“No,” Arman said slowly. “You’re not. But are the Rulers?”
“The Rulers are just fellow Darshianese we ask to govern on our behalf. Not like the Prij who breed for viciousness.”
Arman lifted an eyebrow at his remark. “Grumpy this morning, aren’t you?”
“So would you be if you woke up thinking someone was brutalising a friend of yours,” Kei muttered.
“Friend?” The word was said softly. “Even now?”
Kei stood up. “Oh, I forgot. It’s all changed now. You don’t need to humour the sad little hostage. Of course we’re no longer friends, we’re still on opposite sides.” He stalked out, ignoring Arman’s calling his name, and grabbed his cloak. Tiko was right—he needed more sleep.
~~~~~~~~
Arman shifted, trying to get away from the never-ending ache in his gut and his leg, and wondered what in hells was wrong with Kei. He didn’t know who’d been more shocked—himself or the Darshianese captain, when Kei had loomed up behind him and jerked him to his feet. He had looked so angry—Arman had never seen him like before, even with all the abuse he’d suffered, everything that had happened to him. To really arouse the fury of the gentle healer, one had only to threaten someone he cared about—or one of his patients. Having seen Kei working in the infirmary, his kindness and his careful nursing of the injured, Arman didn’t think he was a target of any special protectiveness. Kei would have done the same for any of the men lying here.
But that Kei believed Arman would be harmed by one of his own.
That, I’m responsible for, me and my kind.
He doubted six months ago it would have entered Kei’s head Arman would be crying out because of mistreatment, but now he suspected it everywhere. Arman didn’t know if Kei would ever get that innocence back—probably not. Kei was still struggling for stability. Arman regretted that. He’d thought if Kei was back with his own people, in charge of his life again and doing what Jena had said he was born to do, he would find a measure of peace once more. Judging by his worn, tired face, and his exaggerated reactions, that wasn’t the case.
He lay back on the bolster.
My crimes keep mounting up
. There was another discomfort under the ache which needed attending to. He turned his head, and saw one of the Darshianese medics sitting at Vikis’s side. “Excuse me, sir. I need your assistance.”
The man rose at once to come to him. “Are you in pain, general?”
“No, but I need to relieve myself.” Up until now, Kei had known when he needed to piss, and had been there with the pot almost before Arman had decided he needed to go. Shitting was an agonising ordeal, being manoeuvred into position—he was grateful the need had so far only arisen once since his injury. It was extremely embarrassing to have to ask even to do this much, but the medic only nodded, went out of the room to where Arman recalled there should be sinks and a latrine, and came back with a chamber pot. He held it as Arman relieved himself, and took it away. Unlike the Prijian physicians, the Darshianese were totally uninterested in the colour of his urine, only that he actually produced any. Arman now suspected that all the examining of piss in long glass jars which occupied much of any visit to a physician in the Street of Punus Gift was a load of superstitious rot.
The man returned and sat down, testing his pulse as Kei normally did. “Are you hungry, general?”
“Some water would be good.” He was duly helped to sit—yet more agony—his back supported with the lumpy bolsters, and given a mug of water. “My men...are you able to report on their condition? I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Perik of Darshek, general. Lieutenant Vikis is causing concern, but we believe he’ll recover, given time and rest.” Perik went through a list of the others—broken legs, broken ribs and arms, concussions, several bad sword cuts—but all were doing well, he said.
“Thank you for the care you’re giving them. They’re in very good hands, I see.”
Perik gave him a hard look. “They’re in Kei’s hands, and I’ve rarely seen a more able healer or a kinder one. It’s fortunate for all of you none of your soldiers tried to rape a woman in Ai-Albon, isn’t it?” He stood up. “I’ll have some soup brought in—you need to eat. Your body needs the fuel and to replace the blood loss.”
