Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 3

  He departed before she woke, as he usually did, leaving her a gift of scented oil he’d bought on the way to Urshek for just this purpose, and a small extra sum of money, with a note to say it was to buy her son something he might need. The stable lad yawned as he opened up and brought Romi’s beast to him. Romi gave him a tip for his trouble as well. Then he saddled up and rode the short distance to the barracks, where he presented his credentials to the quartermaster, who was rather put out by his late arrival. “Cutting it fine, aren’t you, lieutenant? The others have been here two days.”

  Romi shrugged. “I had leave, and I couldn’t see the point in sitting around in barracks. I’m here now—or have I missed something?”

  “No, not really. The fellow from the academy is coming here this afternoon to give the lot of you a briefing, then you’ll board the ship at sunset. The Darshek army are provisioning the expedition, I suppose your colonel told you that.”

  “Yes, he just said to take my normal kit.”

  The quartermaster nodded. “They seem very organised. Hardly like a civilian mission at all. Make yourself known to the duty sergeant and he’ll introduce you to the others.”

  Though it was early, the barracks were already busy, with squads performing drills, animals being led out of the stables as soldiers left for their morning patrols of the city, and those not on early duty, heading for their breakfast in the canteen. When Romi found the sergeant, the man told him his travelling companions were eating, and took him across to meet them.

  To his surprise, he recognised two of them instantly. “Kepi! Taz! Gods, it’s good to see you!”

  His friends jumped up and enthusiastically shook his hand. “Damn, Romi, I knew as soon as I heard about this, you’d be up for it,” Kepi said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  The sergeant, seeing he could make his own introductions, just told him to stay in the barracks. He’d be summoned to meet the scientists some time in the afternoon, though just when, he wasn’t sure. “The Rulers have sent around some books and papers for you all to read, should you want to bone up on Andon,” he said, then left them to it.

  Romi excused himself only long enough to grab some tea, smoked meat and bread before coming back to the table where the other six prospective expeditioneers were eating. Kepi insisted he sat next to him. “I see you got your promotion—I knew you would. I really hoped you’d be in on this. “

  “I’m just surprised to see you here, Kepi. Doesn’t Sera mind you being away so long again?” He felt a kick against his left boot, and glanced to the side to see Taz frowning. “Ah...something happened?”

  “Sera and I divorced,” Kepi said quietly, looking down at his mug. “She, uh, found someone else while I was in Utuk. She remarried last year and moved north with him.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry,” Romi said, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. He’d not seen Kepi since they’d got back from Andon, but after Romi had come back from Utuk, Kepi’s unit had been sent to Kuplik, helping the Prij restore order after the assassination of their sovereign. It wasn’t uncommon for partners to stray while their lovers were in the field or on foreign duty, but it still hurt, as he knew only too well.

  “It happens,” Kepi said with a shrug. “But that answers your question—no one cares that I’m going off to Andon for a year. And you?”

  “Same here. No attachments, no commitments. Just how I want it.” Kepi grunted in agreement. “I’m looking forward to this, aren’t you? Taz, what about you?”

  “Yes, I am. Not sure about the civilian component, though.”

  One of the other soldiers, a corporal, spoke up. “I heard they were sending a Prij with us on this too.”

  “Really? From where?”

  “No idea—I just heard it in passing. We’ll find out more this afternoon. I’m Jou, by the way.”

  Introductions were quickly made, and Romi briefly explained his background to those men who didn’t know him, and the others did the same. It seemed a good team. Jou, her friend Sibu and a quiet fellow called Netu were all medics. Kepi was a weapon-maker, Taz and Reisa were both surveyors. The army was surrendering some very qualified people for this expedition. “I understand we still have to jump through the hoops in Darshek.”

  “It’s that Prijian Ruler—Lord Arman,” Taz said. “He’s a real perfectionist, I hear. My colonel said he hand-picked the north Darshian troops for this himself, and he’ll approve each of us personally.”

  “What about Lord Jiv? Is he involved?”

  Taz shook his head. “Not that I heard. Can’t say I’m all that keen to have a civilian making judgements about my ability.”

  Romi looked at him, astonished at his ignorance. “Taz, that man’s a former general in the Prijian army. Didn’t they teach you fellows any history when you were inducted?” Taz was just twenty, so the war was before his time, but gods, he’d have thought he’d have made some enquiry about who was running this.

  “Not just any general either—the general,” Kepi added. “The one who led the Prijian campaign against the north in the war, and he was in charge of things here during the occupation for a while too. Not that this is a recommendation, necessarily. If he’s that rusty, maybe he’s not the best judge of things any more.”

  “He was good enough to advise the Andonese on that sea barrier that they built,” Romi said. “Don’t you remember them telling us about the Darshek rulers who came to help with that? Lord Arman was one of the Rulers involved.”

  Kepi looked impressed. “Ah, yes, I do recall that, now you mention it.”

  Taz just shrugged. “Oh, well, so long as they have properly trained and experienced people coming with us, I don’t suppose it matters who’s picking them. We’ll see soon enough.”

