Kei's Gift Read online

  Arman grunted, amused by the cheeky but honest response. “The foolish things people believe never fail to surprise me. Gods are the gods, men are men. As if Lord Niko would permit a man to steal the power of the gods, especially a heathen Darshianese.”

  “It’s just the superstitions of the simple-minded. I’d be more worried about falling off an urs beast into a ravine than whether someone was going to cast fire from their fingers, or make the winds carry me away.”

  “Don’t,” Arman said, his voice gruffer than he meant it to sound, not even liking to joke about Loke being hurt. He just couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding he’d had about this march ever since Loke had said he would go with Arman this time and that was the end of it. “You should finish up and get some sleep. It’s another early start. Better get used to it.”

  “Yes, Arman,” Loke said mournfully.

  “I warned you.”

  “Yes, Arman, you most certainly did.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  It rained during the night, and the gentle patter on the roofs, and the trickling of the water into the deep storage cisterns was a restful sound for Kei, lying comfortably in Reji’s arms. Somehow it always made him feel more cheerful, knowing their water supply was being fortified, the crops assured. Not that having noisy, enthusiastic sex with a willing, talented lover wasn’t guaranteed to make him sleep like a baby to begin with, but the rain was a nice addition to his morning. It had stopped by the time he stretched extravagantly, and turned to find Reji watching him with lazy, heavy-lidded eyes.

  “‘Morning. Sleep well?” Reji asked.

  “Hmmm, like a rock. I’m starving.”

  Reji grinned at him and poked him on the nose. “I’ve nothing in my pantry, Keichichi, so we’ll have to go and beg breakfast from someone.”

  Kei yawned, not really wanting to move, but he couldn’t lie abed all day. “I said I would visit Misek today—why don’t we go to Rin’s house and beg there? I know they’ll want to see you.”

  “What an excellent idea. You’re not only good-looking, but also clever. Why don’t you marry me?”

  “Because you snore and hog the blankets, that’s why,” Kei said with a grin, jumping out of the bed before Reji could exact revenge for the insult. He pulled his clothes and boots on while Reji still struggled out of bed—he wasn’t someone who appreciated mornings when he had a proper bed to leave, which was rare enough for him—and splashed water on his face, before tossing Reji’s shirt at him. It was a fine morning, and as they walked out into the ever bright sunshine, the village looked newborn, dust washed away in the rain, the droplets of water yet to be burned away in the day’s heat sparkling prettily. It was a day to make a person feel good to be alive, and Kei felt the most light-hearted he’d been in months. Possibly as much as he’d felt in the year and a half since his mother had taken her own life.

  “You’re looking cheerful.”

  “Yes, I am, aren’t I. Life is good, don’t you think?”

  Reji put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Yes, it is. Like I said, there’s not much more a body could want but good friends, good food and a useful role to fill.”

  “True, very true.”

  Their legs carried them in short order to Rin and Meis’s front door. Kei knocked and walked in without waiting for a response, sure of his welcome. The family were at their food, but Meis got up and clasped her hand to her breast. “Oh my, Reji. I’m so glad you’re back.”

  Reji swept Meis into an embrace, and she buried her face in his chest. Kei looked at Rin in sympathy. He and Meis were as devoted a couple as one could wish, but Meis had suffered a heavy loss with the death of her much loved brother, and her emotions were still troubled. Rin clearly found it hard to deal with sometimes. That was why Kei had sent Myka in his place as often as not—Meis’s grief rubbed him raw. But this morning Reji’s calm and cheerful mood buffered her distress, and Kei felt less guilty at having avoided a family who were among his oldest and closest friends. He pulled up a stool and sat down next to Misek, whose face still bore the hideous marks of the explosion.

  “How do you feel, Mis?”

  “Better, Keichichi.” His friend gave him a brave smile. “I slept well. The rain helped.”

  “So it did.” Surreptitiously, Kei used his gift to check the way Misek’s eye was healing, concerned at the prolonged pain. There was still some inflammation, but it shouldn’t explain.... Wait, there was something. Had he overlooked the solution all this time? “Mis, I want to check your eye. Are you finished eating?”

