Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 2

  “Wait. Please, Romi.”

  With ill-concealed impatience, Romi let Daiso pull him to a stop with a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you knew...I want a family. I want children. Everyone does.”

  “Yes, but some of us don’t have that option and never will. Does that make me unimportant to you?”

  “No, of course not. I still think of you as my best friend. I...I wanted you to come to my wedding, actually.”

  Romi stared in disbelief at Daiso’s hopeful expression. “I’m not going to be here,” he said coldly. “I’m going to Andon for a year.”

  “A year? Why?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Don’t be like that. It’s not like I don’t care about you at all—”

  Romi cut him off. “I’m sorry, but I expect honesty from my friends and my lovers too.”

  Daiso looked down. “I’m sorry too,” he said quietly. “I wish...well, it’s too late for that. Be safe, Romi. I want you to be happy.”

  Romi paused, his anger abating a little, and not wanting this to end in an uncivilised way, since there was just no retrieving it. “That’s what I want for you too, Dai. I hope you and Catli find joy in your child.”

  “Thank you. I hope you find someone who can give you what you want one day. I’m sorry it wasn’t me. I really am.”

  Just then, with his eyes looking sad, and perhaps a little hopeful that things could be mended one day between them, Daiso looked as wonderful and kind and desirable as ever. Romi made himself stop wishing for what could never be. “Just forget it, Dai.”

  He walked off without looking back, wanting to hate Daiso and failing entirely. The heart had no logic about it, and if Daiso didn’t love him, then there was nothing Romi could do about it, except move on with his own life.

  Daiso had been right about one thing, though—he should have known how important having children was to his lover. Stupid, blind, deluded.... Of course Daiso wanted a family. Of course Romi wouldn’t be his partner for life. Romi was male, and worse than that, he was infertile. No one wanted an infertile partner. Lover, yes. Partner—no.

  He’d let himself be blinded because he loved Daiso, and now he had nothing, not even the friendship. Well, this had to be a lesson he learned properly this time. No more normal lovers. He couldn’t offer what they wanted. He was twenty-five, old enough to know better several times over. And now he did.

  Staying Power: 2

  Karik jumped as a hand descended on his shoulder. “Careful, my dear boy. You’re easily spooked.”

  He grinned at his visitor as he took a seat next to him at the table. “Oh, Soza, I was just caught up in this paper by Semeke. Have you seen it?”

  “Master Jezinke told me about it this morning, yes. I was planning to read it later. But I’ve got news about the Andon mission—the army have managed to find us seven more potential recruits. They’ll all be here in four days.”

  Karik laid his pencil down. “Seven—that’s wonderful. Even if we have to send half away, with the personnel we can get in Darshek, and the people in Tsikiugui, that will be all we need. Do we know how good they are?”

  Soza reached into his pocket and drew out a piece of paper. “Let’s see—they’re all Army trained so far as the language is concerned. One spent nearly a year in Andon, two others have been there for a month only, but have other field experience. Three are medics, another is a surveyor, and the others have experience in or knowledge of the physical sciences. There’s one who’s got no scientific background but fills all the other criteria—he’s the one with the most time in Andon. So I’d say they’re about as good as we could hope for.”

  “The scientific background isn’t as important as the field knowledge,” Karik said. “I really feel this will be a success, Soza.”

  “Well, we hope. Quite a feather in our caps if it is.”

  Karik flushed. “I just want to see what’s up there. I’ve always wanted to explore Andon, and Kei’s certain we’ll find a good many useful plants.”

  “I’m sure he’s right. I know the panacea is out there, waiting to be found. All that we need is the will to find it.”

