Arman could easily imagine such words leaving Mayl’s perfect lips, but looking at this small-eyed, small-minded bully, he could also imagine with what relish Mykis had carried out the order. “Kei is
my
servant, personally placed under my charge by Her Serenity. Do you want to explain to Her Serenity how her gift was so badly damaged he can’t carry out simple tasks because
you
have beaten him into a pulp? And what’s this I hear about him not being fed? The man is skin and bones. Cook? Is there some famine I’m unaware of that does not allow my manservant to eat three meals a day as I’m sure you do? That all the servants do?”
The woman opened her mouth and shut it. Mykis answered. “A punishment for his clumsiness, Sei. He spills things all the time.”
And so would you, if you were hungry and injured and terrified, you loathsome brute.
“All right, hear me now. As of this moment, Kei has one duty, and one only—to serve me. He will be fed the same food I am, at the same times, and in the same manner, and if I’m not here, he’ll be fed as if I
am
. No one will lay a finger on him without my direct order. Is that understood?” His servants were no less susceptible to his parade voice than were his soldiers, and far more easily more cowed. They nodded their agreement eagerly, wringing their hands. “Now, I want bath water, some cloths to clean a spill, and a meal prepared. I will speak to my wife about this, but
regardless
of what she may have to say on this subject, if my orders are contravened, you’ll both leave this house and I’ll ensure you get no other position.
Ever
. Is
that
also clear?”
“Yes, Sei Arman,” Mykis said faintly.
“Is there some reason you’re still standing there and not carrying out my command?”
“No, Sei,” Mykis squeaked, scurrying away. The cook blanched, and hurriedly began setting plates on a tray.
Arman stalked off in search of his wife and found her on the terrace, listening to her maid reading. “Leave us,” Arman ordered curtly and waited only for the woman to scamper off. “You’ve a damn nerve, Mayl.”
Mayl placed her hand over her belly—perhaps forgetting reminding Arman of her pregnancy was not likely to win her any sympathy from him. “Is there some reason you are brutalising my maid?”
“Brutalising? You don’t know the meaning of the word. You leave my servant alone. Hurting him won’t do anything to me, but if it comes to the ears of Her Serenity, you’ll be sorry.”
Her lips curled into a sneer. “Changed your tune, haven’t you? Have you finally decided to let him warm your sheets the way dear little Loke did?”
He raised his hand, and she cringed. “Oh yes, you’re afraid of me, and with good reason, you unspeakable bitch. With a mind like yours, it’s a wonder you’re not running the city brothel. Do not touch what is mine, or in my care, or you will find yourself out on the street, child or no child.”
“You told
me
I was to take control of the boy,” she spat.
“You abused the responsibility. Faithless wife, and now a worthless mistress—what a prize you are, Sei Mayl. I’ve told your people if there’s a repeat of these matters, they’ll be turned out.” He gripped her chin. “That applies to you too.”
He set her free with a disgusted sound and walked out. He’d have to pay for this later. But he wouldn’t let a servant take his whippings for him.
The water had been delivered, as had the food, and the floor was dry. At first Arman couldn’t see Kei, but then he found him kneeling in the corner, clearly trying to keep out of the way of any further abuse. He remembered Kei now—barely—from the journey across the mountains. The man had always appeared composed—Arman recalled now he seemed to have been one of the leaders among the hostages. He certainly had never shown any fear Arman had ever seen—but now he looked terrified of his own shadow.
Arman was ashamed to see it, conscious he was in no small part responsible for things coming to this state. He had wanted the Darshianese dead—but he couldn’t stomach pointless cruelty or torture, and certainly had never wanted
this
to happen. Punishment should fit the crime. This man had done nothing but cross the path of an evil bitch and her petty-minded servants.
He crouched in front of Kei. The only way to deal with this was to forget what he was, and treat him as Arman would treat anyone else in his charge who had been mishandled thus. “There’s food, will you eat?” He held out his hand, but Kei backed away from it. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“You hate me. You hate us all,” Kei whispered, his eyes downcast. “You let them do this.”
That jabbed directly at Arman’s pride, but he knew why Kei would think this. “No, I did not and I do not. I have expressly forbidden anyone to lay a finger on you. I have...no love for your race, it is true.” He drew a breath. He had always believed in fairness and justice, and this was neither fair nor just. “But this is not how we treat our servants. At least, it is not how
I
treat my servants.”
Kei lifted his head. Now there was a faint anger in his expression, a small spark even of pride. “Prijian
hospitality.
”
“No. Prijian cruelty, for which I apologise.” Kei’s eyes widened in surprise. “Please, you should eat.” Arman put his hand out again, and Kei accepted it with a shaking one of his own, biting off a small cry as the movement tugged his injured back. “I’m sorry, just move slowly.” Kei nodded as Arman helped him to the table. “Now eat. You’ll eat the same food as I do in future, and I want to know if you do not.”
“But...I have to work...with them?”
“No. From now on, you work for me and no one else. Understand?” Kei nodded. “Good lad. I’ll see if I can put my hands on some liniment.... What?”
“My box...I have ointment which is good for bruises.”
“Box? Oh, that thing. All right, I’ll fetch it. Eat, I’ll return soon. No one will disturb you.”
Kei nodded again, and Arman left to get this box of his from the library case. The liniment would be best, but the man looked too fragile to argue with, and perhaps a homemade remedy would ease his mind. It would take more than that to ease
Arman’s
mind, though.