  “I suppose so. Is something wrong?”

  “Not sure. It won’t take long.”

  Rin gave him a piercing look from under bushy eyebrows, worried and a little fearful at this fresh threat to his family. “Do you need help, Kei?”

  “No, it’s fine, Rin. I think there’s something I can do to help the pain. It will take but a moment, but I’d prefer the privacy. Would you all excuse us?”

  “Kei, shall I come with you?” Meis asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Pijli and Risa listened in silence, big eyes wide, their worry for their big brother clear.

  Kei smiled his most reassuring smile. “Calm down, everyone. It’s a very minor check I’m doing, nothing more.”

  “Ma, don’t fuss,” Misek said, getting to his feet, and indicating Kei should follow him up the stairs to the room he now shared with Banji.

  Banji was still in bed, most unusually, but he sat up and rubbed his eyes as they came in. “Kei? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, except you missing your breakfast.” Kei couldn’t feel any indication from his friend that he was ill or depressed particularly, other than the ever-present sadness over the death of his parents. “I just want to look at Mis’s eye.”

  “Oh. Shall I leave you alone?”

  “No, no, I only want a little peace while I do it. Mis, just sit, relax.”

  “What did you see?”

  Despite Kei’s reassurances, Misek’s anxiety rose. Exactly what Kei did not want. “Not sure. Nothing that’ll make it worse. I need you to relax. Close both eyes, and slow your breathing. The way I showed you, you remember.”

  Banji had got out of bed and padded closer. “Let me,” he said quietly, sitting behind Misek. “Lean on me, Mis. Breathe with me.”

  Kei was astonished—he hadn’t realise Banji had taken on Misek’s rehabilitation to this extent—and grateful, because as Banji’s chest came in contact with Misek’s back, Misek’s anxiety dropped right off. “Well done,” Kei murmured, and Banji gave him a pleased, shy smile.

  His patient was as ready as he could wish. “I think there is a chip of bone pressing on a nerve. I couldn’t really sense it before because of the swelling, and I need to check, but if I can move it away from the nerve, it might stop the pain.”

  “Please. It’s enough to make me want to gouge a hole in my head.”

  The quiet desperation in Misek’s voice made Kei even more determined to get the bottom of this puzzling pain. “Silence now. Let me concentrate. Banji, keep doing what you’re doing.” As Misek’s good eye closed, Kei could mouth at Banji, “This might hurt.”

  Banji nodded, and put his arm around Misek’s chest as if in comfort. Kei closed his own eyes and then concentrated. The damage had been savage—Misek was lucky the metal shard that had destroyed his eye had not gone a different path and drilled into his brain and killed him. Myka had done a good job cleaning and dressing the blinded eye. On the surface, the healing was proceeding well, but underneath.... Kei took his time, knowing he was causing no pain in his careful investigation.

  And there it was, what he had sensed earlier. He’d once tried to describe what he ‘saw’ with his powers to Myka, but had given up—there were just no words. Perhaps it was how a blind potter would know the shape of a pot from the information in his fingertips, the way Kei could imagine the shape and position of the fragment, deeply buried in the nerves at the back of the eyes.

  “R
ight, Mis. There’s a bit of bone as I thought. I’m going to move it. It might ache a bit, but I need you to keep still. Be brave now, my friend.” He reached for Misek’s hand, now a little damp from worry, and held it tight. Banji nodded again, expression calm, his attention all on their friend.

  It was equally impossible to describe to Myka how he moved things. It wasn’t like using his hands, or his body at all. He just...wanted it...and the small thing would shift infinitesimally. The trick here was in not doing more harm removing it than leaving it where it was.

  A grunt from Misek, and his hand jerked. So it did hurt. Kei stopped and let his friend catch up. Then, a tiny bit more, and then again.

  Slowly, the tiny fragment moved out of the nerves and into newly formed scar tissue, along soft flesh. “Now, Mis,” Kei said, and made a single last effort. Misek gasped, Kei having to hold his hand down, Banji gripped the other. A tiny spurt of blood at the corner of Misek’s eye, and he cried out as the tiny chip flew out across the room, landing who knew where.

