Kei's Gift (75 page)

“My lord, those fourteen men have families and lives to return to. Keeping them here to protect me would be both futile and wrong.”

“And yet this is the man who took our people hostage and away from their homes, let some of them be killed, without a shred of conscience. You surprise me, general. Is anyone truly that honourable?”

Arman thought of Kei, and thought Kei was even more honourable than even this lordling could imagine. “All I can say is that I’ve been helped to understand a good many things, my lord. But if you don’t trust me, you don’t trust me. I’ve answered your question honestly—yes, I know I won’t be able to return to Kuprij while we are at war, or possibly at all. It doesn’t change my intention to assist you, if I can.”

“Hmmm. Well, then there’s the second difficulty. Once we show you our capabilities, you may decide we pose too great a threat to your people. How can we convince you that we don’t?”

Arman shrugged. He was tired and wanted this to be over. “I don’t know, my lord. It seems to me that I am the one with the most to lose if you reveal your secrets. All you have to do to keep your people safe is to kill me if you deem me too great a risk.”

Lord Meki looked genuinely horrified. “Kill a prisoner, general? We don’t even execute murderers.”

“No—but a murderer only kills one or two people. If I betrayed your city, thousands could die. Would die, make no mistake about that. If the Prij come into this city by force, instead of at your surrender, they’ll slaughter any who resist and many more besides. If I were to make that happen, you would regret your fine scruples in an instant, I assure you.”

“You make it sound like you prefer death to returning home, general.”

Arman sighed. “My lord, I’m very tired and my leg aches, so forgive me if I sound less enthusiastic than I might do. I’ve been travelling for weeks, with my fate uncertain this entire time. I’ve made an offer, a sincere one. I’ve made the difficulties plain to you, and you know what my limitations are. Could you not consult your peers over this? I don’t make policy for Darshian any more than I do for Her Serenity. If you don’t want to kill me, I accept you may have to incarcerate me—I accept whatever is deemed necessary because, in your position, I would do what I had to do as well. I want to bring your people home because it’s right to do so. But only you can make that possible.”

Lord Meki looked at him for the longest time. Arman sipped more of the juice and longed to put an end to this day. He longed to speak to Kei and say a proper farewell. Perhaps he should ask that as a condition of his cooperation—but that trivial approach would anger Kei.

Finally Lord Meki spoke. “Very well. I have been somewhat discourteous in not allowing you to rest, and it will take a little time to arrange matters. I have one question, an urgent one—how much time do we have?”

“Very little, my lord. The senate wanted the siege to be lifted even before I left—I’m surprised to see it still in place. Her Serenity could weary of the business at any moment, and at that moment, your people’s lives would be forfeit.”

Lord Meki nodded. “But if we assume she will continue for the immediate future, have you a date in mind which would be ideal for a rescue attempt?”

“What...? I have no idea what date it is. How long to the equinox?”

Lord Meki looked surprised, but then he went to his library and consulted what Arman assumed was a Darshianese almanac. “Two weeks and a day.”

“Then you have an opportunity around that time. I won’t give details until I have my assurances.”

“Very well.” He went to the wall and tugged on a long embroidered strip of material. Arman assumed it rang a bell somewhere—a similar system operated in the palace. “I appreciate your forthrightness, general. Please accept the hospitality of the Rulers this evening and refresh yourself. I’ll have a healer attend you shortly to check on your leg. I want to make sure this village lad who travelled with you did a proper job.”

“I doubt,” Arman said stiffly, annoyed at the slight to Kei’s reputation, “your finest physicians would have done a better job, my lord. He saved my life and many of my men.”

Lord Meki smiled. “Then I am glad for Darshian’s sake that he did. And your own, of course. Ah, Mijli,” he said to the young woman who had appeared at the door. “General Arman will be retiring to the rooms we’ve arranged—General, Mijli is one of the housekeepers here and will ensure you have whatever you need.”

Arman got to his feet and bowed. “Thank you, madam.” He picked up his walking stick. “My belongings?”

