“It’s me,” he said, knowing Arman’s eyes would need to adjust.
Arman was sitting up, supported by the bolster, a position which was more uncomfortable, he’d told Kei, but make him feel a little less helpless. As his stomach wound was healing well, Kei had had no medical objection to it. “What’s happened? We’ve stopped early.”
Kei sat down on the floor. “The elders of Ai-Darbin are here. They want you to stand trial in the village before the clan.”
He felt...resignation...and sorrow...flowing from Arman. “Yes, they probably do,” he said quietly. “What does Tiko say?”
“He doesn’t want them to have you. They’re refusing to supply us of course, unless he does, but he says it’s not crucial to have stores from here.”
“I sense there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“They...promise to treat you as a member of their clan, with the same penalties. Tiko says you can choose to be tried, but he doesn’t think you’d consent. I told him you should be allowed to make that choice. But you don’t have to, just so you realise.”
“I consent. Let him know.”
Kei stared. In the dim light, he couldn’t see Arman’s face, nor sense anything from him other than the sadness that clung to him most days now. “You understand, this is a public trial they are suggesting, facing your accusers in front of the entire village. It’s how things are done.”
“Yes, I know. Kei, I’ve never sought to avoid the consequences of my acts. They have a right to ask, and I consent. Freely, without pressure or other consideration. I will face them and accept their judgement. Whether Tiko will let them carry it out is another matter,” he added wryly.
“We don’t kill wrongdoers. The worst that can happen is that you’d be banished.”
“Then I can have no fears on that account, can I?”
Arman took no joy in the prospect of a purely symbolic punishment. That wasn’t why he’d consented. “I’ll tell Tiko. If you change your mind, he wouldn’t be surprised though.”
“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t be. When will I have to go?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ask if they will let us have the night to rest beforehand—it’s only fair you should be allowed to be as fresh for this as possible.”
“You’re entirely too considerate, healer, but yes, as you wish.”
Kei almost wanted to shake him, to make him care about this, but it wouldn’t be in the least bit kind to do so. For whatever reason, maybe because he felt so wretched over Loke’s death, Arman was going to allow himself to be subjected to a humiliating, unpleasant and in the end, completely pointless trial.
He walked back to the edge of the camp where Tiko was brewing up tea for the elders. “He says he consents, and will accept whatever punishment you deem fit.”
Tiko straightened up in surprise. “Truly? Did you talk him into that?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m not convinced myself it will do anyone any good, but he wants to do it. The only thing I would ask is to let him have a night to prepare himself, Rei. He’s badly injured and had a long day and a long journey up to now. If he could have a chance to wash and so forth, to make himself presentable, it would be kind.”
Rei considered, staring in the flames of the campfire. “I can do better than that,” he said finally. “I’m a widower and live alone. I would be prepared to turn my house over to you for his care this night. Tiko, you could keep him guarded there very well. I don’t want anyone accusing our village of cruelty to a wounded man, no matter who he is.”
Kei could have hugged this man for showing the kind of honour he’d always told Arman was innate in the Darshianese, but which had not been conspicuous lately. “That’s more than kind. Tiko, if this must be done, this is a fair way to do it.”
“Yes, agreed. Kei, go tell the general of the plan, and then please ride back with these gentlemen and get things ready. We’ll camp at Ai-Darbin by nightfall, and have him transferred to the house after dark. Rei, can you ensure there isn’t any unpleasantness? If there is, I won’t allow this, and I’ll remove him in an instant. He’s to face his accusers in a clan court, not to be mocked or abused by them in the street.”
“I’ll ensure that, I promise.” His companions nodded their agreement. “I must say, I’m surprised. Is this some kind of manipulation, do you think?” he asked Kei.
“No, I don’t believe so. His feelings over the incident here are...tangled. Perhaps this will provide some resolution for everyone.”
“We can hope, at least.”
But Kei wasn’t at all sure this wouldn’t cause a lot of unnecessary pain for all concerned.
