Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

  The governor’s house, located in the more prosperous northern end of the town on the far side of the square, was a large, elegant building, far more beautiful than many of the surrounding houses, and like the mayoral residence, was constructed mainly of white-painted stone. It stood out quite markedly, and not just for the generous gardens in a town where space was tight. Wepizi would have known a ruler lived there, even without the high fence and the soldiers on guard who saluted smartly as he introduced himself. All was as he would have expected at a governor’s residence thus far.

  But still...already there was something...an air of...not quite neglect, but a lack of interest certainly, in the gardens, as if only the bare minimum was done to keep them tidy. The governor’s house in Tsikiugui, though a much less attractive building than this, still had pleasant gardens and sculptures around it, and was constantly being improved by the governor and her husband. Here there were few flower beds and no sculptures at all, mostly just grass and unimaginatively cut shrubs, as if the owner only cared that they were tidy, not beautiful. Not the gardens of someone who enjoyed them, he felt. A shame—in the spring, most houses in Andon were bright with colour, even those with the tiniest of gardens, and as he had ridden through the town, he had seen provincial Dizeindo was just the same. But this, the largest and most important building in the town, was dull and uninspiring. Not a good sign.

  The house proved to be as elegant on the inside as out. Someone in the past had decorated it with taste and an appreciation of how ornamentation could lift the spirit when the residents were trapped inside a home during long dull winter months, using pale colours and scenes of nature to give an illusion of space and light. Wepizi found the effect very pleasing, and a welcome surprise after the gardens. There were quite a number of staff present, and like the soldiers outside, they seemed to be efficient and hard-working. If there was a lack of interest in government from the top, it didn’t seem to have infected the lower ranks, which was fortunate.

  He was greeted courteously by a senior servant, and conducted without delay to the governor’s office which lay at the rear of the building. A young man opened the door and regarded him coolly as he ushered him in. Then he turned to bow towards the person behind the desk.

  “Tezrei, your highness. Lep Wepizi, his highness, Prince Juimei of Godiw. “

  “Thank you, Neime.”

  The voice was a little odd, slightly slurred sounding. Wepizi bowed deeply, then straightened. “May I present my credentials, your highness?”

  He found himself looking at a thin-faced young man, staring back at him with an absolutely unreadable expression. That expression didn’t change as he gestured to his assistant, who came over and put his hand out for Wepizi’s documents. No one asked him to sit, which he found strange, but he handed his papers over and the assistant took them to the prince. Wepizi had to stand while the governor carefully read his documents—it was like being a junior officer all over again, in his lep’s office at a new posting.

  He stood to attention while he waited, but used the time to examine the two men before him. The assistant was perhaps only twenty or so—the prince he knew to be nearly thirty, though he didn’t look it. Both were dressed rather soberly, servant mirroring his master in plain, dark clothes which would have suited any of the clerks just as well. The prince’s dark hair was cut severely short, shorter than even the army required, giving him a rather ascetic appearance, emphasised by the fact that neither man wore any ornament. If Wepizi had passed them in the street, he’d have noted nothing particular about either of them.

  The prince sat at a tidy desk, with only a single book upon it, open with a bookmark at the page. The normal detritus of a desk was quite absent, as if it was little used—certainly, the desk of the Tsikiugui governor was much more untidy, though it didn’t necessarily mean the occupant did more or less work than someone whose desk was clear. The entire office was similarly orderly, neatly decorated in the same style as the rest of the building—indeed, there was little to distinguish it from the other rooms he’d passed though, as if the occupant had not stamped his personality on it at all. Yet the prince had been here four years. It was most odd.

  At last the man finished, handed the papers back to his assistant, who gave them back to Wepizi and then moved away again. “They’re in order. Arrangements at the barracks are in place, I assume.”

  “Yes, your highness—most efficiently. I am to have a meeting tomorrow with the engineers and other officers to plan how we shall begin. If you’re free, it would be most helpful to have your views at this stage.”

