Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

  “Good work, your highness. I’m proud of you.”

  Juimei smiled—the simple praise meant so much to him. “I would have you always feel that way. Now, what’s on the agenda today?” Neime showed him the letters and requests—nothing much out of the way, except.... He held up a note from the senior teacher of the public school. “What’s this?”

  “What does it look like? An invitation to give prizes.”

  “Tell them no, of course. Why have you put it before me? I always decline.”

  He went to shove it away, but found Neime’s hand preventing him. “Wait—don’t you think...perhaps...it’s time you said ‘yes’?”

  He frowned, genuinely confused. “Whatever for?”

  “Because...you’re the ruler. You’re also royalty. Some of those children might end up working for his majesty. I decided I wanted to work in Visiqe after your brother made a visit to our tribe—he made quite an impression.”

  “Which I would not. No.”

  “Please?”

  He sat back in his chair. “Why?”

  “Because you should. Because you’re tired of living like this, you said so yourself. It’s a chance to meet people in an unthreatening manner.”

  Juimei snorted, already pulling other more important documents towards him. “I’ll frighten the children—or they’ll laugh at the way I talk. No.”

  “You really think you’re grotesque, don’t you? Mayor Gixiel has a squint and a wart on his nose. Elder Havime stutters. What about them?”

  “They’re old men, Neime. People expect that in older people. They also grew up here—I’m a stranger.”

  “Only because you want to be. Please?”

  “Or you’ll walk out, is that it?”

  Neime shook his head pityingly. “Of course not. But why don’t you try? Just once?”

  “Neime...blessed god, don’t give me those eyes...all right! Stop it, damn it!” His page grinned. “You’re a nag, you know that?”

  “For your own good.”

  “Hmph. But on one condition—you convince our moustachioed tezrei to go too. Such a splendid specimen will impress the children, and the man who goes with it probably won’t induce nightmares. I don’t see why I should have to put up with that fool Gixiel on my own.”

  He thought that might put Neime off, but the grin only got wider. “I think that’s a wonderful idea—now all I have to do is get some prizes together. Books, I think—out of the official budget or your private funds?”

  “You should pay for it, since it’s your idea.”

  “Um...if you insist—”

  “I’m joking.” He had to think how best to arrange this, since he might have just entailed his allowance for the next ten years. “Uh...draw it from my private account, and I’ll shuffle things around. But nothing extravagant, please. I don’t want to set a precedent.”

  “Of course not, your highness.” His page was getting a ridiculous amount of pleasure from this, and though it was likely to be tedious and embarrassing, it was nice to see Neime grin. Juimei felt guilty at how few opportunities he had given his friend to feel so happy.

  “Well, if that’s all, we have real work to do. Uh...um.”

  “Juimei?”

  “Uh...the tezrei might be inviting me...us...to lunch soon. To meet the architect and engineer.”

  “That’ll be nice. Well done,” he added—and Juimei thought it worth any amount of annoyance to see that look of approval in Neime’s eyes again. He had so little pleasure in his life—if he could give some to Neime at least, then maybe things weren’t so dry and dull as they might be.

  True to his word—and why Juimei should have been surprised the promise was actually kept, he didn’t know—Wepizi sent word that a boardwalk had been laid to facilitate the passage of barrows and pedestrians around the building site. He said he thought, with care, his highness would find it easier to walk there now. Juimei appreciated the tact—if tact it be—in making him feel the arrangements weren’t just for him. They probably weren’t—the tezrei struck him as the kind of man who wouldn’t indulge a person without a point to it.

  Astonishing how much they had achieved in so short a time—it was quite transformed, though it still didn’t look much like a new barracks and city wall. Men and women were everywhere, operating small cranes, directing the removal of earth and the addition of rocks. Posts were lifted and carried and inserted all over the place, the noise of hammers and drills, the yelling of incomprehensible commands, quite deafening. The dust of dirt and concrete being mixed, made him cough like an old man with lung fever until Wepizi led them away from the worst of it. His ears continued to ring for some time though, and he could still taste mortar powder even after one of the soldiers kindly brought him a mug of water to soothe his throat.

  He could make no sense of it at first. It looked chaotic to him, unused as he was to this kind of extensive construction—one never saw it on this scale in a place as old as Visiqe. The tezrei seemed quite unperturbed as he patiently explained the process of laying the foundations, the difficulty they’d encountered in certain areas and how they’d overcome it, and how long this phase would last. He managed to make it so engrossing that Juimei quite forgot to see if people were staring at him, and when he remembered at last, no one was—of course, people had better things to do, he imagined. The wooden planks laid down as a temporary pavement, made his progress much easier—he didn’t even need Neime’s help, which improved his temper considerably. From here, he could see out into the countryside, towards the plains of the south, the woods and farms—towards freedom, or the illusion of it.

  “Your highness? Is something wrong?”

  He turned to the tezrei. “Just thinking how nice it would be to see more of the region before it got cold again.”

  The tezrei smiled. “I was thinking the same myself only last night. Perhaps we should get a party up, make a small expedition to explore.”

  “I think not,” Juimei said slightly, frostily, banging his cane a little against the board walk. “I can’t ride.”

