Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

But it’ll take more than an earthquake to get over losing you, my love.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Sleep was elusive that night, for many reasons. Neime had dropped off easily, and even though he would have words with his page over his outburst, Juimei couldn’t really hold it against him, since it was made from loyalty and anger at the treatment of a friend.

  No, resentment over that didn’t keep him awake, nor did the soft sounds of strangers sleeping in Neime’s bed. The young people had disturbed him, that was true, and given his preference, he would not be sharing a room with them. But they were actually little trouble, and once they’d returned from their wash, wearing borrowed clothes (and looking much more civilised, it had to be said), they’d retired without causing any fuss. He’d wondered if they would share a bed or not, but it seemed to be something they were used to—he couldn’t quite work out their relationship, but it didn’t seem sexual, not that it was any of his business. Though they were in fact, not children, they were rather child-like, rather innocent. A mystery, and one he would investigate in the morning if he was allowed.

  But it wasn’t the Blessed, or the company of strangers making it impossible to find oblivion. It was the memory of warm, strong hands, taking away the pain, bringing...pleasure, ease. The longing which filled him, utterly shocked him, because he hadn’t had a remotely sexual thought in years, as if that side of him had died along with his fitness.

  Now, it was as if Wepizi had struck a spark that had set long-dead embers on fire. He didn’t miss Miki—he really wondered now how he could have ever imagined himself in love with him—but by Sephiz, he missed being touched by a man’s hands, a man’s strength. He liked women, and enjoyed their softness, their roundness, their scent, their tone of voice. But what made him hungry was hard muscles, the firm, powerful grip of long, skilled fingers—nothing like Neime’s touch. Neime was still a youth, with the slenderness of youth. Wepizi was a man full-grown, with the experience, the calluses, even the scars of maturity. Juimei almost wanted to cry in frustration that he would never again have those hands on him, any man’s hands on him, except therapeutically.

  He was sick of being handled as a patient, out of obligation or pity. Wepizi’s massage, so kindly meant, was like a hammer blow, ramming home he was the object of no one’s desire, that he offered nothing that would entice a handsome man like Wepizi to touch him and want to be touched. The kind gesture had only made his body a traitor once again—was there no end to the ways it could remind him of what a useless wreck he was? To be on fire with need, without the slightest ability to quench it, was as cruel as waking from his coma to find himself crippled for life.

  Neime shifted, muttering. Juimei lay still, afraid to wake his friend and invite questions he didn’t want to answer, and had no answer for. He certainly didn’t want that to happen with Wepizi in the same damn room, even though their ever-patient tezrei slept the sleep of the just and exhausted at the foot of Neime’s bed. He could imagine the man’s reaction if he knew what occupied Juimei’s frayed thoughts now—how...understanding, how...tolerant he would be. And how bloody painful it would be to endure Wepizi’s attempts to explain his idiocy. No, he really, really didn’t want to talk about this in front of Wepizi. Or anyone.

  He sighed to himself, rubbed eyes that felt full of sand, and tried to get comfortable. His headache was back, but he hadn’t dared mention it to anyone. Right now, even the warmth of Neime’s young healthy body against him was like a brand on his reawakened consciousness. He desperately hoped Neime would never realise that. A cripple with a libido. How utterly disgusting.

  Home Ground: 18

  “I told you, we’re taking her home today. Stop arguing with me.”

  “No, I can’t let you do that,” Wepizi said for at least the fifth time that morning. “Jozin, you’ll almost certainly kill Laovei if you move her now. The risk of bleeding, infection, just the stress...why can’t you let her stay where she is until she’s healed? She’s quite safe.”

  “Because I’m not leaving without her, and we can’t stay here.”

  At least the boy was now keeping his voice and his temper under control. It had taken some very stern words from Neime, Juimei and Wepizi himself before Jozin agreed to conduct himself in a more agreeable manner, but the boy’s obduracy on this point had not wavered. Wepizi couldn’t physically stop Jozin taking Laovei away, but by Sephiz, he would do all that he had the power to. The problem was, Jozin refused to stay in Dizeindo. Wepizi couldn’t really blame him for that, but moving Laovei would be nothing short of a death sentence.

