Falling From the Tree (Darshian Tales #2) Read online

  She relaxed again. “That’s perfectly natural. Hopefully one day, it won’t matter any more whether your hair is blond or brown, or what the colour of your eyes is. You’ll know you’re just Karik, our beloved son.” She tugged his braid affectionately. “But you have to reach that conclusion on your own. I just ask you to be respectful of Arman. He gave up a lot to leave Utuk, and you’ll remind him of that.”

  Karik nodded. She smiled and kissed his forehead again, then straightened up and put a wry grin on her face. “Do you think your Pa’s fallen over yet?”

  “Should I go and look?”

  “Why not? I doubt it’ll hurt his pride any more to have you see him like that than me.”

  Karik got up to see if Pa needed help. He would have liked to have spent more time talking to Ma about what she’d said, but she was clearly uncomfortable with the topic. When he got to Darshek, he’d have to ask uncle Kei about it.

  ~~~~~~~~

  The subjects of fathers didn’t come up again with Gyo, although his friend was happy to spend all his spare time with him. They worked together on the bean loads and with Gyo’s strength, the task was done in less than half the time, leaving the two of them plenty of time to talk and to explore.

  Gyo was really sick of working in the herbarium, he said, however much he adored his Pa. He wanted to be a carpenter, or even a wainwright. “But there’s no room for another apprentice in Ai-Tuek,” he said gloomily. “I’d even work as a trader. I think I’d really like that. Wish Pa was a trader like Reji, instead of a gardener.”

  “I d-don’t wuh-want to be a trader,” Karik confessed. “I w-want to be a h-healer.”

  Gyo looked at him. “Still? It’s a lot of study, Ka-chi. What about your...?” He pointed at his mouth. “Might make it hard.”

  Karik nodded. It was unfortunately true his stammer would make being a healer very difficult. Knowledge was only part of it, Ma always told him. A lot was reassuring the patient, getting information and giving instructions. When he sometimes found it hard to get even the simplest sentence out clearly, that side of the job would probably be beyond him. “M-maybe I c-could work with d-deaf people.”

  Gyo laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe you could. You’re smart. Smarter than me. I could never be a healer, but I don’t want to be one, so that’s good. I’ll race you over to the mine head, all right?”

  Not fair, Karik complained to himself as he struggled with the twin disadvantage of surprise and shorter legs. It was about half a mile to the spoil heap which marked where Banji and Rin and their people were working the new shaft. As Karik jogged up, Gyo was already talking to his uncle and grandfather, who waved politely at Karik as he pulled up, out of breath. “You b-bastard,” he muttered at his friend who only grinned. “Huh-hello, Rin, B-Banji.”

  Banji’s shy ten-year-old son, Keiji, smiled at Karik as his father greeted him. “Hello, Karik. Come to see if you might like to be a miner too? You’re short enough. When he grows up, young Keiji-ki can keep you company.”

  Karik refrained from scowling at Banji’s jibe. Just because he was short didn’t mean he wanted to spend his days living like a worm. Rin ignored both of them and continued what he was saying to Gyo, something about starting a new shaft sooner than they expected. Karik muttered a polite rejection of Banji’s suggestion before wandering off to where Gyo’s aunt was hauling ore buckets up on a winch. Pijli was easily as strong as him. All of the mining family were very fit and the men were stronger even than Pa on his best day.

  “How are you, Karik? Are you glad to see Gyo again? And are you excited about going to Darshek?”

  He answered her questions with a single “yes”, since he didn’t feel like separating how he felt about the journey from his pleasure at seeing Gyo. “Wuh-where’s Nev?”

  “Down below, giving Banji a rest.”

  Karik nodded as he helped her switch buckets, and carried the full one over to the waiting cart. He waited until the bucket was lowered again before asking, “P-Pijli, d-do you rem-member the war?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Of course I do, Karik. I was nearly your age. That was a bad time,” she said, scowling.

  “Wuh-what happened?”

  Another look of surprise. “Hasn’t Jena told you about it?” He shook his head and she pursed her lips. “She was one of the hostages the Prij took to Utuk. The rest of us either went to Darshek for safety, or stayed in the village with the soldiers. Banji and I went north, Mis and Risa stayed here.”