~~~~~~~~
Arman was surprised at Kei’s message, but he found it very hard to care, or to understand why Kei thought it would make any difference to him when the trial was or whether he was rested. He would be pleased to be able to present himself respectably, but since the camp had made some rudimentary facilities available with canvas and poles and a wash stool provided in Vinri, that would have been enough. He just wanted this all over with.
Kei was going ahead, he said, to get things ready. The wagons moved on again for an hour, and then orders to set up camp were given. Arman was left on his own for at least another two hours—nightfall was total before he heard orders being shouted, and then his wagon began to move. He was being taken right into the village, he guessed. He wondered how Tiko would be able to prevent a riot, or Arman being torn to pieces by an angry mob. For his own sake, he scarcely cared, but it would upset Kei, which he regretted.
In a way he welcomed this inevitable result of his actions that day. His life had changed forever when Loke had died. If it had not been for his death, Arman would not have met Kei, never known such a beautiful soul, or learned all he now knew of his kind. But this knowledge had come at such a heavy price for both of them that it was hard to rejoice.
Tiko called a halt and shortly after, he and three of his men came to help Arman from the wagon. “You’ll need to walk a short distance, general—or we can carry you on the cot, if you prefer.”
“No, let me walk, please,” he said. It was still very painful to walk, or rather, hop on his good leg, but he’d been doing a little bit more every evening with Kei’s assistance. It would be some time before he could use crutches, Kei had said—his stomach and his ribs needed to completely heal before he could bear that. Arman had seen men crippled for life from breaking a leg—he hoped he wouldn’t be one of them.
The village was suspiciously quiet. How many people, he wondered, watched out of darkened windows at the small group of men moving down the street. It wasn’t far, just as Tiko promised, and Kei was waiting at the door of a small mud-walled house. “Bring him in and help him sit,” he ordered, fussing about and getting a low stool to support his leg. “How do you feel, Arman?”
“I’m all right,” he said. “What’s happening now?”
“Well, Rei has been kind enough to arrange some clean clothes for you, and since you really stink, I think you might like a wash.”
That sounded wonderful. “Yes, but how?” He’d yet to use the new camp bathing tent Kei had arranged for his men, and he did smell truly disgusting, despite Kei’s efforts with wet cloths and clean clothes as often as was practical.
Kei smiled reassuringly. “It’s all been arranged. Tiko, I can manage from here.”
The captain nodded. “Very well. There’ll be two guards at the door at all times, and I’ll be staying at the clan head’s house if you need anything. If there’s any trouble, come get me or send someone.”
“Yes—there won’t be. Rei’s spoken to everyone.”
Arman wasn’t as confident as Kei, but then, he didn’t care. Tiko left them alone. It was a cosy home, warm and very neat. Arman had not been in a Darshianese house before, not in the north, and found the design very different from those in the south. “Where do I wash?”
“Out the back. Let me.”
Kei helped Arman to stand, no mean feat considering by how much Arman outweighed him, even with the weight he had inevitably lost over the last month, and then helped him hop out to the back of the house to a small shed. Kei then eased him down to sit on a stool, his bad leg being propped once more. A stove burning in the corner threw out a lot of heat. Other than a huge barrel full of water, the shed was empty of anything but pegs with cloths on them.
“I can’t get into that,” Arman said, aghast at the idea of trying to climb in and out of the tall barrel.
“No, I know—it’s a shame because you’d enjoy it. I’ll just soap you and sluice you off.”
“Wait—I can do that myself.”
Kei tsked. “I think I’ve seen a lot more of you lately than your wife ever does. There’s no need to be modest.” He unlaced his own shirt, and then slipped his trousers off, so he stood only in his loincloth. “See? Equal.”
“Hardly,” Arman muttered. It was good to see Kei free of bruising of last, but the man still needed a good feed. What Mykis’s abuse had not robbed him of, the journey had, and Kei was now as thin and fit as whipcord.
