“I don’t know,” she said politely. “They were still testing it, and trying leaves from similar plants too.”
“It must be interesting, seeing such things being done,” Arman said.
“Oh, that’s more Kei’s thing,” she said sniffily. “I just want the drugs to work. I haven’t got the patience to mess about trying a little bit of this or that to see if it makes a difference.”
“But that’s how you get the drugs that work, Mychichi,” Kei pointed out. “How long did it take Pa to refine the gum stitches? The first ones were very poor—if he’d had your attitude, Arman’s guts would be lying somewhere on the road between here and Trejk Fort.”
“Thank you for that beguiling image,” Arman said, smiling faintly. “I don’t know how he would even have thought of boiling palm rind in the first place.”
“Pa was always doing things like that,” Myka said. “Always had things bubbling on the stove—we never knew if it was supper or medicine.”
“Sometimes it was both,” Kei said.
The room fell silent. Myka was even more confused than before. “You weren’t supposed to be nice,” she finally muttered, scowling fiercely at Arman.
“I’m sorry. I’m not often nice, but sometimes I can’t help myself.”
She smiled reluctantly at that. “Are all the Prij so hairy and brightly coloured?”
“Some are. Most of us are much paler than you, and from the little I’ve seen, we have more hair on our bodies, though not on our heads. No Prijian woman has hair as lovely as yours, I assure you.”
She touched her braid. “Are Prijian women not beautiful then?”
“We think so, although in a very different way. Their eyes are rounder, noses are somewhat longer and narrower, and generally, I would say most are smaller in size and height than Darshianese women, although that varies too. Most don’t let their hair alone as you do—they style and cut and arrange it in curls on the top of their heads. Some even colour it, to make it red or more blonde, depending on what their natural colour is.”
“Why?” she asked, frowning. “Doesn’t that waste a lot of time?”
“A huge amount,” Arman agreed. “The highborn ones spend vast sums on hairdressers and maids to make themselves look even more astonishing.”
“Sounds like they don’t have enough to occupy themselves,” she said with a sniff.
“They don’t. For one thing, our women mostly don’t study past the age of ten, so they don’t read or learn a profession such as your women do.
“No? Why?” She looked at Kei. “Are they feeble-minded or something?”
Kei coughed diplomatically, not sure how to answer this, but Arman took it on. “A woman’s role is to rear children and to run the house. A man’s role is to protect her.”
“I don’t need
anyone
to protect
me
,” she said scornfully.
“I have no doubt of that,” Arman said with the smallest of grins. “No woman engages in business on her own, or follows a trade of any kind. We have no women healers—no one would think a woman could do such a thing reliably.”
“But you have a woman ruler. If your women are so stupid, why do you let them rule?”
He shrugged. “No one said it was logical.”
She sighed. “I don’t think I would ever want to be a Prijian woman.”
“You’re much better off here, I promise you.” He smiled charmingly. “I should apologise—I haven’t offered you congratulations on your marriage.”
“You told him?” she asked Kei.
“Of course I told him. We talk about you all the time, Mychichi.”
She poked him in the side. “You do
not
.”
“Oh, but we do,” Arman assured her. “Kei said his sister was beautiful, clever and brave, and of course he was right.”
“You didn’t say that—he’s making it up!”
“I didn’t
just
say you were beautiful, clever and brave. I also said you were a pain in the neck a lot of the time. Ow!” He’d have to start wearing his braid inside his shirt until she grew out of the habit of yanking it. “You see why we all grow our hair so long, Arman? It gives our women the means to control us.”
Arman smiled. “Then I really am going to clip mine off.”
“Oh, don’t!” The two men looked at Myka, who put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.
“Why not?” Kei asked.
“Because...well, it’s sort of pretty,” she mumbled.
Kei glanced at Arman who obviously appreciated the irony. “It runs in the family, what can I say?” He stood up. “Myka, you must have things to do, and I have to call on people. Perhaps you should be running along.”
“There’s not much to do, really. Meis is cooking but she always cooks. So is Sira. Banji’s run away, Fedor has told everyone when to come—it’s at sunset, I forgot to tell you. All I have to do is change my clothes and put my hair into something resembling a bride’s piece. Pijli is going to help me do that.”
“Well, I still need to call on people, and there are things I want to get from Pa’s library.”
“And...him?” she asked quietly as if Arman wouldn’t notice her pointing at him discreetly.
“I’ll be staying put, and out of harm’s way,” Arman told her. “Kei needs to see his friends.”
“Isn’t that boring for you?”
“Very. But I don’t read Darshianese very well yet, so the books are no use, and I can hardly expect a steady stream of visitors as charming as you.”
Arman made his sister blush every five minutes. It was fascinating—one wouldn’t think a person could turn that particular colour. “Maybe I could....”
“Myka?”
“I could...stay for a while, while you’re out. Not all day,” she amended. “But a little bit. He could tell me more about these poor Prijian women.”
Kei was confused. He couldn’t work out why Myka was offering, and from the look on her face and the turmoil he was sensing, neither could she. “Perhaps another time, Mychichi,” he said.
But to his surprise, Arman intervened. “If she doesn’t mind, I would welcome some company. But Myka, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t...I just...would like to know more. You won’t attack me, will you?”
Arman stared mutely at his leg and back at her. “No,” he said gravely. “I doubt I could. You can run faster than I can if I try.”
“All right. Kei, go away. I can look after your patient for an hour or so. I
am
a healer, after all.”
Something in her eyes made him realise she was referring to his angry words of the night before, and he suddenly understood what she was trying to do. “Yes, you are, and a good one. I tell you what—you can have a look at something Arman and I have been working on. I’d like your opinion on it.”
