Juimei grimaced a little. “He wasn’t until I discovered his secret. How he thought I wouldn’t find out, I have no idea.”
“I suspect he acted hastily, and then didn’t know how to recover his action. I would stake my life he meant only the best by it.”
“Oh, he did. But sometimes being a friend means trusting that one’s friend knows what they’re doing.” But then he smiled ruefully. “Even if they don’t. I can’t pretend this isn’t a better solution. At least now he can relax and enjoy his young lady’s company.”
“Ah...I wasn’t aware you’d noticed.”
“I’ve known Neime a long time,” Juimei said fondly. This was, at least, apparently no source of pain for him to think about. “His likes and dislikes have never been hidden from me. Laovei seems to be a sweet creature. I wouldn’t discourage him, but I’d like him to take his time.”
“You know the Blessed can’t have children.”
“Yes. I suspect that’s something they’ll need to discuss. If it gets that far, that is. I’ll be looking for a new page, I suppose, but when I return to Visiqe, my mother will find another young lad who can put up with me. There’s only one Neime, but I can’t hold him back.”
The wistfulness in his voice saddened Wepizi. “The future is by no means fixed.”
Juimei started to say something, but then sipped from his mug instead, clearly thinking better of it. “How long before the bridge is usable?”
“I don’t know. There’s need for caution, naturally. Soon, I hope. My engineers were talking about widening it, if that was still wanted.”
“No, we still can’t afford it. My father authorised funds for the reconstruction, and the extended infirmary—but Mayor Gixiel still won’t realise his ambitions on the back of this. I swear, if he keeps on at me, I’ll institute a local tax and make him the sole target of it.”
Wepizi laughed. “Is that legal?”
“Oh yes, completely,” Juimei said gravely, though his eyes were full of humour. “Would be worth doing just to see the look on his face.”
“That it would. I hadn’t realised you could be so inventive in your revenge.”
“You don’t want to find the limits of my inventiveness, tezrei.” He finished off his drizu, then handed his mug back. “We should get back, but I can’t say I want it to be quickly.”
“Then let’s ride slowly, and pretend we’re truly men of leisure for a bit.”
~~~~~~~~
They didn’t, in the end, head straight back to town. Wepizi suggested they rode a little way north, though not as far as the ferry, and then back. By the time they rode into the stable yard, Juimei was ready to stop—he would pay for this day’s excursion tomorrow with sore backside and legs, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it in the least. It had been one of the better days of his life, and that it had come so soon after one of his worst, made it even more welcome and precious.
Neime ran out to greet them. “Did you have a good time?” he asked breathlessly, then rushed to help Juimei dismount in his usual inelegant fashion.
“Yes, we did, rather. You knew about this, didn’t you, you little brat.”
“Wepizi just checked with me to find out if you were feeling up to it. The rest was him, I swear.”
Juimei had reason to be suspicious when his page got that innocent look on his face, but he seemed to be sincere. “Hmmm. Well, no harm done.” Wepizi wasn’t looking at him, and Juimei realised he sounded less than enthusiastic. He raised his voice. “In fact, it was an excellent plan, so thank you for helping arrange it.” Wepizi smiled to himself as he undid his saddlebag.
Neime was taken off guard by the sudden praise. “Uh...you’re welcome.”
“Take the doigs away, Neime, and I’ll see you indoors.”
Neime bowed and took the reins of his and Wepizi’s animals, then led them over to the stables.
Wepizi held the saddlebags—Juimei put out his hand for them, and hooked them over his shoulder.
“I really hope you didn’t mind being kidnapped,” Wepizi said.
“No, I can honestly say I didn’t mind at all in the end. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But now I should get back and see what mischief Kilinze’s been up to.”
Juimei half had it in his mind to invite Wepizi to stay for supper, but perhaps the man had had enough of his company. “It’s as well he at least recognises your authority. It’s hard to know what we’d do if he didn’t.”
“Ask Jozin to squash him, I suppose.” Juimei grinned at the image, and Wepizi chuckled. “But it’s less dramatic my way. Sleep well, your highness,” he said, bowing deeply.
