend. His old tutor was no innocent, but he was no a military man either. Arman hoped Jena would be kinder to Karus than she was prepared to be to him.

To the curious looks of his footman, and a passing maid, Arman managed to get Kei back to his room, and made him lie on his pallet. “Is there anything that would help?”

Kei shook his head. “No, my lord.” He looked at Arman with miserable eyes. “I miss...I wish I could go home.”

Arman touched his shoulder. “I know, my friend, and I wish I could send you back.”

“You killed them,” Kei said, cringing away from his touch. “Like animals. You’re no friend.”

Hurt despite himself at the bitter words, Arman sat back on his heels. “As you wish it, then. Rest, stay here. I’ll see to what needs doing.”

Kei ignored him. Arman took off his armour and went to the library to keep out the man’s way. So it had come to this, at last. He wasn’t surprised—it was always likely their different positions would kill their friendship, if such it had been. But he regretted it more than he would have thought he would. For a brief time, the pain in his own heart had been eased a little, but now he was alone again. Even worse, another he respected and liked was suffering because of him. He wished he had not begun to care at all, but it was too late for that.

~~~~~~~~

Kei crept through the next few days, trying to avoid anyone and everything, a hole in his heart the size of his fist. Every whisper of emotion he felt from others, every voice he heard, was like broken glass ground into his mind. He felt exhausted just trying to get through each day, but his dreams made his sleep unrestful so he woke tired and in pain, mental and physical. He feared he was going mad, but there was no remedy, no ease, except avoidance.

Arman, to give him his due, did as much as he could to let him pursue that path of least resistance. He left him alone, and for the first two days, continued to have food and baths ordered as he had done while Kei was injured. But then he came to Kei one morning and said his wife had complained about her servants waiting on another whom she knew to be in perfect health—she had seen proof of that with her own eyes. She’d implied she would spread the word Kei was being kept as a pet more than a servant—and that was something Arman dared not risk in the current climate. He told Kei there was some bad feeling about the hostages coming to light, that their very existence and drain on the state was being questioned. Arman didn’t want to fuel that line of attack, he said.

So Kei returned to his duties, slipping like a ghost along the corridors of the big, soulless house, and avoiding all eye contact and conversation. Despite Arman’s repeated, stern injunctions to Mykis and the other servants, he couldn’t stop the comments, muttered and some not so muttered, nor the gestures, or the slowness of the response to Kei’s careful Prijian which forced him to repeat himself over and over to get what he needed so he could leave the kitchens. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the loathing and the jealousy emanating from the other servants, which felt as harsh and cruel as Mykis’s cane on his back, but which no ointment could numb.

Arman didn’t press him to return to Karus, for which he was thankful. Kei couldn’t even face Jena just now. Arman was being very thoughtful and kind, Kei had to admit, and felt the tug to respond to such concern, but every time he looked at Arman, he saw Myri and the others as they died, and his heart filled with hate and grief. He couldn’t bring himself to hate Arman himself—he could sense no malice in him to indicate what he’d done had been mere wanton cruelty—but he feared the way Arman’s sense of duty had overcome his decency so easily, and so Kei feared him too.

More than ever he wanted to leave Utuk and Kuprij, and return home, away from these harsh, cruel people and their unforgiving ‘justice’. The only hope he had was that familiar faces, and the kindness of his lover and sister, would fill the emptiness within him. For nothing else seemed to, and nothing else brought any ease. He would even welcome the fall of Darshek, if it brought him home soon, for he didn’t think he could live like this much longer.

He tried not to think of his medical kit—and the release from pain it held. He had sworn to himself long ago never to take that path because of what it would do to Myka and his friends. But with each day, and each renewed torment, that resolution became harder and harder to remember.