Kei understood what he’d done, and was grateful in a subdued kind of way. His reactions were growing less severe as the days passed, and he admitted his control was improving. The last time anything remotely like this had happened, it had taken nearly a month for him to really be normal, he said. Arman got the impression that six months or more was likely to be the case here.
Kei was unlikely to still be in Utuk in six months’ time. But neither might Arman. Three weeks after the new hostages had arrived from Vinri, he was summoned to a meeting of the security cabinet. Kita was present, as were six of the most senior and capable senators, Captain Peku, and the Lord Commander. He expected it to be about the siege at Darshek, and was resigned to listening to a lot of stupid complaints and ideas which they had gone over a dozen times before. But to his surprise, it was Blikus, not Peku, who got to his feet. “Your highness, senators, we have lost all communications with north Darshian. There’s been no goods or messages through Tirko Pass for three weeks. We’ve sent a number of messengers and scouts—not one has returned.”
Consternation broke out. “It’s winter, Lord Commander,“ Senator Kizus—one of the oldest and most acerbic members of the senate—pointed out. “Is it possible they’ve been lost in snowfalls or avalanches?”
“Yes, it is, although the snowfalls have not been severe, according to General Ritus. But if the passes were simply blocked, at least some of our men would be turning back and reporting the problem. At this point, we have to assume anything from a simple problem at Fort Trejk, to a total loss of our troops.”
Kita said nothing, but she looked thoughtful. “Your suggestion, Lord Commander?” another senator asked.
“The only solution is to find out what’s going on—and that means sending a force north.”
“More
soldiers?” Kizus snapped. “Impossible—this war is stretching us thin. The senate won’t approve it.”
Her Serenity raised her hand for silence. “How many soldiers, Blikus?”
Blikus bowed a little to Kita. “I would suggest at least two hundred, your highness. But it would depend on what is found.”
She folded her hands. “You seriously think we could have lost our entire force, including General Jozo? Is that even possible?”
“I would hope not, your highness. But a total lack of communications means just that—and until we know why, we have to assume the worst.”
“Your highness, my lord,” Arman said, getting their attention. “A force of even a hundred men, carefully chosen, might be able to investigate this. We can spare those from Utuk without compromising security.”
“And who would lead this? You?” Kizus snapped.
“I could, Senator. I know the terrain and the pass better than anyone on this side of the mountain range.”
“Couldn’t one of your captains lead it? It doesn’t need a general’s attention.”
“No, it doesn’t, not just getting through the pass. But if some catastrophe has befallen our army, it
will
need my attention. I would feel easier about the matter if I could assess it with my own eyes and make a judgement on the spot.” Kizus grunted, accepting the point.
“A hundred soldiers, Arman. You would be sitting targets,” Blikus said.
“If the worst has happened, yes, my lord. But if the worst has happened, even a thousand men might not be enough.”
“We’re not sending another thousand troops,” Kizus said. “It exposes Kuprij too much—we’re already exposed too much by this siege. If there was an attack by the Andonese, we would have all our defences tied up in the north.”
Kita held her hand up. “Arman, if we’ve lost Jozo, losing you would be a bitter blow.”
“’
If’
, your highness. I don’t have your belief in my indispensability, but in any event, it needs experience more than numbers for this task. It’s probably something remarkably simple,” he said with more confidence than he felt.
She tapped the arms of her chair with her fingers as she thought. “Very well. Arman, take a hundred troops and plan to only go as far as Vinri, unless you consider you really need to continue once you’re on the ground. Send reports back at every station. We shall have four hundred men kept in reserve in Urshek, waiting for your command. If you determine more troops are needed, then more will be provided,” she said with a sharp look at her senators. “We’ve devoted many resources to the fight for Darshek, senators, let us not quibble now when victory is so close.”
Arman noted the scepticism of her cabinet, but she ignored it. “When can you leave, Arman?”
“In two days, your highness. My lord, we will need cold weather equipment, and urs beasts for all men, for greater speed.”
“Ritus will provide them. Peku, we want your fastest boat for Arman.” The admiral nodded. “Anything else?”
“No, my lord. It’s always possible news will come before we enter the pass—another reason for a smaller force.”
“True.” Blikus didn’t look happy. “That’s the end of my report, your highness.”
“Very well, we trust you to provide what is needed. Good day, gentlemen. Arman, wait a moment, please.”
He stood and waited politely for his colleagues to leave. Kita took his arm. “Walk with us.” She led him out into the walled garden, where braziers were lit here and there to warm the more delicate plants. “You seem eager for this mission.”
“Eager to know the fate of our men, your highness. General Jozo is too valuable to lose this way.”
“As are you. Does it not concern you that your wife is soon to give birth?”
He nearly rolled his eyes—Kita always picked the most irritating moments to be womanly. “My wife is a soldier’s wife and a senator’s daughter. We all know our duty to Kuprij, your highness.”
“Indeed, we’re sure you do. We’ll keep her safe for your return.”
“Thank you. I don’t expect it to be as dangerous as you fear. The chances something catastrophic have occurred are slight.”
“Of course. The Darshianese don’t have a large army, we already know this. As you say, it’s most likely a problem at the fort.” She made him turn towards a display of bright red berry plants, a type he didn’t recognise. “Will you take this manservant of yours? The one Blikus says knows so many remedies?”
Gods, he’d not thought about.... “If your highness would permit it, it would be helpful. Your kindness in that matter has been much appreciated.”
Eventually,
he thought wryly.
“Thank you. Yes, you have my permission, but see he continues with his work. We should like to see this text when it’s completed. And, of course, if the Darshianese should kill this servant too, then it’s only fitting”
Cold-blooded reptile of a woman
. “Of course. He is as much use as a hostage with this expedition as in Utuk, and I won’t have to waste of the time one of my soldiers performing menial duties.”