“Yes, thank you,” Arman said politely, not wanting to annoy this man or any of his captors unless he had to. Perik grunted and went, presumably to get the food. His words stung—it really had been pure chance that the soldier who had been killed in Vinri had not been stationed in Albon instead. If Mekus had ordered Kei’s death....
Arman gripped the mug of water tightly, thinking of how it could so easily have been Kei and his kin murdered that day, and Arman would not have been able to stop it. If he’d protested vehemently—even if he had bodily tried to prevent it—he would have been put in irons and sent to the dungeons. The hostages would still have died, and over a dozen Prijian soldiers and a Prijian general would now be dead or dying too.
Arman had killed before, with his own hands, and by his command. He’d ordered the deaths of dozens of rebellious Darshianese or comrades of rebels during a serious uprising three years ago, killed as a warning to others not to do the same. The suppression of that uprising had led to his promotion to general, in fact. He’d seen executions many times, both of Darshianese and of common criminals. He’d always equated the two groups as deserving their fate—and now he had to wonder, what had he wantonly destroyed in the name of the empire? How many healers? How many mind-speakers, soul-touchers? What musicians, artists, potters had died with Prijian swords in their guts, the beauty they could create, never to be seen or heard? How much agony had he brought to good people, honest families, just to serve his sovereign? No wonder Kei couldn’t contemplate killing—no wonder he was so revolted by those who could. How Kei could breathe the same air as him?
Perhaps he couldn’t any longer. Kei thought their relationship needed to alter—though it was a rather abrupt change of heart from a man who had slept willingly in his arms for four nights, as trustingly as a pet hisk would lie in the lap of a child. But that was it, of course. Kei was not longer a ‘pet’—and no longer needed Arman’s protection, or his friendship. Now he was free to express his revulsion of what Arman was and what he had done.
But then Arman remembered how Kei had sat holding his hand in the night—not for Arman’s sake, but his own—and knew the situation was not as simple as that. He sighed, again trying to find a position which didn’t hurt so much. In a few weeks, it would be moot. He hoped Kei would not torment himself unduly over their...relationship. Arman wished him well, wished him to be happy. Their fates were no longer joined, and so Arman could have no importance for him any more. Which was as it should be—whatever Arman might ever barely admit to himself he might want.
He obediently ate the soup provided, and this time when Perik offered the painkiller drug, he accepted, letting it pull him down to sleep as it always did. When he woke again—clearly several hours later since it was now dark once more—Kei was back in the infirmary, bending over Vikis, changing dressings, and talking quietly to him. Vikis sounded rather confused, and a little frightened in his confusion, but Kei spoke gently in Prijian and held his hand until he quieted. Vikis either went to sleep then, or passed out.
Kei stood and stretched, rubbed his lower back and then dumped the used bandages into a bowl. As he looked around, he saw Arman watching him. He didn’t smile as he came a little closer. “How do you feel?”
“Better. If Tiko wants to interrogate me, I’m able to bear it.” He just wanted it out of the way, and he was, in truth, feeling strong enough for it.
“He can wait—you look tired still.”
“So do you. I’m fine. This can’t be delayed forever.”
Kei narrowed his eyes at him. “As you wish, general.” He collected the bandages and walked out. Arman tried to collect himself, hoping the residue of the drug wouldn’t make him give anything away. What if they had a mind-speaker among them? He supposed he could do little to avoid revealing damaging information if they chose to use one.
It took longer than he thought for Captain Tiko to come in, followed by a grim-faced Kei. “General? Kei tells me you’re up to being questioned. He’s going to be present to assure your welfare.”
“Thank you.” Kei didn’t react to his gratitude. “I warn you now, I won’t give you any information about the Prijian defences.”
“And the hostages? Where are they being kept?”
“In houses in Utuk—I’ve never known where other than in one or two particular cases. I wasn’t in charge of that.”
“The Rulers wish to ransom you for them. Do you judge this may succeed?”
Arman wondered how in hells this captain, stuck at the southern end of this territory, could know this? “If you send such a demand, you’ll only be delivering a death sentence to your people. I’m sorry.”
