Kei's Gift (103 page)

The two Rulers joined Arman at the rail, watching as the beacon islands appeared on the horizon. Even the cheerful Lord Peika was subdued. To pass the time, Arman had them speak to him in Prijian, making them pretend he was Kita. It wouldn’t do for them to use the wrong title or word—better to let him translate than unintentionally designate her by a lowly honorific. Fortunately, that was one aspect of the language the two Rulers had readily picked up

They sailed on uninterrupted for nearly an hour and then there was a shout from the crows nest. “Patrol, starboard!” the lookout called, then gave the signal whistle which would be heard on the other ships—but their look outs were already waving that they had seen the Prijian boat.

The crew came to attention. “Your lordships, please go below,” Arman ordered. “Everyone, behave normally, you’ll look like a Prijian vessel until they get closer. Jera?”

The mind-mover came closer. “How long before I do it?”

“Let them get a mile or so closer, so you can see better what you’re doing.”

Reis came up silently next to them, as if to ask if he could help, but Arman had asked Jera to do this for a reason. Reis was still hesitant about risking sailors, even though what they were planning should, if there were no unexpected problems, only cause the approaching boat a lot of inconvenience and not much else.

The sailors on the Darshianese boats continued to work as usual, their borrowed uniforms and caps hiding the distinctive long dark hair of the men. Arman watched the smaller patrol vessel getting closer. “Right, now, if you please.”

Nothing happened for a moment or two, but then the mainsail of the patrol ship tumble from the rigging, falling to the deck in a graceful heap of canvas. Across the water came the distant shouts of astonished sailors suddenly trying to deal with this and the descent of all their other sails as well. Arman saw them scrabbling about, preparing to get the sails back in position, but it would be futile—because Jera was about to, and now did, snap the top off the main mast and cast it into the ocean a mile from them. “Cannons,” Arman reminded him.

“Oh yes.” From out the side of the ships shot six large guns, bursting through the gun ports and flying into the ocean, to the consternation of the crew. The sailors rushed to the other side of their boat as the action was repeated. “That’s the lot?”

“Yes. Just disable the launches and then we’re safe.” The two launches were lifted off their booms, dropped to the surface of the ocean, and left to float away. The crew was now completely marooned.
Neka, let me speak to them.

Go ahead.

“This is Sei General Arman of Her Serenity’s Army. Your ship has been disabled by the Darshianese. Do not panic. You will be rescued later today by another vessel.” He repeated the message twice more, then let it go. The sailors would be utterly bewildered, but as long as they did nothing stupid, they would come to no harm—the important thing was that they wouldn’t raise any warning. This would be the only patrol ship in this sector, Arman knew—for he was the one who’d drawn up the defence plans.