“And you.”
It really was shocking, he thought, how long it had been since he had walked from outdoors into his own home. Gimoz, of course, was waiting—in his own way, he was as much of a mind reader as Nuveize. “Welcome back, your highness. Did you have a nice time?”
Did his household have nothing to do but wonder about his little excursion? “Very much so.” He slipped the saddlebags off his shoulder, and his butler took them. “Gimoz, please thank Cook for her excellent lunch, and could you arrange two pies to be delivered to the tezrei at the barracks each week? One savoury, one sweet. She can choose the filling.”
“Yes, of course,” Gimoz said, bowing low, and not questioning his eccentricity in the least. Count Fiezenai would probably have sent a dozen pies, but Juimei was mindful they were still under emergency conditions, however fast they were abating, and he didn’t want Wepizi to be embarrassed. Two pies would let him entertain his senior officers from time to time, or he could stuff his face to his heart’s content, whichever he chose. He smiled at the idea of the ever polite Wepizi doing something so indelicate.
Ah, but he was already stiffening up. Neime noticed of course.
“You need a massage,” he told Juimei firmly. “And the steam room.”
The steam room had only recently been repaired, and Juimei had yet to use it. It would do his muscles the world of good. “Steam room, yes. Massage, no. What?” he asked, seeing Neime’s expression go blank.
“Oh, it was just that Iome asked if she could practice her therapeutic techniques on you, and I’d already said yes. She gave Laovei a massage earlier—she’s very good.”
Juimei eyed his friend suspiciously. “You agreed without asking me?”
“I didn’t think there was any harm in it. It’s just a massage.”
“Hmmm.” “Nuveize?”
“Yes, your highness?”
“You put him up to this, didn’t you?”
“Not at all. He’s speaking the bare truth. Iome is learning the art of massage, and needs a suitable subject. Why don’t you accept? I doubt your feelings will be aroused by her touch.”
He frowned at the empty air, not pleased to have his inconvenient emotions exposed so bluntly.
“Jui?”
“Oh...sorry, I was thinking. If she needs the practice, then it can’t do any harm. But later—the steam room, and then I better just see if any disasters have arisen, before we eat.” Neime’s reaction reminded him again that he much preferred the lad’s smiles to his sighs. He clapped Neime’s shoulder. “Come on—I’ve actually earned a pampering today.”
Home Ground: 27
Juimei rather thought that since honour had been served and peace restored, he wouldn’t see much of Wepizi after that day. The man, after all, was very busy, and Juimei could share in very little of his activities. But he was wrong about that. Two days after their excursion, Wepizi turned up at the residence to present his report in person—completely unnecessarily, though it was nice to see him—and then casually suggested that Juimei might like to go with him down to the civilian camp and see how things were progressing. Juimei thought it a fine idea for a fine afternoon, and the visit was well received. A good day’s work.
A few days later, Wepizi asked if Juimei might like to attend the blessing and opening of the new barracks block. He had no ob
jection to that, nor the invitation a little afterward to witness the modest double wedding at the camp of two soldiers to two civilians. Precious stores of razika were used to toast the new brides and grooms, and Juimei made a short impromptu speech which seemed well received by people already in a good mood from such a happy event.
When Wepizi showed up not long after that to say he had asked the army saddle maker to investigate modifying the standard doig saddle to make it easier for Juimei to mount and dismount, and asking if Juimei fancied trying out the first version, Juimei stared at his tezrei in perplexity.
“Wepizi, you’re not, by some chance, making a project of me, are you?”
“No, your highness,” the man said cheerfully, stroking his ridiculous moustache. “I took the liberty of setting it as a task for our saddler, because encouraging innovation is part of my remit. I hope you didn’t mind me using you as a practical example of why such a saddle might be needed.”
“Uh...no. I suppose I don’t mind helping develop such a thing. Just as long as it doesn’t take all evening.”