Tiko gave him a cold look. “Not that sorry, I warrant. Is there any time when they are collected together?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Kei cleared his throat. “It’s only by a special concession of the sovereign, Tiko—for high festivals, as I understand it.”
“And when is the next such high festival?”
Tiko looked at Arman. “I won’t tell you that.”
“Arman, please.” Kei leaned forward, a pleading look in his eyes.
“I can’t. It’s asking for an attack.”
Kei sat up and glared. “You’ll let them die.”
“I won’t allow the deaths of hundreds of my own people for yours. You can’t ask that, it’s unfair.”
“Unfair?” Kei clenched his fist. “You speak of this after what your people have done?”
“Please, let me deal with this,” Tiko said, putting a placatory hand over Kei’s but then removing it rather quickly, as if he’d recalled something. “General, Kei’s right. Those deaths will be on your hands.”
“Yes, I know. I still can’t betray my country, captain. So what will you do now? Bring on your mind-speakers? Wait until I’m drugged and ask again?”
Kei stared at him in horror. “Arman, we
don’t
...no gifted person would do such a thing without consent! And I won’t permit the drugs—Tiko, don’t even think about that!”
“Kei, calm down. Of course we won’t do that. I was hoping to appeal to the general’s conscience, but I see he doesn’t have one—or an ounce of mercy either. This is a waste of my time,” he said in disgust. “I hope you appreciate the irony of this situation, general. I hope the hostages appreciate it too.” He got up. “You’re travelling to Darshek in two days, along with those of your men who can travel with you. You’ll have eight weeks to change your mind. I beg you, for simple humanity’s sake, to think again. We Darshianese have no desire to conquer the Prij—we just want our people to come home, and to live in peace.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Kei still sitting at Arman’s bedside.
“You told me you would try to save them,” Kei said in a low voice. “You swore to die to protect me. Why won’t you do this, Arman?” He lifted puzzled, weary eyes to him. “We only want them home again.”
“And how can that happen without an all-out attack? To help them escape is one thing—although you know as well as I do the chances of even that were slim. But to assist an attack on Utuk, on Kuplik? Are you saying the lives of Prijian citizens are worth less than those of Darshianese?”
“No,” Kei answered coldly. “But the Darshianese citizens never took the Prij prisoners or murdered their people. We took no one captive for the sake of imperial expansion. It is not us who’ve brought this situation. It’s you and your kind. Tiko’s right. If those people die, you’re directly responsible. If Jena dies, it’s your fault. If that happens, I will never forgive you as long as I live.” He got up and stalked out, the line of his back telling Arman how angry he was.
As he has every right to be
. He didn’t want to live with Kei’s anger or his hate—he didn’t want to be the one who betrayed the Prij to the enemy either. But he was used to living with unpleasant compromises. This was just a lot more unpleasant than most of them.
~~~~~~~~
Kei needed to get away from people so he could think. The problem was that it was dark, freezing cold and he was in a fort. He couldn’t go wandering off with a lamp like he would have done back home. The barracks were full, the canteen busy still.... He ended up climbing up on the wall walk behind the parapet, where the sentries were mounted. He nodded to the soldier keeping watch in the tower, then stood wrapped tightly in his warm cloak—his warm
Prijian
army cloak, he thought wryly—and stared at the dark outlines of the great Trejk range, visible because their peaks obscured the stars. On the other side of them, across the sea, lay Kuplik, and there were the hostages. His family, his friends—Jena, now as close to him as his sister, and as beloved. But also people like Karus. Arman’s family, whatever he thought of them. Ordinary men and women who just wanted a life lived in security. He had no doubt the ordinary Prij thought the Darshianese were animals, and their sovereign was only doing the best for the Prijian interest. But that was because they didn’t
know
.
If they could just see us—if they could see we’re like them in every way, and we don’t want them hurt any more than they would want themselves hurt....