The elders urged the mayor to get up and leave before he said something that would get him locked up. It was a real relief to have the door shut behind them all.
Juimei sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Does he really think I would put two hundred people out of work for spite?”
“He doesn’t see the whole picture. Fortunately, he’s not governor,” Wepizi said.
“I doubt that’s a widespread sentiment—the man’s popular, or at least, feared, and influential through fear. Half the town either owes him money or works for him in some way. But he’s still a buffoon. I—” The door opened, and Juimei looked up. “Ah, come to grace us with your presence, milord Neime?”
His page looked sheepish, rumpled and tired. He’d been a solemn-faced presence at the funerals, and had then disappeared—Juimei hadn’t had a chance to have a single word with him. “Sorry for abandoning you—Laovei didn’t want me to leave.”
“Laovei? So our mystery child has a name now. Do you know more about her than that?”
Neime sat down, and rested his chin on his hand. “She’s seventeen, nearly eighteen, and uh...that’s it. She won’t answer any other questions, though that might because she’s so upset about her friend, Timinke.”
Juimei turned to Wepizi. “We have to get to the bottom of this, and soon. If we have a child maimed, another killed, because they weren’t with their parents.... Neime, she’s not suffering a head wound or confusion, perhaps?”
“Not that the healers can see. She seems rather frightened—but like I said, it’s mostly upset. Um...I said I’d go back this afternoon, and, um....”
“No, Neime,” Juimei said firmly. “You’re not sleeping in the infirmary again. You’re just in their way, and she’s being cared for.”
“Please? Just tonight—she’s been crying all morning over Timinke and about her leg. She’s asleep now, but she’s so afraid, and sad.”
“She’s just one of many, lad.” But Neime used his wide, expressive eyes on him, and Juimei had no power to resist those—never had done. “Aren’t you tired?” he asked in a gentler tone.
“Yes, but—”
Wepizi interrupted. “Neime, the attention you’re giving to her, could be used to organise the infirmary, which was the job you were given. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“But I can do both! I’ve been sorting out things, and also visiting her. I know it’s important—but I just...want to help. I want to feel I can make a difference, at least to one person in all this.”
“Oh, Neime,” Juimei said, shaking his head. “You are making a difference. But do as you wish—on the condition that your duties in the infirmary come first. If I find out you’ve neglected those in favour of this girl, I’ll send you away in disgrace. You are a public official like me, and at this time, we have a higher responsibility. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Right. Then before you go back to the infirmary, go eat, head back to the residence and change, preferably wash too. You’re still my page, and I expect you to maintain a respectable image, regardless.”
“Yes, Jui,” he said, grinning widely. “Thank you.”
“Hmpf, you’re indulged, that’s all it is. Now, go find your lunch. I suggest you eat at the residence—people were worried about you.”
“Yes, I will. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“You should have a nap too.”
“No time! See you!” He ran out the door, looking like a child half his age, and not at all like someone who’d had about four hours sleep and a long day and night before it.
Juimei turned to Wepizi, who was grinning behind his hand. “Disrespect from all quarters. Some vice-regent I’m turning out to be.”
“Neime loves you, you know that. I, uh...don’t think his honour does, though.”
Juimei shuddered. “Sephiz’s beard, don’t put images like that into my head. I think his wife died just to get away from him.” The sudden stiffening of the tezrei’s expression reminded Juimei of the gaffe he’d made. “Oh...I’m sorry, Wepizi, I didn’t mean—”
But Wepizi dismissed his apology with a wave of his hand. “I know you didn’t, though I should chide you for the lack of charity. However...I don’t blame you, all things considered.” He stood and rubbed his chin. “I’m going to find that farming couple, ask them some more about that girl. Perhaps drop in to visit her later. You’re right—this is worrying.”
“I’ll leave it to you—she’s more likely to respond to you since you say children like that outrageous growth under your nose.” Wepizi grinned, clearly becoming immune to his rudeness. “Ah...and just see how Neime’s doing too.”
“I will. But first, I’ll find us our lunch. I am, by the looks of it, back to being your honorary page.”
“Looks like. Damn that boy,” he muttered. Such a big heart, and bound to have it broken.
Damn this girl too. And just where had she come from?
Home Ground: 16
Wepizi stroked his moustache thoughtfully as he walked back across the square, having come from the mayoral residence and a thoroughly unhelpful interview with two tired farmers. No, sir, we don’t know who she is, and we don’t know where she could have come from. Yes, we do know all them that live round here, and there be no children that age that we don’t know.
It was impossible that two children of working age could not be known to locals—and they weren’t registered in the census, because he’d had one of Juimei’s clerks check it at the residence. So that left the girl herself, which was why he was going to the infirmary, turning the puzzle over in his mind, even as he stopped to talk to one of his soldiers. She had a message from lep Tovoi to say one of the site cranes was more damaged than they thought at first and so they would have to delay matters while it was fixed.
