“Let me find someone, sir. You do what you need to.”
“Thank you.”
He was lucky with the people they’d brought with them. Resourceful, independent and not needing close supervision, they were just what was needed in this crisis. Even the sudden and scandalous replacement of their tezrei hadn’t thrown them for long. It would be a real wrench if his demotion turned out to be permanent—or he was forced out on a dishonourable discharge. Or worse—the death penalty lay on the books for the most serious acts of desertion and dereliction, though no one had been executed since the demise of the warlords. Still, Juimei was a prince and he was damn angry....
Wepizi shook his head. Now he was just being ridiculous—and self-pitying. There was more than enough of that nonsense going around. He should find Tovoi and do something positive for the plight of his new young friends. That would improve his mood, and would at least make his present situation worth the sacrifice.
Home Ground: 22
Juimei very much disliked Neime’s new habit of coming into his office or the bedroom in a way that implied he thought he was about to be struck. He’d never raised his hand to his page, had done nothing to merit this caution, and he couldn’t help but find it unfailingly insulting. However, he refused to give the lad the satisfaction of knowing his attitude bothered him, so he merely said, without looking up again, “Tezrei Tovoi came to see me today. About Jozin.”
“Oh.”
“I was a little surprised to hear you had been down at the building site. I rather thought you had more important things to do.”
“I...wanted to see Wepizi. They did too. That’s not a crime now, is it?”
“Did I make any complaint about it?” He looked up. Neime was biting his lip. “The tezrei thinks we should announce the presence of the Blessed, and allow them to assist in the reconstruction. I wonder where he got that idea from.”
“Um...Jozin mentioned it to Wepizi....”
“I see,” Juimei said coldly, though he’d already guessed this. “Gracious of a prisoner to be so worried about such matters which do not concern him any longer.”
“Jozin’s his friend. Like I am.” The lad jutted his chin out defiantly. “Why don’t you complain to his majesty about that?”
“Perhaps I should complain about your inability to keep a civil tongue in your head lately, but I shan’t trouble my father with such a trivial matter, when he has the more serious one of the charges against your friend to consider.” Damn it, even mentioning the damn man made his head pound again. He still felt frail and vulnerable after his collapse, and the last thing he’d wanted was to discuss bloody Wepizi again. But once again, his hand was forced. He very much disliked the sense of not being in control of his destiny, never more than now. “What’s your opinion on the matter?”
“You should back down. Wepizi did what he thought was right.”
“On Jozin, Neime. The other’s not up for discussion now or ever.”
Neime pursed his lips in irritation. “If Jozin wants to help, and he does, then we should use him as openly and honestly as possible. They’ve done nothing, are nothing to be ashamed of. Their powers could really help this town, the whole district. The whole country, if we could bring their kin back into society. That’s why his majesty put such a high value on doing just that—just like Wepizi said.”
His page simply wouldn’t let this drop, but Juimei couldn’t afford a new conflict with him. The only thing he could do was ignore the constant barbs, and wait for his father’s decision. In many ways, he didn’t care if the king didn’t agree with him, since he wasn’t stupid enough to think that there wasn’t room for argument, but damned if Wepizi would be the one to interpret his own father’s wishes for him. “Then perhaps you could invite our guests to eat their supper in here, and arrange a table and the food. I’m going to lie down for an hour.” He got to his feet, wishing his shoulders would cease aching for even a few moments.
“Are you unwell again?”
“No. I simply need to rest.”
He found if he could stay polite and calm, the pain in his head tended to remain manageable. It was difficult when Neime was in a provocative mood. He often seemed to be of late.
“Want me to massage your—”
The response was instinctive, so guarded had he become on the subject. “No!”
“But—”
Juimei closed his eyes. “I said ‘no’. Be about your business, Neime.”