  Kei immediately grasped his head and kept it still. “Wait, just wait. Ride the pain, it will get better.”

  Misek’s breathing was no longer calm, as he panted against the hurt. Banji held him all the while. But in a surprisingly short time, Misek relaxed, and he opened his good eye. “It...stopped. Oh gods, the pain.” He twisted to look at Banji. “It doesn’t hurt any more.”

  Banji hugged him. “I’m glad. So glad.”

  Kei never loved his title of healer more than when he saw the joy that came when a patient stopped hurting, when they finally truly realised they would one day be well. The smile on both his friends’ faces was worth all the wealth in Darshian. “I’m glad I came by to beg for breakfast after all,” he said with a grin. “And now, Banji-ki, you can tell me why you’re still in bed. I know you’re not sick.” For some reason, Banji blushed, a wave of pleased embarrassment flowing off him, and Misek grinned like a conspirator. “All right, what are you not telling me, you two?”

  “Nothing,” Banji said, standing up in a rush, and grabbing his trousers. “Mis, is there any food left?”

  “If Reji hasn’t eaten it all, there should be.”

  “Reji? You never said he was here!” Banji grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head as he stalked across to the door. “Reji! You there?” They heard him calling as he stomped down the stone stairs.

  Kei looked at Misek in surprise. “What in hells...? Mis?”

  “Sorry, it’s his secret,” Misek said with a shrug. “Thank you...gods, I feel so much better. You don’t know what it was like, never being free of pain.”

  “No,” he admitted, now looking over Misek critically, “I don’t, thankfully.” But he could guess—the marks of sleeplessness, the untidy way Misek had braided his hair, the lines around his mouth, all spoke of the way the chronic agony had eaten at his soul. Another task for research, Kei vowed. Some kind of non-addictive pain relief that could help with such things. Perhaps something that might treat the cause of the pain, as well as the pain itself. There must be something they could use.

  “Feh, here I am chattering, with all you’ve done for me, and you’ve not had your own breakfast yet. Come on, or Reji will have eaten us out of house and home.”

  His lover’s appetite was as legendary as his good temper, and with as much justification, so Kei really feared there would be nothing left for him, but Meis shooed him onto a stool and put hot cakes, butter and honey in front of him—a veritable feast, which made his stomach gurgle in anticipation. Reji reached out a hand to steal one of the cakes, but Meis slapped his hand even before Kei could open his mouth to protest.

  “No. Healer’s fee,” she said, her worn face now split by a smile. “Thank you, Kei. Your family are a blessing on mine.” She bowed deeply in thanks, and from his seated position, so did Rin.

  “The blessing is in being able to serve,” Kei said in formal response, but with heartfelt sincerity. Yes, life was good.

  Chapter : Darshian 6

  He hadn’t expected trees. He hadn’t expected green at all. In fact, the landscape was so little like southern Darshian, Arman wondered if he was on the same continent at all. The mountains had been difficult, far more rugged, far higher and more dangerous than any on Kuprij. Men had been lost, regrettably, but with good discipline, he and Jozo had managed to keep the deaths to less than ten. It had taken them three tortuous days to get across, sleeping on narrow trails, sitting huddled together for warmth, wrapped in blankets, shivering in the chill air. At least they hadn’t tried it in winter, he thought, shuddering at the idea of trying to traverse those sharp, hostile peaks when they were deep in snow. They would have to return in the rainy season, but by then, he hoped the engineers would have tamed the pass a little. If not...they would lose more men, of a certainty.

  Loke had trudged at his side, holding on to his saddle, refusing to ride behind him as Arman offered, claiming he had enough vertigo without being raised a urs beast’s height in the air. There were many times when even Arman had had to dismount too, and walk, trusting to the sharp, sure-footed hoofs of his animal to lead him safely through. If Her Serenity imagined this hidden passage was the new route through which trade goods would flow back and forth between the two halves of Darshian, she was much mistaken. But once Darshek was under their command, and the secret of the explosives was learned, it might be possible to re-open Kurlik pass. Or maybe the northerners knew another route. In any event, they had to press on.

