Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 5

  “That won’t be a problem, Soza.”

  Much as Karik hoped, Soza’s annoyance quickly turned to fascination with the clever way shipbuilders dealt with the twin difficulties of lack of space and constant, often violent motion. In fact, by the time he was done, and had shown his mentor the galley and explained how food could be cooked in all but the very worst weather, Soza had declared himself very impressed. “It seems a very fine ship, just as you said. I gather not all are like this.”

  “No, this is a large, modern boat. I’ve travelled on much smaller ones, and one that was older, and less comfortable. We’ll do very well.”

  “Wonderful,” he said, clapping his hand on Karik’s shoulder. “Well, perhaps I’ll go down and read for a bit.”

  Karik thought he would let Soza get used to the cabin, and said he would see him later. Besides, he wanted to explore. After his first disastrous experience on a boat, he’d never expected to enjoy being on water again, but in fact he had come to like sailing, and to appreciate the skill of sailors and the fine thing that a good boat was to have under one’s feet.

  The fact he had excellent sea legs helped, of course. Poor Gyo had sworn never to set foot on a boat again so long as he lived, and Karik could hardly blame him—his two journeys had been marked by the most awful seasickness. Gyo would never make a good sailor no matter how much sedative he took to ease the illness.

  He went up on deck to walk around, fascinated as ever by the sailors as they prepared the ship to depart, and the activities on the dock as the rest of the stores were brought on board. Food and water were always the last things on and now crates of fowls, sacks of vegetables, beans and lem flour, and barrels of beer were shouldered and carried up the gangplank by wiry-muscled men.

  “Karik?”

  He turned, and smiled at Captain Temu, who came closer and shook his hand. “Thank you for having us on board, Temu.”

  “It’s a pleasure. I’m sorry your friend isn’t satisfied with the cabin—there’s really nothing more I can do, it’s the best we have on board.”

  Karik dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. “I explained. He’s just never been on a ship before.”

  “Ah, now I understand. But you’re going to Andon with someone that inexperienced? Is that wise?”

  Temu was only asking out of kind concern. “He’s a very clever man, and there will be plenty of us with enough experience to help him. It’ll be fine. Pa sends his regards, by the way.”

  “Good, good—will I be seeing him soon? It has to be eight, nine months since I did, I think. Yes, easily nine.”

  “He and Ma will be in Darshek when we dock. He said to tell you that he expects you to pay up on that bet.”

  Temu grinned. “I’ve got the beer all laid down for him. It’ll be good to see him. He doesn’t get to Darshek that often any more.”

  “Not since he took Gyo on, no. He keeps his hand in, though.”

  “I’m sure. Reji was never one for the quiet life. Well, I better make sure things are settling down—but you and your friend must have dinner with me in my cabin after we’re under way.”

  “It’d be a pleasure, thank you.”

  Karik watched the captain head towards the wheelhouse. Hearing someone mention his Pa made him homesick all over again. He’d spoken to his parents just two weeks before, but there was really nothing like seeing them in the flesh. He hoped Gyo would be coming up with them as well, though Pa hadn’t been sure when Karik had spoken to him.

  He watched the loading activity for another hour or so—the sun would be setting soon, and they’d sail about an hour after that. An odd noise caught his attention and as he glanced down at the docks, he realised it was a group of soldiers marching in time, led by his nemesis. He had to admit the man cut a fine figure in his uniform, marching proudly up to the watch station and disappearing briefly inside—to report as his colonel had ordered, Karik presumed.

  Moments later, the lieutenant re-emerged and then he and his men headed over to the gangplank to board. Karik decided to retreat—he really didn’t want to clash with lieutenant Romi again, not twice in one day. Shame, really—he was quite a splendid example of the male form.

