Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

  The winter slowly loosed its hold on the country and tentatively became spring. The slow, gentle affair between Juimei and Wepizi continued its even tenor. Wepizi wasn’t a man given to rages or sulks, and his occasional quiet moods were never long lasting, nor ever aimed at Juimei. After the turmoil and pain of the last few years, Juimei found his friendship and their relationship a balm on a rapidly healing wound. Wepizi made him feel whole and healthy and happy, and with him, Juimei wasn’t the prince, or the governor, or a cripple to be pitied. He could just be himself. He knew Wepizi would never understand just how precious that was, but it didn’t matter, because Juimei did.

  With the spring, they were both busier, and Wepizi spent less time up at the residence, though he made time to take Juimei out occasionally, and there was serious talk of a proper hunting party, which Juimei looked forward to, if it ever happened. Probably not this year, with the reconstruction. It was inevitable that there would be periods when Juimei wouldn’t see Wepizi at all—he was, after all, a very senior person in his own right, and with very nearly as many souls as Juimei had under his command.

  Once the soldiers returned from Nedriz on the newly thawed river—their number increased two fold by the planned additions to the Dizeindo establishment—work recommenced on the repairs and rebuilding. The town sprang back into life, and this time Juimei was in the thick of things. The townsfolk got used to seeing him in the market, at the school, the infirmary, or at the mills, seeing the production for himself. Of course they didn’t realise that, strictly speaking, he didn’t need such visits to govern at all—but Wepizi and Neime had taught him there was more to governing than simply knowing the facts and figures. He had to know the people too—and they had to know him. His time of isolation was now well and truly over—and he regretted it not at all.

  Nuveize gave them a week’s warning of the impending arrival of the Darshianese—that she’d been chatting happily for days to a woman four hundred miles away astounded Juimei, but there was no doubt it was also a very handy feat. It allowed Wepizi and Juimei to plan a proper reception, and word quickly got around. By the day in mid-spring when their visitors were due to arrive, excitement ran high. Very few of the citizens of Dizeindo had ever met a Darshianese before, and one of them was by way of being almost noble in his own right, which meant not a damn thing in Darshian but did get some aspirational Andonese hearts fluttering. The mayor was planning at least two formal dinners, and Juimei suspected other invitations would be issued once the newcomers arrived.

  “Do these poor people have any idea what they’re getting into?” he asked Wepizi as he put on his best spring jacket.

  The plan was for Juimei to go down to the docks and meet them off the barge. Wepizi was part of a small but immensely dignified escort. The mayor and Neime would wait for them in the square. It would be, Juimei thought ruefully, a very long day.

  Wepizi carefully straightened Juimei’s collar, then kissed him. “I’ve yet to see anything that could rattle either of them, Jui. But I, ah...asked Nuveize not to give them too much warning. I want to see their reaction.”

  Juimei shook his head. “If this is how you treat your friends, Tezrei, what do you do to your enemies?”

  “I don’t know—I’ve never had any.” Juimei snorted in disbelief. “Nuveize says the boat’s about a mile from the dock.”

  “Then we shall proceed at a very dignified pace. After I get another kiss.”

  Wepizi smiled and granted his wish. “We mustn’t forget the important details. Shall we, your highness?”

  Nuveize and Jozin had insisted on coming, but for once that didn’t bother Juimei, though he’d decreed they would travel by normal means. It was an occasion which demanded the official carriage, sadly—though Juimei was far more practised getting on and off doigs now, he didn’t want to risk looking clumsy or falling in front of these people. Neime met them in the stable yard and said he would go to the square while they went to the docks.

  “Someone’s got the brat under lock and key, I sincerely hope,” Juimei said severely.

  “‘Vei’s sitting on him,” Neime said, smiling at the thought of his beloved. “And Giw and Hel will make him behave. You better go. Oh, this will be so exciting!”

  Juimei rolled his eyes and waved the lad away, before signalling to the driver to move on. Wepizi rode beside the carriage—their escort met them at the gates, saluted smartly, then fell in behind them as they set off at walking pace, two empty carts from Juimei’s own stables being brought behind for their visitors.