~~~~~~~~
Kei didn’t know where to start with the rich food. His hunger was almost greater than the pain in his back and his astonishment at the abrupt change in attitude of the general. He broke off a bit of bread and dipped it into the soup, wondering if this was one of his food dreams, where the dishes would be whisked away just as he got the stuff to his lips. His hand shook as he brought the food to his mouth, and when he tasted it, it actually entered his mouth and he could swallow it, tears ran down his cheeks in relief. He was
so
hungry.
The first few bites disappeared in no time, but his eager greediness made him choke, forcing him to stop and drink some of the wine. He wiped his mouth with trembling fingers, still not sure if this was real or not. He picked up the spoon and sipped the excellent meat broth, making himself eat slowly despite his starvation, not wanting to be sick and stretch Arman’s sudden generosity too far. His master’s odd behaviour was most likely down to shock, and perhaps anger at his servants, more than any feeling for Kei’s well-being, but Kei was willing to accept whatever mercy he could in the circumstances.
Gods, his back was on fire—he was glad he couldn’t see it, but the bruising had to be severe. Mykis had hit him so hard and with so much bad temper, Kei was honestly afraid he would be killed. Then he’d hoped he
would
be killed, just so the beating would stop. He still didn’t know how he had carried the bucket from the taproom.
Feeling less frayed and dizzy with every mouthful, he finished the soup, and then tried the cheese, which wasn’t anything special, but tasted like the finest batch Myka had ever made in her life. He was still finishing his food when the door opened—he couldn’t hold back his flinch, but he relaxed slightly when he saw it was only his master with his box of equipment and medications in his hands.
“It’s in here?”
“Yes, my lord. There’s a pot of ointment, sealed with wax...but I can’t—” He bit his lip. The general’s kindness wouldn’t extend to dressing his wounds. “I forgot,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
Arman put the box on the desk. “What are you talking about, Kei? You need me to put it on you, that’s obvious. Have you finished eating?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t quite, but he wouldn’t try the general’s temper.
“Then take off your shirt and lie on your pallet.”
“Yes, my lord.” He needed help again to get his shirt off—he would be useless the following day, possibly longer. He wondered if Arman realised that.
With a quiet groan, he lowered himself to his pallet and lay face down. “My lord, the ointment will stain if you get it on your clothes.”
“My damn clothes aren’t of any concern to me. Lie still.” Kei felt his braid gently moved out of the way, and then he jerked at the cold touch of the ointment. “Does that hurt?”
“No, my lord. It’s just a little cold.”
Arman’s fingers were surprisingly skilled and gentle as they spread the salve, causing Kei only a little unavoidable pain, well worth it for the relief the numbing ointment brought. “This stuff actually seems to stop sensation,” the general said wonderingly. “What’s in it?”
“Reduced sap of the chuo plant, mixed with boiled tido palm oil,” Kei explained simply.
“It really works. How was this discovered?”
Kei twisted his head. Arman was looking at his fingers, no doubt puzzled by the tingling the cream caused. “My father was experimenting with various plant saps for their antiseptic and other properties, and found the chuo sap had numbing powers.”
Arman looked at him in evident surprise. “Experimenting? You mean, not witchcraft?”
Kei laughed a little despite his weariness and pain. “No, my lord. My father discovered a great many new drugs and treatments but there was no magic involved.”
“Hmmm. Kei, this bruising goes below your belt—does it extend much below?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it does.”
“Then loosen your trousers—no, take them off.” With help, Kei obeyed, and Arman hissed in a breath. “Why did you say nothing? This is a serious injury—you could have been crippled.”
Kei twisted to look at him again. “To whom should I have complained, my lord?”
“To me, you damn fool!”
“To the man who thinks we’re all murdering scum, and who has treated me like an ignorant slave for weeks?”
The room was suddenly very quiet, and Kei realised he had let his weakness and his resentment get the better of him. He had gone too far. But to his surprise, Arman simply applied the ointment to his lower back and buttocks, with the same gentle touch as before. “I would not treat a dog thus. Loke...would be distressed to see this.” He heard the lid of the ointment jar being replaced. “Your people killed Loke. You killed my friend.” Now Kei felt the faint echoes of Arman’s anger, overlain by fresh, intense grief.
Kei could not move easily so he could only turn a little to look at Arman, now lost in his sorrow. “My lord,” he said gently. “I can’t bring your friend back to life though I wish I had that power to ease your pain. His death was a crime, and the man who killed him committed a wrong, no matter what the provocation. But we’re not all criminals, any more than all Prij are cruel.”
Arman stared down at his ointment-covered fingers for a moment, then lifted his eyes to Kei’s. “You don’t know how it hurts.”
“No, my lord. I only know what my own sorrows feel like, and imagine your own based on that.” He reached out a tentative hand to Arman’s and when it wasn’t rebuffed, he gently squeezed his fingers. “But I know his worth was great, to have been loved so deeply. I’m sorry any of my people were responsible for that loss. I’m sorry for your grief. Deeply sorry, my lord.”
Arman let him hold his fingers for a moment or two, then gently pushed them away. “You need to rest,” he said, his voice devoid of the emotions Kei felt surging inside him. “You have no duties until you are healed, and then I’ll find some better occupation for you than digging drains.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Go to sleep.”
Kei couldn’t reach his blankets, but decided the pain of having them on the welts on his back would be far worse than feeling a little chilled so he didn’t even try to get to them. But then, to his surprise, he felt something soft laid over him. “The sheet will be easier,” Arman said gruffly, before settling the blankets over his back.
Kei could only murmur his thanks again. Arman had taken the sheet from his own bed and laid it over his enemy. Kei couldn’t have been more astonished, but he had no energy to be astonished for long. The relief from pain the ointment gave him, and having a full belly for the first time in weeks, all made sleep irresistible. He stopped trying to resist, and was tugged under in a matter of moments.