Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Page 21

  Karik nodded. It was the same approach he’d adopted on the boat. “Wuh-where will Arman stay?”

  “In the embassy, if he wants, though he has family here still. His brother is a senator, did he tell you that? That’s the other factor—Arman’s family are also powerful in their own right. I’ve met his brother. He’s a good man, an intelligent one. I know Arman himself is in bad odour, but that family have influence and if I know him, he’ll use it to your advantage. So, you see, we have many, many strings to our bow, and many arrows to fire before our quiver is empty.”

  His words should have given Karik hope, and they helped a little, but he knew nothing of power and government, or how such things were done, so they were mostly meaningless. In his world, people did things for the common good and for their families, and that was it. No one in Ai-Albon would kidnap another person’s child, or separate mother and son. That level of spite, of evil, was simply beyond his experience. He wished it would remain that way.

  Inexorably, time passed. Yuko left him to have a wash and to comb his hair carefully. He was glad his new clasp and all his other birthday gifts were safe in Darshek. He didn’t want these Prij to get their hands on the least of his things, the precious reminders of the people who loved him.

  By the time he’d tied off his hair, Yuko had returned with the housekeeper who had his cleaned clothes. They were still warm from the oven against which they had been dried, and as he dressed in the clothes Sira had made for him, he straightened his back. He was Darshianese, a man of Ai-Albon, and he would meet this Mekus that way.

  Yuko seemed to notice his resolve, and nodded with approval. “You look fine, lad. Are you ready to go? I can give you another half hour, if you need it.”

  “No. I’m r-ready now.”

  Yuko put a hand on his shoulder and led him downstairs. The embassy was busy, to Karik’s surprise—they started early just as they did in the village. Yuko spoke to a woman who then left, presumably to arrange their transport. “I’m going to ask for you to be allowed to stay here, Karik, but there’s no real prospect of that request being granted. I’ll ask you to cooperate with them in every way, but you don’t need to offer them more than that. If they ask you about more than the affairs in your village, then plead ignorance. In fact, if you want to come across as pleasant but stupid, I won’t do anything to interfere.”

  Same advice as his parents had given him, more or less. “I c-can look very s-stupid,” Karik said, attempting humour.

  Yuko appreciated the attempt. “No doubt, though you are far from it, I know. Mekus has a low opinion of the Darshianese—I suggest you pander to that expectation. But claim ignorance rather than lie outright, if you can. Lie if you have to, but it would be better to avoid it. It could come back on you—and us. Ah, there’s the carriage.” He made a minute adjustment to Karik’s shirt, then nodded. “You’ll do well.”

  The short ride was conducted in silence, and Karik’s previous calm deserted him. Everywhere, there were Prij and he looked in vain for familiar faces, familiar skin and hair. It was all so alien, so different from Darshek, which had not been like the village but yet retained a feeling of being Darshianese. Here, the buildings were all the wrong shape, the wrong height—the wrong materials. The trees were oddly formal, and everywhere were jesigs, rather than urs beasts. Even though his natural curiosity urged him to savour these new sights and sounds, they were just another reminder of what was happening.

  Yuko noticed his discomfort and took his hand discreetly, holding it even as they were admitted through the gates of the palace. There were soldiers everywhere, and the palace was huge, all stone and metal. It looked big enough to swallow Ai-Albon whole.

  They dismounted and were greeted by an official wearing long blue robes. Yuko bowed politely and Karik carefully imitated him. The official spoke only in Prijian and Yuko didn’t pass on the conversation, instead telling Karik to follow them as they went into the palace.

  More soldiers. Gold and bright paint everywhere, stone floors instead of wood or tiles, high ceilings he had to lean back to see. It was nothing at all like the Rulers’ House which somehow managed to seem welcoming as well as imposing. This place told the visitor they were lowly beings and could be crushed anytime the ruler of this domain wished it. It made him shiver just walking along the corridors.

  They were made to wait a good while in a heavily ornamented chamber, something Karik thought was odd, but Yuko leaned over after a few minutes and whispered, “He always does this. It’s to show he’s more important than us.”