  “I really don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Juimei said, aiming for grumpiness, but not quite succeeding. “They’re just people.”

  “Don’t lie to me, your highness—you’re just as excited as the rest of us,” Nuveize said. “This could be so wonderful. Do you think we could even go to Darshian, Jozin? Would you like that?”

  “Maybe. Depends on what this lot are like.”

  That was Jozin for you, Juimei thought. Always suspicious.

  Wepizi grinned at Juimei, clearly thinking the same thing. “I know a good many of these people, Jozin. I would have complete faith in them.”

  “Maybe.” It was Nuveize’s turn to grin at their young sceptic.

  The barge was just docking as they arrived, the sails being lowered and furled. Juimei waited patiently for the boat to be hauled in against the pier, and gangplanks laid. He wasn’t sure what to expect—the Darshianese were infamously informal and disrespectful of elaborate ceremony, but one of these people was the nephew of Lord Arman, and the Prij were much more respectful of the trappings of government. Wepizi had been rather uninformative on the subject but then, Juimei’s lover enjoyed surprising people. He was a dreadful prankster, though a harmless one. Sephiz alone knew what he would get up to if he had Jozin’s or Kilinze’s powers. Though it was interesting to speculate what it would be like to bed a Blessed.

  “You can shut up now, Nuveize. I won’t be bedding you,” he said, glaring at her as he noticed her smirk.

  “Wait until you get an offer, it’s only polite. She’s here!”

  Juimei turned and looked over to where a group of people were finally emerging from the barge. There were more still waiting on deck—the party was approximately fifty in number, so Juimei’s briefing notes said. They were all in uniform, which surprised him, since he knew they had civilians with them—ah, but now he looked again, he could see subtle differences. Some of the uniforms bore no insignias, and so were probably worn for convenience.

  The leader was a very tall, very broad man—a handsome one, with a smile that showed his white teeth, and a glossy dark braid down to his backside. At his side was a young, bearded Prijian man, somewhat shorter than his companion, but with the same impressive bearing—his pale-gold hair gleamed in the warm sunlight, almost too beautiful to be natural. This must be Lord Arman’s nephew. Was the Darshianese a captain? He recalled Wepizi saying that was the rank.

  The leader approached and saluted Darshianese style, then bowed in their own to Wepizi. “Captain Romi of Darshian, requesting entry to Dizeindo, tezrei.”

  His accent was rather good. A little rough, clearly foreign, but better than his own pathetic Darshianese.

  “Willingly granted, captain. May I introduce the governor of Huoinevol district, his highness, Prince Juimei of Godiw?”

  Captain Romi bowed, as did all his companions—Juimei was impressed by the manners.

  “Greetings, your highness. I bear messages from their lordships in Darshek, and the best wishes of our nation to you, his majesty and council, and to your people.” He turned and indicated his companion. “This is Karik of Ai-Albon, who represents the academy in Darshek—he brings greetings from Master Kei and all the scholars there.”

  The young Prij bowed again as Juimei inclined his head. “You are most welcome, Captain, Karik. Ah...Nuveize...are your friends here?”

  The captain turned, and beckoned two people, a man and woman, to come forward. “Your h
ighness, please allow me to introduce Neka and Jera of Darshek, two of our most senior Gifted.”

  These two were definitely not in any kind of uniform. Rather, they wore the loose, colourful shirts and trousers that both sexes apparently favoured in Darshian. They were perhaps close to fifty, the woman much greyer than Nuveize, but with a beautiful smile. The genial-looking man grinned as he spotted Jozin and waved to him.

  Jozin blinked. “Are you Jera?”

  “He doesn’t speak our tongue, Joz,” Nuveize said. “You’ll have to use mind-speech.”

  “How can he understand you if you talk in your head?” Juimei asked, confused by this. The two Darshianese waited politely. “Never mind—Nuveize, can you translate for me?”

  “No need, your highness, because I understand your thoughts,” the woman said, coming forward and bowing. “I’m Neka. Hello, Nuveize. Nice to see you at last.”

  Nuveize grinned. “Welcome, Neka, Jera. Jozin, where are your manners?”

