Kei's Gift Page 18

  The water had been delivered, as had the food, and the floor was dry. At first Arman couldn’t see Kei, but then he found him kneeling in the corner, clearly trying to keep out of the way of any further abuse. He remembered Kei now—barely—from the journey across the mountains. The man had always appeared composed—Arman recalled now he seemed to have been one of the leaders among the hostages. He certainly had never shown any fear Arman had ever seen—but now he looked terrified of his own shadow.

  Arman was ashamed to see it, conscious he was in no small part responsible for things coming to this state. He had wanted the Darshianese dead—but he couldn’t stomach pointless cruelty or torture, and certainly had never wanted this to happen. Punishment should fit the crime. This man had done nothing but cross the path of an evil bitch and her petty-minded servants.

  He crouched in front of Kei. The only way to deal with this was to forget what he was, and treat him as Arman would treat anyone else in his charge who had been mishandled thus. “There’s food, will you eat?” He held out his hand, but Kei backed away from it. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  “You hate me. You hate us all,” Kei whispered, his eyes downcast. “You let them do this.”

  That jabbed directly at Arman’s pride, but he knew why Kei would think this. “No, I did not and I do not. I have expressly forbidden anyone to lay a finger on you. I have...no love for your race, it is true.” He drew a breath. He had always believed in fairness and justice, and this was neither fair nor just. “But this is not how we treat our servants. At least, it is not how I treat my servants.”

  Kei lifted his head. Now there was a faint anger in his expression, a small spark even of pride. “Prijian hospitality.”

  “No. Prijian cruelty, for which I apologise.” Kei’s eyes widened in surprise. “Please, you should eat.” Arman put his hand out again, and Kei accepted it with a shaking one of his own, biting off a small cry as the movement tugged his injured back. “I’m sorry, just move slowly.” Kei nodded as Arman helped him to the table. “Now eat. You’ll eat the same food as I do in future, and I want to know if you do not.”

  “But...I have to work...with them?”

  “No. From now on, you work for me and no one else. Understand?” Kei nodded. “Good lad. I’ll see if I can put my hands on some liniment.... What?”

  “My box...I have ointment which is good for bruises.”

  “Box? Oh, that thing. All right, I’ll fetch it. Eat, I’ll return soon. No one will disturb you.”

  Kei nodded again, and Arman left to get this box of his from the library case. The liniment would be best, but the man looked too fragile to argue with, and perhaps a homemade remedy would ease his mind. It would take more than that to ease Arman’s mind, though.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Kei didn’t know where to start with the rich food. His hunger was almost greater than the pain in his back and his astonishment at the abrupt change in attitude of the general. He broke off a bit of bread and dipped it into the soup, wondering if this was one of his food dreams, where the dishes would be whisked away just as he got the stuff to his lips. His hand shook as he brought the food to his mouth, and when he tasted it, it actually entered his mouth and he could swallow it, tears ran down his cheeks in relief. He was so hungry.

  The first few bites disappeared in no time, but his eager greediness made him choke, forcing him to stop and drink some of the wine. He wiped his mouth with trembling fingers, still not sure if this was real or not. He picked up the spoon and sipped the excellent meat broth, making himself eat slowly despite his starvation, not wanting to be sick and stretch Arman’s sudden generosity too far. His master’s odd behaviour was most likely down to shock, and perhaps anger at his servants, more than any feeling for Kei’s well-being, but Kei was willing to accept whatever mercy he could in the circumstances.

  Gods, his back was on fire—he was glad he couldn’t see it, but the bruising had to be severe. Mykis had hit him so hard and with so much bad temper, Kei was honestly afraid he would be killed. Then he’d hoped he would be killed, just so the beating would stop. He still didn’t know how he had carried the bucket from the taproom.

  Feeling less frayed and dizzy with every mouthful, he finished the soup, and then tried the cheese, which wasn’t anything special, but tasted like the finest batch Myka had ever made in her life. He was still finishing his food when the door opened—he couldn’t hold back his flinch, but he relaxed slightly when he saw it was only his master with his box of equipment and medications in his hands.

  “It’s in here?”

  “Yes, my lord. There’s a pot of ointment, sealed with wax...but I can’t—” He bit his lip. The general’s kindness wouldn’t extend to dressing his wounds. “I forgot,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

  Arman put the box on the desk. “What are you talking about, Kei? You need me to put it on you, that’s obvious. Have you finished eating?”

