Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

  He was thirty-eight? He didn’t look it. At nine years his junior, Juimei felt twenty years older. Probably looked it too, he thought sourly. Wepizi thrived under pressure. Living and working outdoors had tanned his skin, and the hard labour that all the soldiers carried out, had left him fit and lean as ever. Juimei felt as strong and capable as a bag of wet flour beside him.

  But it was a pity to think about such things when he was otherwise much happier today. The fresh air was doing him good, he could feel it. The sun on his face and his arms filled him with energy. And his head didn’t hurt at all.

  At this gentle pace, and frequent stops to talk, to look at the scenery, or to watch fish jumping in the river, it took them nearly two hours to reach the bridge which spanned bluffs at the narrowest point of the river. The damage was all too obvious—the shaking had whipped the structure from side to side, cracking support beams, twisting metal braces, and sending no small amount of stone cladding and pillars into the river. Juimei reined in his doig, and leaned forward on the pommel as he examined the destruction.

  “I thought you said Jozin and the engineers had been working on it.”

  “They have—it was much worse before,” Wepizi said simply. Juimei raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I haven’t been involved in what they’ve been doing, but I saw it once not long after the quake, and it looked a complete ruin then. It might be easier to see on the other side.”

  They rode upstream, the ground sloping upwards towards the bridge so they were high above the river. On the north face of the bridge, the new work was clearly visible, and piles of new-cut stone lay on the bank, waiting to be used. Wepizi described the process as he understood it, and what he thought they would be doing next.

  “If you want a more technical report, I’ll have to get Huimwe to give you that. She tells me that normally a repair of this kind would take a year or more.”

  “Astonishing,” Juimei murmured, staring up at the structure. He wished he could see Jozin working on it. It really would be something to tell his nephews and nieces about when he got back to Visiqe.

  “Shall we have lunch? There’s a good place for a camp just along here.”

  Juimei agreed. They soon came upon at a place which had seen several campfires recently, in a small clump of trees crowding the edge of a stream that flowed into the river. Even to Juimei’s untrained eye, he could see why the soldiers had chosen this particular spot. There was water, shade from rain and sun, and room to pitch a tent if they needed to. For now, all they needed was a place to tie their doigs to graze, somewhere to lay the blanket, and Wepizi to assemble some of the firewood which his soldiers had cut and left stored for the use of their colleagues. Juimei’s contribution was to lay out the food.

  “My goodness. Cook did realise that there would only be two of us, didn’t she?” he asked as he surveyed the bounty.

  “Yes, I made that clear,” Wepizi said as he hunkered down and began the arcane business of setting sparks onto his tinder. “I think she thought you needed feeding up. Besides, the fresh air always gives a body an appetite, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps.”

  In truth, nothing gave him much of an appetite. But as he set out the cold pie, the fresh crusty bread, the pats of butter stored in a wax-sealed jar of water to keep them cool, and the little fruit tarts, to his surprise, his mouth began to water. Certainly, Cook was a genius—even through the worst of the crisis, her meals had never been less than delicious. But this was plain fare by her standards, hearty, simple stuff for the road—nothing to explain his sudden hunger. Wepizi might be right—the fresh air might indeed be doing his appetite good.

  The billycan of water was set to boil, and then Wepizi sprawled on the blanket in an easy way that seemed quite at odds with his normal aristocratic manners. Juimei couldn’t imitate him, but he stretched out, and nudged the pie tin over to his companion. Wepizi took a slice, offered it back.

  “I’m looking forward to this,” Wepizi said contentedly. “I haven’t had pie since I left Tsikiugui.”

  “Oh. They don’t make it in the barracks?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s not a practical dish. But this looks a fine specimen.” He took a bite and sighed in elaborate appreciation. “Your cook is a treasure.”

  “Indeed. Her pies are a staff favourite, I believe.”

  Biting into the firm, moist flesh through the crisp, flavoursome pastry, it was easy to see why. For once, Juimei was quite greedy about his portion. It was as if he’d never really eaten pie before, never one this delicious, so full of flavour and sensation. He almost mourned when he finished the piece, licking his fingers and looking avariciously at the rest of it in the pan, wondering if he could justify a second piece.

