Kei's Gift (45 page)

“No, they do care. At least,” Kei carefully amended that statement “General Arman did. He found out and sent orders the men be punished. Only...I suppose that order never got there, if Ai-Vinri was rescued so soon.”

“No, it probably didn’t but it still doesn’t eliminate the fact ten of our people were murdered,” Tiko said in a grim voice. “If what you say is right, I can see this presenting a problem for a rescue—they would probably kill the hostages before any force wins control of Utuk.”

Kei felt sick, his appetite now gone. “Yes,” he said dully. So close to safety, and yet his friends were still likely to die because no one could contact them.

“I’ll need to question this general. When will he be up to it?”

“Tomorrow, possibly. More likely the following day. He’s very ill, Tiko. I won’t allow him to be made worse.”

Tiko wasn’t irritated by his protectiveness, which was only what Kei would extend to any patient. “I’m not planning on doing that,” he said mildly. “But he’s a catch for us, that’s for sure. I’ll have our mind-speaker pass on to Darshek what you’ve said—perhaps you can give us some more information tomorrow when you’re less tired.”

“I’ll do what I can. What’s happening to the other Prijian prisoners?”

“They’re being kept in a camp outside the city. I believe there are still some wounded in the villages between here and Darshek, so we’ll collect them on the way north, but the others were marched away as soon as we captured them.”

“What will happen to them?”

“That’s up to the rulers of the Prij,” Tiko said with a shrug. “We don’t want to keep them longer than we need to, but we’re not sending them back to be put into battle against us again. If they stop this hostility, they can have their people back.”

Kei thought of the little he knew of the sovereign of Kuprij, and considered it unlikely the lives of her soldiers were high on her list of priorities. He started as Tiko touched his hand. “You’re falling asleep where you sit. Get some rest. You’ve done good work, Kei. These men were lucky you were here today.”

Kei got to his feet, wobbling only a little. He was nearly at the end of his energy, but he needed to do one more round of his patients. “Luck had little or nothing to do with it, Tiko.”

“There’s a bed for you in the barracks—”

“No, I’ll sleep in the infirmary. I might be needed.”

“Would the Prij be so devoted to Darshianese wounded, I wonder?” Tiko put his bowl and mug on the side to be washed.

“Probably not, but considering the state of their medicine, that’s no bad thing.”

Tiko clapped him on the shoulder and grinned, making Kei jump. “Pity we can’t wait for them all to die of bad physicians and save us the trouble of fighting them. I’ll say goodnight now—tell any of the men if there’s anything you need.”

Kei nodded, and walked out into the cold to go the short distance across the courtyard back to the infirmary. He was grateful in a way to be so tired. He’d been so busy, so absorbed in the surgery and treating the injured, that he’d been able to push away the multitude of emotions he’d felt from the hundreds of troops, Prijian and Darshianese, who were sheltered in the fort as he worked. Now he was too exhausted for his soul-touching gift to be more than a dim presence at the back of his mind. It had felt good, in fact, to be useful, doing what he was trained to do and what he loved to do. He hated the reason he’d been needed—but had he not been there, more men would have died outright than had done. The night would tell if that difference would be maintained.

The injured lay in long, orderly rows. Most were Prij—as he’d worked on the less seriously injured soldiers, he’d been told how Arman’s men, led by their general, had charged the Darshianese force in a suicidal rush. If the Darshianese had wanted to destroy them, it would have been easy. But the Darshianese archers had aimed for beasts, not men—a number of the injuries, Arman’s included, had been caused by their injured or dead animals falling, throwing their riders and trapping them. There were also sword thrusts, concussions and arrow wounds, certainly—the Darshianese had suffered more in that respect, although there had been no deaths and only two serious injuries. Once Arman had fallen, his men’s will to fight had died away as they found themselves completely surrounded. Kei was glad—he had no wish for these men’s deaths, whatever they thought of him or his kind.