Kei ignored his mood, urging him to remove the boot from his good leg, and shed his disgusting shirt. This left him naked and feeling uncomfortably exposed. “How long before you remove these stitches?”
There was an eight-inch slit in his right side under his ribs, closed with a dozen or so neat bits of thread. Only Kei said it wasn’t thread, but a special gum drawn into a kind of tough string. A slightly different gum, one which dissolved over time and that his father had invented, had been used for the internal sutures. Kei’s father had obviously been a very clever man.
“Hmmm, in a week or so. I want to be completely sure you’ve healed. There’s no hurry. You’re doing well.”
“Oh good, I want to be a healthy little prisoner of war.”
Kei bent down so he could look directly into Arman’s face, and touched his cheek. “Arman,” he said softly. “You’re safe. Try to relax tonight. Now, I’m going to wash your hair as well. I think you’d enjoy that. It feels disgusting.”
“Whatever you say,” he said, resigned to being washed down like a jesig after a race. Kei smiled at him, then gently combed out the tangles. Water was heating on the stove—at least no one expected him to bathe in cold water. “Your baths are more elaborate than ours.”
“Yes, and cleaner, since we wash before we soak, not lie in our filth as you do. Close your eyes.”
Kei tipped a pan full of warm water over him, which felt very good. Kei immediately took some soap and rubbed it into Arman’s hair, thoroughly washing it even down to the ends. He left it in as he took a cloth and soaped Arman’s body all over, taking care around the wound and the damaged leg. No one, not even Loke, had ever performed such an intimate task for him, and he flushed with embarrassment. He was grateful the pain he was in, and his mortification, prevented any other reaction to Kei’s tender handling—he really didn’t want to have a conversation about
that.
Although Kei had to be aware of Arman’s discomfiture because of his gift, he behaved as if he was oblivious to it and that this was all completely normal. “Do you do this for Reji?” Arman finally asked.
“Oh yes, and he does it for me. Washing one another is....”
“Foreplay?”
Kei grinned. “Yes. Not always, I hope you realise.” Arman suddenly understood why Kei was in such a cheerful mood—the prolonged physical contact with Arman was doing him good. Pity it was only temporary, even though it made him feel better too, to have this gentle touch for so long. “Now, rinse. Close your eyes again.”
It took several dippers of water before Kei was satisfied, but at last he was ready to dry Arman’s body and hair with the soft warm cloths hanging on the wall. Rather to Arman’s surprise, he then quickly washed and dried his own body—but then Kei wouldn’t like being dirty any more than Arman did. He wondered how clothes for someone his size had been made available, but the answer came in the form of a large shapeless long shirt, made of a soft material with a raised nap. Was it a woman’s gown? The women of Darshian dressed rather like the men did, in loose fitting shirts and trousers, although some wore skirts, especially the older women.
“When do you wear such a thing?” he asked, rubbing the fabric, unlike anything he’d felt before, between his fingers.
“To bed, in the winter. But mostly we sleep naked.” Kei was so unselfconscious about such matters. None of the Darshianese seemed the least bothered about nudity.
The shirt made sense then—the Prij had robes that tied for a similar purpose but they were not as soft as this shirt was. “Do you bathe together too?”
“Oh yes, it’s something all families do, and friends.”
“Men and women together?” He was shocked at the very idea. “Parents and children?”
“Why not? We do everything else together—why not bathe together?”
Arman didn’t know what to make of this. Never in his time fighting rebels in the south had he come across this practice. But then, there were a lot of damn things he didn’t know about the Darshianese. “It’s odd.”
“No, it’s not, not to us,” Kei said with a smile. “Now, let’s get back into the house.”
Arman was quickly settled into a chair again at a table, a clean soft woollen shawl put around his shoulders for warmth. Kei replaced the wet bandages on the splint and then handed Arman his own comb. “Here, you can tidy yourself while I get our supper.”