Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 11

  Karik flushed with pleasure. “Th-thanks, Risa. I ll-love it.”

  “I’m glad, Ka-chi. You have such nice hair, shame not to show it off a little.”

  “Very nice,” Pira agreed, as she tended to Kei’s battercakes. “Prettier than any girl’s.”

  This time, Karik’s flush was from embarrassment, but he only nodded as he drank his milk. It was clearly a day old, but still good. “Wuh-where do you g-get food?”

  “Buy it, you mean? From the market—Risa, you’ll be taking them down to show them all that this morning, won’t you? I have to be at the academy in an hour, but we can meet at the Rulers’ House at noon.”

  Risa nodded. “Of course. We don’t want to put you out.”

  “You’re not. You’re a most welcome addition to my routine. It’s a shame Arman’s so busy but he’s going to try and clear a day, and then we might be able to take a jesig cart out along the coastal cliffs.”

  Now that was something Karik really would like to do. He hoped Arman could manage it, but it sounded as if it was going to be difficult for him. “D-does he r-really huh-have a lot of cleaning to d-do?” Kei and Risa both stared at Karik in confusion. “He s-said he was a s-servant. Muh-Meis said they c-clean floors and th-things.”

  Kei covered his mouth, his glee-filled eyes telling Karik that he was trying to hold in riotous laughter. Risa chuckled while Pira started to explain. Kei held his hand up. “Oh gods, please let me be the one to tell Arman. Better, let me tell Lord Meki. No, Ka-chi,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “He’s not that kind of servant—I’d bet he wishes he was sometimes. He helps the Rulers with planning and negotiations, and he’s been working on the redesign of the harbour.”

  “But—”

  “Karik, Arman was making a joke at his own expense,” Risa said. “He’s not really a servant at all—he receives no salary, does it all purely for love.”

  “That’s right,” Kei said, nodding, “if I didn’t earn my keep, we’d be beggars.”

  Karik was now the one completely confused. “B-but....” He looked around the large kitchen, and at Pira. “You’re r-rich?”

  Kei laughed again. “Hardly. The house belongs to the state, and because of the work we both do here, we get an allowance for its upkeep and for some of our living expenses. Pira’s wage is paid by Lady Nera, since Lord Meki insisted we needed someone to help us manage our lives—”

  “Which you do,” Pira said severely.

  “Which we undoubtedly do,” Kei agreed without a shred of embarrassment. “Arman receives small gifts of food and books from the Rulers occasionally, and so do I from friends, but we’re not rich.”

  “I still think he should have a salary for all the work he does—every day, up at dawn, working until nightfall,” Pira said. “Not even Jen worked so hard...Jen was my husband,” she explained to Karik and Risa.

  “Maybe so,” Kei said, “but the Rulers receive no salary either. Arman was offered one, but refused. He said the house was enough, and I agree. We don’t starve, do we, Ma?”

  “Hardly,” she said, choosing that moment to set the first batch of battercakes down on the table, where they were pounced on immediately by Kei and Risa. “But the Rulers all have other sources of income. He doesn’t.”

  Was Karik only imagining that Kei’s bright smile darkened for a brief moment before he answered? “It’s how he wants it, and I agree. Anyway, Karik, Arman doesn’t clean the Rulers’ floors. He does polish these from time to time, which is a sight to see, I can tell you.”

  Karik nodded, now embarrassed at his misapprehension. He didn’t have long to enjoy his chagrin though, as Misek and Gyo came into the kitchen, obviously hungry and looking at the hot food like it was all that stood between them and total starvation. The topic of Arman’s working arrangements was buried under more birthday wishes, and discussion of what they would be doing that day. Kei only waited long enough to bolt down some battercakes with butter, to admire the rather fine box with a sliding, inlaid lid that Gyo and his father had made for Karik—“to keep stones and things in,” Gyo told him somewhat shyly—and to tell them to be sure to meet him at the Rulers’ House at noon, before he excused himself. “I’m teaching anatomy this morning,” he said by way of explanation, “and my students don’t like it when I’m late. I’ll see you in a few hours. Enjoy yourselves.” He gave Pira a quick kiss on the cheek and then he was off.