  Karik decided not to waste another minute thinking about the man, and went down to find more intellectual company.

  ~~~~~~~~

  It was with considerable regret that Karik discovered his mentor had a very fragile stomach. They’d not been under sail for more than two hours when Soza announced he felt queasy, and from the colour he was turning, Karik knew what to expect. Fortunately, he had, based on Kei’s advice and his own experiences, packed a generous supply of nerf leaf tea, and quickly brewed up a batch. Soza cared very little for the taste, but it did at least enable him to get a good night’s rest. However, the rolling motion of the ship—actually rather gentle in Karik’s experience—wouldn’t stop until they got to Darshek, and Soza couldn’t tolerate it at all.

  Unfortunately, the nerf leaf tea revolted him, and he could only bear it with copious amounts of honey and tidbits of food to help it go down. His appetite was depressed anyway, so it was something of a struggle to find something from the galley that would tempt him. He was so miserable and helpless that Karik couldn’t begrudge the effort, and he spent the day keeping him company, and reassuring him that no, he really wasn’t going to die. Karik just hoped they didn’t hit any bad weather on the route.

  Over the next day, the wind strengthened and he noticed that there were fewer people about when he went to the galley for food or tea. When he ran into one of the soldiers coming to Darshek, the man confirmed several of their people were laid low with seasickness as well. When Karik learned they had no nerf leaf at all, he gladly supplied them, although he was annoyed at the lack of forethought. He knew the drug wasn’t much favoured by the army because there was a tendency for some soldiers to abuse it, but since the academy in Darshek had recommended the treatment in cases of motion sickness, he would have thought the southern army could have approved its use in such limited circumstances.

  His supply was more than enough to cope, fortunately. He could replenish his stock in Darshek, and would certainly need more, since the journey to Andon was longer and bound to be plagued by rough seas.

  He brought a covered mug of broth and some hard bread back to the cabin—Soza needed to eat, at least a little. But at the sight of the food, he covered his mouth and looked about to throw up again, so Karik hastily set it aside. “Just the tea,” Soza moaned. “Why didn’t anyone warn me about this?”

  “Well, no one would have known if you were susceptible or not,” Karik said, pouring out some freshened tea and passing it to his mentor. Soza looked dreadful after just two days. Perhaps once he drank the tea, he would be able to take the food—nerf leaf on its own for too long was bad for a person, and hardly nutritious. “You really should try the soup,” he urged.

  “I can’t, I’ll throw up. Take it away,” he said petulantly. “Just let me sleep.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you?”

  “Poison—I want to die.”

  Karik bit his lip so he didn’t laugh. Poor Soza. “I think that would be a great loss to science,” he said gravely. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit. Try to sleep. Most people adjust and get their sea legs after a couple of days.”

  Soza just groaned and waved at him to leave. Karik collected the food and took it up onto deck to eat. He was hungry.

  It was cold up on deck, but clean and fresh after spending the day in the foetid air of the cabin, and he felt a guilty relief at being freed from nursing duty, however briefly. He found a place out of the wind, sipped the warm soup as he huddled down into his coat.

  There was little moonlight, the new moon being only four days past, and the stars shone brilliant against the night. He’d always liked the stars ever since he’d been a child. He could watch them for ages, trying to make patterns with them in his imagination.

  He’d been sitting there
for a few minutes before he realised he wasn’t alone on deck. Of course there were sailors, but what he’d taken for a fixed lamp some distance to his left, was actually a free-floating flame. He was so surprised, he blurted out without thinking, “Oh, you’re a fire-shaper!”

  His unknown companion turned and to Karik’s embarrassment, he realised it was the dread lieutenant Romi. “Yes, didn’t you know that?”

  Karik came a little closer and leaned on the rail. “No, it wasn’t in the report on you. My Pa’s a fire-shaper.”

  The frown on Romi’s face as he’d turned towards Karik, was replaced by a puzzled expression. “But the Prij don’t have gifts.”

  “Uh, I meant my adoptive father. Reji of Ai-Albon. My Ma’s gifted too.”

  “Oh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a gifted person being able to adopt before.”