He limped out of the office and then traversed the short distance to his bedroom. Once this had been his sanctuary, a well of peace and harmony in a life besieged by the things which threatened to crush him. But now the enemy was not just at the gates—it had breached his defences and taken up residence solidly within them. Now he had nowhere to hide from his demons, and they were likely to drive him mad before much longer.
He lay on the bed and covered his face with his arm. Wepizi. Everything kept coming back to the man. Why had he ever allowed that massage that night? If he had not, he wouldn’t have been so off-kilter the next day, and if he’d been calmer, then Wepizi might have been more willing to listen to his calls to delay for a while. Not that it was assured—Juimei had no faith anymore in his ability to sway anyone, and for all he knew, Wepizi would have done exactly as he pleased, regardless. But he might not, and the hideous mess that had followed would not have happened at all.
A needle of pain jabbed at his skull and he winced. A massage would ease it, but in his desperate search to find a place, any place, where he had some control over himself and his reactions, he’d had to forego all of the physical contact he’d once accepted as natural and ordinary from his friend and servant. He did not want to become a slave to longing again, he would not allow desires and wants to be part of him because they made him weak and susceptible to betrayal. Even opening the door to simple friendship had devastated him. How much more would opening his heart....
No, not his heart. His heart was a broken, useless thing. It wasn’t his heart that tormented him. It wasn’t his heart that made his head and neck the source of unbearable, constant agony, or which made his vision blur and dance. And the solution could not be—could never be—allowed.
~~~~~~~~
The rest did him little good, but it had been the healer’s advice, and lacking any other remedy, Juimei dutifully followed it. When he returned to his office, he found his desk had been moved back a little, and a small table and chairs brought in—they had dining rooms all over this damn mansion, but every one of them had been turned into a bedroom for the present. At least there wouldn’t be any complaints about him not hosting any official balls or dinners for a while.
Neime was only waiting for him to arrive. “Nuveize’s on her way down—I’ll ask for the food to be brought in.”
Juimei only grunted, food being of little interest to him on his best day, and certainly not now when his head ached like a demon with a pikestaff had taken up residence inside it. He sat at his desk and rubbed his temples distractedly. He would have to resort to drugs if this continued. Sooner or later he would have to return to the square to monitor the restoration, but right now, he only managed to sit at his own private desk for a few hours a day. It wasn’t enough—people needed more attention than he gave them. It would be months before he was relieved. He had to hold it together until the end of summer, at the very least.
A tap at the door. He looked up. “Oh, come in, Helinoa. Nuveize, welcome.” He got up, but his guidance was unnecessary. The woman walked in gracefully, no sign at all of her blindness, and took a seat at the table. Jozin stalked in with Giwade behind him. “Where’s Iome?”
“Still at the infirmary,” Nuveize said. “She’s really taken to that role. She’s talking about becoming a healer.”
“Well, now,” Juimei said, surprised and pleased at this rare bit of good news. “That’s a remarkable thing—I’ll make sure she has every opportunity.”
Nuveize nodded. “Thank you, your highness,
” she said gravely. “She might change her mind, but she has a very kind nature. Being a healer might suit her very well.”
“Indeed. Jozin, Giwade, please, take a seat. Neime won’t be long.”
Jozin scowled at him as he obeyed. Juimei nearly sighed. The boy hated him, and it was all over Wepizi, he knew. Did the lad really think he wanted things to be this way?
Nuveize turned her blind gaze his way. “He doesn’t understand.”
Her talent made him intensely uncomfortable. So did she, with her blind, blank look, though that was scarcely her fault. His secrets were dark and unpleasant, and knowing she could read every thought he had, felt such a violation. There was nothing to be done about it, though, so he ignored it as best he could. It wasn’t as if he could stop her doing anything she pleased anyway, so worrying about it was singularly useless.
“Then explain. You can read my mind. You can read Wepizi’s. Sephiz knows no one else seems to know what’s going on.”
“No, your highness. I can do nothing about your dislike of me, but I can at least ensure you have no reason to distrust me.”