  Misek shook his head. “He never changes,” he said fondly. “So, Karik, what would you like to do this morning? We could go to the markets, or visit the public menagerie, or see the new herbarium.”

  Karik would really have liked to attend Kei’s anatomy class, actually, but unless he trained as a healer, he supposed he would never get the chance. He could tell which of the options Gyo wanted. “M-markets?”

  “Fine. That will let me get some of the things Pia wanted, and Ma. Risa, did you get a list from Jena?”

  “Jena, and Sira, and Myka....” Risa groaned. “I think they think I have nothing to do but visit the market stalls when I come up here.”

  Misek chuckled. “But you don’t, surely. I can get most of it, I think. We’re meeting Aito this afternoon, yes?”

  “Yes, I need to catch him before his ship sails.”

  “A ship?” Gyo said eagerly. “I’d really like to see a ship.”

  Risa frowned. “Not sure there’ll be time, not if Kei wants to take you around the academy after lunch—”

  “But uncle Risa, I’d rather see a ship than the academy.”

  There was an obvious solution to Karik’s mind. “Wuh-why don’t I s-stay with K-Kei, and you c-can g-go with your P-Pa?”

  “He’ll think I’m rude,” Gyo said sadly.

  “Nonsense, son, Kei won’t mind. He’s only trying to show you what you might be interested in. I’ll just tell him you’re to come with me, that’s all,” Misek said. “What about you, Karik? Academy or ship?”

  “Ac-academy.” He’d like to see a ship, but he’d longed to see where Kei taught medicine ever since he’d heard of the place.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Risa said with a chuckle. “Well, come on, lads, eat up. The city’s a big place, and I’ve got a long list of things to get for some very determined women.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  There were more people in the market than Karik had ever seen in his life—easily twice as many as were in the whole of Ai-Albon—and his head spun from the riot of colours and sounds and smells. Stallholders called out prices for the wares, people haggled fiercely over goods, and bells attached to some of the stalls rang sonorously in the breeze. Karik and Gyo kept close to the older men, who seemed utterly unfazed by the clamour. “I won’t be getting the main stores from here,” Risa explained as they moved through the throng. “But I can get a few speciality items, thread and dye for Ma, that kind of thing. Might be a good place to pick up a small gift for your mother and sister, Gyo.”

  Gyo nodded. Karik wondered what he could get his own Ma, or even if she would like something bought, not made by his own hand. He’d counted the coins Pa had given him—there were twenty rina, and two pikin. Enough to buy a couple of generous meals, Misek said, but not much more. He decided he would wait until later in the week before making a decision.

  Risa knew exactly where to go, and led them to a dark, crowded stall jammed between ones selling brightly coloured cloth. He stopped in front of one piled high with sacks of dye powder, and behind the elderly woman who seemed to be the owner, were long reels of thread and wool. She greeted Risa as an old friend. “Where’s Reji?”

  “Hurt himself,” Risa said, handing over his list to her. “Wira, this is my brother, Misek, his son Gyo, and his friend, Karik.”

  She said hello and then smiled at Karik, before saying something Karik completely failed to understand. He looked helplessly at Risa for help. Risa coughed. “Uh, Wira, Karik doesn’t speak Prijian. He’s actually Darshianese—Reji’s boy.”

  “What? With that colouring
?” She squinted at him. “You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m not. Wira, it’s Karik’s birthday and their first visit to Darshek, so if I could leave my list with you and collect it later this week, I’d be grateful.”

  “Of course. No offence meant, Risa. Karik, I didn’t mean to be rude. Wait a moment.” She rummaged around behind her counter and pulled something out with a small cry of triumph. “My daughter makes these. Put out your hand, young man.” Hesitantly he obeyed, and she fixed a small band around his wrist. When she was done, he looked at it—it was woven from very fine wool, and there was the image of a bird flying embroidered into the cloth. It had a simple metal clasp and a leather backing. “Do you like it?”

  “Y-yes. H-how m-much?” He hoped it wasn’t expensive, or if it was, that it wasn’t rude to refuse.