  “Wepizi, I need to get down to the square,” Juimei said, sounding rather sharp. He was in a mood this morning, that was for sure, which hadn’t much helped things with the two Blessed. Wepizi supposed being forced into the company of so many people for so long, put a strain on his limited patience. “Jozin, if you take that girl out of the infirmary before the healer approves it, her death will be on your head. Do you really want that?”

  “You don’t know—”

  “I bloody do. I don’t know what your problem is about staying, and right now, there are more pressing things I need to deal with. But your attitude is hurting your friend. She’s safe, she needs help, you don’t have the facilities to care for someone so badly injured. Stop being an arse.” Juimei levered himself up from the table. “Wepizi, I’ll have to leave you to deal with this, though I know you also have more pressing concerns. Jozin, the tezrei isn’t here only to pander to you. Neime, come on.”

  And then he left. Iome stared after him, obviously confused. “He’s angry.”

  “He’s...pre-occupied,” Wepizi said, though he wished he could also permit himself to be so sharp. Jozin was being more than annoying. “Can’t you just give it a day? Let yourself see how Laovei is doing?”

  “I’m needed at home.”

  “Then go home, and come back. She’s going nowhere, and you saw for yourself how ill she is, how well the healers and medics are caring for her.”

  “You don’t understand. I have to take her back. We have to be together.”

  “What does Nuveize say?”

  “Same as you, Wepizi, but he won’t listen to me.” He managed to not jump out of his skin. “Sorry to frighten you. It’s my fault, really—I’ve emphasised so often that we have to stay together, that none of us can run off for the sake of the others. He’s learned his lesson too well.”

  “But if we could somehow help you, perhaps even bring you all here....”

  “Are you listening to me?” Jozin snapped, and that was Wepizi’s first indication that he’d not been included in the conversation with Nuveize.

  “Ah...what did you say?”

  “Never mind. Iome, we’re going now.”

  She got up, but with clear reluctance. “Joz, I really think—”

  “No. We’re leaving.”

  “Wait, my friend.” Wepizi grabbed at Jozin’s sleeve. The lad gave him a cold look for the liberty. “I have an idea. Why don’t I visit your home, and maybe your friends could come to the town, if there aren’t too many of them. If it would reassure you, I’m sure we could find the space.”

  Jozin snatched his arm out of Wepizi’s hold. “Normals aren’t allowed!”

  “Jozin! Will you listen to me? You can trust Wepizi.”

  “We can’t. Yuzin always said—”

  “Yuzin’s dead.”

  “Who’s Yuzin?” Wepizi asked, hopelessly confused.

  “My lover. Jozin, we can’t do this any more—there’s only the seven of us, and Laovei is crippled. Please—will you listen to Wepizi? I’m begging you, my dear. Please...I don’t want to lose any more of you. I’m so tired of grieving.”

  Jozin’s jaw worked. Iome’s eyes were large and worried in her pale face. Wepizi held his breath, hoping Nuveize’s plea would have some effect. “What if he tells people?”

  “He won’t. I can make it so he can’t, but he won’t—not without our consent. Ask him.”

  Jozin
glared. “Well?”

  Wepizi held out his hands in a gesture of submission. “So long as your secret harms no one else, I won’t tell anyone. Neither will Juimei. You can trust him and Neime completely.”

  “But I don’t see what you can do for us anyway.”

  “That’s true—I don’t know myself. But if you could leave Laovei to heal, and let me talk to your friends, we could at least see what we can offer you. If Nuveize says you need help, then I believe her. If you’ve managed so long, and need it now, it must be desperate.”

  “It is.” Wepizi turned to Iome. Jozin seemed shocked at her simple statement. “Joz, we can’t go on. We’re just scratching along. None of us can do what Yuzin could, and we won’t have Timinke or Laovei to help any more. We’ll either have to steal, or we’ll have to ask these people for help. What harm can it do to just talk?”

  “You’ve really forgotten how cruel normals can be to us?”

  “No,” she said quietly, reaching for his hand. “But Wepizi’s not cruel. Not all normals are cruel. I remember ones that weren’t. Please, Joz? I don’t want Laovei to die, and I’m scared of what will happen to us.”