  “My word, she’s outdone herself.”

  “Have another bit,” Wepizi said casually. “Less to carry back.” Without asking, he cut off another piece, and handed to Juimei, then served himself as well.

  The second slice was as delicious as the first, but he refused another. “No, I shouldn’t. But if you love the pies so much, I’ll have some sent down to the barracks.”

  “And spoil us for army food? Hmmm, now that’s a torment. Heaven in the mouth every so often, and enduring stew the rest of it, knowing that pies lurk just out of reach up at your house.”

  “Ah, but if the pies will appear eventually, then you’ll have hope and be inspired. The chance of pies might even keep you going from week to week.”

  Wepizi grinned. “Worth a try. For pies this good, I could do a great many things, I think.” He licked his long fingers delicately, then wiped them on one of the thoughtfully provided napkins. “Bread?”

  They ate slowly, and far more than Juimei had consumed at a sitting in years. As they ate, they chatted about nothing terribly urgent. Of course they discussed the reconstruction—hard not to, when it was the most important thing in the entire region—but they did so in a relaxed way, allowing themselves the luxury of imagining wild schemes and exploring slightly crazy ideas. None of it was crucial or actual work, and none of it put any stress on him. Juimei felt the most loose-limbed and easy he’d been in a very long time. The sun really was so good on his tired body, his constantly aching neck and stiff shoulders. Though they weren’t stiff and sore right now. He felt better than he did after using the steam room. He felt, in fact, rather drowsy, and after one of his sentences ended in a jaw-cracking yawn, he was forced to apologise.

  “Oh dear. Sorry.”

  Wepizi dismissed it easily. “If you’re tired, have a nap. We’ve got all day and nothing much to do with it.”

  “I have work—”

  “There’s always work. But you look tired, the sun’s warm, and it’s comfortable. Here,” he said, dragging one of the empty saddlebags over to him. “A pillow, a blanket, a willing guard, and hours of time. What more do you need?”

  “Not much fun for you,” Juimei protested, “and you can’t ride off if I’m asleep.”

  Wepizi smiled, and lifted his mug. “I have drizu, a fire, and more than enough need of a bit of peace and quiet myself. I don’t get much of it these days.”

  “You’re serious? You just want me to lie down and sleep? Here?” Wepizi nodded, watching him. “Absurd.”

  “As you like.”

  The man sipped his drizu, his manner still pleasant, as if he really didn’t care what Juimei did.

  He couldn’t...but why ever not? It wasn’t like anyone else could see him, so the dignity of his office wasn’t harmed, and Sephiz knew Wepizi had seen him at a much greater disadvantage.

  Trying to be casual, he slipped down, a little awkwardly since it wasn’t the easiest way for him to lie down, and rested his elbow on the saddlebag.

  “Why did you really do this today, Wepizi?”

  “I wanted to see the bridge. I thought you would too.”

  “And...?”

  Wepizi shrugged. “I wanted to make my peace with you, and give you a day away from your cares. Nothing more de
vious than that. Surely you know I’m not afraid of you, or your position, and I don’t need your favour. There’s nothing you have that I need, other than simple friendship. I was the one to damage it, so I wanted to be the one to fix it.”

  “It wasn’t....” Juimei bit his lip. “The fault is not all yours,” he said quietly.

  “Perhaps not, but the greater part is. It’s over. I wanted there to be harmony between us, and for you not to feel you’d lost a friend, the way you said you thought you had.”

  “You did hate me, admit it.”

  Wepizi shook his head. “I hate very few people, perhaps no more than two. Neither of them reside in this region. I disliked you and your actions, certainly. But Sephiz thankfully has brought me to understand that I was as blind as Nuveize, and given me a second chance. That’s all it is, I swear.”

  Juimei searched his face for any trace of hidden motive, but Wepizi was, as ever, an open and honest creature. If he had any guile about him, he was truly cunning in hiding it, but Juimei doubted anyone—even his unfaithful former lover—was that clever in hiding their real nature.