  “If anyone can, you can,” Karik said with feeling. Soza was the best plant taxonomist in Darshian, and he surely would be able to determine what was new and useful in the flora of Andon. He had no field experience, but Soza’s skill lay in distinguishing the subtle distinctions between very similar looking samples that might make the difference between a totally useless plant or mould, and the much-needed cure-all that was Soza’s life’s ambition to find. The discovery by Prijian lens makers of the very tiny organisms that lived on the surface of so many living things and in every drop of water, had set the scientific community alight, and new ideas about the origins of illness were proposed all the time now. Soza wasn’t alone in thinking that there was a single drug that would eradicate infections of all kinds—it was currently the hot theory among healers, though uncle Kei was less convinced of it. Personally, Karik thought it was more important to just keep finding the new plants and drugs and investigating them, but so long as the research continued, the underlying theory was not so crucial.

  “Ah, well, we’ll see. Master Jezinke wanted to see you when you were free, but no hurry.”

  Karik nodded and stood, pushing Semeke’s paper over to Soza. “I’ll go up there now. Here, you may as well have a look at this. It’s fascinating, what he’s saying.”

  “So Jezinke told me, though I wish Semeke was a bit more assiduous in acknowledging other people’s contribution to his ideas,” Soza said, looking slightly peevish. “He spent quite a lot of time talking to me about this species distribution but he merely thanks me for assistance without explaining just how much I did for him. It doesn’t inspire confidence. I hope that’s not a habit you intend to follow, young Karik.”

  “No, Soza. I know I know nothing.”

  Soza smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’ve learned a good deal here in six months. If we had you another year, who knows, you might be master one day yourself.”

  “No thanks, I prefer being out in the field. Besides, everyone knows who’s the natural successor to Master Jezinke.” Soza looked pleased at what was only Karik’s honest opinion. “I’ll find you later in the dining hall, if you’re not busy.”

  “Of course not. It would be a pleasure, as always.”

  Karik bowed a little and then left. Soza always had time for him, which was amazing really considering he was just a student and Soza was one of the most senior researchers at the academy. Karik considered himself fortunate to have such a clever mentor, and had tried to learn all he could from him during his stay here.

  A stay which was coming to an end, however, and while he was excited and eager to begin the Andon mission, part of him was sorry to be leaving Urshek. Of course he was homesick for the north and his family, but Master Jezinke was such a brilliant man, and the scholarship to study with him had been a wonderful opportunity. He just hoped the Rulers in Darshek would consider it money well spent when he returned.

  He knocked and waited for Master Jezinke’s summons, then entered, making the bow with his arm crossed over his chest as was polite. The master repeated the gesture. “Ah, sit down, Karik. I didn’t mean you to rush up to see me.”

  “It’s all right, Master Jezinke, I’d finished what I was doing.” They were speaking Andonese, of course. Master Jezinke spoke Darshianese quite well, but there was no doubt he preferred his native tongue for conversation, and Karik wanted to practice as much as he could before they left. “What did you want to see me about?”

  “Well, these were just delivered and I wanted to have the pleasure of giving you them in person.” He handed over a small bundle of printed papers to Karik. As he recognised what it was, he smiled, and ran his fingers along the title at the top—Some notes on the herbaceous products of Gidei. He’d spent three months in the southwestern plains just before coming to Ursh
ek, and the master had urged him to write up his discoveries himself, instead of leaving it for one of the academicians to do it for him. “I thought you’d be pleased. I hoped they would come before you had to leave. Now you will be able to hand Master Kei copies of your first scientific paper in person, not to mention carrying them to Andon for their civic library. It’s excellent work, Karik. If you wanted, you could stay and do much more in the same line.”

  “Thank you, Master Jezinke. I just feel there’s more exploring I want to do before I get too old to manage it.”

  The master chuckled, stroking his long, straggling beard as he often did when he was amused. “You have many years before that happens, my boy, unlike some of us. I’d say I envied you going back to my homeland, but it’s not virtuous to lie. My bones appreciate the warmth of the south too much.”

  “I’m used to the cold, Master Jezinke. I like it.”

  “Oh, not like this, Karik. Spit and it’ll freeze in mid-air, at least in the far north in mid-winter, not that you’ll be there then, thank the merciful god. Soza tells me you’ve had a good response to your call for military assistance.”