  “Yes.” He hadn’t quite, but he wouldn’t try the general’s temper.

  “Then take off your shirt and lie on your pallet.”

  “Yes, my lord.” He needed help again to get his shirt off—he would be useless the following day, possibly longer. He wondered if Arman realised that.

  With a quiet groan, he lowered himself to his pallet and lay face down. “My lord, the ointment will stain if you get it on your clothes.”

  “My damn clothes aren’t of any concern to me. Lie still.” Kei felt his braid gently moved out of the way, and then he jerked at the cold touch of the ointment. “Does that hurt?”

  “No, my lord. It’s just a little cold.”

  Arman’s fingers were surprisingly skilled and gentle as they spread the salve, causing Kei only a little unavoidable pain, well worth it for the relief the numbing ointment brought. “This stuff actually seems to stop sensation,” the general said wonderingly. “What’s in it?”

  “Reduced sap of the chuo plant, mixed with boiled tido palm oil,” Kei explained simply.

  “It really works. How was this discovered?”

  Kei twisted his head. Arman was looking at his fingers, no doubt puzzled by the tingling the cream caused. “My father was experimenting with various plant saps for their antiseptic and other properties, and found the chuo sap had numbing powers.”

  Arman looked at him in evident surprise. “Experimenting? You mean, not witchcraft?”

  Kei laughed a little despite his weariness and pain. “No, my lord. My father discovered a great many new drugs and treatments but there was no magic involved.”

  “Hmmm. Kei, this bruising goes below your belt—does it extend much below?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it does.”

  “Then loosen your trousers—no, take them off.” With help, Kei obeyed, and Arman hissed in a breath. “Why did you say nothing? This is a serious injury—you could have been crippled.”

  Kei twisted to look at him again. “To whom should I have complained, my lord?”

  “To me, you damn fool!”

  “To the man who thinks we’re all murdering scum, and who has treated me like an ignorant slave for weeks?”

  The room was suddenly very quiet, and Kei realised he had let his weakness and his resentment get the better of him. He had gone too far. But to his surprise, Arman simply applied the ointment to his lower back and buttocks, with the same gentle touch as before. “I would not treat a dog thus. Loke...would be distressed to see this.” He heard the lid of the ointment jar being replaced. “Your people killed Loke. You killed my friend.” Now Kei felt the faint echoes of Arman’s anger, overlain by fresh, intense grief.

  Kei could not move easily so he could only turn a little to look at Arman, now lost in his sorrow. “My lord,” he said gently. “I can’t bring your friend back to life though I wish I had that power to ease your pain. His death was a crime, and the man who killed him committed a wrong, no matter what the provocation. But we’re not all criminals, any more than all Prij are
cruel.”

  Arman stared down at his ointment-covered fingers for a moment, then lifted his eyes to Kei’s. “You don’t know how it hurts.”

  “No, my lord. I only know what my own sorrows feel like, and imagine your own based on that.” He reached out a tentative hand to Arman’s and when it wasn’t rebuffed, he gently squeezed his fingers. “But I know his worth was great, to have been loved so deeply. I’m sorry any of my people were responsible for that loss. I’m sorry for your grief. Deeply sorry, my lord.”

  Arman let him hold his fingers for a moment or two, then gently pushed them away. “You need to rest,” he said, his voice devoid of the emotions Kei felt surging inside him. “You have no duties until you are healed, and then I’ll find some better occupation for you than digging drains.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  Kei couldn’t reach his blankets, but decided the pain of having them on the welts on his back would be far worse than feeling a little chilled so he didn’t even try to get to them. But then, to his surprise, he felt something soft laid over him. “The sheet will be easier,” Arman said gruffly, before settling the blankets over his back.

  Kei could only murmur his thanks again. Arman had taken the sheet from his own bed and laid it over his enemy. Kei couldn’t have been more astonished, but he had no energy to be astonished for long. The relief from pain the ointment gave him, and having a full belly for the first time in weeks, all made sleep irresistible. He stopped trying to resist, and was tugged under in a matter of moments.

  ~~~~~~~~

  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.

  Chapter : Utuk 5

  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. “N
o, 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—”