Most of the patients were asleep. One or two shifted restlessly in pain, but didn’t wake as Kei passed them—they were all otherwise resting peacefully. Nev, the son of a healer same as Kei, was one of two soldiers in Tiko’s ranks acting as a medic. He sat on a stool by the side of Arman’s lieutenant, who’d taken a spear through his chest and who was the most gravely wounded of the survivors. “He’s stable.”

“Good. I think I stopped all the bleeding, but I might have missed something—keep an eye on his colour and his breathing and wake me if you think it’s worse.” The man was young and strong. There was still the risk of infection and lung fever, but if he could make it through tonight and the next day, he had a good chance.

Nev nodded. Kei moved to the cot where Arman lay. There was a campstool next to his bed too, and a lamp on a small table. Kei took it and held it close so he could see Arman more clearly. He looked pale, hardly surprising, and his mouth was drawn down as if he was in pain. Kei set the lamp aside and put his fingers on the pulse on Arman’s neck—it beat strongly, and since Arman didn’t react to his touch, he was probably deeply asleep. With the amount of pijn inside him, that wasn’t surprising. Even badly injured and bleeding internally Arman had fought hard against the drug which Kei needed to take effect before he could begin to repair Arman’s torn liver and broken ribs. Arman had come close to puncturing his lung in his struggles, but fortunately a combination of Kei’s reassurance and the pijn made him calm down. It had still been a close thing. He’d attended to the lieutenant first, having the graver injury, but when he’d finally turned back to Arman, he’d found his abdomen rigid, the man grey faced and sweating, barely at the edge of coherency. He had a broken leg too, which caused him agonies—but it wasn’t the leg that came close to killing him.

While Kei had worked to prepare him for surgery, Arman had called his name and Loke’s several times. Just as the pijn finally took hold, he had grabbed Kei’s shirt weakly. “Loke’s waiting,” he’d whispered, eyes glazing with pain and the drugs. It had sent a chill through Kei—surely Arman wasn’t that eager to die?

I’m sorry, Loke, you’ll have to wait a bit longer for your friend,
he thought grimly. He dipped a cloth in the pan of water sitting on the table, and wiped the sweat from Arman’s face—the infirmary was warm enough with the men and the stove at the end, but Arman was developing a slight fever. Kei hoped that wouldn’t become a major one. He checked the bandages were still clean, the drain was still in place and that his leg was resting correctly. There wasn’t any more he could do tonight.

