Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Read online

  Kei took his seat again, and waited patiently, though with a little anxiety as to what the man might want to say to him. It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been other opportunities to speak, and they didn’t know each other that well. He found this a source of regret, and wondered if he shouldn’t have pressed Arman harder on the subject of returning to Utuk to visit his family. It had never really seemed possible before, and while the senator and his son and family were still capable of coming to Darshek, it hadn’t been so pressing. But there was a difference between having someone to stay as a visitor, and seeing them in their own homes while they were comfortable and surrounded by friends. There was no doubt the senator was a different man here than he was in Darshek, and Kei cursed himself for not realising this sooner.

  Armis had closed his eyes, but wasn’t dozing, that was clear. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Kei was prepared to wait—this was obviously difficult. Finally, the senator cleared his throat. “I hadn’t realised, until Arman came back the first time and explained, that you and your kind, like young Jera, cannot have children. This must be a sorrow for you and those like you.”

  This was frankly the last thing Kei had expected him to mention, and it caught him mentally on the hop. “Er...well, yes it is. But there’s not very much we can do about it. Some of us adopt, some...make arrangements.” He coughed, thinking perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to mention Seiki and Mila in front of a straight-laced Prij. “I know it’s a sorrow Arman could not have a child because of his liaison with me—”

  “Nonsense. As if you haven’t given him far more than any child could have done. I don’t mention it for that reason. I mention it because I think it’s a pity, because you would have made an excellent father, as you’ve made an excellent spouse for my son. When Arman told me he was running off with you, I was naturally aghast at his foolishness...but then...I was rather pleased for him, in a strange way.” He smiled. “I disapproved of his impetuousness, of course. But...to see my boy follow his heart, for love and for honour, to know this was what he wanted more than anything in the world and he was about to win it.... I prayed he was making the right decision, and he was. You made my son a happy and peaceful man. No wife could have done more for him, and you certainly did more than his wife ever did.”

  “I’d hope so,” Kei said rather tartly. Mayl was still a sore point after all these years.

  Armis raised an eyebrow at him. “Ah yes...she was rather unkind to you personally, wasn’t she? Mekus is dead, so they tell me.”

  Kei jumped a little in shock. “Sir? When did you hear that?”

  “Only yesterday. I told Arman just now. He was heartbroken, naturally,” he added dryly.

  “I’m sure. And her?”

  “No one knows. She seems to have disappeared. No doubt she’ll turn up and cause trouble again. If she’s wise, she won’t set foot in Kuprij. His Serenity is a forgiving sort of fellow, but not that forgiving.”

  “No, I imagine not.” Mekus was dead—was it really true? His heart pounded a little as memories drifted in, unbidden, unwanted. Had it really been twenty-three years...?

  The senator nudged Kei’s teacup towards him. “It was a very long time ago,” he said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “And despite the horrors, so much good came from that time. If it hadn’t been for the war, my son wouldn’t be the man he is today, and I fancy, we would still not be speaking. Nor would our two countries, I imagine.”

  “A war to make peace? A contradiction in terms, surely.”

  “Perhaps, but it was what happened. Just as my son had to leave so he could come back to me again.” He got awkwardly to his feet, and Kei hastily rose to help him. “Damn this arthritis. In my head, I’m still twenty. My body is a traitor.”

  “An old and faithful servant, sir, and needing to be treated gently if it’s to serve you a long while yet.”

  “No need to humour me, young man. I’m not afraid of death,” he said with a fierce glare as he straightened.

  “Even so, there’s no need to wish it to come sooner than it needs to. You’re in a remarkable health for a man of your age. I wouldn’t be laying out money to the temples for your obsequies just yet.”

  Armis gave him a wolfish grin. “Oh, I’ve made it clear the only money they’ll get is if I’m upright and breathing. Gives them an incentive to pray for me to stay that way.”

  Kei grinned back. “Very wise. You want to go to the garden?”

  Despite the imminent arrival of the guests, Kei found Arman and Mari still talking together, kneeling beside a bush Mari was showing to Arman. They stood as Kei and the senator slowly approached, and Kei went to Mari’s side and took her hand.