  “I shall not be involved in this, tezrei. It’s a military affair. I expect it to be done with as little interference with the safety and operation of the town as possible—other than that, you have a free hand.”

  The prince didn’t even look at him as he said all that, as if Wepizi himself was of no importance. Lep Tovoi hadn’t exaggerated his description in the slightest. “With the greatest respect, your highness, this expansion will have a considerable impact and importance on the civilian population. Decisions will need to be taken and authorised by you, if his majesty’s wishes are to be carried out.”

  The prince lifted his head and gave Wepizi a frigid look. “Are you presuming to tell me how best to serve my own father, tezrei?”

  “Of course not—”

  “You better not be. I told you, you have a free hand so long as you stick to your brief, which has been very clearly laid out by his majesty.”

  “Yes, your highness. However, there is one addition to my brief for which I would like to seek your approval. For several years I have been—”

  “Is that moustache regulation?”

  “I beg...your highness?” Wepizi blinked, his thoughts completely knocked off course by this interjection.

  “That thing on your face—surely it’s not regulation.”

  “Yes, your highness, it’s within—”

  “I wish it removed. I won’t have officers in this town sporting such ridiculous adornments. You will remove it forthwith.”

  Wepizi stiffened to attention. “Your highness, I regret I must decline.”

  “That was a direct order!”

  “Yes, your highness. One which I regret I must decline.”

  “You will be reported to the king and council for your insolence!”

  “As you see fit, your highness.” Wepizi was pretty sure that not even this sour-tempered man would go so far, and if he did, his request would be treated with derision. His majesty had better things to do than worry about the facial hair—entirely within regulations—of an officer in one of the most distant districts. “I did want to—”

  “Get out. Just get out. Neime, show him the door.”

  Wepizi hardly had time to realise the interview was over before he was hustled out by the assistant and left in the corridor like a misbehaving child.

  “What in the name of the benevolent god...?”

  He scratched his head. Lep Tovoi never said anything about the governor actually being mentally unstable. What was this strange antagonism towards his poor moustache? He stroked it protectively. He would do a great many things for his country and give his life gladly to serve its people—but until someone could convince him that shaving the moustache Lema had liked so much would actually save a life, he would continue to politely refuse such an eccentric order.

  He shook his head and walked down the corridor, but turned as he heard quickly rushing footsteps and his name spoken quietly. It was the assistant, Neime. He waited politely for the young man to catch up with him.

  “Wait, tezrei. Please—his highness regrets...his lack of calmness.”

  Wepizi bowed. “If I’ve given offence, sir, then I too offer my regret. I had more things I wished to ask his highness about—should I return?”

  That caught the young man by surprise. “Uh...not today—he’s...unwell. It’s put him out of sorts. Please—send your reports to me, and I’ll make sure he reads the
m.”

  “I don’t wish to cause further offence, sir, but this project needs more attention than that, if it is to succeed.”

  “You’ll have to find another way around it, tezrei.”

  “I don’t understand—does he not care at all about what his majesty wants?”

  The man stiffened, his expression now haughty and cold as his master’s had been. “Please do not make assumptions about his highness’s thoughts or his attitudes, tezrei. He regrets his behaviour. Don’t presume that gives you any right to criticise him.”

  “I don’t, and I apologise. Please tell him I hope he feels better soon, and I’ll send a report on my meeting tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wepizi was clearly once again expected to leave, and he did so with a sense of relief, though he was hardly encouraged by such a start to his new posting. Ah well. He really would just have to find another way to do this, however oddly that sat with him.

  Home Ground: 6

  Juimei was staring sightlessly out at the darkening sky as Neime came back in. He didn’t turn around—he didn’t want to see his page’s disapproving expression, for all he deserved it. “Why do you care? He’s only a bloody soldier.”

