“I’ll not give you medical supplies to treat that man,” she snapped. “Are you travelling with them to keep that bastard alive?”
“Mara!” Gyek snapped. “Kei’s returning to his home after a great trial—you should have more respect for what he’s suffered for Darshian’s sake.”
“I have completely respect for Kei—it’s his choice of patient I mistrust.” She folded her arms. “I refuse to hand over a drop of nitre distillation or anything else if it’s to be used on that man.”
Kei had been afraid of this, but her attitude still shocked him. He tried to stay polite because she was angry enough. “First of all, I didn’t ‘choose’ a patient—no healer does. And who he is or what he’s done makes no difference to me.”
“Very noble, Kei of Ai-Albon, but I feel differently.”
“As you wish. Your attitude shames our profession in my opinion, but I’m not going to force you to do anything.”
She rounded on him. “Do you
know
what that man is responsible for? He ripped seventy people from their homes, killed ten of them, killed another in cold blood—you expect me to help you keep him alive?”
Her raw anger and hatred was ripping his control to shreds and he had to clench his fists to try and stay calm. “I know all of this. I expect nothing but that you uphold the ethics of all healers. Where is it written that we judge our patients?”
“Where is it written,” she demanded furiously, “that we give aid and comfort to the enemies of our people either? It’s you who shame us. I spit on your betrayal.” A gob of spittle landed at his feet. “I refuse to give you anything.” She stalked out, leaving the now rather large audience standing with their mouths hanging open.
Kei backed up to the wall, collapsed onto a wooden chest resting against it, and hugged his arms around himself, utterly nauseated. He hadn’t felt animosity like that since he’d left Arman’s house.
“Kei? Don’t take it to heart,” Gyek said kindly. “She has no right to say such things. I’ll speak to her—”
Kei held up a shaking hand to silence him. “No...no. Just leave it, please. I can manage without the supplies, if I have to.”
“I’m sorry for this lack of respect our village has shown. It’s not our way, I promise you.”
Kei looked up, wishing they would all just go away. “This war has changed many people. I know that more than most.”
Tiko came up behind Gyek, said something Kei couldn’t hear, and then came forward. “Kei, my men can deal with the stores. Gyek and Aldik need to have your news. Go with them, I’ll meet you at his house for the meal.”
Kei got up and followed the clan head, keeping his head down to avoid the looks from several dozen villagers who’d heard the whole exchange. He wasn’t ashamed, he truly wasn’t—but he couldn’t bear this suspicion and hostility for doing what he felt in his heart was only right. It was so unfair to have endured so much and come so far, only to be judged wanting as he came so close to his home again.
At the house, Gyek’s wife greeted him warmly, and put a mug of beer, bread and cheese in front of him as soon as he sat down, saying he looked as if he needed feeding up. Her undemanding kindness helped Kei regain a little composure, and as he picked at the food, he gave Gyek news of his son and the other clansmen, and Aldik the reassurance about Jena he desperately wanted to hear. “She’s in the home of one of the kindest, most decent people you would ever meet, Aldik. Not all Prij are warmongers.”
“Kind or not, she’s still in danger every moment she’s in their hands,” Aldik said, his face solemn. “Will this general be able to hasten her return?”
“I fear not. He won’t betray his people by giving us the information that might help.”
“Someone should go and pound a little sense of justice into him,” Gyek’s younger son said. He’d been listening to Kei’s report in silence, but now he leaned forward. “Has no one tried? I mean, if he’s injured, surely we can—”
Kei slammed his fist onto the table. “No! I won’t hear of this and you should be ashamed to even think such a thing, let alone say it!”
His vehemence shocked them, but then Gyek nodded. “Pik, that’s indeed a shameful thought. Apologise.”
Pik bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I just want our people back. They took my brother with them.”
“I don’t care who they took,” Kei said sternly. “What’s wrong with everyone that they’re forgetting the Prij are humans too? Even the general isn’t as evil as you think—he would never suggest what you just did, for a start.”