  How charming. Formal manners weren’t much valued by the Darshianese, but courtesy was. The Prij were different. Or at least, this Prij was.

  They were kept waiting for what felt like nearly an hour, although it was probably not as long as that, before a man came and summoned them to the inner room. There, an elderly man with a sour set to his features, greeted Yuko from behind a desk—but did not rise to do so. Yuko bowed again and spoke in Prijian, waiting until he had a reply before indicating Karik. “The lad speaks none of your language, senator. I beg your indulgence in continuing in Darshianese.” The man indicated agreement with an impatient wave of his hand. “Thank you. Senator, this is Karik, of Ai-Albon. Son of Reji and Jena of Ai-Albon.”

  “Supposed son, you mean,” the man said. “Sit down, ambassador.”

  Yuko led Karik over to the chairs and indicated he should sit. Karik already disliked this Prij—he had no reason to be so rude.

  The senator looked at him, and Karik tried not to appear nervous. “So you claim your mother is Sei Mayl, I understand. Speak up, boy.”

  Karik stared, then shook his head. It was a lie but if he didn’t actually say the words....

  The senator made an annoyed sound. “Ambassador, you’re not continuing this pretence you don’t know this boy’s parents?”

  “With respect, Senator Mekus, I really have no knowledge of Karik’s parents other than what I’ve told you. He himself doesn’t know their identity. He’s been raised by two Darshianese citizens and under our law and by our customs, he’s as Darshianese as I am.”

  “Is that so?” the senator said heavily, before clicking his fingers. His assistant slipped out of the room. “The physical evidence suggests otherwise, ambassador, and it seems the boy’s ignorance of his parentage may not be as deep as you say.”

  The door opened again. Karik turned and nearly fell out of his chair when he realised the ship’s captain had come into the room. Jembis was behind him, and to Karik’s sorrow, someone had obviously been taking out a considerable temper on him. He smiled at the older boy to show him a little support. Jembis smiled back, his swollen mouth twisting the expression—it looked very painful, but the senator gave them very little time to look at each other. He snapped something at the captain, who bowed and gave an answer.

  “The captain says you told him and another sailor that your mother’s name was Sei Mayl. What do you say to that, boy?”

  Karik forced himself to stay calm. “H-he’s muh-mistaken.”

  Mekus made a noise of disgust. “Strange mistake to make.”

  “Excuse me, Senator, but my son heard it too and was told more by the two boys.”

  Mekus turned his attention to Jembis. “Well, boy? What did this one tell you about his family?”

  “Not much, sir. He said he was from Ai-Albon and his parents lived there.”

  The captain let fly an oath and raised a fist to his son, grabbing his collar and shaking. “Tell him the truth, you damn bastard! Tell him what you told me!”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Father. Karik’s from Darshian, I told you that.”

  “You little cur! What about telling me about General Arman?”

  “Who?”

  That earned Jembis a vicious blow which sent him crashing into the wall. “Senator!” Yuko cried, as horrified as Karik was. “Stop this, I beg you!”

  Mekus snapped something at the captain, who subsided. Karik started to move toward
s Jembis, but Yuko put a restraining hand on his shoulder, giving him a warning look, so Karik could only wait for Jembis to recover without help. He seemed a little dazed by the blow, but he eventually managed to give Karik a cheeky, albeit crooked smile. Karik admired his courage, if not his commonsense. He understood the depth of Jembis’s sacrifice, that he had done his best to atone for his crime, and forgave him on the spot for his mistakes. It had taken real bravery to lie, knowing what would happen to him.

  “Get the boy out of here, captain. This is a complete waste of my time.” The captain pulled his son up by his shirt and pushed him ahead of him.

  “Good luck, Karik!” Jembis called as he was shoved through the door. He was gone before Karik could reply.

  Yuko gave Karik a quick, sympathetic glance. “Well, senator, it seems the question of Karik’s parentage is as I said it was. Sei Arman is on his way and he should be able to clarify matters, but until then, it would perhaps be convenient for all concerned if Karik stayed at the embassy?”