  “Yes, it looks like. It will be up to Lord Arman and Master Kei to make the decision. And Soza, of course,” he added assiduously, since Soza was the scientific leader of this expedition.

  “Yes, wise heads, all three, and if it goes well, I hope more such expeditions will be carried out. Andon is a large and mysterious land, and its treasures are vast, though its people are few. The more we learn about it, the better, and since thanks to men like you, we now know so much about Darshian, it’s right that science turns its attention to the far reaches of Periter.”

  “Yes, agreed. My uncles were hoping you might come up at least as far as Darshek in advance of our departure.”

  “I confess I was sorely tempted, Karik, but there is so much to do here, there always is. There’s perhaps a chance of persuading them to come to Urshek.”

  Privately, Karik thought that was even more unlikely than Master Jezinke being able to find the time to travel north—now Kei had finally been made Master of the academy, he and Arman were both busier than ever. Still, Karik expressed polite agreement with the master’s wish. “Are there other things you wish me to take to Master Kei for you?”

  “Only my good wishes, my boy. I believe we both have all the books we could desire, and I’m up to date with papers. No, what I want to get my hands on is the collected material you’ll send back. I don’t think Soza can sleep for excitement, thinking about what he will be able to make of it all. He fancies he will make quite a name for himself with this, and I dare say he will, as will you.”

  “I don’t care about that, Master Jezinke. But the exploration will be wonderful.”

  Master Jezinke shook his head. “Ah, the enthusiasm of youth. Well, you’d better make the best of the time you have left to you. You’ll find a sad lack of libraries in the wilds of my country, I’m sorry to say.”

  “I’m sure there will be other compensations, Master.”