  “Oh, nothing, nothing—a birthday gift for you. It’s only a small thing, but the young people seem to like them. Handsome fellow like you should have some adornments, don’t you think?”

  Karik nodded and showed Gyo. “It’s great, Ka-chi! Pa, maybe Keira would like something like that?”

  “Perhaps, son, but there’s lots more to see. Risa?”

  “Yes. Wira, thanks for the gift, and I’ll be back in a couple of days. Boys?”

  “Th-thank you,” Karik said politely to the woman, who beamed at him. Then he followed the others as Risa led them further up the street.

  “Sorry about that, Karik. Most of the people in the market speak two or even three languages, and she was only being polite. You’d think the braid would give you away as one of our own, right, Mis?”

  “Yes. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I wuh-won’t,” Karik assured them, looking at the band again.

  “People can be rude to me too if I can get things like that,” Gyo said cheerfully and Karik laughed. It hadn’t been such a bad deal, certainly.

  They spent a couple of hours looking around the market and shops, boggling at the variety and the oddness of many of the goods for sale, and also doing a good bit of people-watching. The Andonese were the strangest things on display, Karik decided. The men looked so fierce and solemn, and their women so serious. They wore loose robes, rather than shirts and trousers, and the men covered their short black hair with leather caps, the women using heavy scarves to veil their own, even in the humid warmth of the sunny day. Some of the men had wispy beards, something neither Gyo nor Karik had ever seen. They spoke in a harsh, clipped language like the raucous sounds of krak-krak birds. Karik wondered what kind of environment produced such a language, and such people.

  The Andonese were far outnumbered by the Prij, who were both customers and traders. A good number lived permanently in Darshek, Misek said, and Wira wasn’t the only person to assume Karik spoke Prijian that morning. Risa gave up apologising, just shaking his head ruefully before explaining to whoever made the mistake. Karik didn’t mind really—he was more curious about the language itself which seemed a little like Darshianese in tone, but utterly unlike in the words. “Ri-Risa, do you sp-speak Prijian?”

  “A few words, no more. I don’t really need it, though I dare say by the time you lads are full-grown it would be useful if you ever came back here. You can see how many Prij are in the city—a lot more than even when I first came up four years ago. Kei said he’s had to polish up what he learned in the war.”

  “Is it hard to learn?” Gyo asked as they made their way towards the far end of the market, heading to what Risa said was the banking area of the city.

  “I don’t think so—depends on how much you want to, and what you’ll use it for. Personally, I’m more than happy not to deal with the Prij direct,” he added darkly.

  There were fewer people at this end of the marketplace, but it was still crowded. This was the area for selling fruit and herbs, and business was brisk. Risa bought them each a pale yellow fruit which he said was called a quilo and came from the south. Karik bit into his cautiously. It had a soft skin, slightly bitter, but inside it was deliciously sweet with an edge of tartness. It had a hard stone at its centre, and when he finished eating, he carefully wrapped the seed and that from Gyo’s fruit in his handkerchief. When he got home, he would try to grow it.

  As he stowed his prize, a movement caught his eye—a tall Prijian boy at the stall in front of them, paying for some fruit. What had caught Karik’s attention was a green lizard sitting on his shoulder, with a little chain around its neck. “Look,” he whispered to Gyo, pointing.

  “Why doesn’t it run away? I’ve never seen a lizard like that before.”

  Karik stared in fascination. The lizard was bright green with a yellow tail, and seemed quite happy to perch on a shoulder as if it was just a cloth-covered rock. At that point, the boy turned, saw Karik watching, and gave him a wink and a big smile. He called something quickly in what Karik now knew to be Prijian, picked up the fruit and then strode off without a backward glance.

  Karik looked at Gyo, who shrugged. “Come on, lads,” Risa called impatiently, walking on.

