He was out of options. So what in Sephiz’s name could he do now?
~~~~~~~~
“Wepizi, can you come up to the governor’s residence to meet his highness?”
Wepizi jerked upright. “Me? Now? Why?”
“I can’t tell you. That’s all he asked. I’ve already passed it on to the tezrei—he says it’s all right.”
“If he says so. Nuveize...is it bad news?”
“I really can’t say. All I can tell you, because I saw it myself, is that the post arrived from Visiqe this morning.”
Ah. Then the decision had come from his majesty. It was rather odd that the prince wasn’t insisting that Tovoi accompany him, or even that he come to the residence under guard. Did that mean the decision had gone in Wepizi’s favour after all?
He dusted himself off, and went to find Tovoi.
“Must be good news,” Tovoi said, grinning.
“Maybe. If you see Jozin, don’t say anything. I’ll make an announcement one way or another this evening over supper.”
“Right you are. And then this mess can be yours again.”
“Don’t be so hasty to surrender command, tezrei. One of these days, you’ll be doing it again, if I have anything to say about it. You’ve made a fine fist of it.”
“Thank you—but these aren’t the circumstances I’d want for a promotion.”
“No, I know that. See you later.”
As Wepizi left the barracks—now looking more and more like a regular army establishment—he did wonder if Tovoi was a bit premature. Juimei didn’t always do things in a predictable manner, and since he’d become even more of a mystery of late, Wepizi was by no means certain the lack of formal escort meant anything other than Juimei disliking disruption in his home.
He wished Nuveize’s ethics weren’t so inconvenient, but if they were less rigid, she couldn’t work with anyone at all. He hoped to see her today. It had been over a week since he’d met up with her, and he wanted to find out how she and Giwade were doing. She’d hinted last time that she thought Neime and Laovei were becoming more than just good friends—he wanted to know more about that too.
He shook his head and laughed at himself. He might be facing a court martial and he was worrying about Neime’s love life. Sad, Wepizi, very sad. Lema, you were a bad influence on me that way, with your matchmaking.
Up at the residence, Gimoz told him to go straight to his highness’s office. The house was now much quieter, since most of the temporary guests were now in proper accommodation, and only a dozen or so of the most elderly and infirm still remained. Not that there was any difference in the politeness or warmth of the greeting he received, or in the sense of quiet organisation. Whatever these people were paid, he thought as he walked along the elegant corridors, it wasn’t enough.
A curt “Come in,” was the answer to his knock. He entered and bowed.
“Your highness?”
“Sit down, please, Wepizi.”
He straightened up, but then had to struggle to conceal his shock. Juimei looked utterly appalling. His cheeks were sunken, his colour sickly, and his eyes were dead stones in his face—the change since the last time Wepizi had seen him was as great as if the man had contracted a fatal illness in that time. Despite himself, he was worried.
“Your highness, you don’t look at all well.”
“No, I fancy I don’t. Please sit.”
His voice was slurred, though it was only just after lunch—was he tired, or was it something else?
Wepizi took a seat, but kept a careful eye on the prince, who also sat down. His hands trembled, and the empty look in his eyes really was most alarming.
“Your highness, are you sure you want to do this now?”
The prince ignored him. “I have a grave problem, Wepizi. As you know, I hoped to have an answer from Visiqe by now concerning the charges against you.”
“Oh—nothing was in the post bag this morning then?”
But if there was no news, why...? Wepizi shut up. There was something going on, something making the prince very distressed, making his shaking hands clench and unclench on his desk.
“I....” Juimei stopped, closing his eyes.
“Your highness, please—do you need...?”
“Sephiz, my head hurts,” he whispered. He pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes and rocked slightly, as if he was in terrible pain.
“Juimei?” The man needed a medic, or someone—Neime at the very least. “Nuveize! Please, where’s Neime?”
“Out of harm’s way. He doesn’t need a medic, Wepizi. Just...wait. Please—for mercy. Wait for him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Please...he needs you.”
Wepizi peered up at the empty air. “Me?”
But Nuveize said no more, and the prince was lost in his own world. Wepizi didn’t know what to do.
“Juimei...your highness. Please, tell me how I can help.”
The prince took a deep breath, then with an obvious effort, forced his hands down away from his face. “I’m sorry...I just....” He shoved a wallet of documents across his desk at Wepizi. “Just take them and go....” With shaking hands, he picked up a mug of tea sitting near him, and sipped from it. “Please.”
Wepizi frowned, confused, then glanced down at the wallet Juimei had shoved at him, realising with shock what it was. “This is the dossier...my submission. Why...you said nothing had come in the post.” He looked up again. Juimei was watching him, eyes wounded, confused—betrayed. “What happened?”
“A...clerical error.”
“A clerical error called Neime?”
“You knew?”
“Not at all.” Wepizi looked at the documents. “These never left Dizeindo, did they?”
“No. I’m sorry. I never intended this to...to go on so long. It’s most unfair on you.”
Wepizi blinked. “Unfair? Your highness, you were trying to have me cashiered from the army!”