  “Then I accept it in that spirit. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Wepizi stretched out, his long legs hanging off the blanket. “Ah, but it’s lovely here. The dust from the building site gets a bit tiresome. I’ll be glad when we’re done. I’ve been told many times the hunting’s good here and I’d like to try my luck with a bow again. I’m out of practice.”

  “I used to be a fair shot,” Juimei said, allowing himself to slide down a little more, and lay his head on the saddlebag. Much to his surprise, he found he could speak of this without it hurting.

  “Right or left handed?”

  “Left. I could pull the bow with my string with my right hand, but my left arm’s not strong enough to hold it steady.”

  “Hmmm. You’re not alone in that, you know. Lots of soldiers have a weaker arm, or get injured, have to use their non-dominant side. You can use a support with a crossbow, even lay it across a branch. The long bow, I grant you, is a problem, but then I never shoot with one of those anyway.”

  “Really? By Sephiz, I’d love to try that again. Archery was one of my passions.”

  “Then when we finish all this rebuilding, we should get you back on form. In the spring perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Wepizi had forgotten, it seemed. Or not. “Don’t think about it,” Wepizi gently urged. “Enjoy today, don’t think about the future. You have the memory of too few happy days. Allow yourself to build the store up a little.”

  “I’m afraid I’m out of practice.”

  “You have to start somewhere.”

  Which was true. Wepizi occupied himself with pouring more drizu into his mug, and seemed to forget about Juimei altogether. An obvious ploy, but an effective one. All it took was the sun’s warmth, the restful position, the quiet solitude and companionship, and the drowsiness returned soon enough. He thought to only close his eyes a little, just for a while...and then....

