Kei's Gift by Ann Somerville Read Free Book Online Page B

wind, a clear sky. Lord Quek smiles on this work, and on your journey.”
    “I can only hope he does,” Arman agreed. “Right, Jozo, I’m going below to get some rest. I’ll join you for lunch if you haven’t tossed your guts by then.”
    Jozo was looking a little green around the gills, it was true, and he gave Arman a sour look. “Do you have any weaknesses at all? You don’t get hangovers, you’re never sick, and you love the sea. It’s unnatural.”
    Arman laughed and clapped his shoulder. “It can’t be unnatural if the gods have willed it thus. Go, drink some wine, it will clear the stink from your mouth.”
    Jozo grumbled, but headed in the direction of his cabin, very likely to follow the advice. Poor Jozo. He was more set in his ways every year. Arman was very fond of the older man, who had been his mentor and who had pushed for his promotion to the rank of general at a ridiculously young age. Arman’s family background had helped him win the sovereign’s favour and thus promotion, but that hadn’t been all there was to it. He worked hard not to dispel Jozo’s faith in him, or to show any weakness that might make an observer question his fitness for the role. Seems I do too good a job , he thought wryly, if Jozo thinks I have no flaws. He had plenty. He just didn’t believe in giving ammunition to his enemies.
    He knew well enough what to expect by now when he reached his cabin. Fortunately, he wasn’t revolted by the smell of sickness. Loke, poor lad, had missed breakfast, but still hadn’t held onto the little that was in his stomach. The odour of vomit hung in the air. Arman covered the bucket with a drying cloth, which cut down the smell, then poured out a small glass of wine and moistened another cloth with clean water. He sat down on the bed next to his suffering page, stroking back his sweaty blond fringe off his pale face. Loke’s eyes told him eloquently of the misery he suffered, and he shivered as Arman wiped his mouth and face clean. And this was on a good trip. Loke on a ship in foul weather was possibly the most pathetic creature that could ever be seen, but there was nothing any physician could do about it. Arman had discovered letting him ride it out and rest was the best thing for him, and he usually recovered quickly enough after the journey.
    “Here, rinse your mouth with some wine.”
    Loke gave him a queasy look but let Arman help him up long enough so he could rinse and spit into the bucket. Arman urged him to take another swallow, because he was convinced it would help settle him a little, and then got Loke to put his head on his lap so he could stroke his hair and keep the cloth on his face. “My sad little landlubber.”
    “Sorry,” Loke whispered, thick misery in his voice.
    “Don’t be a fool. Even General Jozo gets sick on a boat. Just rest and we’ll have you on dry land soon enough.”
    Loke stared back with a bleary confused expression, clearly not entirely himself at that moment. Arman made him close his eyes and began a careful massage at the base of his neck which he hoped, at least on past experience, might let Loke sleep out the worst of his seasickness. It seemed to work, the tense unhappiness in Loke’s face easing and his body going limp. Arman got comfortable, leaning against the back of the bunk. He had nothing else to be doing right now, nowhere else to be for the next few hours, and he’d had little sleep. The stuffy warmth of the cabin soon had him dozing too, but his dreams were troubled, and his rest less than restful. He hoped this didn’t bode badly for the rest of his journey.
    ~~~~~~~~
    Kei reached out to wave his fingers close to the little fireball floating above his bare chest, using his gift to see if he could make it change direction. He could, but only a little—he had more luck altering its shape slightly, forming a long bright peak above the main orange ball. “I wish I could do that,” he said drowsily.
    “Make fire? Damn