  The rest of the meal was spent exchanging gossip and speculating on exactly how long they would be away for. The plan was for them to travel north so they could explore the mountainous regions during the short summer, and be on their way back south before deep winter set in. Andon was a sparsely populated country, with vast, unexplored territories. Unlike the Darshian plains, the land was changeable and dangerous, with high mountain ranges which had permanent glaciers, unimaginably deep lakes as wide as small seas, many swift-flowing rivers, wild volcanic regions, and even a huge and uninhabited cold desert at its heart. Even a mission as ambitious as this one would barely scratch the surface of what Andon could offer. If it went well, Romi wouldn’t be at all surprised if more were planned. If it went badly...but then Romi hadn’t got to be a lieutenant by the age of twenty-four by dwelling on the negatives.

  He was glad to know Lord Arman was a perfectionist. Far better to have a man like that in charge than someone slapdash and without a care to the quality of the personnel involved. The Prij were prickly about honour and personal reputations. If Lord Arman bore responsibility for the success of this mission, then he’d do his utmost to make sure the chosen team reflected well on his abilities.

  Taz’s ignorance of Lord Arman’s unusual background surprised Romi, but if there was a failing in his military colleagues, it was a lack of curiosity and unwillingness to investigate outside their strict area of authority. If crime was involved, most soldiers he’d worked with were tireless in seeking out the facts and hunting down the perpetrator. But ask them about the history of their own country, let alone that of any others, and most of the common soldiers, at least, would look at him as if he’d grown horns. The officers were different, naturally, as they were obliged to study such things if they were to pass their exams. But even then, there was often very little interest in the subject itself, unless they had ambitions to rise through the ranks quickly, or to leave the army and join the public administration, as many did.

  Perhaps this mission would open up their minds. He was in favour of men under his charge thinking outside their usual parameters, and he did what he could to encourage imaginative and logical thinking. There was a limit to what he or anyone could achieve though—he wasn’t their
teacher or their father. It was up to each soldier to improve his or herself.

  Speaking of which, he wanted to look at the material the sergeant said he had in his office. He finished his tea, collected his things and stood. “I’m going to look at the books on Andon—anyone else interested?” He wasn’t surprised no one was. He told them he’d be in the officers’ recreation room, and left in search of the sergeant.

  There was a lot of material to read, but it was disappointingly uninformative. He’d already read the report by Lords Arman and Jiv on the Andonese coastal system, and there was nothing new in the rest of the papers on that. There were several books on Andonese history and government—likewise, he’d read them before, multiple times in fact. There was an up-to-date but hardly comprehensive map of the areas of Andon surveyed during the time he’d been up there and since, which was interesting, but again, not much use. The rest were highly technical papers on mineral, geological and plant products. He got on a little better with the papers on rocks and minerals, since he’d spent so much time talking to the geologists the previous year on the Treyk Range survey. But the plant papers left him bewildered. Part of it was that he couldn’t follow the technical naming system at all, and part of it was that the author of many of the papers, one Soza, had a very dry and esoteric style and a way of forming his arguments which Romi found simply incomprehensible.

  He put the papers down in disgust. This wouldn’t do—he needed to know how these people spoke to each other if he was to help them with their work. He collected the papers and books and returned them to the sergeant.

  “Any use?”

  “Not much. I need to see if there’s a reference on plant naming that I can look up quickly. Don’t want to let the civilians make me look like an idiot. Do you think the civic library would have such a thing?”

  “No idea, lieutenant. Are you proposing to leave the barracks? The captain wanted you lot to stick together so we didn’t have to roust you up to get on board ship.”

  “I’ll clear it with him but I only want to make a quick visit to the library this morning. It’s hours to noon, I won’t be long.”

  The sergeant looked dubious. “Well, if he clears it.... As for the book, I honestly have no idea. You know where the library is, over by the main square? You could ask. Can’t see why you’d bother, myself.”

  No, he probably couldn’t, and even Romi thought he was being rather zealous. But then, he had hours to kill and no better employment, so why not?

  The captain readily gave his agreement, since Romi was an officer and hardly likely to run off on an excursion to delay himself, and even went so far as to pen a short note requesting all assistance be given to him, as if he were on an official investigation—he had to wonder what on earth the librarians would think of that. Still, it would ensure cooperation if there was any hesitation in giving it, so Romi pocketed the note, saluted and went in search of enlightenment.

  The main square was a good half mile from the barracks, and walking along the streets reminded Romi why he was glad to be stationed in provincial Temshek. Urshek sprawled, unbounded by sea and precious farmland as Darshek was, or mountains like Utuk. The inrush of refugees from the brutal Prijian uprising had led to new buildings to house them, he noted, and most looked cramped and hastily constructed. The roads were crowded with beasts, jesigs and vehicles of all kinds, and he was very grateful not to have to police this mess, nor the large and mixed population which filled the city to bursting point. Still, the large population meant there were many facilities denied him in Temshek, of which the library was one.