Which it didn’t—the drizu at the barracks and the short ride with the new saddle and the saddler for Juimei to really try it out, took a little longer than he’d hoped it might, but he didn’t notice the time passing at all.
After that, he became used to Wepizi dropping over every other day or so, always with some apparently sound reason why he and he alone had to attend, and not one of his soldiers. There were any number of excuses for the visits, and nearly as many for winkling Juimei out of his office and going for a ride or a walk. He was spending quite a lot of time on doig back, and it had a beneficial effect on his weak side and overall health. The new saddle gave him confidence, though he was a long way from racing.
Suddenly, it was nothing unusual for him to ride out to the camp on his own, or up to the bridge to watch the repairs. Sometimes he went with Wepizi, several times with Neime, and once with Nuveize to let her ‘see’ a bit of the countryside before the weather turned. He didn’t need someone to mind him anymore—if he had company, that was all it was. He regularly found he wasn’t in his office for more than three or four hours a day. Strangely, his work still got done.
The other strange thing was that his headaches...disappeared. The near-migraine he’d had before the excursion to the bridge was the last. He started to sleep more soundly too, and when his neck or shoulders troubled him, or his leg—more often from riding than from fatigue—Iome used her new skills to soothe him and ease the tightness before it and the pain became unmanageable. Fortunately Neime never questioned why Iome could do for him what he would not accept from Neime himself. Nuveize had been right though—Iome roused no desires in him, and he could allow her gentle hands to ease the pain.
Whether it was that, or the increased exercise and fresh air, he didn’t know, but he felt fitter and happier in himself than he had since the accident. He couldn’t help but notice that his increased well-being had an effect on those around him—his staff, Neime and Wepizi all relaxed more in his company, took it for granted he could manage, that he wouldn’t be unduly fatigued by this or that demand on him, and ceased to fuss. That went a long way to improving his temper.
Giwade moved back into the residence, and that was as clear an indicator of the change in Juimei’s life as one could wish. All the Blessed were settling in properly, and taking a full role in the town’s doings. Wepizi continued to be their ‘manager’ but even Kilinze needed less of that than he had. In the late autumn, once school lessons resumed, it was expected he would join in. Though he still muttered the odd disparaging remark about ‘normals’, Juimei rather thought that was just to test whoever was listening. Juimei made a habit of completely ignoring the comments, and Kilinze stopped trying to bait him.
Thanks to the Blessed, and the concerted dedication of the army and skilled civilians, the barracks, old and new, were completed a month ahead of schedule. It allowed them to plan five more large houses before winter meant they’d have to stop. Mid-autumn, the day came when the civilian camp could be struck, since proper accommodation had now been found for everyone there. Wepizi suggested that it might be appropriate to mark the occasion in some way, since a good many of the soldiers who’d been involved in the work would be leaving soon.
“Any thoughts as to where?” Juimei asked. The camp itself had already been taken down. “The square?”
Wepizi rubbed his chin. “I thought, perhaps...the new graveyard. I’ve heard a bit of muttering about how wrong it is that those people lie where no attention will be paid to them.”
“And this would give that place status—yes, a good idea. Yet another one,” he corrected ironically.
“I suggest, you execute—you suggest and I execute. We’re a team, Jui.”
“Yes, I suppose we are,” Juimei said, a little surprised at the realisation. “Would you arrange it? I don’t suppose they’ll want much from me—have the tinwis there, of course. And it’d be nice if the civilians could speak, if they wanted. The mayor will want to be there, I suppose. Let’s see if we can get him to shut up in under ten minutes.”
“Actually.... Perhaps you should take the lead, Jui—not the tinwis, and not his honour. The women in the camp looked to you for guidance and support through all this, and received it. I think a speech by you would be welcome.”
“I....” He didn’t like the idea. He was fine if the public speaking was impromptu, unrehearsed, but he’d make a mess of it if he planned it in advance. “Surely the tinwis—”
“Would agree,” Wepizi said gently. “It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate. I think the bereaved families would count it an honour.”
