Kei's Gift Read Free Page B

before securing the door once more behind him. It didn’t do to be careless in Utuk.
    The lateness of the hour didn’t mean he had to walk to his own house alone. A slight figure had slipped out of Karus’s house with him and now took up position a respectful two paces behind him. “Did you beat him?”
    “Hardly. Did you get some sleep?” Arman had wanted Loke to be well rested, but had also wanted to spend the evening with Karus. Loke had been under orders to find a quiet spot and have a nap for a few hours.
    “I was going to, but then I started talking to Matez and I forgot.”
    He resisted the urge to cuff his disobedient servant for neglecting himself this way. “I hope you follow my orders better than this on the march, my lad, or I’ll be forced to discipline you in front of my troops.”
    “Yes, Sei Arman.” Arman didn’t have to turn to know his page had a cheeky grin on his handsome face. “But that would be a good thing, would it not? Showing the stern, ruthless hand of the mighty Sei Arman, whom no man would dare defy?”
    “Loke?”
    “Yes, Sei?”
    “Shut up.”
    “Yes, Sei.”
    Arman shook his head. In truth he would cut his hand off before he laid a finger in anger on Loke, and Loke would cut his head off rather than require such an action, but for some reason it sometimes amused his cheerful, helpful friend to become a parody of an obsequious servant in public. Arman suspected he thought it made Arman look more dignified. Arman thought it made him look like he should spank his page.
    But Arman honestly didn’t care. No noble in his acquaintance had a squire more devoted, or a more loyal attendant. And none he knew of could call their page a true friend, as he had no hesitation in doing with Loke.
    “We leave at sunrise, Sei?”
    “Yes. So I’ll need to be up at least an hour before then.”
    Loke sighed heavily. “That means I have to get up even earlier.”
    “Yes, you will and then you’ll be sorry you didn’t get that rest.”
    “Probably. It’s a hard life in the army, Sei Arman.”
    Arman glanced at him. “You could stay behind, lad, as I wish you would.”
    “No, can’t do that, Sei. I would never sleep wondering who was folding your shirts.”
    Now Arman did stop and lightly cuff the back of Loke’s head. “I can and do fold my own damn shirts, you disagreeable child. I’m not some fancy boy that needs my robes gilded before I set foot in public.”
    Loke grinned and appeared to consider. “I think a little gilt might look rather nice on you,” he said solemnly, and danced away from Arman’s hand again. He grew serious. “My place is at my master’s side, Sei Arman.”
    “I’m not—” Your master , Arman wanted to say, but there were people about, and Loke invested a lot of effort into preserving the myth he was but one of Arman’s servants. A favoured one, yes, but still knowing his place. That Arman never thought of him as anything but a friend, and never had done, was something known only to them and one or two of Arman’s close companions, such as Karus. Friendships with one’s servant did not befit the son of a senator, even if his ‘servant’ was well-born too. “I have a foreboding about this. I wish you wouldn’t come.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t go,” Loke said in a low voice. “For I too have forebodings.”
    “I have no choice but to do my duty.” He nodded at the soldiers standing guard at his front door, acknowledging their salute.
    “And that’s my answer too, my master.” Only Loke could make that term affectionate, as he rushed ahead of Arman to open the door to Arman’s house, holding it open for him.
    Arman’s footman wasn’t sleepy, but he was a good deal surlier than Karus’s, scowling at Loke for daring to bring his impertinent self back so late. He wiped the scowl off his face as Arman frowned at him. “My mistress said to tell you, Sei Arman, that she is waiting for you on the southern verandah.”
    “At this hour?