“You seem to be an expert on them—why can’t you persuade him to let our people come home?” Aldik said, his previous friendliness now buried under suspicion.
He was handling this badly, but he wasn’t going to lie and agree with what was simply wrong and immoral. “Because he believes to betray his country would lead to deaths of his own people, his own family. If Darshek had declared war on the Prij, and you were a prisoner in their hands, would you betray our race?”
“Darshek would never do such a thing,” Gyek said heavily. “Nor any Darshianese.”
“But if they did?” Kei persisted. “Would you betray any of us, to save any of them?”
Gyek waved his hand in dismissal. “Your point is theoretical—we’re talking about a country who
has
declared war, who
has
taken our people prisoner. He should right the wrong he has done, regardless of the personal pain. It’s only just.”
Kei gritted his teeth. This was an impossible argument to win, the more so because he saw both sides were right and also wrong. He fervently wished now he’d sent a note into the village with the news of the hostages, and stayed in the camp.
Gyek’s wife, Eide, declared the food was ready and set the dishes out in front of them. Tiko joined them just after they’d started. Kei let the captain be the focus of their attention, and kept quiet for the rest of the meal. He sensed the disapproval of all his hosts—all save Eide who’d sensibly stayed out of the argument—but didn’t feel up to trying to defend his position or his actions. He resented the necessity of even having to do so.
Aldik left as soon as was barely polite after the meal, his distaste at being in Kei’s company having not abated at all as they’d eaten. A more polite person than her guest, Eide extended an invitation for Kei to stay the night so he could sleep in a proper bed for a change. Kei started to refuse, sensing Gyek and Pik weren’t that pleased at the prospect, but then Tiko’s hand came down heavily on his shoulder. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Kei. I’ll have someone fetch you in the morning. You could do with an uninterrupted night’s rest.”
He turned, ready to tell Tiko he had no intention of staying, but then he saw the captain had that look in his eyes again which promised he’d be tied to a bed if he refused. “But my patients?”
“In good hands, and you’re but ten minutes away if we need you. None of them are dangerously ill, are they?”
He could have lied and said Arman needed him, but Tiko wouldn’t have believed him, and it would arouse even more ill-feeling to mention the general’s name again. “No,” he muttered. “But I want to be called if there is the slightest problem.”
“As you wish. I should get back to camp, Gyek.”
“You’re welcome to stay too,” Gyek said politely.
“No, but thank you. I’m military, it’s to be expected of me to sleep outdoors. Kei’s a civilian, and has had a bad time of it. He could do with a night among friends,” he added with a significant look in Kei’s direction.
And not with those bastard Prij,
was what he didn’t need to add. “But don’t press him. He’s not had a moment’s peace in months. A proper bed and no responsibilities is just what he needs.”
Kei glared at the man and his paternal tone, half wanting to refuse out of pure childishness, but all he did, in the end, was nod and mumble an agreement. He just wanted to be shown where he could sleep, and to be left alone.
He very nearly forgave Tiko for his interference when Gyek suggested to his wife their guest might like a bath. Kei was at the point where he would commit any number of less than mortal crimes for the pleasure of being truly clean, and when Eide offered to wash his clothes, promising they would be dry by morning, he grudgingly admitted Tiko’s suggestion wasn’t entirely without merit. As in many Darshianese households, there was a large barrel tub kept for the family’s use in a hut adjoining the rear of the house, heated underneath by charcoal at least in the winter months and kept permanently filled, often with rainwater overflow from the house cistern. It was both a place to get clean and for the family to relax with each other and occasionally neighbours, especially those who didn’t have such a bath of their own.
He handed his clothes over to Eide with an apology for the state of them, aware the trousers were spattered with blood although his shirt was cleaner—then soaped himself and his hair before rinsing off in chilly fresh water, and then entered the tub with a sigh of pure ecstasy. Normally one of the family would have joined him out of politeness—bathing alone was considered somewhat indulgent and antisocial. Either Tiko had warned them to leave him be, or he’d made himself so repulsive with his views or his associations that none of the family could stomach the idea of being naked in a tub with him.