  “There are other ways of transporting a person, your highness. On the mission with the Darshianese, we had two people injured by a tewi—we had to haul them back nearly all the way from Mount Arzha to Visiqe on travois. Now that was awkward, I can tell you.”

  “Poor bastards,” he said with a shudder. “Did they survive?”

  “Oh yes,” he said with a smile. “And they were very brave about it, though it was most uncomfortable. I’m sure we could arrange something far better for you, should you wish it.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, keeping his voice neutral because Neime was watching him closely. “And the thermal pipes are going here, is that correct? What about rain water collection?”

  It gave him a slight jolt to realise, as they walked back to the doig-trap to return to the barracks, that this was the longest conversation he’d had with another person other than Neime in almost four years. And in the entire run of it, he’d hardly thought of his physical problems at all—they’d been mentioned, but they had caused him not a whit of embarrassment or concern, or been the focus of anyone’s attention in particular. For that time, he had been nothing but the governor, pure and simple—spoken to as someone whose opinion mattered, whose assessment was useful. For the first time since his injury, he’d actually felt like a normal member of the society.

  He’d forgotten what that was like. It felt good. Dangerously good.

  Neime gave him a smile as they settled in the trap, the tall tezrei on a doig behind them, even though he’d probably arrived on foot. “It’s all fascinating, don’t you find it, your highness?”

  “Moderately,” he said quellingly, but Neime’s smile didn’t dim in the least. Knowing little brat.

  They were back at the old barracks in minutes, and there, Wepizi helped him down from the trap with impeccable courtesy. He apologised in advance for the ordinary fare they were about to receive. “I felt your highness wouldn’t want any f
uss made.”

  “Quite right. I don’t want to interfere with your work any more than strictly necessary, tezrei.”

  The man bowed a little. “Your highness, it gives my people a boost to have the governor and his majesty’s son take an interest in their endeavours.”

  Juimei glanced at Neime, wearing a rather smug ‘I-told-you-so’ expression. He cleared his throat. “Well. Just glad to be progressing it, even in this small way, tezrei.”

  The tezrei led them to what he said was the senior officer’s mess—smaller than what Juimei remembered of the same section in the main army barracks in Visiqe, and rather shabby too. It was clean, but the paintwork needed redoing, there was damage to the door, and nothing brightened the gloomy interior, not even the smallest map or drawing. The mess in Visiqe had been much smarter, proudly sporting large paintings, banners of victories, important or otherwise, and other emblems of a busy soldiering existence.

  “I hadn’t realised how run down this was. Why don’t the soldiers maintain it better, tezrei?”

  The tezrei gave him a wry smile. “I can’t speak for the previous authorities, your highness, but I do know that if there’s a choice between getting out and doing our job, and decorating our quarters, all the soldiers I’ve ever worked with would choose the job, every time.”

  “Your highness,” Neime said, “the establishment here is spread very thin. They’re not given a lot of time to work on domestic matters, I imagine.”

  “Still...it’s important, in our climate—where we spend so much time indoors,” he clarified. “Tezrei, this is something which should be looked at when you complete the new building. Something could be arranged with the staff at my residence, perhaps.” It surely would cost very little to put a painting or two up, or add curtains or something—anything to cover the bare wood and stone. It was depressing.

  “It’s an idea, certainly. One which will be welcome. Please do come and sit, your highness.”

  There were more people in attendance than he was comfortable with, but he wouldn’t back out now, so he plastered a smile on his face and nodded politely as he was introduced to the tezrei’s subordinates—his leps, jirens, the engineers and the architect. He said hello to lep Tovoi and asked him how he was finding it with all the new soldiers around—the attention startled the man a little. Ah—well, only to be expected.

  He insisted lunch should be as informal as possible, and that conversation should not be inhibited by his presence. After an initial awkwardness, the tezrei took the lead and then things settled into a more natural rhythm. The soldiers were very comfortable with each other, and the tezrei was clearly popular. In his own ‘house’, so to speak, he was much more relaxed than he’d been at lunch in the governor’s residence. Of course, Juimei apologising for his offensive remark probably eased things too. It had been a stupid, cruel thing to say and the only excuse Juimei had had was that he’d not seen the man as a person in his own right, just another demand on his time and one who bore a passing resemblance to his faithless former lover. Which was no damn excuse at all, and he knew it.

  But the more he looked, and certainly the more he listened, that resemblance disappeared. Wepizi was older than Miki, taller, thinner, and he smiled and laughed in a completely different way. Miki had been sardonic—to be frank, rather sarcastic most of the time, which was fine and amusing as long as one wasn’t the target. This officer was a much kinder man, gentle in his humour and his comments, and his people responded to him with affection. Juimei felt a twinge of jealousy that this man could have been here for so short a time, and yet clearly commanded much greater loyalty and liking than Juimei had in four years.

  Not that Juimei wasn’t well aware of why there was such a difference. I was once like you, my friend. I was popular, admired, and people listened to me. But he couldn’t, with justice, say this tezrei had led a charmed life which had preserved his ability to be friendly. Juimei wanted to know more about this man’s wife—when had she died, and of what? He didn’t have children, that much was certain, since he lived in the barracks.