“I was trying to have his majesty and council establish a legal point concerning the authority of this office, actually.” He looked away. “Read my letter if you don’t believe me.”
He was apparently quite serious, but when Wepizi pulled out the top envelope, the prince snapped, “Not that. The one under it.”
He picked up his cup and drank more of the tea, closing his eyes in obvious pain.
Wepizi laid the first letter aside, drew the second envelope out, snapped the seal, and extracted the letter. It was a very dry, very cool description of the complaint against him, couched in the least dramatic tone possible, and certainly carrying none of the anger or high emotion of that day. There was, to his surprise, a full description of Wepizi’s own justification for his actions, the events that led up to it, and the prince himself made the arguments for and against Wepizi’s decision in a way that would not have shamed even a lawyer acting on his behalf. It was exactly as Juimei had said—a request for arbitration, and for advice on how to proceed, should the king decide Wepizi was in the wrong.
He looked up. “I’m sorry.”
The prince’s expression of pain didn’t change. “So am I, because it deprives you of justice and me of the answer I needed.”
“No—I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry....” He took a breath. “You were right. I acted hastily, incorrectly—probably illegally. I could have waited, allowed you to decide. I believed at the time, that speed was important—”
“It was.”
“Not that much. I should have realised Jozin was pushing me, trying to see what I would do. A delay of an hour or so would not have violated his majesty’s orders. I admit my fault, your highness. I admit the charge of dereliction, though I would still say it did not amount to desertion. I never intended to abandon my post.”
The prince put his hand out for the wallet—Wepizi gave it back to him. “So where does that leave us, Wepizi? You deserve consideration of this matter by his majesty, since it’s such a grave charge.”
; “Your highness...no one else is involved now. You can make that private decision you wanted to make that day. If you wish it. What will you do about Neime?”
Juimei covered his eyes with his hand, as if the light was suddenly unbearable to him. “Are you aware how serious the offence is?”
Interfering with vice-regal communications, dishonesty, gross insubordination...Neime could go to prison for a very long time, and the prince would have every justification in laying such charges.
“Yes, I am.”
“And if you were me, what would you do?”
Wepizi considered. The only reason not to bring those charges was that Neime was the prince’s only friend in this town. If the lad were tried and convicted, as he certainly would be, then the prince would be utterly isolated.
“I don’t know. As an officer, it’s very hard to argue you should ignore this. As a friend....”
Juimei let out a short, painful laugh. “Amusing, is it not? That I lose one friend over a strict interpretation of the law, and now I’ve lost another, because that friend is trying to protect the first. Again the law wills that I must charge a friend, and cause him and myself a good deal of misery. And for what? My authority is nonexistent whatever I do. I’ve lost my friends whatever I do. I can’t even resign and avoid the decision, because Neime withheld that letter too.”
“Resign? You want to resign? Over me?”
“Over....” He stopped. “Yes, over you,” he corrected, a little defiantly. “Over the fact that even a good man like yourself won’t respect this office while I hold it. I’m harming this office, this town, this region, and that is something I most strenuously do not wish to do—but now I have no choice.” His mouth tightened. “And it hurts,” he whispered.
Wepizi picked up the letter which had come out of the wallet—the one Juimei had told him not to look at—and looked at it anyway. It was indeed a resignation note, asking for him to be replaced forthwith. If it had been received in Visiqe when it was supposed to, Juimei’s replacement would be on their way to Dizeindo right now.
He found Juimei watching him as he laid the note down.
“You’re not harming this town or this region,” Wepizi said carefully. “In fact, this town and this region are well governed, and the fact we’re recovering so quickly from such a major disaster, is in no small way because of you. To resign because you think otherwise, would be a mistake.”
“Many would disagree.”
He leaned forward a little. “I don’t care,” he said firmly. “Many people have no idea what you’ve done, and are doing. What concerns me more is the damage you’re doing to your health and your happiness, and by extension, Neime’s happiness, for I’m sure his only concern is your welfare. Your highness...we swear an oath to exercise the justice of the crown and enforce its laws. But we also swear to temper that justice with mercy. I believe that in showing mercy to Neime, you’ll be merciful to yourself, and more good than harm will come from it.”
“How can I show mercy to him when I showed none to you?” he said roughly, his hand clenching again. “Why do you ask it for him and not for yourself?”
“I can look after myself. Neime’s all you’ve got. I don’t ask mercy for him—I ask it for you.”
The prince swore, and pushed himself out of his chair, apparently unable to sit still in his agitation. He grabbed his cane and stomped over to the window.
“I want nothing for myself. I won’t spare Neime for my sake. Either I do it for him, I do it for you, or not at all. But you want no favours from me. Doubtless you’d spit in my face for suggesting it.”
Wepizi looked at the letter again, knowing how humiliating it had to be for a son to admit to a father that he had failed, that he could no longer do the job to which he’d been appointed. Knowing that returning to Visiqe under such circumstances would not be something Juimei, so proud and so easily hurt, could ever want.
But that pride, that fear of more pain when he carried so much, was a barrier to him finding an answer that was truly honourable.