  Karik hurried to catch up with the others, but the image of the strange boy, his bright smile and the pretty lizard stayed with him all morning.

  ~~~~~~~~

  By noon, Karik was glad to stop. Risa had shown them all the imposing buildings in Darshek, they’d walked past the public menagerie and the herbarium and the performance arenas and the theatre and been promised a return visit to see inside each of them, had a long cool drink of fruit juice bought from a vendor, and been jostled by thousands of busy people—or so it felt.

  Their route took them back to the Rulers’ House where they were expected, and asked politely to wait. Karik was happy to sit—his feet were killing him. Besides, there were things to see even in this reception hall. The floor was inlaid with different coloured woods, making a picture of a mountain range—the Kislik range, he realised after studying it carefully. The walls were painted white, with many paintings hung on them—portraits, landscapes, even just a few smaller ones of flowers and birds. He could have happily spent all day looking at them, but it was obvious Misek and Risa thought he should sit quietly with them and not wander off.

  A few minutes later Kei came in. “Ah, sorry, I got chatting to Bikel and forgot the time. Does Arman know you’re here?”

  “She said she would wait until you arrived,” Risa said, nodding at the clerk.

  “So she should, yes. Meris, can you tell Arman I’ve arrived?”

  She nodded. “Of course, Kei.” She walked off down one of the halls that Karik could see extending from the reception area.

  “So, have you had fun? Seen everything? Worn the soles off your boots yet?” he added, tugging at Gyo’s braid.

  “I’m tired, Kei,” Gyo said. “So many people.”

  “Yes, it’s a bit overwhelming, I know. But it’s only the centre of the city that’s really crowded. Out on the edges, towards the farms, it’s a lot more civilised. Most of the Rulers have their homes there, rather than here. Except for Lord Meki of course.”

  “Ah, I thought I could hear you chattering,” Arman said, smiling as he walked across to them, then greeted his lover with a kiss. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “Just long enough for the lads to get their breath back,” Misek said. “They’re suffering from a little Darshekitis.”

  “That’s what happens when village meets city,” Kei explained with a grin. “Right, I’m starving. What have you laid on for us?”

  “For you, nothing. For our guests, a fine feast. Come this way.”

  He took them out to the back of the building to a long verandah, where a table was set with a fine cloth and delicate pottery plates. As they sat down, two men brought trays of food to them—cold cooked fish, something Karik had never tasted before, soup, bread, sliced cooked vegetables, and a bowl of quilo fruit. There were also some curious pastries, similar to those they had seen in the market. Karik’s mouth watered—he was hungry.

  “I hope this is all right—it’s
the kind of lunch we give visiting officials from Kuprij,” Arman said, breaking open a roll and spreading butter on it. “We have to leave the cheese out if it’s for the Andonese, of course.” Karik wondered why, but couldn’t find the courage to ask.

  “It’s fine and you know it,” Kei said. “Remind me to thank Lord Meki when I see him.”

  “And thank him for me too, Arman,” Misek added. “Well, don’t sit there staring, Gyo. It won’t bite you.”

  Gyo grinned before applying himself enthusiastically to the food.

  Karik was more circumspect. Arman looked at him in a way that made him very nervous, and he was terribly afraid of appearing clumsy or rude. He let the others describe their morning to Kei, who told them more about things going on in the city at that moment, and urged Arman to describe the work he was doing to make the harbour safer and deeper, with better docking facilities for the cargo ships. Karik was fascinated by it all and happy to listen. No one seemed to mind he didn’t join in, although Kei looked at him a few times as if to encourage him to speak up. Arman didn’t talk to him at all, although not in a way that made it seem he was ignoring Karik—more that Misek and Risa and Gyo had his full attention.

  The food was delicious, although the fish took a little getting used to—the bread was the lightest he’d ever eaten, and the cheese, made from lemul milk, so Kei told them, tasted very different from ordinary cheese, but he decided he rather liked it. He wondered what lemuls looked like, and why they weren’t raised on the plains. He’d have to ask Kei later.

  Finally, once they had devoured the wonderful pastries and eaten more quilo fruit, Arman wiped his lips and then pushed his plate away. “Well, enjoyable as this has been, I really do have to go back and do some work. Karik, I’ve got your birthday gift, if you’d like to come with me to collect it.”

  “A g-gift?” Karik had rather thought the meal had been that—but then the Rulers had provided it. Then he caught Kei’s look and realised Arman wanted to have that talk.