Then a civilian came up to confront him, demanding to know when the army would help him retrieve his family’s clothes from his collapsed house. Another asked humbly when they could put a proper marker on his father’s grave. Half a dozen times in a journey of five hundred yards, he had to pause and answer questions, reassure, placate and comfort. The army got a lot of criticism in some quarters—strange how it was the first place people turned to for help in a crisis. But he was used to the dichotomy, and did what he could, while never deviating from his path.
At last he reached the infirmary, and was told where to find Neime and the girl. He washed his hands carefully and hung his jacket up outside, as directed. The ward was busy—medics, helpers, attending to bandaged, pale people, all of whom looked very ill indeed. By a bed in the corner, Neime was talking to the girl, who was awake, though just as ill and tired as the other patients, and clearly in pain. She still didn’t look seventeen, and was, as the healer had noted, rather thin. Her hair was long, shaggily cut, and gave her a rather ragged, waif-like air. Decently fed, and in good health, she might have been pretty, but now she was just frail and sick, another victim of nature’s fury.
Neime smiled as he approached. “Hello, Wepizi. Laovei, this is my friend, Wepizi, from the army.”
“Greeting, Laovei,” Wepizi said with a deep bow. “How are you feeling?”
She tried to sit up a little. “Uh...I’m fine,” she said in a faint, weak voice that made a liar of her words.
She seemed rather uncertain about him, looking to Neime for reassurance. He patted her hand. “It’s all right, Laovei—Wepizi’s very kind. Don’t be afraid.”
“I won’t hurt you, my dear. No one will—all we want to do is get you well and home to your family.” She looked rather uncomfortable at his use of the word. “I’m most sorry about your friend. I doubt he suffered at all—the healer said he wouldn’t have known what hit him.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “All my fault,” she whispered. “I begged and begged for him to take me to see the doigs and then we got caught in the barn. We shouldn’t have been there.”
“Take you? In a cart?” She looked away. “Where do his family li
ve, Laovei? They deserve to know their child’s fate.”
A deep breath. “A long way away. I don’t know where he came from.”
Wepizi frowned. “Then how do you know him? How long had you known him?” She still refused to answer. “I know you don’t want to answer these things, but there’s a family who’ve lost a son, and your family who will be worried about you. We need to get them word, so they can come and take you home.”
She turned red-rimmed eyes on him. “They’ll come,” she said quietly, determinedly. “You don’t need to do anything. I just need to wait.”
“I don’t understand, my dear.”
She twisted her head towards her new champion and protector, rejecting Wepizi completely. “Neime, please...I’m so tired.”
Neime squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. You try and get some sleep.” He looked up, biting his lip. “Uh, Wepizi, I don’t think this is the time....”
But Wepizi wasn’t finished—not by a long way. “Neime, a word, please? Outside?”
Reluctantly Neime agreed, after reassuring the girl he would be back soon.
Outside in the corridor, he tugged the lad into a quiet niche, keeping out of the way of the medics and healers rushing past, armfuls of sheets and bandages being carried to their patients’ bedside. Wepizi folded his arms. “Has she said anything more than that?”
“Not to me. It’s very odd, I grant you—but with her being so ill and upset, I didn’t want to push her.”
“We can’t indulge her forever. I’m wondering if she was engaged in some criminal activity, though the only possibilities seem more than a child her age would be involved in.” But we only have her word for her age, Wepizi thought. And she certainly had Neime under her thrall. “I know you want to help her, but I think it might be best....”
A polite female voice interrupted him. “Tezrei? Excuse me, sir, but I think you need to come.”
Wepizi turned and found one of his medics waiting to speak to him. “What’s happened, Medic Furniw?”
“Sir, two people have turned up—they say they’re that girl’s brother and sister.”
Neime blinked at him in astonishment. “How could they know she was here?”
Wepizi signalled for him to be quiet. “Let me speak to them—but no one visits that girl without my say so.”
“Yes, sir. That’s them there—the young couple.” Wepizi followed the line of her finger, and saw a youth and a young woman, neither apparently much older than Laovei’s claimed age—both thin, dressed rather roughly, and twitching nervously as people walked past them, as if they didn’t like to be touched. The boy was a red-head, unusual in this part of Andon—the girl was quite ordinary, though both of them, like Laovei, had long, untidy hair, as if their families had no idea how to cut it neatly. Neither of them were particularly dirty, but the shabby clothes, the underweight bodies, gave a sense of deprivation. Strange to see it here, away from the cities where one sometimes saw it among the poor. Here, people valued appearances, respectability, even in deep poverty. So why were these three children so different?
“Neime, come with me, please.” Wepizi walked towards the pair, smiling warmly. “Welcome, my friends. I am Wepizi, Tezrei of this region and this is Neime, page to his highness, the governor. You’re friends of Laovei?”
The youth—the older of the two, it looked like, though far from being a full-grown man—nodded. “We’ve come to take her home. Where is she?”
“You can’t take her,” Neime burst out. “Didn’t they tell you? She’s been badly hurt—she’s lost her right foot.”
The girl covered her mouth in shock, and tugged on the youth’s arm. “Jozin?”
He put his hand over hers, but regarded Wepizi steadily. “We can care for her. Just let us take her home.”