Lema? Is this my second chance? Can I mend this?
He folded the letter, reached over and pushed it inside the wallet. Then he picked up the dossier and brought it over to the prince, still staring blindly out of the window. Close to, the strain, the scars of these months, were all too easy to see. The prince was in need of mercy, most certainly, even if he wouldn’t accept it.
“Juimei, will you allow me to make a suggestion as to how you can deal with this?”
The prince shot him a quick, hard look, his lips pressed tightly together. “If you wish, certainly.”
Wepizi handed the wallet to him, pressing his fingers against it.
“Take this, seal it, and put it somewhere safe. Allow me to make a new statement, admitting my fault. Have Neime make a sworn statement, then seal them and store them with the rest.” The prince seemed confused by this advice. “You can ask for a promise of good behaviour from both of us. A bond. If we break our word, then this will be the evidence needed to show our bad faith, and past crimes. But you don’t need to punish to effect justice. Justice can be wise and merciful while still preventing a repetition of the offence. You can deal with this here and now, and not involve any other person.”
“How do I explain it to Tovoi without bringing Neime’s name into it?”
“You don’t need to. You just say you’ve decided on a different way of handling it. He won’t ask more questions, whatever his private speculation. Your...methods...are known by now.”
“You mean, my eccentricities are known?”
Wepizi smiled. “Those too, of course. It’s only a suggestion.”
“I still want to resign. I’m no good at this job, not in the least.”
“I disagree. But in any event, it’s too late to have someone replace you before winter, so you can do no more about it until spring. I have another suggestion.”
“You seem to have an abundance to offer today, don’t you?”
“If you don’t want—” Juimei made an impatient slash of his hand to tell him to get on with it. “Wait until spring before you decide. This business has been hanging over you, upsetting you, clouding everything. If you can put it behind you, and now the restoration is going so quickly, you might find you can settle into the job again. If not—it’s a mere handful of months.”
“I don’t know if I can last that long,” he murmured. “My health’s breaking down. I never had such migraines before. If it weren’t for nerf leaf, I’d probably have left for Tsikiugui by now, to look for a healer who could help me.”
Nerf leaf—that explained the tea, and the odd smell Wepizi had been trying to place.
“I wasn’t aware it was so bad—massage helps, doesn’t it?”
But Neime had said the prince had refused that assistance for some time now.
“No,” Juimei said coldly. Wepizi knew he was lying—but he had no idea why. “I’ll follow your suggestions, Wepizi. All of them. I’ll tell Tovoi he’s no longer acting Tezrei, and we’ll arrange the other matters.”
He rubbed his eyes distractedly—he looked exhausted.
“Are you sleeping?” Wepizi asked gently.
“Is it any of your business?” Juimei said, jerking his hand away from his face, and glaring at Wepizi as if mortally offended by the question.
“It is if the health of the governor is affected.”
“The health of the governor is affected, but it’s still none of your damn business. You won. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Wepizi tapped the wallet that the prince held under one arm. “You win too, Juimei. Like I told Jozin months ago—we’re all on the same side.” The prince only grunted and looked away again. “Do you want me to speak to Neime?”
“No...I’d better do that. I have to make it clear to him that he came very close to being sent to prison. If you speak to him, I expect you to reiterate that point.”
“Yes, I will.” He bowed. “I should get back. I appreciate
your care in this matter. I know this has been very trying.”
“More than you can ever possibly know. Good day, tezrei.”
Home Ground: 25
Juimei laid his head on his folded arms, and prayed for oblivion. If the pain would become a proper migraine, he could almost hope that he would pass out, but he wasn’t dizzy—just in agony, and somehow even more depressed, even though Wepizi had offered the elegant and honourable solution he hadn’t had the wit or the courage to find. He would be grateful, he supposed. Just as soon as he stopped wanting to ram his head against the wall to end this shrieking pain.
A tap at the door. He ignored it. Another tap.
“Your highness, please, may I see you?”
“Nuveize, I’m sorry. I’m unwell. Come back later.”
No reply, but then the door opened. He lifted his head to shout, but then thought he was wasting his time. He put his head back down. “No one ever does a damn thing I say any more.”
Nuveize didn’t answer. He heard her slow footsteps coming closer, the tapping of the stick she used when walking around unattended, but he ignored her. If she was going to be so rude, he didn’t see why he should snap to attention. But then he jumped as cool hands were laid on the back of his neck.
“Don’t!”
“Hush,” she murmured. “For once in your life, listen to someone else. Relax.”
And suddenly the pain was gone—as if it had never been.
“How?” he asked, sitting up and touching his temples experimentally. How could it go so thoroughly, so quickly?
“A block. The injury, the tension remains, but I stopped your mind being aware of it. It’s not a cure, unfortunately, but I couldn’t bear listening to you suffer anymore. Nor can Giwade.”
“Ah. I should have known better than to think you would have been concerned for my sake.”
But the pain was indeed gone, so he had to be grateful for that, at least. He sat up, brushing her hands away, and stared at the chair across from him, so she could use his sight to find it.
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 56