Right now, he didn’t care. He hadn’t had a bath like this since he’d left Ai-Albon, since the Prij were too prudish to bathe communally. They only had either small private bathtubs in their bedrooms—or, as Arman’s wife did, a room used only for that purpose—or a washroom for the servants with buckets and dippers, the water being carried off in admittedly efficient drains but with a shocking lack of economy in a resource no one took for granted in the north. Not for them the pleasure of luxuriating in a hot, deep bath in which one could immerse one’s whole body, removing bodily aches and pains, and letting life’s cares drift away.
Kei’s cares weren’t so easily removed, but he relished the experience nonetheless, feeling a lot more human and less fraught as he soaked for easily an hour or more. Eventually, when his fingers were completely wrinkled, he reluctantly climbed out, wishing there was some way he could steal the bath for the journey, before drying himself and his hair with the provided cloth. Eide had given him a soft warm nightshirt to wear to bed. Kei put it on before returning to the body of the house, where his freshly washed clothes were already hanging on poles over the stove. Only Eide was still up, and showed him where he would sleep. It turned out to be Pik’s room, from which he’d evicted for their guest—an act which would not increase his love for Kei. She asked if he needed anything, and when he said no, bid him goodnight.
He combed his hair dry and braided it—it had not been so clean in a very long time, and he took his time over grooming it, remembering with a little sadness the conversation he’d had on the ship with Arman. Arman was fascinated by Darshianese hair, a rather frivolous obsession for such a serious man, but also endearing.
He sighed as Arman came into his thoughts again. Would he really be all right in the care of the soldiers? They were all good men and decent—but what if there was an emergency? His hand tightened around his comb as he fretted, but then he forced himself to calm down. They were only a short distance away. Arman was almost certainly already asleep. Kei should be asleep too, and making the most of this night in a normal household for a change.
His hair was still damp, but he was used to that, slinging it back away over the pillow as he got under the blanket. Gods—real sheets, an actual pillow, and blankets that didn’t smell of urs beasts. Maybe Tiko had had a point after all, the meddling old bastard. Not that Kei would ever admit it to his face—he didn’t need encouraging in that direction.
~~~~~~~~
No! Jena screamed, and then the sword flashed, burying itself in her heart. He heard the last rattle of her breath, and her eyes, glazing in death, still pleaded with him. “Help me, Kei...save me.”
Kei bolted upright, his heart pounding, feeling about to vomit, completely at a loss to know where he was or what was happening. He clutched at his chest, forcing his frantic breathing to slow.
Oh gods.
Another bloodied dream, another damn nightmare. Two nights of peace...and now they were back worse than ever.
He shivered in the cold room. The only light was faint moonlight at the window, not enough for him to see even his hands. How he’d hoped he’d been wrong about this.
But now he had to accept the truth. He was addicted to Arman’s presence just as Arman feared he would become addicted to pijn. If he slept by Arman’s side, or spent time with him, he felt good, almost happy, and he had no dreams. But when he was separated from him...then Kei felt old and dead inside, and his nights were a torment.
Arman was leaving. Kei was going home. If he let this go on, he feared when the time came to part from the man, he would go insane from withdrawal. More than that, he felt it stopped the natural process of healing. His mind was using Arman and not his own inner strength, to get past whatever in hells was happening to him. He had to put a stop to this now, if he had any hope of returning to Ai-Albon with even a semblance of normality.
He rested his head on his knees. When would he ever stop paying the price for his gift, for what the Prij had done? And why were he and Arman tied so unhealthily together? He felt like raging against the unfairness of it, but there was no one he could blame. He didn’t believe, as the Prij did, that the gods ruled mortal affairs. Mortals made this problem, though mortals could not solve it. Kei had only his intellect and his own moral fibre to work with. He had a suspicion this would all get much worse for him before it got better.