  “I’m sure you would think that, ambassador Yuko, but her Serenity has ordered that the boy stays here. He’s clearly a Prijian child, and therefore no concern of the Darshianese. As to whether Sei Arman can or cannot clarify matters, remains to be seen,” he added with a sneer. “Karik, you are now a ward of her Serenity, under my care.”

  Karik could only nod, shocked, even with Yuko’s warning, at the turn of events. “We would still respectfully request that we have regular contact with Karik, for the sake of his adoptive parents.”

  “An illegal adoption with no standing in Kuprij gives no one any rights. You’ll receive reports, ambassador. I hope you don’t mean to imply any harm would come to a child in my charge.”

  Yuko bowed his head respectfully. “Of course not, senator. However, the legality of the adoption aside, he has friends and people who love him, who are naturally anxious for word of him. I know Lord Meki would count it a personal favour if you were to allow us to receive it.”

  “Hmph, as if I care for Lord Meki’s regard. I’ll consider it, ambassador, but for now, our business is concluded. Does the boy have any other belongings?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. Karik, you’ve heard Senator Mekus. You’ll be well treated. Sei Arman will be here in a week’s time and I’m sure this will be sorted out then,” Yuko said, using his eyes to try and give Karik some reassurance. Karik could only nod. “Very well. Thank you for your time, senator, and I will be in contact again. Farewell, Karik. We’ll meet again soon.”

  Mekus waved his hand in dismissal, and the assistant led Yuko out. Karik tried not to fidget under Mekus’s hard gaze. “Are you aware, boy, that lying to a senator in his official capacity is a criminal offence in Kuprij? I could have your tongue torn out for what you just did.”

  Karik swallowed, but said nothing. Mekus snorted. “Not prepared to risk that now, I see. Your lies are pointless, boy. You’re the very image of your mother, and I know perfectly well you’re my wife’s son. However, it’s unimportant what you say or don’t say. You’re to come to my house and be educated.”

  “E-educated?” He couldn’t help his voice squeaking a little.

  “Yes, educated. Taught a proper language, given some decent manners. We’ll get you out of those outlandish clothes too. Your father will have to admit we’ve improved you by the time he sees you.”

  “My f-father?”

  Mekus sneered unpleasantly. “Oh, stop the pretence, boy. When Sei Arman gets here, he’ll want you back, but her serenity has no intention of letting one of her subjects go into that traitor’s hands.”

  Karik stared in shock. “Ah-Ah...?”

  “Are you half-witted, boy? Spit it out!”

  Karik gulped and tried to control his breathing. “Ah-Arman? Is my fuh-fuh-father?”

  “Oh, good gods. Do you really think...?” His eyes narrowed. “No, you really didn’t know, did you? How...interesting. Sei Arman was my wife’s first husband. You’re his son—obviously not one he valued very much if he sent you off to be raised by heathens. Perhaps you might think yourself fortunate after all, boy, that fate has brought you back home. At least we want our children at our side. We don’t cast them off so we can go screwing our bumboys in peace and quiet.”

  Karik felt his chest getting tight. “I-I....” He gaped at the man. “N-no. It’s not tr-true.”

  “Are you calling me a liar, you wretched youth?” Mekus’s voice was close to a shout, and Karik remembered his parents’ warnings about not provoking the man.

  “N-no, sir. I’m s-sorry.”

  Mekus glared. “You’d better not. It’s also a criminal offence to slander a senator. It’s a matter of public record, your parentage. It’s useless to deny your identity, boy. If you have no parents, then you are a ward of state automatically, and handed over to be cared for by the authorities. Better to claim the kin you have than to be a charity case, let me warn you. Now, get up. I’m going to take you to meet your mother. Treat her with respect, or you’ll be flogged. I’ll not have my wife’s name smeared by her brat or her faithless former husband.”