  “Mari, let’s finish those students’ reports and then I’ll help you in the kitchen.”

  Mari looked at him in surprise as did Arman, but Kei only smiled. “Arman—stay and talk to your father.” He reached for his lover’s hand and tugged him close. “And listen, my love,” he whispered before giving him a quick kiss. “Come on, Mari—let’s get this paperwork done.”

  She waited until they were settled in her little sitting room. “Now what was all that about, young man?”

  “The senator and his son still hadn’t finished their conversation—that’s all. It’s one they need to finish.”

  “Yes, they do. They’re lucky. I never had that chance, not with my son nor my husband.”

  “And what would you have said, if you could?”

  She smiled rather sadly. “The only thing that matters. That I loved them, and I always will.”

  “And that’s all Arman and his father need to say. They just need to find the words.”

  She patted his hand. “I think they will now. Bless you, Kei. Now—to paperwork.”

  Bearing Fruit: 4

  “Son, you’d get a better view of the road if you climbed a tree near the waterhole than wearing out my floor to look out the window every two minutes.”

  Romi grinned as Karik flushed. “Sorry, Pa. But they should be here by now, shouldn’t they?”

  Reji calmly continued his harness stitching as he answered. “Depends on whether they stopped to pick flowers or not. They’re travelling with a big group and who knows who stopped by to talk to them? Arman can’t just race on like he normally would. They’ll be here soon enough—want me to find you some more chores to take your mind off it?”

  “Pa! I’m on holiday!”

  Reji wagged an awl at his lad. “No one gets out of chores in this house, you know the rule. Not unless we can’t catch you.”

  “Sounds like a hint, Karik,” Romi said, getting to his feet. It was probably time to drag Karik outside for a walk—his lover had been on edge for hours despite working hard at various small jobs his parents had asked them both to do. He was such a little boy sometimes, though to be fair, the entire village was in a tizz because of the imminent arrival of the Rulers’ caravan. Just because one of the Rulers was Arman, didn’t mean this wasn’t a big thing for Ai-Albon. The frenzied cleaning and restocking that normally took place around now had started early and no one had been immune. Jena and Reji had probably been the most relaxed but even Reji had repainted his windowsills. He’d claimed they needed doing anyway. Romi didn’t doubt that but still....

  The village summoning horn cut across their thoughts, and though it instantly made his heart race as it did those of all Darshianese, he quickly realised the message was ‘Friends approaching, all welcome.’

  “They’re here!” Karik yelled, then raced out of the door without a backward glance.

  Reji shook his head and laid his leatherwork down. “Three or twenty-three, would you say, Romi?”

  “Three. Today, at least. Come on, let’s go enjoy the show.”

  The first time Romi arrived in Ai-Albon with Arman, Kei and Karik, it had been a low-key affair, partly because Kei hadn’t been at all certain how he’d be received, not just by Jena who was guaranteed to be hostile, but by others in the clan. In the end, his sister and
her husband had discreetly carried him and Arman away so Karik and his mother could have their reunion without having to deal immediately with the thorny question of her quarrel with Kei. Whatever official welcome had been made to Arman, had happened out of Romi’s sight.

  It would be different this time, he suspected, and as he and Karik’s father walked out of the house rather more casually than Karik had, the evidence was there already. People were coming from all directions, looking suspiciously well groomed and clean. Down the street, Kei’s father and uncle, the clan head, Fedor, walked sedately with his wife, Sira, at his side, followed by the clan elders. Being an elder himself, Reji excused himself to join them, and Jena slipped out from wherever she’d been working for the last hour to join him. Children bounced up and down with excitement, and Karik paced impatiently at the front of the crowd. “You’d think you’d never met any of these people before,” Romi said, sighing and tugging Karik’s long golden braid.

  That got him a slapped hand and a glare. “I just want to hear all Kei’s news, that’s all. I don’t give a damn about the rest of it.”