  And then....

  ~~~~~~~~

  Wepizi almost chuckled at the speed at which Juimei fell asleep. The man was exhausted—not just from being ill the previous day, but from months and months of stress and pain—and his need for rest had finally overcome his well-developed sense of dignity. Wepizi was still a little surprised that his sense of dignity hadn’t got in the way of accepting the invitation, but he was very glad it hadn’t.

  It had been a good day, a healing day—for both of them. He hadn’t realised until this very day, what a burden on his soul being estranged from Juimei had been—hadn’t realised how, even in such a short time, his friendship had come to be so important to him. Strange, when Wepizi normally preferred the company of more genial people, and no one would call Juimei genial (except young children, to whom he showed only great patience and kindness.) But it was as Nuveize said—under the bad temper and poor manners, lay a solid core of decency, and the temper and the manners were not the heart of his personality. Constant pain, constant stress, would wear down the most hardened of people, and Juimei had lost too much to bear it easily.

  He drew his knees up under his chin, and looked at the sleeping prince. Even unconscious, he didn’t entirely lose the marks of strain, but still, he looked much younger and more innocent this way. He’d lost some of his handsome looks over the past few months, lost weight he could not afford. A few more hearty meals like their lunch would go a long way to helping repair that, at least.

  Wepizi sighed. It had been such a lovely morning, pleasant company, good weather, and a meal fit for his majesty himself. It seemed years since he’d done anything like it—it made him realise how much he missed Romi and Karik, and his friends at Tsikiugui. Next year would be easier—if they didn’t have another earthquake. Next year, he could perhaps take Juimei hunting as he so obviously longed to do. Surely it would be possible—the man could ride, so Wepizi was sure he could be taught to use a bow again, and he already had the other skills.

  He frowned, remembering. Juimei still planned to leave. Wepizi was torn about whether he should encourage that or not. On one hand, the stress of the position, the conflicting pressures of town and court, with him in the middle, only added to the problems of being disabled with no decent outlets. But if he had those decent outlets, then Dizeindo and the whole region could keep a good governor, without that governor suffering. If Wepizi could give him those outlets, he would make up for the pain he’d caused, and maybe, just maybe, make a friend. Juimei was such a wary creature though. Just like Jozin.

  Only...not really like Jozin. He frowned again. There were pieces of the puzzle missing. He still had no explanation for Juimei’s strange behaviour before Wepizi had given him such cause for anger. Nuveize said he had the clues. Well, if he did, he couldn’t make any sense of it at all. He’d made a start, and they had time. He’d work it out eventually.

  He got comfortable, poured himself the rest of the tea, and sipped from it, relishing the luxury of being able to do so without anyone or anything claiming his attention. The only real difference regaining his position had made was that he had even more to do, and more decisions to make. Tovoi had been quite gleeful in shoving that back onto him. Not that Tovoi wouldn’t make a fine tezrei anyway, but Wepizi would relish putting the man up for promotion, just to pay him back.

  He closed his eyes, looking up through his lids at the glow of the sun through them, feeling the warmth of it on his face, and through his clothes. At times like this, he felt very close to Sephiz’s love, and to Lema—he felt comforted by the good things in the world, and all it offered.

  And friends, too, my love. Thank you for that second chance. I know you had a hand in it, somehow.

  He believed she had a hand in all the good things that happened to him, and guided him through the bad. He knew somehow, she could see him here, in the sunshine, with a friend, and that she approved.

  He’s not really your kind of person, is he? But he’s good at heart, and you always liked that in a man.

  Lema would try to understand Juimei, he knew. She’d worry over it, and him, until she’d worked it out, and even his occasional unkindness would not deter her. She had patience with wounded things, far more than he had. Juimei repaid patience. His difficulty in trusting people wasn’t really his fault.

  He sat, thinking, remembering, dreaming a little. He shifted after a while to shade Juimei because he was pinking up, and he didn’t want their prince to end up with a painful burn which would spoil their lovely day. Juimei didn’t stir, sleeping like a dead man. Wepizi didn’t begrudge him the time. There was plenty to see, plenty to think about.

  But finally, the prince twitched, then opened his eyes. He jerked a little as he saw Wepizi, as if he couldn’t remember where he was and why an army officer was sitting in his bedroom, but then quickly became alert, pushing himself up. Wepizi got hold of his arm and helped him sit.

  “Thank you. How long did I sleep?”
/>   Wepizi squinted at the sky. “A couple of hours, no more.”

  “Ah. I’m sorry to impose.”

  “No imposition. I’ve had a very peaceful time.”

  “No small thing,” Juimei said, smiling. Then he moved his neck and winced. “Ouch.”

  “Crick? You want me to massage it...?”

  “No!” Wepizi blinked at the vehemence. “No...I’m fine. Thank you.” He rubbed his face. “I think I might have needed that.”

  “You probably did. If you want to sleep some more....”

  “No, I’m fine. But it’s the soundest I’ve slept in...possibly years,” he said, frowning. “Maybe I should move my bedroom out here.”

  “A tent, Nuveize’s assistance, Jozin to fly you back and forth—why not?”

  “Because it’s ridiculous,” he said, but he smiled. “Ah—have we time for tea? Or drizu? I can’t believe it but I’m hungry.”

  “Drizu won’t take but a few minutes, and there’s bread and some of the pie. Your cook will only be insulted if you take it back—trust me on this.”

  Juimei inclined his head. “You’re far wiser in the ways of women, I suspect. And the last thing I want to do is upset Cook. “

  “So finish the pie.”

  Juimei needed no more urging, and between them, there was naught but crumbs left, which Wepizi scattered to the winds and the birds. The prince seemed in no hurry to leave, sipping his drizu, and looking relaxed and happy as a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. Wepizi got a hint of the man he must have been before his accident, when he’d taken his health and fitness for granted. When he was the popular favourite, the people’s prince. If he returned to Visiqe, how would he accept his new role? He longed to ask, but didn’t want to introduce anything to cloud the day. Let the man forget his cares for one day. Let him have one entirely happy memory to take back with him.

  “I wish Neime could be here to enjoy this,” Juimei said as Wepizi filled his mug again. “He needs a break too.”

  “We should arrange something, true. I get the impression he’s not too unhappy though.”