  Annoying. Everyone could tell his weaknesses by looking at him—he didn’t have privacy. But other people could hide their pain—it wasn’t fair.

  “Your highness?”

  “Uh...sorry, Neime, I was lost in thought. What is it?”

  “I was just asking Wepizi about the prize-giving, and he wanted to know if you two should arrive together and if they should bring any other soldiers.”

  “Oh.” He hastily rearranged his thoughts. “Together would be more...impressive, I suppose. Do any of you have children at the school?”

  One of the jirens raised his hand. “I do, your highness. My daughter’s finishing this year.”

  “Congratulations. What’s your thought on how we should do this?”

  The man looked surprised. “Uh, well, your highness—the children do like to see us marching in formation, that kind of thing.”

  “Then perhaps a small squad in best-uniforms? Marching up behind my vehicle to the town square? That would be considered something?”

  “Oh yes, your highness. I think it would tickle them no end.”

  “Then arrange that, please, tezrei.”

  The tezrei nodded, smiling. “It should be most enjoyable, your highness.”

  “Hmpf. Well, one hopes so. Tezrei, I really should be getting back, and I’m sure your people have better things to do.”

  “Other things, your highness—not necessarily better. I’m sure I speak for us all when I say it’s been an honour and a pleasure.”

  Sephiz’s beard—he actually means that. “Uh...thank you, tezrei. Neime?”

  Everyone rose and bowed politely—the tezrei accompanied them out to the doig-trap. “May I hope you will find time to visit again, your highness?”

  “Don’t you find this all a damn nuisance, tezrei?”

  The man’s eyes crinkled up in a real smile. “No, of course not. Your input’s valuable, and it was a most enjoyable meal. It’s important when we’re so isolated here, to feel we’re all pulling together in the service of the state. It never hurts soldiers to be reminded that we work for the king and council, and to have access to their representative. Unless of course, it’s inconvenient for you—I’d understand that.”

  Juimei cleared his throat as Neime carefully didn’t look at him. “Uh, no...I think I can find time to fit it into my busy schedule. However, I expect reports to continue to be delivered, tezrei.”

  The man bowed. “Of course, your highness. I’ll bring them myself. I can keep you up to date.”

  “Whatever suits. If not before, I shall see you at this blas...uh, I mean, this prize giving next week. I hope the children appreciate it.”

  “I’m sure they will. Good day, your highness, Neime.”

  Neime gave the order for the driver to move off, then sat back. Juimei turned and gave him a stern look. “And when did you and the tezrei get onto first name basis, hmmm?”

  “You were there—he said to call him Wepizi. Sephiz’s beard, you really were distracted. He’s nice, don’t you think?”

  “Hmmm, pleasant enough. You should preserve the dignity of my office, and call him tezrei.”

  Neime rolled his eyes. “Your highness, you’ve got enough dignity for both of us. You enjoyed yourself—admit it.”

  “No.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because it annoys you.”

  Neime grinned. “You’re hopeless, your highness. You know, you smiled more over lunch than you have in the last year.”

  “I was just being polite.”

  “You were being more polite than you have been over the last year, your highness.”

  “Don’t be impertinent or you can walk back.”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  Brat of a boy. But even as he did, a smile found its disobedient way back onto his lips. He was out of practice. Maybe he’d better get some in, unless he wanted to frighten the children next week.
<
br />   Home Ground: 11

  “Are you a magician?” Tovoi asked as Wepizi came back to their office. “He was actually polite to me. He even remembered my name!”

  “Yes, I confess I was surprised too. Sephiz must have decided to bless him—or us,” Wepizi said with a smile. “He’s not too bad once you get past the gruffness. I think I can work with him.”

  “If you’d said that a week ago, I’d have called you mad. But now....” He shook his head. “Maybe he’s learned manners.”

  “Or remembered those he had. But now, we need to get back to work. We’re ahead, but if we get rain in the next two weeks, it’ll be a problem.”

  He didn’t mention their prince again, because he didn’t want to encourage personal speculation about their superior, but that didn’t stop him wondering why the sudden thaw had occurred. He suspected Neime had a hand in it—the lad was so good-hearted, and loved his prince so well, that it was most likely he was gently persuading his master to unbend.

  And may Sephiz bless your efforts. It looked like this posting would be a lot more pleasant than he’d feared.

  Their luck deserted them briefly, since they had to down tools during three days of rain, but such delays had been planned for, and did not present a setback. The rain filled the barracks’ cisterns which was good, though it made the worksite treacherous and the trenches miserable places to work in until they were drained. Spirits were high though, and labour resumed as fast as they could get back onto the site. They were back on schedule within two days.

  All of this he put into his report, to take up to the governor’s residence himself. Not necessary, he knew—but he wanted to encourage the thaw, and besides...he was intrigued. Their prince was so contradictory, sometimes presenting a repellent, charmless façade, and at other times, seeming rather vulnerable and likeable. Wepizi didn’t know which was the reality—and since he had to work with him for years to come, it would repay getting to know the man better.