That swung it naturally, as Wepizi undoubtedly knew it would do. The tezrei was becoming a little too good at reading him sometimes. “If I give a speech, you have to give a speech. That’s the deal.”
“As you wish,” Wepizi said, stroking his moustache, and looking insufferably pleased at getting his way. If the man ever did it for his own benefit, Juimei would have found it annoying—but as it was always for the good of the town, his soldiers or Juimei himself, it was hard to resent it. Juimei’s life was a lot easier when he didn’t waste time resenting harmless things.
A note came that afternoon to say the little ceremony had been arranged two days hence. Juimei decided he would not prepare a speech. That way, he couldn’t get worked up about it and there was less chance of making an idiot of himself.
Neime thought it a wonderful idea. “It’ll mean a lot to ‘Vei,” he said. “I mean, with her not being able to go to Timinke’s funeral.”
“Of course. How’s that new foot performing?”
The original prosthesis had been too clumsy—Juimei had got Wepizi’s clever saddle maker onto devising a lighter, more comfortable one that gave a more natural movement. The girl had been using it for about two weeks now.
“Oh, it’s a lot better. Wepizi thought Soliene might be able to make more improvements—Soliene is going to send the designs to the academy in Visiqe for their comments. Wepizi even said his friends in Darshek might be interested. Did he tell you that he thinks they might bring their expedition through here next year? I’d love to meet them.”
“You might do. But...you realise I might not be here then.”
Neime sat down and gave him one of his extensive repertoire of soulful looks. “You’re really still thinking of leaving? You’ve been much happier...I thought you’d given up on that idea. Is it...because of what I did? Still?”
“No, of course not. I told you—over, forgiven, sealed and not to be mentioned again. I meant that, Neime. I just...feel it’s time to move on.”
“What about me?”
“You should do what is best for you. I don’t demand a decision now, or that you follow me. I’ll make sure you’re settled whatever you choose. If you want to build a home here...maybe even with Laovei.”
“We haven’t...I mean, it’s not—”
Juimei raised his hand. “
I mention it only as a possibility. If not her, whomever you fall in love with—all I mean to say is that you’ll start your new life in a secure position. I won’t abandon you.”
“No, you just plan to run back to Visiqe where that man is,” he spat, managing to make the harmless word sound like the vilest insult in the Andonese tongue. “How can you bear it? Watching him smirk, listening to his lies.”
“I wasn’t planning to do either,” Juimei said mildly, though Mikinze was definitely a reason not to go back to court. “I don’t have to associate with him. My parents dislike him—he’s not one of their intimates.”
“So you plan to hide in their apartments again? After you’ve come so far and achieved so much? Jui, you can’t!”
“Peace, Neime,” he said, not wanting an argument with his page when things had been so much more pleasant over the last two months. “I’m still thinking about it. I have a right to my future, as you have yours. I won’t do anything without giving you ample warning.” Though clearly unhappy, Neime thankfully didn’t argue further. “Do you want me to order the governor’s carriage? Then Laovei can ride without it being obvious.”
“Would you? She’s not up to walking that far yet.”
“I’m surprised you don’t want to sweep her up in your arms and carry her down there yourself.”
Neime actually stuck his tongue out. “Don’t be silly. We’re just good friends.”
“Of course.”
Juimei had spotted Laovei giving Neime a quick kiss the day before. It might have been a friendly kiss, but the way Neime had grinned indicated something else. Juimei would never admit it, but it was one of the reasons he was still thinking of leaving. Neime was a man now—too old to be waiting on a crippled prince, and ready to move on in his career and his personal life. If Juimei made the choice for him, Neime could stay in Dizeindo and act as the new governor’s official assistant. Juimei might not have much influence, but with his recommendation, he could guarantee Neime would be kept on.
It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on, not while he could still get out and about and enjoy his newfound freedom. The winter was the appropriate time for introspection, when there was often little to do but sit indoors and think. His feelings about resigning were mixed, contradictory. Neime and Wepizi both had a way of confusing him about what he wanted to do.
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 60