  “Yes, dear. Of course.” It was probably true. Kei’s reports of the doings in Utuk had made Karik deeply envious, and regretting even more that he and Romi had not been able to get away to join them. Even though they’d had several more messages through Seiki before they’d left Darshek, it wasn’t quite the same as speaking to his uncle in person. To be honest, Romi was more than a little curious himself about how things had gone, but years of command had taught him just a little self-control. Unlike some people, he thought, grinning at Karik, who gave him another evil look before resuming his long stare down the road.

  It didn’t take long before rising dust and the distant sound of beast feet and wagon wheels announced the new arrivals more convincingly than the horn had, and as they finally came properly into view, the children ran down the road towards the caravan, laughing and shouting. It wasn’t every day the Rulers came to the village, and people were determined to get a good measure of fun out of it.

  Romi refused to run towards the wagons, and though Karik clearly fought the impulse to do so, his lover managed to preserve a modicum of dignity, and waited for the six wagons and some forty beasts to come to a slow halt at the edge of the village. The soldiers came to the front and dismounted—the lieutenant shouted commands and the squad split, making a perfect honour guard between which the two Rulers, Kei and their assorted civilian companions walked down the village’s main street. All rather theatrical, but it appealed to Romi’s military taste, and no one could consider it a casual arrival.

  Arman stopped and spoke up in his distinctive, drawling manner. “Clan head Fedor, the Rulers of Darshek greet Ai-Albon, and seek your hospitality for weary travellers.”

  Fedor walked forward. “Ai-Albon greets the Rulers of Darshek and your companions, and bids you all enter,” he said in a clear voice, raising his hand. “Welcome home, my lord.”

  Arman grinned, and then Kei stepped out from behind him and ran to his father, hugging his parents enthusiastically. That was the signal for general chaos to break out, and old friends and new were greeted and claimed and welcomed with the generosity Romi had come to expect from this clan. Karik peeled off, to be immediately swallowed up in the crowd, but like Reji, Romi hung back—he figured he’d get his turn. Jena plunged straight in, and moments later Romi saw Kei embracing her, only surrendering her when his sister made her claim.

  After a few minutes, the horn was sounded again—Fedor wanted to speak. “Well now, everyone. Meis and Rin have the billet assignments. My lord Peika and your lady, please be welcome at my home. Kei, you and Arman are at your own house with Myka and Banji. Jera, with Reji and Jena. There will be a clan supper in the square at sunset. Lieutenant? Please speak to captain Romi about your people. Karik, go help. Any questions?”

  Arman lifted his hand. “Er, Fedor, my nephew...?”

  “Karik?” But now a tall, young Prij had come to Arman’s side, and was looking back at Fedor with commendable composure. “Oh, yes, of course. Your nephew.”

  Arman brought the lad forward. Karik drifted back towards Romi, watching his uncle with considerable attention, his expression unreadable. “Fedor, may I introduce my nephew, Sei Tije of Utuk, son of Senator Tijus, my brother, and his wife Temir.”

  Fedor bowed. “Welcome, young man. Ai-Albon greets you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m delighted to be here.”

  Romi was surprised at the immaculate Darshianese. Karik’s penetrating stare never wavered as Fedor explained that Tije would be billeted with Myka. “But if that’s not suitable, then we can always bunk you somewhere—you don’t take up much room,” he said, which made several people laugh. “Arman? I’ll leave that to you. Come on up to our house when you’ve settled in.”

  Arman waved in acknowledgement, then put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. It became clear he was bringing the lad over to meet Karik and Romi. Behind him, Kei looked up, then excused himself from Myka and Banji. “Karik? You knew Tije was coming, yes? Tije, this is your cousin, Karik.”

  Tije held his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Karik-gidu.”

  “You already did.” Karik shook the lad’s hand rather warily. “You probably don’t remember that.”

  “No, I do,” Tije said quietly. “But we weren’t properly introduced then. Uncle?” he asked politely, nodding at Romi.

  “Ah, this is captain Romi, Tije. Karik’s lover. Kei told you about him.”