Their first engagement had gone easily and would be good for raising everyone’s confidence, as evidenced by the smiles and cheers of the crews on the three Darshianese boats. A relief to Arman too, certainly. But they had a long way to go yet.

~~~~~~~~

As soon as Arman had gone to the other ship, Neka turned and placed her hands on either side of Kei’s head. “Now, let me block your gift as we discussed.”

Kei nodded, knowing it was the only way to ensure he got through this without breaking down. She didn’t seem to do anything, and he felt nothing at all—until he realised he could no longer sense the other people on the ship. It felt strange, as if part of him was dead or missing, but it was better than experiencing the terrible loss of control which had afflicted him when Arman had been taken from him in Darshek just a few days earlier. Bikel had warned him not to let himself experience another such blow, and Arman leaving as he had and going into danger, was exactly what Kei did not need to feel in his present unhealed state.

It didn’t take away his weariness, or the grinding anxiety, but these were normal, easily handled by comparison. It wasn’t like feeling his soul being sliced into slivers.

“Thank you,” he said, bending and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Now we’d better go below.” Arman had left strict orders for all civilians left on their boat—all three of them—to stay off the deck. It wouldn’t protect them against a cannon shot, but it would lessen the risk of being hit by shrapnel or a stray arrow. Kei had no desire to die so stupidly either, so he ushered Neka down the stairs, Reji on their heels.

She kissed him again as she headed towards her cabin. “I need to concentrate, but if you want me, just ‘call’.”

“I will. Don’t give yourself a headache.”

She gave him a shy smile. “It’s no effort, and I’m glad to help. Arman is trying so hard for us.”

“Yes, he is,” Kei said, feeling proud even as his heart tightened at the mention of his lover’s name.

He turned and Reji was there, looking at him. “Let’s go milk the jombekers,” Kei said. He needed to do something manual.

Reji kept a hand on his shoulder as they moved to the lower deck. “Did you sleep?” he asked Kei.

“Not much. I’m tired, but I won’t sleep a wink until he...until they come back.”

Reji pulled him into a hug, and Kei couldn’t help but be comforted by his familiar warmth. “He’ll come back,” Reji said. “He’s made it this far, and so have you.”

“Too many things can go wrong.”

“Yes, but a lot of them will probably never happen. Don’t torture yourself.” He led them into the animal hold. “Come and look at this female and tell me if her teats look all right to you.”

Kei crouched by the jombeker and look at her udder. “Hmmm, I think this one could do with being rested—you have that ointment, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I’d like some more, if you’re making it.”

Kei nodded and took the pot from Reji. It was an antiseptic, with an unpalatable herb added to deter the kid from suckling on that teat until the inflammation went down. “Milk her by the other teat today. I can bottle feed her kid,” he said as he smeared the green ointment gently on the reddened teat.

Reji fetched the milking pot, and while he milked the animal, Kei sat on a stool out of his way, the baby jombeker in his arms, crying a little for its mother, but not being too hysterical. Kei kept it where it could see and smell her, and lick her face if it wanted to. The kid was only days old, born on the journey. It was so small and fragile, and yet it would grow into a great, hairy smelly animal like its mother and all its kin. It reminded Kei of Fedor’s story about Kei’s mother. “You know Fedor thinks Arman is my pet jombeker?”

“Eh?” Reji sat up in surprise. “He said that?” Kei smiled a little and explained. Reji threw his head back and laughed. “Gods, and what did the general say about that?”

“Not much. He was trying not to annoy Fedor, and not upset me. I don’t suppose he was pleased. It’s not what I’m doing with him, you know.”

“No, it’s not. If I can say it, then Fedor needs to accept it too. Besides, I’d like to see someone try to take Arman’s balls off to make him behave.”

Kei had to chuckle at that. Reji fetched the hand-feeding bottle and washed the supple leather teat, before filling the bottle with some of the fresh milk. He gave it to Kei and then poured the rest of the milk into a mug. “Here, breakfast.”

“Thanks.” He’d been too upset to have anything earlier, but now he was hungry, and the warm milk was delicious—a treat for travellers, and good for those who’d been ill or needed strengthening after injury. Arman had drunk gallons of the stuff once they’d changed the travel plans after Ai-Darbin, and the hostages would probably appreciate it too. The Prij had jombekers, but the milk was little seen in its natural state, being made into either cheese or butter. Most of the animals were kept for their meat, apparently. The Prij user other domesticated animals for meat and wool, but they weren’t kept for their milk either.

As Kei fed the kid, Reji milked the rest of the flock, reserved a little for his own breakfast, and then took the two buckets out to the galley where it would be distributed to the sailors, or used in food preparation. He returned with some hard bread, which he broke and shared with Kei. It was peaceful, this, almost like being back in the village. Kei’s family hadn’t kept jombekers, but there were several who did, supplying the village with milk and meat. He’d spent many hours helping friends look after them, and he’d done his share of physicking sick animals too.

The kid in his lap suckled noisily but steadily, its mother watching the goings on with concern, but not being too upset. Female jombekers were placid, the domesticated ones bred over many generations to be more so, although the mature males, as Fedor had discovered, could be damn nuisances. The one Kei was holding was a male. Its future wouldn’t be a long one, sadly, but hopefully a happy one.

It finished its meal and Kei set it on the ground where it instantly joined its mother. It sniffed at her teats and was put off by the smell, just as intended, and then settled down as she licked it, re-anointing it with her own scent.

Kei got up and stretched. “We—” He stopped as he heard a sharp whistle and then the lookout shouted. “What’s happening?”

Reji moved to the porthole. “Can’t see...oh, there’s a ship!” Kei crowded close to him at the little window and saw a strange boat sailing towards them—and then watched as the sails tumbled to the ground and the mast was destroyed. The sailors were running around the deck in a panic, but it was clear their ship was immobilised completely. “Got them!” Reji crowed. “Look at that, perfectly done!”

“Good,” Kei said quietly. Their view was lost as their ship changed direction slightly, and he came away from the porthole. “So it begins.”

“It began when we left Darshek,” Reji said, putting his hand on Kei’s shoulder and making him look at him. “Really, it began when the Prij invaded.”

“Do you think we will really get peace from this?” Kei asked. “The Prij have no imagination about other peoples, no respect—I fear a peace won by force.”

“If that’s the only peace we can get, at least in the beginning, that’s all we can have,” Reji said, sighing. “You think too hard about these things. Let’s just get through this day, and our people back. Let the Rulers worry about the larger issues. Come on, I want to muck out the beasts—it’s hard to ponder diplomacy with a shovel full of shit.”

“Funny—it’s the time when I think it’s most appropriate,” Kei said, forcing a grin on his face. But Reji was right—the urgent issue was getting the hostages out. The rest of it was for later.