  “Because I didn’t want him to have a bad impression of you, and because he’s someone you will need to work with. You really can’t just leave this project to him.” He heard steps as Neime came closer. “How’s your headache?”

  “Crippling.”

  “Then let me massage your neck.”

  “Why bother? It’ll only come back.”

  He heard Neime sigh. “Jui—please. I hate it when you’re like this.”

  Juimei hated himself when he was like this too. It was just that his head hurt so badly at times, and that man—and that ridiculous moustache.... He turned around. “Really should report him for his insolence.”

  “Yes, of course,” Neime said dryly. “‘Dear Majesty. I have taken offence at a moustache worn by a perfectly harmless officer with impeccable credentials because he reminds me of my former lover. Please have him hanged. Your dutiful son.’ Would you like a clerk to write that out for your signature, your highness?”

  Juimei leaned heavily on his cane and scowled at his friend. “I should report you for your insolence.”

  “Go ahead, your highness. Then you really won’t have a friend in the entire Huoinevol region. Don’t you get sick of living like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then—”

  “Shut up. This is the path I choose. Accept it or leave. I have no need of friends—I can hire servants.”

  “Oh, Jui,” Neime said, shaking his head, and putting his hand out. “Come sit—a neck rub will help. So would not getting so upset.”

  “Command the sun not to rise with greater purpose.”

  He limped over to his desk and sat down. Neime came around behind him, and then clever, careful fingers were at his neck. Juimei bowed his head so his page could work his magic.

  “The army doesn’t need me to supervise this,” he said after a few moments, when he had calmed a little. “That’s why we appointed a tezrei in the first place—for him to take over. If he needs a civilian liaison, let that be you.”

  “Yes, because I simply have so little to do all day at the moment. Jui—this is your job. You don’t have to be friends with these people—but they need your authority. Even with that moustache, Lep Wepizi isn’t—”

  Juimei slammed his fist down on his desk. “Do not say that name.”

  “I wasn’t going to. Will you please calm down? Your neck’s like an iron band.”

  He tried to obey, but the odd disturbance in his spirit the sight of the new officer had caused, refused to go away. “I’ll have him replaced.”

  “Because of a moustache? You’ll look like a fool.”

  “More of a fool, you mean. I already lisp and limp, why not be irrational as well?”

  “You’re certainly doing a good job at that. And you do not lisp. It’s not even noticeable, unless you’re tired or upset. You know the answer to that, don’t you?”

  “Sleep more and stay calm. So easy for you to say. You sleep like a child.”

  “You sleep like a man possessed. I wish I could make the nightmares go away,” Neime said quietly.

  Juimei said nothing. Easier for Neime to think he was tormented by evil dreams, than the truth—that in fact the dreams tormented him with images of happiness, where he was strong and fit and in complete control of his body, where Mikinze was his lover and bond mate, never to be parted. More than once, waking from such a thing, and finding the reality once more, he’d been tempted to take his own life. Neime would never know how close it had come—or that he was very often the only thing that kept Juimei from picking up a knife and putting an end to his miserable existence. He prayed, though it was blasphemous, for an illness to carry him off in such a way that Neime would not feel any guilt. But in reproach, Sephiz had granted him good health, if not well-being—he might be crippled, plagued by headaches and dreams and depression, but he never even got a cold. But why would Sephiz reward his blasphemy? He had to admit his approach might be flawed.

  “You should go to this meeting, Jui. Your father would expect you to.”

  “My father doesn’t give a damn. As long as there is peace and taxation collected, Huoinevol district is of no importance to him.”

  “Then why this...?”

  “Furneim. Blasted Furneim, interfering.” But even as he said the words, just the thought of his older and much-loved brother sent a wave of homesickness though him. It never seemed to get any easier, this exile. He made himself ignore this now familiar misery. “Huoinevol needs new infrastructure, but doubling the population? It’s just empire-making.”

  “Your brother is a good ruler in the making. He’s looking to the future of Andon, as is only proper.”