“I can’t help it,” he said defensively. “You could destroy me, my reputation, what’s left of my happiness, in moments.”
Yes. I could. But it seems to me that the one who did the most harm to you, did so without my talent. You’ve no reason to fear me, Juimei. I’ll leave you and Wepizi to sort out your differences on your own, and if you want to befriend Jozin, then you’ll have to do that yourself. You might try smiling at him from time to time though. He thinks you hate him.”
“I don’t!”
“Then don’t act like you do. The lad had just lost his home and his purpose, even though it had to be this way. He responds to honesty and kindness, same as anyone.”
“I respond to manners. He seems to lack those completely.”
She only arched an eyebrow at him, and he didn’t need her mental speech to know she was implying Jozin wasn’t the only one without manners. She said nothing more to him, which was something of a relief, since the few interactions he’d had with Nuveize had tended to leave him feeling rather inadequate. He’d not spent much time with any of them because of his illness. Having made sure they had all the necessities of life, given them free run of the library, and offered anything they might need, he’d only spoken to them a handful of times. He gathered from Neime and his staff they were settling in quietly, but now the question of their role in this town, even in Andonese society as a whole, forced itself upon his addled attention. He wished he was in a better mood, and less pain, but he’d found life very rarely arranged itself to his convenience.
He smiled at his guests, trying to be a good host, but at a loss how to start a conversation with people with whom he had almost nothing in common. “Helinoa, are you enjoying the books in the library?”
“Yes. Neime says we can go to school here soon.”
“Does he? Well, I would think you should. You’d have to restrain your talent though, even if you really wanted to use it. The other children would be frightened by it.”
“I know that,” she said as if he was rather stupid. “People don’t understand. We know about normals.”
“Ah. Well...good. The school won’t reopen for a while, though.”
“I know. I’m not in a hurry,” she said calmly, and despite himself, Juimei laughed at her adult-sounding comment. “I’m not,” she said with a scowl.
“No, of course not. Forgive me, I meant no offence. Perhaps we could introduce you to some of the other children your age. You too, Kilinze.”
“School sounds interesting, but I don’t want to play with normals. They’re boring.”
Juimei lifted an eyebrow at this statement. “Oh. And how many have you played with recently?”
“None,” he said simply. “But they’re boring. Cos I can make fire and they can’t.”
“Kilinze, don’t be rude,” Nuveize murmured. “I can’t make fire—does that make me boring?”
“No, but you can read minds. He can’t do anything,” he said scornfully, looking at Juimei.
“Not like you, no,” Juimei said. Strangely, the boy’s arrogance didn’t annoy him as much as it might. This wasn’t malice, or aimed at him—just a child with a very limited experience, speaking out of ignorance. “Most people in Andon can’t make fire or read minds. That doesn’t make them boring.”
“You are. You never go out of the house.”
“Kilinze! Behave or I’ll send you upstairs without supper. Apologise, now,” Nuveize snapped.
The boy pouted. “Sorry,” he muttered, though without much sincerity.
Juimei answered the words, not the tone, if only to encourage the boy to behave. “Apology accepted. As for not going out, I’ve not been feeling well.” Jozin gave him a dirty look, but Juimei ignored it. “People don’t really appreciate being called ‘boring’, you know. If you want to live in this town, or any town, you need to remember your manners.”
Kilinze shrugged, then looked at Nuveize. “Where’s the food? I’m hungry.”
She frowned at him. “And you’ll stay that way if you don’t behave. Good grief, Kilinze. Yuzin would be horrified at this display.”
The name of Nuveize’s dead lover had more impact than anything she’d said, because the child nodded. “Sorry,” he said again, and this time, sounded like he meant it. “But I’m hungry.”
“So am I,” Juimei lied, but then, having spotted Neime near the door, “and here comes supper now.”