  Karik decided now was as good a time as any to try and mend things with this man, with whom he most likely would have to work for months. “It’s a bit complicated,” he said. “I think fire-shaping is a wonderful gift. I’ve always wished I had it.”

  “So people say. But they don’t have any idea what it’s actually like to be gifted,” Romi said with surprising bitterness.

  “Yes, that’s what my uncle Kei says. He’s a soul-toucher.”

  Romi arched an eyebrow at him, his handsome features thrown into sharp relief by his flame. “Is there anyone in your family who’s not gifted?”

  “Well, there’s uncle Arman. I suppose it is unusual—they’re all adopted relatives, though.”

  “What about your real parents? They’re Prijian?”

  “Of course. I don’t know who my father is. My mother lives in Utuk. I don’t...I don’t have any contact with her.”

  “Ah.” That exhausted the other man’s conversational abilities. Karik almost groaned—such a hard nut to crack. But then Romi turned to him again. “Thanks for the nerf leaf. Two of our people have been pretty sick today. It was a real relief to the poor sods to be able to stop puking.”

  “You’re welcome. I was just surprised the southern army isn’t issued it for sea travel.”

  To his surprise, Romi looked embarrassed. “We are, but because none of our medics is the medic, none of them thought to apply for a stock.”

  “So, just a logistical glitch?”

  “Yes. You caught us with our pants down—almost literally.”

  Karik smiled at the joke. “I’m glad to help. My best friend gets seasick, I know it’s horrible.”

  “Soza, you mean?”

  “No, my friend Gyo, in the village. He works with my Pa now.”

  Romi nodded. “Miss them much?”

  “All the time,” Karik said with feeling. “But at least I’ll get to see Ma and Pa in Darshek, maybe even Gyo. I have other good friends up there too. It’s been a long time since I saw them and my family.”

  “Fortunate for you. I don’t see mine more than once a year, if that. They’re from near Ai-Vinri—do you know it?”

  “Yes, I do. I spent a week there last year. I thought it would be awkward since they have this ban on the Prij, but they accepted my naturalisation and I was made very welcome.”

  “Glad to hear it. You’re confusing, you do realise—a Prij from Ai-Albon?”

  “You’re hardly the first person to say so,” Karik said wryly. “I’m sorry about before—it’s just tiresome trying to explain to people that actually I speak Darshianese as well as they do. I speak both languages now, it makes no difference to me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry too,” Romi said with a sudden charming smile and flash of perfect teeth. “I should have asked, since you were at the Academy. I must have seemed like a pompous bastard.”

  “Um....”

  “Maybe you better not answer that.”

  “All right,” Karik said with a grin. “And you speak Andonese? I’ve been hoping to practice it some more—I have a terrible accent, Master Jezinke said.”

  “Care to demonstrate?” Romi said, asking in Andonese.

  “Now I have to think of something to say.”

  “Well, tell me about your family. You have parents—sister, brother?”

  “No, I’m an only child. I have cousins, all adoptive. Oh, and my daughter,” he added with a smile, thinking of Jes. She would be walking by now.

  “Daughter? Where’s her mother?”

  “In Darshek, of course.” Karik frowned. Romi’s expression had gone cold again, just as he’d thought they were getting on so well. He switched back to Darshianese, just in case he was saying something other than what he meant to. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” Romi straightened up and doused his little fire sprite. “But you’ll have to excuse me. I just recalled there’s something I need to do.” And with no further hesitation, the man walked off, pulling his cloak around him and over his hair.

  What in hells? Karik stared after the man, trying to work out what he’d said that could have made things deteriorate so quickly. So much for practicing his Andonese, let alone making friends with him. What an arse he was.

  Staying Power: 4

  Romi couldn’t get away from that little shit fast enough. Just when he’d thought that he’d misjudged the man, he revealed that he was even more deceitful than Romi had thought. So, what had he done? Abandoned his lover for Soza? Was he planning to just walk back into his family’s life after spending six months or more fucking the man, and not tell them what he’d been doing? Or was the poor woman about to receive the kind of bad news that Romi himself had had so recently?

  After his and Kepi’s experience, and now this, Romi was beginning to think no one believed in honour or trust at all. Were there no faithful lovers any more? At least with his soldiers, he knew in a crisis they would back him all the way, and that none would ever betray him, not over the slightest matter. Brothers and sisters in arms, more loyal than real siblings, some of them. He wrenched his angry thoughts away from the unpleasant revelations he’d just heard, and went down to the passenger hold to see if he could make his sick colleagues a little more comfortable.