  “A future in which I have no place. Leave it, Neime, or we’ll be at odds. I can’t afford that.”

  Neime paused in his massage, then resumed. If his page had not proved his worth a thousand times, a thousand times a thousand, Juimei might be worried by the level of trust he placed in a servant. His life was literally in Neime’s hands. The lad knew his secrets—most of them—knew his thoughts on just about everything. The only thing between me and stark staring madness, Juimei thought, and wondered whether he should be grateful for that or not.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Normally Wepizi ate alone in the evenings, though he often joined the lower ranks after supper for drizu and conversation. But tonight he wanted more information, the sort that would only come from senior officers. To that end he organised dinner in his quarters—actually the guest officers’ quarters, since rooms suiting a tezrei’s dignity had not yet been constructed—and invited the two leps he had brought with him to supplement lep Tovoi’s authority, as well as Tovoi himself. Over the meal he received reports on how his people had been fitted into the compound, and received suggestions for how things should be managed in future, but what he really wanted to know about was the governor.

  He told them how the meeting with prince Juimei had gone—Tovoi wasn’t the least surprised. “He threw a glass at the mayor once. That caused a stink and a half, I can tell you. That man of his, Neime, had to come and grovel to stop the mayor having the prince arrested for assault.”

  “He does seem to be the peacemaker. Does his highness have any friends at all in Dizeindo? My tezrei in Tsikiugui said the prince was very popular in Visiqe.”

  “Not here,” Tovoi said flatly. “He never asks people to dinner, and never accepts social invitations. He hardly even leaves the residence. Doesn’t ride of course—not with that leg of his.”

  “Leg?” Wepizi asked.

  “He’s crippled—paralysed or something like it. Has a weak leg and arm. A riding accident—well, a doig-ito accident. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it, sir. It was about four, four and a half years ago.”

  Around about when Lem
a died. “I was...otherwise occupied at that time, Tovoi. I didn’t notice anything of that kind today—but he didn’t stand up, so perhaps I wouldn’t.”

  “He usually doesn’t, if he can help it. He speaks a bit strangely—that’s part of it too, I believe. The medics can explain it better than me. I’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t so evil-tempered.”

  “Ah, but it sounds like the secret of his evil temper must lie partly in this injury,” Wepizi said. “A terrible misfortune in anyone, let alone a fit young man.”

  “Perhaps, sir, but Sephiz gives us the choice of how we deal with such things. I can’t pity someone who chooses so unwisely.”

  “Pity won’t help. Understanding might—and if we’re selfish, we should try to do so if only to profit our endeavours. But for now, let’s discuss how we’ll proceed tomorrow.”

  So our prince is grieving too, Wepizi thought as he prepared for bed. Only he had lost not a wife, but his health. Four years was a long time to be sure, but Wepizi had not forgotten his sorrow in all that time, and he didn’t have to live with a daily reminder of it in the form of a damaged body. Now he knew the facts, the answer to the dilemma was simple—but far from easy. Their governor had to learn to stop grieving. Perhaps when I discover that trick, I can pass the secret on. But somehow he had to engage this man’s interest in the expansion plans. It would be good for his highness, and essential for the success of the project.

  What an interesting challenge this assignment was turning out to be—and in most unexpected ways.

  ~~~~~~~~

  The megrims of their resident prince had to be set aside for the moment, as it was imperative to make a start on the new barracks. His first duty was to inspect the land which had been cleared and prepared in advance, ready for Wepizi’s newly arrived engineers, carpenters and skilled labourers to begin construction. The plan was to create the new barracks and quarters for the married personnel outside the town walls, while simultaneously enlarging those walls to enclose the planned area of the new outpost. This would increase the length of the wall by almost a third, a task more daunting than building the barracks themselves. Once the extended walls were complete, part of the old wall would be destroyed, so that the barracks would be once more on the inside of the town boundaries.