His servants laid the dishes of soup, cooked vegetables and fresh bread in front of them—using the good porcelain as if he really was entertaining formally. Juimei dismissed them, saying they would serve themselves, and Neime did just that, ladling out the soup while Jozin cut the bread into thick slices. Nuveize managed to restrain the ravenous Kilinze until everyone had food in front of them, and then the child eagerly fell to, as did the others. They had enormous appetites, so Neime had reported, but they were making up for a lean time. It was a good thing food was one of the few things they hadn’t had to worry about in this disaster.
The children and Neime chatted together, Jozin and Nuveize commenting a little as needed. Juimei stayed quiet, but as he ate, he observed them. It was really his first chance to do so. Helinoa was the most charming of the children—a sunny, confident girl who lorded it over Giwade and Kilinze quite unashamedly. Kilinze was also confident, brash, and rather impulsive—Juimei was worried what that might mean if he mixed with other children. Giwade was very different—shy, very quiet, never speaking until spoken to. His talent was a difficult one, Juimei recalled—he not only could sense the emotions of others, he could see them, like an aura. Not a gift Juimei would want, and one which might make it very difficult to integrate Giwade with other people. None of them would find it easy to fit in—not Jozin with his overdeveloped protectiveness, nor Kilinze with his dislike of ‘normals’. Or Laovei and Nuveize with their disabilities.
“You manage somehow,” she said, lifting her head and ‘looking’ at him.
“Do I? Not very well. And none of you are princes of the blood. That’s the only thing that makes people tolerate me.”
“No, your highness. I can confidently say that’s not the case. Though it might have saved you a punch in the nose or two, considering how rude you can be when you put your mind to it.”
“I don’t think any of us are the best examples of perfect manners, madam. You know what I want to talk to Jozin about, don’t you? What’s your opinion?”
“That the process I started by accepting Wepizi’s invitation, cannot be easily stopped. Nor should it. More than that, I leave to you and to Jozin. You are, after all, king in this region,” she said with a mocking little bow.
“Perhaps you think you should rule in my place.”
She seemed rather startled, but then she nodded. “I deserve that. Forgive me, Juimei. You’re not the only one out of sorts, or with a headache.”
He was surp
rised to hear her admit that, since she showed such a cool, calm façade most of the time. Nothing really seemed to upset her. “You’re unwell? You should have said.”
She lifted her hand a little to silence him. “A headache. Worry. Sadness. You know these things and the effect. I have too little to occupy me, these days.”
He bowed his head, acknowledging her words. “Then that’s something at least I can remedy, for if you would allow it, your talent could be a great boon to this area.”
They were getting onto the reason for him calling them together, so he decided it was time to begin the discussion with the rest. “Everyone? Have you finished?”
“Nearly,” Kilinze said, hastily spooning more soup into his mouth, but when Nuveize poked him, he added, “yes, your highness.”
“Good,” Juimei said. “I asked you to come here because we, this town, the people, all need your help. Jozin’s indicated he’s more than willing to do so, but since we can hardly use him and not reveal your existence, it’s something you all have to decide. How do you feel about your presence, your powers, being widely known? For the normals to know about you,” he said, using more simple terms for Kilinze’s sake.
Helinoa’s eyes widened, and she looked at Jozin. The lad scowled fiercely, which seemed to intimidate her. “Won’t they be scared? People get scared of us.”
“Yes, they may well do,” Juimei said, smiling a little to reassure her and take the sting from his words. “But it won’t be like your settlement. You won’t be a secret, and no one will try to suppress you. If we do this, we do it proudly, and you would all be acting as the agents of his majesty. My father,” he corrected. “You would be able to prove you were trustworthy and safe, and nothing to be afraid of. They do it this way in Darshian. People like you live openly under the protection of the Rulers, and serve their country. That’s what I’m offering to you. We’ll shelter you, feed you, support you. And you’d help the town, and this region, as and when you feel you can.”
“I’m not working for the damn king. I came here because of Wepizi. If he’s not in charge, then I don’t want to do this,” Jozin said, an obstinate set to his mouth.
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 52