“Yes, true. Now, we better let you make your preparations. We would be most upset if you were to get yourself killed on this venture, Arman. We want you to know that.”
He bowed. “Your highness is too kind. I expect to be able to give you a report within a month, all being well.”
She smiled. “Ah, then, good, you shall have the naming ceremony in the palace. Your child will be a kinsman of ours—it will be joyfully welcomed.”
How he would have enjoyed telling her the child wasn’t even
his
kin, let alone hers. “Thank you.”
She dismissed him and he backed away. Gods...what had he just agreed to do with Kei?
There were days when Kei almost felt normal, normal sad at least. Working with Arman in the morning was more stressful in some ways, but his presence gave Kei the strength to keep his control. The afternoons with Karus and Jena left him without that source of strength, but he didn’t need it so much—sometimes, not at all. Karus was so even in his temperament, he didn’t put a strain on Kei’s gift at all, and Jena could conceal her more changeable emotions enough they didn’t burden him.
But he was also improving overall. Karus’s other servants offered no special concessions, and yet Kei now handled interactions with them easily. He could even now deal with Arman’s household staff, even though they still made him sick in every way with their unpleasant speculations and hate. They were a good test for measuring his recovery. Maybe once he was back at Ai-Albon, with people who weren’t hostile, he would really be able to live and work with them again. Jena believed it was so. The other matter...well, it was possible to live with a deep sorrow, a painful loss, however great. He was proving to himself he could bury himself in his work, and there would be work aplenty in which to do so when he returned. It would help to numb the ache.
His heart always lifted a little in the evening when he heard Arman’s cultured voice asking Matez where they were, and he could always let a little tension go when Arman at last entered the library or the kitchen wherever Kei was working or talking. Arman always managed to give him some contact, a squeeze to the shoulder, or a hand briefly on his back. Like water to a drought-dying plant, it revived him—not forever, but for a while—although he drooped again if Arman was gone for long. It angered him to be so dependent on another in this way, to be so weak and in need of comforting. But the situation wasn’t of his making, nor under his control. All he could do was work determinedly on his exercises, force himself to tolerate more and more exposure to the emotions of strangers to build up a callus on his heart, and to remind himself daily he would not have Arman here for long, so he had better not use him more than he absolutely needed to.
Jena’s reactions to Arman were always powerful and mixed. Kei was amused by the mixture of her determination to loathe the man for what he had done and who he was, her gratitude for the help Arman gave Kei, and her reluctant liking for Arman himself despite her intentions. It wasn’t as if Arman set out to charm Jena, and she was always as rude to him as she could get away with, but Arman didn’t mind, which puzzled her. It certainly led her to mutter frequent imprecations about him to anyone who would listen, usually Kei—and Kei had to wonder if she was fooling even herself. It was one of the small entertainments of his day, watching them at it.
They were in the library, Arman having missed supper, and Karus having already retired for the evening—feeling over-weary, he said, which always made Kei and Jena anxious to hear it. They both did as much as they could to make his days easier, but Karus was old. Some men lived longer, especially in Darshian, but he was one of the most elderly Prij Kei had encountered. Kei’s healing skills could not make a man more youthful, however much he wanted it.
Kei heard the front door of the house opening, Matez’ deep rumble and Arman’s tenor in response. A moment later, Arman was with them. As he came to Kei’s side and put an arm over his shoulder to look at what he and Jena were working on, Kei felt there was something serious on his mind. “Jena, would you mind if I spoke to Kei alone? I will then want to speak to you if you can wait.”
“Yes, my lord.” She was as puzzled as Kei. “Has something happened? Not one of the villages—”
“No, nothing like that, but there’s been a development. If you can curb your curiosity then I’ll tell you about it later,” Arman said with a trace of impatience in his tone.
“You should forgive my suspicion, lord general,” she said huffily. “It’s not like we haven’t had nasty surprises from you before.”
“Jena, stop it,” Kei said. “Please, leave us alone.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and seemed about to retort before gathering her skirts up and leaving the library with annoyance showing in the stiff line of her back. Kei watched her go with a sigh. “Arman? What’s happening?”
Arman sat down in Jena’s vacated chair. “Communications with north Darshian have been lost. I’m to take a small force across Tirko Pass and investigate. I could be gone weeks, or longer.”
Kei looked at him with consternation. “But...then what will I do? Will I have to...will I go to another household?”
Arman took his hand. “Her Serenity has given me permission to take you with me. I confess, I asked for that before I had a chance to think it through. Do you want to come with me?”
Arman’s fingers were warm around his, but Kei could hardly feel a thing, so suddenly had hope and happiness filled him. “I can go home?” he whispered. “But...no...I would have to return, would I not?” He pulled his hand away from Arman’s and stared down at his notes, his vision suddenly blurring. For a moment, he’d thought....
Arman put his arm around Kei and pulled him close. “I don’t know what to offer. I can’t set you free or the others would suffer. But do you think someone in your village would take your place, if we went so far? My orders are to go to Vinri, but it will depend on what we find. We might turn back at Fort Trejk—I might be forced to go to Kislik, but it’s unlikely. Albon is a long way from the pass and I can’t make that journey just for you...but if we did?”
Kei blinked away the stupid tears of disappointment. “It would be unfair to ask.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Arman said firmly, his arms around Kei’s shoulder tightening in comfort. “You’ve been with us for months. You’ve been badly injured twice, and done as much as anyone could to keep the situation calm. I think you’ve served your village. It wouldn’t be unfair to ask, but it would be up to you. Can you bear to go to Darshian and then return to Kuplik? I’m sorry, I should have thought this through.”