“And where might that be, my friend? Jozin, is it? And your name, miss?” The girl cringed behind the lad, and shook her head, refusing to answer. “I’m sorry, but you can’t just walk into an infirmary and demand to remove a patient without giving the smallest account of yourselves. Why don’t you come outside and—”
The boy would not be moved, and his thin features froze into a haughty expression. “She’s my sister. I have a right. I want to see her, now.”
Wepizi lifted an eyebrow. “Your sister, hmmm? You don’t look much alike, Jozin. Where are you from? Where are your parents?”
“None of your business.”
Cold, imperious voice, but behind it, fear. The hauteur was just an act.
“Ah, but it is, I’m sorry. I have a care for all the people in this region under his highness’s authority. Answer my questions honestly, Jozin, and you can see the girl—or you’ll have to leave.”
“You can’t stop me.” He raised his hand. Wepizi, thinking he was about to strike, or pull a weapon, moved instinctively to block him—but the movement got no further than the intent, because he found himself frozen in his place, unable to speak, move, or struggle. “But I can stop you.”
It was a like a waking night terror—being aware, hearing every word, but he couldn’t even move his smallest finger, despite desperately trying to do that. Neime realised something was wrong, and just as quickly realised who was behind it.
“Stop it!” he shouted at Jozin. “Leave him alone! What are you doing? Stop it!”
He suddenly flung himself at the lad, and Jozin, caught off-balance, fell against the wall. The girl cried out in fear, and pulled at Neime, struggling with him and Jozin both.
It distracted Jozin long enough. Whatever he was doing to Wepizi, stopped quite suddenly, and he could move again. He used the freedom to make a lunge for them both.
“Stop it! Both of you!” As the boy raised his hand, memories of conversations he’d had with Romi and Karik over the last couple of years, gave him the clues he needed, and he suddenly realised who and what he had to be dealing with. “Jozin, please—I know what you are!”
His words had the most dramatic effect. Jozin stopped, looking as frozen as Wepizi had been moments before, and stared at him with naked terror in his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, cringing, sounding much younger than the twenty or so that he appeared to be.
Wepizi put his hands on the lad’s shoulders, but this time to reassure, not to restrain. Neime had his arms around the girl—she looked as terrified as her friend, her eyes wide with fear. Wepizi spoke to them both, keeping his voice low, reassuring.
“I won’t tell anyone who’ll harm you, I swear. But you must not hurt people, Jozin.” He gave him a stern look. “You know what I mean by that, don’t you? Hurting people? Even accidentally?”
“Yes.”
The word was just the tiniest sound, the sound of a frightened child. Wepizi had guessed right, and now he had some idea what was going on. He took his hands off the lad, who made no move to escape. All his bravado had wilted in mere moments.
“Sir? Is there a problem?”
He only glanced at his soldier to acknowledge her. “No, medic, no problem. I’ll handle it. Is there somewhere we can talk to these young people in privacy?”
She bowed. “Give me a minute, sir,” she said, then went off.
Wepizi continued to look at Jozin, imposing control by his will, trying to impart calm authority to a frightened child who could bring this building down around their ears if he lost his temper.
“What’s happening? Who is he, Wepizi?”
Wepizi didn’t look at Neime. “It’s all right, I’ll explain later.” He spared a glance for the terrified girl. “What’s your name, my dear?”
She looked at Jozin for assurance, but he was paying her no heed as he stared at Wepizi. “Iome, sir,” she said in little more than a whisper.
“Well, Iome, if you and Jozin can stay calm, and don’t hurt or threaten anyone, I’ll take you in to see Laovei. But Neime was telling the truth—she’s very ill, and in no way ready to be moved. If you take her from here, you could end up killing her. I know you don’t want that, do you?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t think so. So I’ll take you in to see her, and then you and Jozin and Neime and I will have a chat—and maybe something hot to eat.”
He didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up—hers and the lad’s too. He reached out and offered his hand, as politely as he would to a lady at court. “May I?”
Hesitantly, she took his hand—hers was ice-cold in her terror. He squeezed it gently. “No one will hurt you, my dear. My job is helping people, not hurting them. Jozin?”
The lad eased away from the wall, still wary. “What are you going to do about us?”
“For now, I’m going to take you to see your friend, who I’m sure wants to see you. You heard about Timinke?”
He nodded, his mouth turning down sadly—Wepizi didn’t ask how, because there were several ways a Blessed might have of learning such news. This boy, likely both of them, were two of the almost mythical beings, those with incredible powers and abilities, who had been nothing but rumours for decades. And they had just turned up here, right under his nose. Astonishing. But also, worrying.
Time to worry later. He tugged gently on Iome’s hand. “This way.” He put his hand out to Jozin, but the lad refused, shaking his head—from pride or fear, he didn’t know. “Please—both of you, remember. The ward is full of sick people, all afraid, all in pain. Your friend is just one.”
At the door, he got them to wash their hands, then asked Neime to wait for him—there was little enough room in the ward, and four people would crowd it unbearably. He led them in, and Iome, spotting her friend, gave a little cry of distress.
“Shhh,” Wepizi whispered.
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 41