  “Wuh-why Risa?”

  “Because he was too young for the Prij to want. Mis thought they wouldn’t take him because of his eye. But they took Kei and Peit and Urki—”

  “Kei?” Now he was completely confused. He’d never heard Kei had been one of the hostages before. He’d have thought someone would have mentioned it.

  “You really don’t know much, do you?” she said, cocking her head quizzically. “Why haven’t you asked your Ma?”

  “Sh-she d-duh-doesn’t ll-like to talk about it.”

  “I’m not surprised. Look, it’s not a secret, but I don’t want to go behind her back.”

  Karik could have yelled with frustration. “Sh-she said I wuh-was too young be-before.”

  “You’re still—” But then she looked at him. “No, you’re not really a child any more. I forget that, because you’re small for your age. I’m so used to the giants in the village,” she joked, gesturing toward Gyo.

  “Kei,” Karik insisted. Somehow he felt his uncle was the key to unlock this whole mystery.

  She sighed. “Kei was one of the hostages the Prij took. That happened while I was in the camp in Darshek. The next time I saw him, he was with some Darshianese soldiers and Arman was their prisoner being—”

  Karik started with shock. “Wuh-what?”

  “Don’t you even know that? Arman was a general in the Prij army. He was the one who took our people away.”

  “No! H-he rescued—” Karik stopped. People only ever talked about Arman rescuing the hostages and then he’d come to live in the village, before he and Kei had moved to Darshek. He knew Arman was a Prij, but he hadn’t known he was a soldier. “I d-don’t understand.”

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Ka-chi, I really think you should talk to Jena and Reji about this. I don’t want to say the wrong thing. “

  Gyo had finished talking to his grandfather and now strolled over, greeting his aunt casually. “Are you going to go down the shaft after all, Karik?”

  Karik frowned at him and then turned back to Gyo’s aunt. “P-Pijli, please?”

  “No, it’s Jena’s place to tell you more about this.”

  “More about what, aunty Pij?”

  “Never you mind. Now, go on, you pair. Some of us are working.”

  Gyo made a noise of protest but Karik walked away, feeling cross and frustrated at all the secrecy. If it wasn’t a secret, then why wouldn’t people tell him anything? “Hey, Karik, slow down!” Gyo caught him up and slung an arm around his shoulders. “What’s biting your tail, Ka-chi?”

  Karik shook him off. “S-sick of b-being tuh-reated like a kid.”

  “By aunty Pij? What did she say?”

  Karik walked on until he was sure they were out of earshot of Rin’s family. “D-did your Muh-Ma tell you about the war? About the h-hostages?”

  “Some. She doesn’t like to talk about it much. Why are you asking now? You never wanted to know before.”

  “I d-didn’t know it wuh-was important. Wuh-what do you kn-know about Arman?”

  Gyo stopped walking and stared at him. “Arman? I know the same as you do. What’s he got to do with anything all of a sudden?”

  “Th-that’s what I wuh-want to know.” He kept on walking. Now his curiosity was so thoroughly aroused, he had to find out the answers to his many questions.

  “Do you want me to go away?”

  He turned to his friend, looking puzzled and not a little hurt at Karik being so abrupt. He forgot
sometimes Gyo wasn’t as old as he looked—he was a year younger than Karik for all he was so tall. “No, we can b-both ask.”

  He linked arms with Gyo and tugged him along. He hoped his Ma was in a talkative mood.

  But she wasn’t there. Pa was, though, mending a bridle at the table. “Oh, hello, boys, I thought we wouldn’t see you until supper. Karik, you couldn’t make some tea, could you?”

  He nodded and filled the kettle from the cistern tap, poking the low fire into life in the belly of the stove. When he turned around, Gyo sat at the table, watching Pa work. “That last load all stowed away?”

  “Yes, Pa. P-Pa, c-can I ask a question?”

  “Of course, son, you don’t need my permission.”

  “Wuh-was Arman a s-soldier?”