~~~~~~~~

The signal beacons were destroyed with elegant efficiency—Reis and Jera broke the mechanisms of the signalling arms, forcing them into the ‘Situation normal’ position, and sunk the boats the watch-keeping crews might use to row to the next island and raise concerns. By the time the mess was sorted out, Arman and the little fleet would be in Utuk. Their borrowed colours and ships would keep them safe until they were in the harbour, but the very reappearance of three of the siege ships would cause surprise and suspicion. He knew exactly what the response would be, and they would have to deal with it and still get to the waterside amphitheatre, set at the back of the harbour close to the docks. He glanced back at the third ship—he hoped Kei wasn’t spending his time moping. Reji would keep him busy.

Twenty minutes later and the narrow mouth of the long harbour at Utuk came into view. They had chosen the longer southern approach to the island to avoid the main fleet stationed at Garok—there were gun boats in the south, but they were concentrated closer to the harbour itself, and in fact, one was already sailing towards them. It was dealt with swiftly by the two mind-movers, who were gaining confidence with every success—Reis was even smiling again, although Jera still took the lead in their plans.

“All right, everyone! They know we’re here,” Arman shouted. “Heads up, and keep your caps on at all times!”

They sailed past the disabled boat, hearing the angry shouts of the sailors as they did so, seeing clenched fists shaken at them too. They’d be even angrier when they realised what the Darshianese were up to—and who was helping them. Even though he had long since grown used to the idea of how his actions would be interpreted, it still made him a little ill to know that after this day, he would be irrevocably and justly labelled a traitor—peace maker or not.

The wind dropped now as they came closer to the island and the harbour, but their progress slowed not at all, thanks to Kira. The cannons at the harbour mouth toppled gracefully into the sea as the three Darshianese ships approached, and Meda sent a waterspout to drench the armouries and thoroughly soak all the explosives and powder. Archers lined up on the cliff tops, but Kira blew up dust clouds, forcing the soldiers to drop their weapons to protect their eyes, then she calmly blew their bows off the cliff. Neris incinerated them in mid-air, along with the spears hurled with angry shouts of frustration. The soldiers stood at the edge of the cliff, shaking their fists and screaming abuse at their assailants. Some of them even threw rocks, which fell harmlessly a long way short of the ship. Arman would have chastised them for a needless waste of their weapons and energy if he’d been commanding them, though he commended their devotion to their task.