  Jozin turned anguished, angry eyes on Wepizi. “If you hurt us, I’ll destroy all of you. I can do it, you know I can.”

  “I believe it,” Wepizi said in all seriousness. “You have no reason to fear me. You have all the power, not me. Iome—if you wanted, you could stay to watch over Laovei.”

  She started to respond eagerly, but Jozin moved in front of her protectively. “A hostage?”

  “Oh, by the benevolent god!” Wepizi finally lost his temper. “Iome? What is your Blessing?”

  “Wind,” she said, almost shyly.

  “And what would you do if someone tried to hurt you or Laovei? What could you do?”

  “Um...well, I could probably blow them out of the window.”

  Wepizi turned to look at Jozin impatiently. “A hostage?” The boy had the grace to look embarrassed. “Look—I want to help, but I’ve got three thousand other people who need my help too. If you’re going to keep turning me down, I’ve got work to do. I can’t stop you removing Laovei, but you’re the only one who wants that. Like his highness said, her death will be on your head. Now, you both should come with me. I’ve got to go into the square, meet my officers, and see to the barracks building. You’re not the only people in need here.”

  Irritation had more effect than all his patient words, and he was pleased, if rather bemused, to find that Jozin meekly obeyed his words.

  “Why are you surprised, Wepizi?” Nuveize asked as they walked out of the residence. “Joz is only a boy—he’s had to grow up too fast, but at heart, he’s as tired as the rest of us. Take the burden from his shoulders and of course he’ll let you.”

  “So long as he doesn’t realise I know that. Will he agree?”

  “I think so. Iome should stay—Laovei is getting anxious. It will do them both good, and Iome likes people. So does Joz, but he’d never admit it.”

  No, he probably wouldn’t, Wepizi thought. He could see the lad trying to make up his mind, but Wepizi couldn’t pay as much attention to him as he needed, because he’d told no lie—he really did have many things to deal with, and as soon as he entered the square, his officers and three elders descended on him. He tried to keep Jozin in his sights as he dealt with the problems that had sprung up like fungi overnight, but the two youngsters didn’t seem inclined to wander far, and by the time he was allowed to come up for air, he saw Neime walking his way.

  He waved him over. “Looking for me?”

  “No, Iome. Laovei wants her.”

  “Then I’m going. Joz, you’re not taking her anywhere,” Iome said sternly. “I’ll never speak to you again if you do.”

  The pain in Jozin’s eyes showed that was a threat with real force. “Don’t let them hurt her,” he said, though without the anger of before.

  “I won’t,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “Come on, Neime.”

  Neime only lifted his eyebrows as he took her arm. He turned to Wepizi. “His highness is back in the shop—he didn’t want to put people to the trouble of moving him around, so for now, that’s headquarters.”

  “Thank you. Iome, if you need anything, you only have to ask.” She gave him a sweet smile, then Neime led her off over to the infirmary.

  That left Jozin with him, and Wepizi had no idea what to do with the lad. He couldn’t be allowed to wander loose, but Wepizi had work to do.

  “Would you come with me?” he asked the lad. “I’ve got to make an inspection, meet Juimei—I’ve not forgotten your problem, but—”

  Jozin cut off his explanation with a sharp slicing motion of his hand. “I’ll come with you. But I don’t trust you.”

  “That’s understood.”

  If Juimei was surprised to see Jozin alone with him, he showed nothing in his expression. He still seemed out of sorts, though the disappearing back of the mayor as Wepizi reached the temporary headquarters might have had something to do with it.

  “Now you’re here,” the prince said in a business-like manner, “I think we should do an inspection. Any objection?”

  “None at all. Jozin will come with us.”

  “Whatever you’ve agreed,” Juimei said dismissively. “Can you arrange doigs, please?”

  Wepizi turned to his companion. “Jozin, can you ride?”

  “No.”

  Not really a surprise, but the prince shook his head in irritation anyway. “Then get a cart,” he snapped. “Anything. I want to do this, this morning.”