  Pa laid the leatherwork down. “Arman? Why are you asking about him?” Karik kept looking at his father until he sighed and gave in. “Well, yes he was. A general, in fact. But that was before you were born. He’s not in the military at all now. He refused to let the Rulers make him a colonel—they even offered to make him a general in our army but he wouldn’t have it.”

  Gyo was bug-eyed. “Arman? A general?”

  “D-did he t-take people away? Ma? And Kei?”

  Pa didn’t look happy at his question. “Who's been telling you things?”

  “I think it was aunty Pijli, Reji,” Gyo said helpfully, rather to Karik’s annoyance. “What did she say Arman did, Karik?”

  Karik started to answer, but Pa held up his hand. “You know, this is ancient history, and painful to a lot of people. I’m not sure talking about it helps anyone.”

  Karik nodded. “Yes. B-but I wuh-want to know.”

  His father sighed heavily again. “All right. There’s not a lot to it, actually. Arman was one of the generals who brought the Prij troops to our territory when they invaded all those years ago. Kei was one of the hostages they took from here and Karik’s Ma was taken from Ai-Rutej.”

  “Ma said they were all forced to be servants,” Gyo said, scowling.

  “Yes, they were,” Pa agreed. “When the hostages got to Utuk, they were all placed in houses of the rich to work. Some were unlucky like your Ma,” he said to Gyo gently, “and they were treated badly. Kei was placed with Arman, Jena with Arman’s friend. Jena was well-treated, she told you that, I know.” Karik nodded.

  “Kei wasn’t treated kindly, but that wasn’t Arman’s fault, and he put a stop to it when he found out. That was how they became friends, actually. Anyway, a few months later, Arman was sent north again to find out what was going on here—which was that our soldiers had taken back our land,” he noted with a slightly wolfish smile. “He took Kei with him. There was a battle when the Prij troops crossed Tirko Pass, and Arman was captured and injured. Kei came with the soldiers bringing him north to Darshek. Somewhere along the line they fell in love and Arman agreed to help get our people home. Which he did, and he’s lived in Darshian ever since. I met him when Kei brought him to Darshek, and I went with them when we went to rescue Jena and Pia and the others. It was really something to see.” He grinned. “We really scared the shit out of those damn Prij.”

  Karik had a feeling the brief narrative had covered all the facts but there were still important things left out. “S-so, no big secret?”

  Pa shook his head. “Not really, son, but it was a painful time for a lot of us, losing friends, worrying about them—and some people never came home,” he added, his smile slipping, “so we don’t like to talk about it. Kei had a bad time of it in Utuk, and Arman had...well, he had his own sorrows. He did things he regretted and I think he’s been trying to make up for it ever since.”

  “Did he kill people?” Gyo asked, eyes big with curiosity. The water boiled just then and Karik turned to sort out the tea, though he listened avidly for his father’s answer.

  “Yes, he did,” Pa said in a low voice. “But he’s not like that any more. Karik, what I’ve told you today is for you, not for anyone else to hear. It’s not your story to tell, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Pa. B-but wuh-where did he f-find me?” It made no sense, carrying a baby around during a war. There wasn’t an answer. He turned and found his father looking at him sadly.

  “You have to ask him that.”

  “I j-just wuh-want to know who my p-parents are. Wuh-where I c-came from.”

  Pa’s hand, which had been resting loosely on the leather straps, tightened a little, almost as if he was angry, although his expression was only a little sad. “I know, son, but there’s more to being a father than getting a woman pregnant.”

  “That’s right, Ka-chi,” Gyo said angrily. “Even if that pissing bastard who hurt Ma was alive, I wouldn’t want him to be my Pa.”

  “Language, Gyo,” Pa said, but only with slight reproof. “But that’s exactly my point.”

  If Pa knew so much about all this, he had to know the rest of it. Karik pinned his father with a fierce look. “You kn-know who my real f-father is, d-don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.” Pa looked regretful, as he added, “But I can’t tell you. If Arman wants to, then he can.”

  His words were like being slapped in the face. Shocked and angry, Karik slammed the teapot down on the table. “You said you d-didn’t know!” he yelled. “You lied, Pa!”