“Should be in your rooms, general. We had to search them, of course. If there’s anything we had to remove, it will be returned on your departure. We’ll meet in the morning. Good day.”

Outside the door, a small escort of soldiers awaited him. They walked ahead of and behind Arman and Mijli as he made his slow way along the corridor. She and one of the soldiers helped him climb the long wide stairs to the first floor, and then he was taken to a small suite of rooms at the end of the corridor. Mijli dismissed the soldiers and showed Arman where the facilities were, the bath and washroom, the earth closet, and the bedroom. The main room was a light airy office with a library of books—no use to him, unfortunately.

“General, there is a bell here should you need anything. I’ll have a meal sent up when you’re ready. Clothes are being prepared for you, but until then, I’ll have your present ones cleaned—I’m not sure they’ll stand much cleaning though,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the old trousers Arman was wearing. “While you’re in your own rooms, we’ve provided some loose shirts and over-robes. Not very dignified, but you’ll be comfortable. We weren’t expecting someone so...enormous,” she added with a smile.

“No, my height and size has been a problem all the way along. Thank you once again, madam.”

“Please call me Mijli, general. No one really likes to be called madam or sir in Darshian.”

Something no one had pointed out to him before. He wondered what offence he’d given. “Then please call me Arman, for I’m no longer a general, it seems, and certainly not in your army.”

“All right...Arman.” She went to a closet and pulled out his pack from the journey. “Your things are here—we took nothing away except the clothes to wash. If you leave your present ones in the washroom, I’ll have those cleaned too. When would you like your supper?”

He looked through the window and realised with shock that it was sunset—and he was very hungry. “Soon, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well. Lord Meki has given orders you’re not to be disturbed except at your request, and if you wish to speak to him at any time, he’s to be told immediately.”

“Thank you. Do the other Rulers live here too?”

Her open friendly expression suddenly closed off. “I’m sorry—I’ve been told not to answer any questions about anything not directly concerning your wellbeing, Arman.”

“I understand. I meant no harm, I was just curious.”

She smiled and the awkward moment was over. “I’ll have the food sent up then. Anything else?”

He shook his head and then she left him in peace. He hobbled over to a chair in front of the window, looking out to the sea. He’d hoped by now that he would know what was to happen to him, but of course they had to consult and plan and prepare. And he wasn’t, he had to admit, in the best frame of mind to understand what they may be planning to present to him. But now a lot of the anticipation and anxiety that had been sustaining him was gone, he felt exhausted. A little depressed too, because he really couldn’t see how he could bring Kei’s friends home. He wanted to—making Kei happy wasn’t his only, or even main reason for doing this, but he hoped it would help a little. Already he greatly missed his friend. He hoped Kei had been able to find Reji this night—and he wondered how long Kei would linger in Darshek once he did so. He had to consult people at the academy, he’d said. Arman had no idea how long this would take.

Gods
. He just remembered—Kei’s book was still in his pack. Ah, but then that would allow Arman to have it returned with a note, if it was permitted. He could at least say farewell in that way.

He laid the walking stick Kei had made for him across his knees. It was a fine bit of seasoned wood—Kei had spent some time selecting it from the carpenter’s workshop in Kislik, sanding it and cutting it to the right height himself in the workshop, and then spent the evenings by the fire as they camped for the night, polishing it. The night he’d declared Arman could trying walking a little distance, he’d handed it to Arman with an apology for it not being as good as it could be, but Arman had been delighted to have tangible evidence of Kei’s friendship and concern. Even now, as he rubbed his fingers along the silky grain, it was almost like rubbing his fingers down the long smooth length of Kei’s braid. He wished it was the real thing—he had touched Kei’s hair for the last time and regretted this was so, even though the day had to come sooner or later. He’d just not expected it to be quite this soon.