  Morale had lifted as they began their descent. Once they had reached the plains, with much rejoicing and a sacrifice to Lord Niko in gratitude for allowing a relatively safe march, the men were visibly heartened. A base camp for the receipt of the hostages was established near woods at the foothills. A hundred soldiers were left there to build barracks, to form what would become a fort guarding the new pass. Jozo’s engineers were already planning ways of making the journey less dangerous, with ideas for bridges and tunnels that would doubtlessly give cheer to Her Serenity and lighten the public purse a great deal.

  Jozo marched on with Arman and the regiments. The first village offered no resistance, and the hostages were already on their way back to the base camp to await the return of the main force. Five days later, the next village had been slightly less passive, but with farmers and farm implements against seasoned soldiers and swords, the outcome was entirely predictable, and after a few cracked skulls, a second group of ten men and women were sent back to join the first group. It might indeed be possible to hold this vast territory as Her Serenity hoped. He hadn’t thought the Darshianese would give up so easily, or be so defenceless.

  Loke spent much of the day with the supply train, riding occasionally, more often walking. Arman felt a little bad about that, leaving an educated, well-born lad to muck in with the cooks and the common soldiers, but Loke never complained when they caught up with each other in the evenings, his nature as bright and irrepressible as ever, his attention to Arman’s needs not at all diminished by his inevitable fatigue. The supplies would normally be a point of vulnerability but with the lands behind them suppressed, and being a good way distanced from any possible fighting at the head of the line, Arman judged Loke was safe enough there. They all were safe enough. It looked as if this campaign would be one of the most peaceful in Prijian history.

  Arman was almost, he was ashamed to say, enjoying the march. The landscape was flat but hardly stark, with enough variety, enough trees, and fields of crops, and waterholes, to give rest to the eye. The hunting was good, and between that and the sequestered harvests, the supply situation was no longer a concern. It was one of the reasons the push had been made at just this time, when the crops were in, and the granaries still high. It would mean a lean year for the villages, but if it drove some of the people towards Urshek in search of food and work, that was no bad thing. They didn’t need the population maintained at its present level to keep the productivity high, and it would make the domination by the expected Priji
an colonists with their higher fertility, all that much easier.

  Four weeks after the start of the campaign, Jozo called a day’s halt to give the men a rest, to allow them to fix broken equipment, wash themselves and their clothes, and do all the many small tasks that accumulated when an army was on the move. They were ahead on time, having taken the territory to this point much more quickly than expected—the third village on the route would be reached in a day’s march, so they would surprise the villagers at dawn. For now, the army camped out near a large waterhole near one of the rare high features in the landscape, a huge sandstone outcrop weathered by the wind and carved by it into strange shapes and hollows.

  Arman examined it thoughtfully as he sat out of doors to eat his breakfast—eggs of a type unfamiliar to him, and hard camp bread, which was unfortunately not. “I’ve a mind to climb that,” he said to Loke, nodding at the outcrop. “Fancy a challenge?”

  “Why not? It makes a change from smelling urs beasts’ farts.”

  Arman wagged his knife at his page. “No complaints. You asked for it.”

  “Yes, I know. I don’t mind, honestly. I think I’m an inch or two shorter than I was, though. Worn off at the ankles.”

  Arman grinned at the idea. “I think, if anything, you’re an inch or two taller. You’ve not finished growing.”

  “I’ll never be a giant like you. I wonder you don’t take a nosebleed sometimes when you stand up.”

  Arman flicked a crumb of bread at him. “Enough of that, lad. You’ll be near as tall as me when you’re my age.”

  “If I live so long, I may do,” Loke said with a smile as he gathered up the plates, washing them up quickly so they could make their excursion.

  Arman dropped in on Jozo to let him know where they were going. “Do you want to come with us?”

  Jozo held up his hands. “No, thank you. My knees would never forgive me. Is it wise? We’re in enemy territory.”

  “I think I feel more in danger walking the streets of Utuk. The army has the place secured, and it’s not like the Darshianese have some hidden skill at guerrilla warfare. They don’t make much of a foe.”