Arman nodded, clearly understanding the book would let them stay off possibly contentious issues of conversation while allowing Myka to overcome her fear and prejudice. Kei fetched the text, and then bent and kissed his sister’s cheek. “I’m very, very proud to be your brother,” he whispered. “Now, don’t hurt him, I have to get him up to Darshek in one piece.”
She shoved him away with a scowl. “Oh, go away, brother mine. If you see Banji, tell him where I am and that Fedor needs him at his house an hour before sunset. And I want you in a clean shirt.”
Kei bowed. “Yes, lady Myka. Whatever you say, lady Myka.”
“Go sit on a thurl’s nest, lord Kei. Shoo.”
So he shooed, wondering what on earth Arman was going to make of it all.
~~~~~~~~
Kei’s sister may have offered to sit with him to prove something to herself, but she’d stayed for curiosity, and to try and understand why her brother had come back so changed. She didn’t come out and say that, of course, but she was such an artless girl, her thoughts and concerns could have been written on her forehead.
Arman did his very best to be honest with her as well, and to reassure her about Kei. He didn’t want her upset with him, or at all, not only because she was his friend’s precious sister, but because she was, in her own right, a charming and interesting person Arman would have been very glad to know. Kei’s book gave them something to talk about in the initial awkwardness after her brother left the house, but she was too curious and lively to be reticent. It wasn’t long before she was questioning him, with her brother’s same disconcerting directness, about the Prij, his family, his personal habits and favourite food. Not even Kei had ever asked so many questions of him. Arman worked as hard as he could to both enlighten and entertain his young visitor.
He was enlightened and entertained in turn. It wasn’t difficult to get her to tell him more about her family and the village, about her fiancé, how she hoped one day to be as good a healer as her mother and what she’d been learning in Darshek. In her innocence, she let a good many things slip about the invasion, to which Arman carefully didn’t react—he didn’t want to remind her he was still her enemy, or to make her regret her honesty. He tried to be scrupulous about not asking her to divulge what she ought not to, but she was so guileless, he found himself in possession of information he knew perfectly well would infuriate Tiko—and very likely Tiko’s masters too.
He led her away from dangerous areas as best he could without alerting her suspicions. There was one subject on which he was shameless in drawing her out—Kei’s lover. She really needed only the slightest prompting to start talking about the man with great enthusiasm and obvious affection, openly declaring she thought Reji was a perfect partner for Kei, and that the two were very lucky to have found love together. While Arman’s jealousy—or rather, envy—of the man increased with every word, he also felt reassured. This Reji was clearly a good person and one who loved Kei very much. He was older, steady and very patient, so Myka assured him. If anyone could help Kei over this period of recovery in his gift, it would be this person with the astonishing power to throw fire from his fingertips. Myka didn’t mention Reji’s gift, so Arman didn’t mention that he knew. He disliked having to keep secrets from brother or sister, but he didn’t want to start an argument between them either.
While he had enjoyed her visit, it was somewhat difficult to duck around all the possible issues that might cause conflict or suspicion—while he would play politics without a shred of conscience with the senators, to do so with this young, trusting girl revolted him, making it impossible to relax in her company. So, when she had been there an hour and had satisfied both honour and curiosity, he gave her a hint that perhaps she might have better things to do, and to his relief, she agreed. She returned his elaborately formal thanks with a simple bow and left, leaving him feeling wistful and regretting more than ever his lack of a sister.
No wonder Kei had often said how Jena reminded him of Myka—the two women were much alike in their independent, passionate manner, although Jena was undoubtedly more like Kei in some ways. If the Darshianese system produce two such extraordinary women from their smallest villages, and the best the Prij could offer was someone like Mayl, he decided if he ever had a daughter, he would want her to learn and study and be her own person, and not be always dependent on a father or a husband. When he thought of the mediocre minds populating the Prijian senate, he couldn’t believe their womenfolk would really do worse than their husbands or brothers or fathers.
The house felt very quiet and empty without Myka’s bright personality or Kei’s calm, warm presence. Now he was alone again, he experienced a revival of that irrational anxiety he’d felt on waking, when Kei had not been there and had not come in answer to his call. Logic had told him Kei was simply out doing an errand or simply enjoying being back home—but logic wasn’t speaking to his emotions, which told him he was physically disabled where he was the enemy and vastly outnumbered. Logic couldn’t overcome eight years of soldiering, much of it spent in territory where he was hated and unwanted, and where even the threat of decimation could not completely eradicate the risk of a sneak attack, or a bomb from disaffected rebels.
But now he was a rebel too. He would not fight for the Darshianese, or lead a war against his own people, but such distinctions would mean little in Utuk. Could his father possibly bear the shame of a traitor son? Of course he would be disowned immediately, which would have interesting implications for his marriage since the house Mayl liked to rule was in fact one belonging to Arman’s family, given to him on his marriage for his use for his lifetime—or until he turned on his country and was cast out. Arman would happily live in a tent. He had a slight suspicion that Mayl might not be so sanguine about a life under canvas.
Though it felt longer, it was probably only half an hour after Myka departed that the front door opened and Kei walked into the bedroom. “Oh, she’s gone? Sorry, Arman, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own—I stopped at the carpenter about your crutches and then I just caught up with Mis and forgot the time.”
“I’m fine, stop fretting,” he said. “Help me up, will you? I didn’t want to ask her.”
“She’d never lift you anyway, not with the size of you,” Kei said, managing with the benefit of weeks of practice to easily get Arman up out of the bed and into the living room. Arman noted even the pain of his ribs was lessening, and wished Kei wouldn’t be so cautious about the use of crutches. When they got to Beyto, he’d said—another three days away. But Arman felt healed enough now to at least try. He worried about how unfit he was and his lack of condition. If he had to ride an urs beast all day in his present state, it would probably kill him.