  What on earth had upset him so? He’d been fine the night before. Perhaps he had another headache, or had slept badly, but the ill-temper was unfortunate while Wepizi had yet to persuade Jozin the world of normals wasn’t such a bad place. But he had to work with what he had, so he merely smiled politely, put his head out of the shop door and whistled up one of the soldiers waiting for orders, sending her for the prince’s doig-trap from the residence, and another animal for him.

  As they waited, Juimei curtly explained the rearrangement of the infirmary residents, which affected Wepizi’s soldiers among others. He agreed the move was necessary, and could report they should soon have sufficient quantities of oil cloth that would make providing temporary shelter for people and belongings easier.

  While they spoke about this matter, Jiren Heininke came in to report. More depressing news from the mountains—the mine roads were all blocked, and the two men who had managed to make their way out from the isolated mountain settlement in which many of the miners lived, said there had been a serious collapse and people were trapped underground. Unfortunately, there was little hope of saving their lives.

  Juimei received the news grimly. “What about the rest of them? Can we get their families out? Supplies in?”

  “I’ve already got an engineer working on it with the two men from the area, your highness. But it’ll all have to be carried in and over by hand.”

  Juimei nodded, then turned to Wepizi. “You’re authorised to make whatever arrangements you can that don’t endanger the people here. We can’t save everyone, but we have to do our best.”

  “Of course. Carry on, jiren, keep me informed.”

  As his officer left, an ordinary soldier walked in and bowed to them. “Ah—that’s our transport.” Wepizi said. “Your highness?”

  Jozin followed them outside, face still set in a scowl. He had listened to their discussions in silence, and said nothing now as he squeezed into the passenger seat of the doig-trap. Juimei dismissed the driver, insisting he could manage the reins, and they set off.

  With the prince clearly not welcoming any assistance or attention, Wepizi turned his thoughts to the resurrection of the shattered town. He’d seen it happen before, but it still astonished him how quickly people could restore some semblance of normality to their lives in such conditions. The market was already back in operation, and though there were fewer stalls and customers, people still car
ried out the ordinary buying and selling that was the usual business in a market town.

  Up and down the square, along the streets, in and out between property boundaries—all that really was left of the houses—men and women pulled hand carts, carrying belongings, buckets, tools and the odd piece of timber, heading to one of several sites of construction and repair. As well as the barracks old and new, twenty houses had been deemed to be worth shoring up and making habitable. While the wreckage of ruined homes was tossed into carts for removal, beside them, here and there, others were being restored. Around them, people trying to supply the essentials of life—food, water, and waste removal—hurried about too. There was little time for anyone to sit and mope, though the grim expressions on many faces spoke of weariness, anxiety, and in far too many cases, grief. Jozin watched it all big-eyed. Wepizi wondered if he’d ever seen anything like it before, and what he made of it. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t sharing.

  Much of the wreckage would have to be reused, since getting large quantities of timber would be difficult until the bridge was repaired, or the river cleared. Families picked over the sites of their homes as roofs and shattered walls were cleared, trying to extract what they could of their belongings.

  “I want shelter to be provided for people to store their household goods,” the prince said, pulling the trap to a halt. “That has to be a priority over the mayor’s damn cloth, do you hear?”

  “Yes, naturally,” Wepizi said. “I take it he’s still complaining?”

  Juimei let out a short laugh. “Now he’s preparing a bill to send to my father. Good luck to him.”

  Wepizi had less sympathy with the mayor’s plight than was strictly charitable, and found he had even less interest in whether the man got his money. Unfortunate, when Wepizi would have to work with him once this crisis was over, but it was very hard to like him even in normal circumstances. Juimei was making very little effort to conciliate him, which was understandable, but might cause everyone problems in the long term.

  They stopped frequently, asking for progress reports. Juimei seemed very interested in the civilians, and wanted to know particularly if any of them needed anything, if he could help, and noting all that was said, as did Wepizi. Talking to the families, he was as pleasant and patient as Wepizi had ever seen him, listening gravely to the children, making sympathetic and knowledgeable comments to their parents, and offering reassurances with real weight behind them. The people who spoke to him approached with frowns and left with at least slight smiles on their weary faces—Juimei had given them hope, something they could hang onto, and it meant a great deal to each of them.