In the dying sunlight, he saw there was something carved under the curve of the handle. He couldn’t make it out, so he lit a lamp and brought the stick closer to examine the carving. It seemed to be Darshianese lettering and the carefully incised characters were unfamiliar to him. He was still trying to puzzle it out when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

A grey-haired man with a serious expression came in and bowed. “I’m Loti, general—a healer. Lord Meki sent me to check your leg and your general health.”

Loti asked him to undress while he lit several lamps around the room. “Ah, a bad injury then,” he said when he saw Arman’s scar. “What happened?” Arman briefly described his injuries as he understood them to be. Loti tsked at his being off crutches. “That’s negligent—your leg may not be healed yet, general.”

“The young physician in attendance for the journey was very cautious, I assure you. He’s a mind-mover, and checked my recovery at every stage. If he says my leg is healed, sir, then it’s healed.”

Loti blinked at his emphatic declaration. “A mind-mover who’s a healer? I didn’t know we had one of those. What’s his name?”

“Kei of Ai-Albon. He struck me as being a very capable and learned young man.”

Loti stared. “Not Keiji and Erte’s boy?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Good gods. I was at the academy with Erte—such a clever woman, and such a kind-hearted one. We exchanged many letters, and I was deeply sorry to hear of her death. But she never mentioned Kei was a mind-mover. Now...wait, yes, I think she said he was a soul-toucher. That’s right. I think you’re mistaken, general,” he said as he gentled probed Arman’s ribs.

“No, I certainly am not,” Arman said irritably. “He has both gifts, he said. He’s no liar—he demonstrated the mind-moving to me, and I had the other independently verified.”

“Truly? Two gifts? That’s almost unheard of. If that’s the case, to have had Erte’s son and such a gifted and clever healer as your personal attendant for your journey was indeed fortunate—this is a very serious wound you have taken.”

“I’m aware of that, and it was no fortune—Kei was one of the hostages. Through circumstance for which I can take no credit, he was placed in my charge as a servant. If any credit or fortune there be, it comes from his head, not mine.”

“Hmmm.” Loti looked at him seriously. “Whatever the reason, you’re truly a lucky man. You’ve healed extraordinarily well, and quickly. You still need to be cautious about the leg—I presume he told you?”

Arman almost grinned, remembering. “I was made to swear many oaths on the subject before he would consent to let me leave off the crutches, I assure you. Kei is almost ridiculously careful with his patients.”

Loti shook his head with a smile. “General, there’s no such thing as an over-careful healer, just over-impatient patients. But he’s given you excellent care and I’ll report as much to the Rulers. Do you feel well? Your digestion? Your sleep?”

“Other than being rather tired at the moment, I’m in perfect health, sir. I’m sadly out of shape from the inactivity, but that’s hardly anyone’s fault.”

“Never thought it was. Kei has you doing exercises, I presume?”

“Yes, and he was massaging the leg which helped.”

Loti nodded. “Yes, it would. We have a young woman training to be a healer who’s very good at such matters—I’ll arrange for her to attend you tomorrow. Do you have a robe or something to put on? I imagine you’ll want to bathe.”

Arman told him where the clothes were, and Loti helped him into it. “Don’t attempt to get into the bath on your own just yet. Mijli will arrange someone to assist you. You will need to be very careful for the next couple of weeks at least that you don’t slip and fall on that leg again.”

Arman agreed to the advice and Loti prepared to leave. “One moment, sir—I wonder if you can translate something for me?”

He pointed out the carving on the walking stick. Loti had trouble seeing it too but finally he nodded. “It says, I think, ‘For the golden one, from he who is a friend.’ Or lover possibly, but in this context one assumes friend. It can just mean ‘he or she who loves or is beloved’ rather than lover, but it’s a rather archaic character to use. I think the confusion is deliberate.”

Arman flushed. “‘Golden one?’”

“It’s a pun—golden can refer to the colour, so I assume it refers to your hair, but it can also mean favoured, beloved or bringer of joy.” Loti gave him a slightly mischievous smile. “Did you make a conquest of a carpenter?”