  All was quiet. The seasick soldiers were sleeping peacefully in their bunks, and Netu reported they were doing much better since they’d had the tea, a fact that reminded Romi of Karik and made him clench his jaw. “Have you had your supper, Netu?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then clear off and get some fresh air and have a break. I’ll watch things.”

  “Thanks, Romi. I won’t be long.”

  “Take the time you need, it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.”

  Netu grinned and left. Romi took up his place on the hard little stool. It wasn’t strictly necessary to watch the sleeping soldiers, and there were others in their group around, but he felt guilty over the omission which had meant they had had to borrow basic medical supplies. True, he’d not been placed in official command until quite late in the day, and that only to get the soldiers down to the docks in good time, but he was the officer in charge—actually, the only officer—in the group, and really, if he’d not been so worried about looking like a fool in front of what turned out to be a pair of fools themselves, he’d have done his job and made damn sure someone had been thinking about things like medical supplies.

  “Sorry, Kepi,” he murmured, placing his hand on his sleeping friend’s arm. Kepi wasn’t the worst sailor, but the wind had been picking up in strength and the seas had been high all day. Romi had watched Kepi turning green, Netu hastily preparing tea and honey in a futile attempt to stave off the inevitable nausea, and even then, he’d not thought to ask Karik or Soza if they had nerf leaf. He’d taken his eye off his duty and his people had suffered for it. That had been inexcusable, and he would not allow it to happen again.

  On paper, this mission had been such a good idea. But the actual people involved meant there were problems built in right from the start—the inexperience of the scientific leader being one of them. The relationship between the two scienti
sts was another worrying factor—what if the two lovers had a falling out? It couldn’t be a healthy thing that it was based on the ashes of Karik’s other relationship—and what about the child? What if Karik decided to leave Soza, or leave the mission, to return to care for her?

  A lot would depend on who was in overall charge of things, and how much authority they had. Civilians giving orders to soldiers was a very bad idea even when they were competent, and Romi was so far unconvinced Soza was. Karik, he would reserve judgement on, though it wasn’t looking good. Andon was a poor choice for someone getting their very first field experience, and Soza struck him as exactly the kind of arrogant arse who would get himself into trouble at the earliest opportunity. If he was to be the one to dictate matters on which his safety and that of the team depended, then that was unacceptable. Romi intended to say this to Lord Arman if he got the choice, even if he was sacked from the team as a result—but if that happened, he’d urge his fellow soldiers to boycott the entire thing. A few plants weren’t worth losing good people over.

  For now, his job was to ensure everyone got to Darshek in one piece. As the weather worsened, even the hardier sailors among them began to succumb, lying helpless in their beds and turning over only to puke into the buckets that now sat by every stack of bunks, or into bowls held tightly against their chests. Netu and Romi struggled to care for them, making sure they had enough liquid and sedatives, but on the fourth morning, Netu suddenly went pale, throwing up his small amount of breakfast and collapsing onto a stool before Romi helped him to his bunk to lie down.

  Romi was truly worried now—what if this wasn’t seasickness at all? What if it was an infection? Netu was so hot—surely that wasn’t normal. He had no medical training, and there was only one sailor who acted as unofficial ship’s surgeon. When Romi asked him for advice, he said he didn’t know, and couldn’t really help if it wasn’t just ordinary seasickness.

  Watching the soldiers groaning, pale faced and wretched in their bunks, he knew he had to do something, but the only thing left to try was to ask the scientists. He stalked up to the next deck and found the passenger cabin, rapping on the door with possibly more vehemence than was necessary. Even so, the response was slow, which irritated him, but when the door opened, he realised the delay had not been a deliberate slight. Karik looked very tired and dishevelled, as if he’d been woken up, or had been at least trying to rest. “Lieutenant...is something wrong?”