  He stormed out, Gyo’s and his father’s pleas to return ringing in his ears. With angry tears blinding his eyes, he ran up the street and out of the village towards the fields. It was bad enough they hadn’t even bothered to tell him things everyone else in the village knew. But to lie about something he’d asked directly about, and more than once—Pa, who never lied to anyone—how could he trust him any more?

  People looked at him curiously as he bolted along the street, past the houses and workshops, past the fields with the spring crop of urko beans beginning to appear above the soil. There was a large stand of trees near the edge of one of the farms which he liked to climb so he could look at the baby birds, but this time he wanted to use it to escape. He scrambled up a favourite tree and found his usual perch in the crook of a large branch, then hugged his knees to his chest. He was ashamed at being so upset, but he felt so betrayed. To think Gyo’s Ma trusted him with the name of his father even with the kind of man he’d turned out to be, but Karik apparently wasn’t mature enough in their eyes to know who his real parents were. What was the big deal anyway?

  He hadn’t been this angry in years, not since the worst bullying had been firmly stopped by Fedor and the clan elders speaking sternly to all the children in the village. Embarrassing as that had been, it meant he hadn’t suffered quite as much as he had done before, and then the others had grown up a little and found other things to amuse them. But Pa lying to him was far worse than anything the children had done to him, even when they had tried to cut his hair or to dye it brown, or when Peit’s son had held him down that time and scrubbed dirt and mud all over his skin to make it less pale. That was just stupidity. What Pa had done....

  He rubbed his eyes furiously. He was sick of this. It was all very well for Pa and Ma to say he was their son, but he wasn’t really, and every single person who looked at him knew it. At least with Gyo, people didn’t even notice he had very slightly wavy hair and green eyes until they talked to him for a while, and Kei said there were some naturally green-eyed Darshianese, so it didn’t mean Gyo had to have a foreign father. But Karik was as different in looks from the other villagers as trees were from merkos.

  He sat staring into space for a long time, and finally realised the rising cloud of dust he’d been looking at without really seeing for several minutes meant another farmer arriving with more damn beans. He really should get down and help the others, but he was feeling rebellious and resentful and couldn’t see why he should help a bunch of people who looked down on him because of his height and his stammer and his colour, and who’d lied to him and treated him as if he was feeble-minded, just because he couldn’t speak as clearly as they could. Karik seriously wo
ndered how easy it would be to run away—somehow get to Urshek or even Utuk where Prij were common, and he would just be another face in the crowd....

  “Karik?”

  He looked down. Ma was calling, looking up into the trees. She couldn’t see him yet, but she must know he was there. “Wuh-what?” Great—even when he was being rude, he had to stammer.

  “Are you all right, son?”

  He wasn’t going to answer. He felt like yelling that of course he felt just fine after learning his father had lied to him, that both his parents had. But all he said was, “No.”

  “I thought not. Ka-chi, I’m too old to climb up. Won’t you come down?”

  He could refuse, but he already felt a bit foolish. He’d be told off, but he’d suffered worse from people.

  He climbed down slowly, and then stood at the base of the tree, looking at his feet. He really couldn’t face her disappointment. “Karik, do you want to talk?”

  He shook his head. “S-sorry I yelled.”

  “No, dear, we’re the ones who should apologise.”

  He lifted his head. Instead of the annoyance he expected to see, Ma only looked worried and a little sad. “Wuh-what?”

  She took his arm and he let her lead him over to a raised root where she sat down and indicated he should too. She kept hold of his hand. “Your Pa told me what happened. Gyo’s upset.”

  “I’m sorry, I just got...Ma, why did you lie to me? You know who my parents are, why can’t you tell me?”

  “Dear, it’s not for me to say. Or your Pa. We agreed this years and years ago with Arman that he would be the one to tell you.”

  “But you lied! You could have said—”

  “What, Ka-chi? You were eight the first time you asked. Would you have understood the idea of waiting for a few years?”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “No, Karik. We made a solemn promise to a dear friend, that’s all.”

  That made him angry again. “He’s more important to you than me.”

  “Oh, Ka-chi,” she said, putting her arm around him. “That’s not true. Reji and I would give our lives for you. We wouldn’t do that for Arman. But we thought this was best. I’m sorry it’s hurt you, and I’m sorry we had to lie to you. We were trying to protect you and Arman.”