  It was a huge building, and already very busy with people of all kinds reading, asking for help or talking very quietly to each other, but he was still greeted politely and offered every assistance by the staff. Unfortunately, they had nothing for him. “The only place that would have something like that would be the academy,” he was told. “Since it’s official business, I’m sure they’d help you. It’s across the square—just ask for their library.”

  Feeling just a little foolish at persisting with this—it wasn’t as if he was wanted for his non-existent scientific credentials—nonetheless, Romi thanked the librarian and went across to the academy, a large, dark stone building with a newish-looking dome adorning the roof.

  The harried clerk at the reception read the captain’s note impatiently, and waved him down a north corridor to find the library. “Ask, someone will help you,” she said, and then turned to deal with the next visitor. Romi left her to it.

  Like the civic library, this place was also bustling, and very confusingly laid out. Despite his excellent sense of direction in the field, he had none of the clues inside the building to discover where he was going, and so very quickly became lost.

  He saw a young Prij coming towards him. “Excuse me,” he asked in Prijian. “Could you tell me where the library is?”

  “Certainly. I’m on my way there myself, let me take you.”

  Romi had been going entirely the wrong way, so he turned and fell in behind the man who, he noted curiously, was wearing his hair Darshianese style. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen that in Prij living in Darshian, but it still looked odd. Since he also had a beard, which was uncommon even among the Prij, Romi wondered if it perhaps was just his way of expressing his individuality. Shame about the beard. It seemed to be masking a rather handsome face.

  “May I ask what you wish to find out? Perhaps I could help you.”

  “I’m looking for something simple, something for the lay person to read on how plant classification works.”

  His assistant stopped to look at him. “Why do you need something like that?”

  Something in the man’s green eyes seemed rather challenging, as if he would withdraw cooperation if Romi’s answer wasn’t good enough. “It’s official business,” he said stiffly. “I’m not at liberty to explain.”

  “Very well.” The man began to walk on. “There isn’t actually a reference of that type which will explain it, but I can do my best, if you would like. We can use a map room to talk.”

  He was led to a set of heavy doors, and was immediately stunned by the huge interior and enormous numbers of books revealed when they were opened. His companion seemed completely at home and went quickly over to the librarian’s desk, presumably to explain his purpose. He told Romi to wait a moment while he collected some books, then asked him to follow him to a side room with large tables, and drawers set into a wall cupboard—for maps, Romi presumed.

  He asked Romi to sit, then took up a place next to him. “All right, let’s see if I can put this simply for you. The classification system only appears complicated, but it’s not really. The intention is to provide an accurate nomenclature that is accepted by all scientists across Periter—well, in effect, the three nations which use it. If we didn’t have it, then each country, each region, would use their own local name, and it would be hopelessly confusing. See this plant?” He opened one of the books and revealed a beautifully illustrated flower. “Perhaps you know the klek bush from here in the south?” Romi nodded—he’d seen it in gardens near Temshek. “Well, the Prij also have it, but they call it ‘sorus’. In the Welensi Islands, the natives call it ‘sikok’. You see how we might not realise we were dealing with the same plant, unless we saw it?”

  Romi nodded, and his companion continued. “So our scientists devised a system ten years ago which uses a trinomial nomenclature. All the botanists in Darshian, Kuprij and Andon use this now, so when we correspond and refer to Aci sorus Garok, we know in our heads that it refers to the klek, sorus and sikok plant. No room for confusion or error.”

  Romi held his hands up in confusion. “Aci what?”

  His companion smiled. “Sorry, I was just going to explain. The parts of the name refer to a hierarchy. The klek plant is part of a large group, I mean, related to other plants in the way that all the timkir trees are obviously related, though they differ slightly from area to area.”

  “Li
ke breeds of jesig?”

  “Yes, like that, though it’s not by human intervention, of course. So Aci is the group name. Sorus is the particular name of this species. Garok refers to where it was first collected and from where it was described, though of course it occurs in many places—it’s just a further level of precision.”

  “How in hells do you remember all that?”

  “It’s just like any other language. It’s logical, it has a known structure, and it really is very useful. Now, does that give you enough for your purposes?”

  “Well, it’s a start. It’s a pity all scientists couldn’t be as clear as you—I was trying to follow some papers by someone called Soza and it was like trying to read a ball of tangled string.”

  His companion didn’t look at him as he pulled out another book. “Soza-gidu is one of our finest researchers. He’s used to dealing with people of a similar background and training. He doesn’t write for the layman.”

  “I didn’t mean any offence.”

  “None taken,” he said coolly. “Now, this book here may illustrate what I was talking about....”

  For the next hour, Romi had the mysteries of plant classification patiently explained to him. By the end of it, he had a headache. Not that it was his young teacher’s fault—the man had a remarkably clear way of expressing himself. Romi found himself wondering what he did in the academy—he had the slight drawl of the Prijian upper class, but was dressed as simply as any Darshianese. With the braid and the beard, it made his appearance rather difficult to decode.

  He finally realised he had to stop. “I’m sorry, but I have to be back at my barracks by noon. Thank you for your assistance.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope your investigation is carried forward. I have to be going myself. Can you find your own way out?”