  The lad’s expression lit up. “Oh, yes, and all your adventures in Andon—I’ve been wanting to talk to you all about that, captain. What you’re doing sounds so exciting. I can’t wait to hear more about it.”

  Karik was still staring at the boy in an almost hostile fashion. Kei broke things up. “Ah, Tije, Romi and Karik need to see to the soldiers. Why don’t we let them get off and we’ll talk to them later?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry to hold you up,” Tije said, bowing.

  Romi smiled at him politely, and then grabbed Karik’s arm. “Come on, work to be done.”

  He hauled his lover off over to where the soldiers had returned to their beasts and were busily unsaddling and unhitching them. There were too many for the village stables, but they’d be fine in one of Reji’s large pens, or just roped together. Romi found the lieutenant who saluted smartly, then listened to the brief instructions Romi had to give him from Fedor. “That’s fine then, Romi. I think most of the lads will just want a bath and a beer. I’ll come find you if there’s a problem.”

  That suited Romi—he’d only agreed to liaise with the delegation’s squad as a courtesy to Fedor, but he was on holiday too, and these men and women had been on duty for over two months together without a problem. He wasn’t really needed—Fedor and his wife had managed to find places for all fifty new arrivals among the village homes, and not a single soldier would sleep under canvas tonight. It would get a bit tight as people started to arrive for the night of the ancestors and to meet the Rulers, but Fedor made it a point of honour that everyone would have a proper bed—or something approximating it, anyway.

  As Romi and Karik walked among the soldiers and civilians, they were greeted cheerfully, and given brief reports on how things had gone as they’d made their way from Urshek up through the dry regions. There would be plenty of time for a proper debriefing since the caravan was to stay a week, longer than they had in any of the other villages, allowing everyone a break and to properly celebrate the night of the ancestors. Then the travellers would split up, and the smaller group, including Kei, Arman, Romi and Karik, would make a somewhat speedier return to Darshek, Lord Peika and his wife taking over the rump end of the journey.

  Karik was rather distracted, and somewhat less interested than Romi expected he might be in the news from their colleagues, though he listened politely and promised to spend a lot more time with everyone the next day. The new arrivals drifted off, claimed by their hosts and offered refreshment, food and b
aths. Romi would have liked to have gone and found Kei or Jera, but something was bothering his lover and he needed to find out what that was.

  He wasn’t surprised to find Karik heading to where a group of beasts were being brushed down and watered—he often did the same at the barracks when something was troubling him or the training hadn’t gone particularly well. His offer of assistance to the young soldiers working with the animals was gratefully received, and Romi, giving in to the inevitable, asked for a currycomb and set to work alongside him.

  Karik’s face was a mask of concentration, as if this one scruffy animal was the most important thing in his world and nothing else mattered. Romi was used to this too—it was how Karik did most tasks, and was one of the things that fascinated Romi about him. He kept an eye on Karik as he worked on his own animal, admiring his lover’s care for the beast, how he silently assessed the animal’s condition, noting small injuries and oddities. Romi was sure that by the time Karik finished the job, he would know the state of the beast better than the men who had been working with it and using it for months.

  They finished their animals, and then there was no more excuse to avoid conversation as the other beasts were ready to be led to the pens. Karik looked about to follow them, but Romi caught his arm. “Walk with me?”

  A single glance sideways and then Karik nodded, falling into step with Romi as they headed towards the cemetery.

  “Tije’s a good-looking fellow. You can see the family resemblance.”

  “Yes, can’t you just.”

  The bitterness in Karik’s tone surprised Romi. “I thought you didn’t mind him coming to visit in Utuk. You said it might be a good idea for a Prij with a brain to have a look at what we’re doing.”

  “I did. It is. It’s just...his nephew. His real nephew.”

  “Ah.” Karik was jealous, pure and simple. Romi supposed, given his peculiar family situation, he had a little right to be. “Arman’s fond of you both, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, I’m sure too. But Tije’s the real thing. At least he was polite enough not to laugh when Arman called me his cousin.”