  Still reeling from the revelation, Karik obeyed Mekus’s snapped instructions to follow him. Once more he was led through the palace, the object of curious and unfriendly stares. Mekus paid no attention to him at all, sweeping ahead of him as if he’d forgotten he had a companion at all. Everyone they encountered bowed low as the senator passed. Mekus really was a powerful man—and a terrifyingly callous one. The way he had been completely unmoved by Jembis’s treatment had revolted Karik. Mekus seemed to have no human feelings at all, and Karik despaired at the idea of being in his hands for weeks, possibly months. But was it any better that apparently his only hope of salvation lay with a man—a father—who had rejected him and then lied to him? Could he trust Arman at all now? How many people knew the truth? He couldn’t believe his parents did—how could they allow Arman to cast him off like he had? No, he must have lied to them too. It made him sick, to be betrayed by someone he’d been brought up to respect and admire. It was possible Mekus was lying, but Karik could think of no motive for him to do so.

  Dispirited and depressed, he trudged obediently after Mekus and his swirling robes, and was led outside the palace again, where a finely made and brightly polished carriage waited for them. It was harnessed to two midnight black jesigs, and even to Karik’s inexperienced eye, they looked both well-bred and expensive. Mekus was someone with wealth as well as power, but who lacked happiness. He hadn’t smiled once in the time Karik had been with him.

  He was ordered to mount, and then Mekus snapped an order out to the driver. During the whole journey, he stared at Karik with an unpleasant expression, as if Karik was a piece of urs shit that had somehow managed to stain the immaculate interior of the carriage. Karik wondered if Mekus hated him particularly, or whether he treated everyone this way—after all, he’d been scarcely more pleasant to the ambassador, who was both polite and inoffensive. And for some reason, Karik’s mother had married this man after having been married to Arman—two men more different in personality and behaviour, he couldn’t imagine.

  But then, he didn’t really know Arman at all. Perhaps Arman just seemed to be polite and considerate, but did that mean he had fooled Kei or did Kei know the truth about him? That even Kei could be deceived was just one more thing to make him feel hopeless about the situation.

  The journey wasn’t very long, and took them to what was obviously the residential part of the city, on a low hill with views down to the palace and further onto the harbour. The carriage drew up on a drive in front of a house almost as big as the palace itself. Servants ran out to take charge of the carriage and to assist the senator down from it. Mekus continued to ignore Karik and stalked into the house, the doors opened by invisible hands. Karik trailed after the man—the house swallowed him up as he entered it.

  It was lavishly decorated as the palace had been, with scenes of hunting and sea battles on the floors and walls. He wasn’t given a
moment to stop and examine the inlays as they moved quickly down a long corridor. A servant opened another door, and Karik followed the senator into a dark room with wide doors opening out onto a garden. Mekus was clearly greeting someone, but the contrast between the room and the sunlight garden made it hard at first to see who he was speaking to. Then Karik saw her lying on a long chair. “This is Sei Mayl, boy. Your mother. Show some respect!” Mekus barked.

  Karik hastily bowed, but then couldn’t tear his eyes off the woman who now stood to greet him. She was beautiful. Dressed in pure white, pale blonde hair piled in curls on her head, she looked like an angel, someone from the spirit world sent to speak to him. She held out her hands and, dazed, Karik took them, accepting the brief kiss on his cheeks she gave him. She said something and he looked to Mekus for a translation. “Your mother welcomes you. She says it is a miracle you have finally come home to her.”

  His mother smiled, and led him over to the chair on which she had been sitting. Mekus continued to translate her words. “She wants to know if you are well, and would you like something to eat or drink?”

  “N-no. No, th-thank you.”

  She patted his hand, but then to his dismay, a tear ran down her cheek, even as she smiled. “Wh-why is she crying?”

  Mekus snorted. “Well, why wouldn’t she cry, boy? That traitor Arman tore you from her bosom while you were still suckling at the breast, and she’s had no word of you in sixteen years. He cast her aside, divorced her, all so he could carry on an affair with that Darshianese man. Her fault was simply not to excite his desire once she had become pregnant. Do you know nothing of a mother’s love that you can’t understand her pain?”

  Karik stared at his mother, now holding his hands. She was really lovely. Not a young woman, but her soft, pale skin was so perfect. His Ma—Jena’s—face was brown and weathered, and already had lines around her eyes. But his...mother’s...was like that of a girl’s. “I’m s-sorry. I...I d-didn’t know.”