Kei nearly passed out as he stood.
All right, that’s my limit
. He staggered to one of the empty cots and was asleep almost before his head touched the blankets.

~~~~~~~~

The fire in his belly was eating him, spreading to his leg in agonising flames that made him clench his fist and grit his teeth against it, afraid to scream because once he started, he wouldn’t stop. But then there was a mug at his lips, and a bitter cold liquid on his tongue which he swallowed because it was either that or choke. Not long after that, the roaring inferno of agony died down, and he felt a cool hand on his forehead, a gentle hold on his wrist. He opened his eyes. Wherever he was, was not well lit. But he wasn’t dead—not unless Lord Niko’s angels looked like Kei.

“Wait a moment—the pijn will work soon.”

Most of that made no sense, but he grunted to express a little of his pain and to show he was listening. He brought his hand up to the pain in his gut and met bandages. “Where...?”

“Fort Trejk. You’re a prisoner, but quite safe.”

Kei’s voice was gentle, his face calm but tired. He looked uninjured. Arman had confused memories of the man trying to calm him, and shouting orders to help him. “My men...where?”

Kei turned and wet a cloth, then he wiped Arman’s face. It felt good, which probably meant he had a fever. “Twenty-three died. We have fifteen here with you, injured but recovering. You and Lieutenant Vikis are the worst.”

“Vikis? Where?”

“Here. Don’t move, Arman. He’s asleep. He was speared in the chest, but I hope he’ll make it.”

He remembered his mount collapsing quite suddenly under him, and being trapped under the animal’s huge body, his crushed leg caught awkwardly in the stirrup and twisting agonisingly. After that, it was all confusing. A lot of pain, and some desperation at being captured instead of dying in battle. “Why are you here?”

“Because I was caught too.” There was a faint amusement in his voice. “Fortunately by friends.”

Arman hadn’t been, and he was probably still alive only because he was a valuable prisoner. But his men.... “Please, don’t kill the men.”

“The Darshianese don’t kill prisoners of war, general.” This was a new voice, coldly correct, someone older, he guessed. He grunted again as he tried to turn and see who it was. “Kei, is he up to being questioned?”

“Not yet, Tiko. He’s just woken up and is in pain.” Kei moved, then Arman saw the man behind him—clearly an officer by his demeanour, although he wore no uniform. Kei was in a defensive position as if he feared the officer would hurt Arman. “Can’t it wait?”

“For a while. General? General Arman?” The man sat down in the seat Kei had vacated. “I’m Captain Tiko.”

“Where are my men? What are you doing with them?” He kept a hand over the agony in his side, trying to fight the drowsiness from the drug

“They’re being sent north to Darshek. I assure you they’re being well treated. Kei is taking personal care of your injured, for which you should thank him because he’s under no obligation to do so, not for the Prij.”

“A healer heals,” he heard Kei snap. “Don’t imply I pick and choose, it’s dishonest.”

That’s my Kei,
Arman thought hazily.

Tiko blinked. “My apologies, healer. I only meant that with having been taken prisoner, you might not feel well-disposed to the Prij.”

“I would even treat Senator Mekus if he was in pain. Get on with it, Tiko, he needs to rest.”

Arman almost smiled. Kei sounded so well and normal. “And me? What of me?”

“You’ll rest until Kei judges you well enough to travel, and then the Rulers of Darshek wish to meet you. You’ll be treated with consideration, which I imagine is a novelty to you. The idea of prisoners being treated well, I mean.” Tiko’s voice was cold—he had no love of the Prij, for sure. Arman couldn’t blame him. “I’ll need to interrogate you later. You understand that?”

Arman nodded slightly. Tiko stood. “Then I’ll leave you to rest, or I’ll face our healer’s wrath. I would normally let you address your men before they left, but we can’t keep them here, and you’re in no state to make a speech. I can pass a message to them, if you like.”

Arman wasn’t sure what would be appropriate—he’d never had to address his men in defeat before. “Just...thank them for their courage, and wish them luck and the blessings of the gods. If you would,” he added, uncomfortably that he was at this man’s mercy.

“Yes, I will. I’ll call on you later.” Tiko said something quietly to Kei which Arman couldn’t hear, nor Kei’s response, before he walked away. Arman heard his voice a moment or two later further up the room.

Kei bent over him. “I need to change your bandages and check the drain.”

Arman let Kei’s gentle hands pick at him and move him—it hurt, but in a distant way which had to be the effect of this drug that he’d been given. “Will I die?”

Kei jerked upright and then scowled at him. “Absolutely
not
. Loke can have you when I’m finished with you and not before.”

Arman stared, wondering if Kei had any idea how that had sounded. “Then what’s wrong with me? Did I get a sword slash to my stomach?” He couldn’t remember it, and the armour should have protected him...they didn’t seem the type to cut open a prisoner for no reason.

“No, you were crushed by an urs beast. You suffered a torn liver and a lot of bruising internally, two broken ribs and a broken leg. You’ll be damn sore for a while, I’m afraid.”

Arman stared at him as he bent over to change the bandages. “You... did something? To my stomach?”

“I had to operate to repair the tear—you were bleeding to death. Nearly did bleed to death, actually. Good thing you’re such a strong bastard.”

“My lord,”
Arman nearly corrected, just to tease him. Then he realised what Kei was saying. “You said...you said before Loke needn’t have died...you could have saved him, really could have,” he whispered.
Gods, had Loke really died of ignorance?

Kei touched his hand. “Possibly—I don’t know. Even if I’d been there...please, don’t distress yourself.” He reached for the cloth again and wiped Arman’s face again. “Everything looks all right. How do you feel?”

“Like I was stepped on by an urs beast.”