  He bowed politely and left, clutching his paper close to him. It was only a minor monograph, but he was still pleased with it. It had been harder to write than he’d thought, needing to bear in mind the wider audience for which it was intended instead of it just being a report for Kei and the other researchers who knew him personally. Soza had declared it well done, and so had Master Jezinke. Karik hoped Kei would think so too. In two weeks, he’d find out for himself, and in another six, he would be in Andon for the first time. It would be, he knew full well, the adventure of a lifetime, and he could hardly wait to start on it.

  ~~~~~~~~

  His official orders issued, and his travel allowance pocketed, Romi had been free to leave Temshek barracks the day after his return from the field and he’d departed as soon as he was released. It usually took two days to reach the capital travelling at best speed, but he chose to dawdle, not wanting to spend more time in Urshek than he had to since he found it rather charmless. At the same time, he wanted to get away from Daiso, and even the kind concern of friends like Eto. There was precious little solitude in the army and he wanted time to consider where his life was going, something he’d thought he had settled once and for all once he’d decided to join the army at seventeen, rejecting the future his brothers had chosen, working on the family farm. He’d longed to see what there was in the world, and the idea of working the same acres of land, seeing the same people every day for the rest of his life, had seemed like a living death. Joining the army had let him travel, given him opportunities to learn many new skills, to prove himself and had been a decision he’d never regretted. The army had been very good to him, though the world beyond the barracks had not been so kind.

  He spent the four days it took to reach Urshek, thinking hard about love and Daiso and what he wanted from his future. Children wouldn’t be part of it, however much it hurt bitterly to accept that. He’d never really thought he would have to give up on love too, but the more he thought, the more he had to accept that unpleasant truth as well. Gifted men and women were rare, and scattered widely across the population. The chances of finding another who was free and willing and attractive and attracted.... It was most likely hopeless. But better to accept that than to waste his affections on another like Daiso. The same thing had happened with Kera, three years ago—she’d set him aside to marry too. Every gifted person he’d ever met had similar tales to tell. One or two had been lucky enough to find a lover who would be faithful to them—most just survived on a diet of casual affairs and friends who they could sleep with from time to time. Romi thought he’d be one of the lucky ones, once he’d met Daiso. But no, he was just a stepping-stone to wedlock with another, fertile person.

  Well, no more. If he could not have what every normal person took for granted, he would not stoop to being second best, or mere practice, not for anyone. He had his pride, he had his career, and henceforth, he would fuck who he wanted where he wanted without conscience or commitment. He had companions aplenty in the barracks. All he really needed from anyone else was sexual relief, and he’d rather pay for that than sell his dignity.

  With that resolution made, he headed to the port side of the city, Urshek-si, determined to find precisely that relief. Welcome houses were peculiar to Darshian, he’d discovered in his travels—a combination of a brothel and an inn, managed by the women (and one or two men) themselves, selling bed and board and comfort to sailors, traders and soldiers without family or lovers in the place where they broke their travels. They were far more common in the south than in the north, though Darshek had at least two welcome houses down by the docks. The Andonese had no long tradition of inns, and those they had were poor. Brothels were officially illegal in Tsikiugui, though they certainly existed, and Romi had heard they flourished in the northern capital of Visiqe, which was legendary for its decadence—at least by Andonese standards. The Prij had both brothels and inns, but apparently never thought to bring the two together, which was all of a piece with their rather odd and prudish attitude to sex in general.

  Personally, he found the welcome houses a very civilised institution for the single traveller, and since it looked like he was to remain such for the rest of his life, it was as well they existed for his convenience. It had been over a year since he’d last been in Urshek, and even longer since he’d availed himself of the welcome girls’ charms since, unlike Daiso, he believed in such old-fashioned ideas as fidelity. Now, there was no scruple stopping him. He wasn’t due to report for duty at the barracks until the next day, and if he wanted to spend his own coin on his own pleasure and lodging, the army didn’t care. So he stabled his beast at one of the smaller inns, and asked if Kori still had her rooms there. To his delight, she did, so he paid for the night’s accommodation, and went upstairs.

  She didn’t remember him at first, which hardly surprised him since it had been easily two years since he’d seen her. But when he reminded her that he’d been there before, and asked aft
er her son, Miku, she clapped her hands with pleasure. “Oh, yes, I remember now. You’re a soldier, and you’d just got back from Andon.”

  He took her hands and kissed her cheek. “Yes, and I’m on my way back there for a few months, so I’m looking for a little fun and relaxation before I go.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I think we’ll be able to manage that. But first, a bath and a meal. You look in need of both.”

  And that was one of the things he liked most about Kori. She understood the importance of the simple comforts in life.

  Not that this was her only talent, he thought drowsily, lying with her in his arms, sated and relaxed. She wasn’t a beauty or a great intellect. But she was a kind woman and a generous lover, with simple, uncomplicated needs. Someone who would make a good partner for someone, and indeed she already had. Kori was a widow whose five-year-old son was downstairs with Kori’s mother right now. If she followed the pattern of most welcome girls, she would eventually find another husband or lover and leave the work, although one or two continued with their partner’s blessing. It was rare though—there was no shame to being a welcome girl, but lovers traditionally didn’t like to share. Unless of course, they didn’t know they were doing so.

  Kori shifted in her sleep and muttered. Romi found he was holding her a little too tightly as his thoughts drifted, despite his best intentions, back to Daiso, and he let go, kissing her temple in apology though she hadn’t woken at all. Daiso was also kind and generous, but unlike Kori, he was also well read and had a sharp wit. Romi missed his conversation even more than he missed their lovemaking. But unlike Daiso, Kori had not an ounce of deceit about her. Perhaps he should offer to marry her himself. An honest heart was to be prized, even if the conversation might be a little lacking at times.

  But even in the depths of his bitterness, he couldn’t deceive himself. He wanted more from life, and he wasn’t someone who could be happy with compromise. He wanted the best, or he wanted nothing. Kori was someone’s ideal wife or lover, but not his. He kissed her again, again in apology. He wished her well, and hoped she would remember him kindly. He couldn’t really offer more than that.