  “Hello,” the lad said, not looking at all sure what to do. He turned to Juimei. “So...are we just going to sit here all day?”

  “Should have got Laovei to sit on you, my boy,” Juimei said, shaking his head. “Everyone, there’s a reception at the town square. Be so kind as to mount up, and we can get moving. Captain, there’ll be time enough for presentation of papers and such later. Then you can introduce me properly to people.”

  The captain bowed. “As you wish, your highness. Karik, you go with Jera and Neka—”

  “Actually, Romi, I suspect Nuveize would like them to ride up here,” Wepizi said. “You and Karik can use that cart.”

  The two Darshianese Blessed were only too happy to climb into Juimei’s carriage, though it was a bit of a squeeze. The captain raised an eyebrow at the demotion.

  “I see—our importance is already settled. This is what happens, Karik,” he said, turning to his handsome companion. “You promote a man, and he forgets all about his friends. It goes to his head.”

  “Certainly went to yours,” the young Prij said, poking his friend—ah, yes, lover in fact.

  Juimei got the impression the teasing was something of a ritual. All three were grinning—he felt the tiniest twinge of jealousy over Wepizi’s easiness with these strangers, then he got over it. He’d get to know them too, he hoped. And if not...well, he’d have to learn to share.

  “Shall we?” Juimei asked, as everyone got into their respective vehicles. “Tezrei, lead the way, please.”

  After this was over, Wepizi’s friends would wring his neck, he suspected.

  Home Ground: 31

  “You’re a complete and utter bastard, lep Wepizi,” Romi said, flinging himself onto Wepizi’s bed. He folded his arms behind his head and sent a glare Wepizi’s way. “Next time you set us up to give speeches to a crowd of two thousand people without warning, I’ll wring your bloody neck.”

  “I second that,” Karik said with feeling as he sat down in the only armchair in the room. “I’ll hold you down so he can do it.”

  Forced to sit on the less comfortable chair at his desk by his cranky companions, Wepizi bore the punishment without complaint, since he knew he deserved it. It had been too much fun to regret, though, and they’d risen magnificently to the challenge, as he knew they would. “I’m sorry, my friends,” he said insincerely. “But it was a marvellous occasion. It’s good to see you both again, and all my other friends. How are you?”

  Romi answered. “We’re fine—it’s you we’ve been worried about. I’m amazed to see so little damage. We had reports it was pretty bad.”

  “It was—you should have seen it just afterwards. Not an experience I want to repeat, and Sephiz willing, if there’s another quake, we won’t lose so many because we’ve rebuilt so well.”

  Karik glanced up at the ceiling, as if thinking the test of that statement might come at any moment. “I had a hell of a fight on my hands to be allowed to come on this trip, you know. My mother and father swore they’d die from worry, and my uncles weren’t thrilled either.”

  “Well, with Lord Meki dying and then Arman’s father passing away, they didn’t want to deal with more stress, Karik, you know that,” Romi said, glancing at his lover.

  “I’m sorry to hear you’ve been bereaved,” Wepizi said. “Unexpected?”

  “Not really,” Karik said. “Both of them were pretty old. Arman took it hard—his Pa’s death was only two months ago. It helped having the boys, but I felt bad about leaving them. Still, if anyone was going to come up to this region, it was going to be our team, so I had to do it. And we wanted to help—looks like you don’t need it, though.”

  “Oh, we do, truly. You haven’t seen all of it, and we’ll be rebuilding for years. Your trip hasn’t been in vain, and I’m sure you’ll find enough in the Tuqul range to make it worth your while.”

  “Never doubted it,” Romi said. “So...that’s the prince, eh? Good-looking fellow.”

  “Very.”

  Wepizi wasn’t sure how Romi had received the news about his relationship. Wepizi hadn’t asked Nuveize to mention it nor conceal it, but it wasn’t a surprise that she’d told her new friends about it. It had been Romi who’d urged Wepizi not to close his mind off to the chance of a new love, but he’d known Lema, and known how Wepizi had reacted. “We...uh...are just taking each day as it comes.”

  “I’m really happy for you, Wepizi,” Karik said firmly. “He just better be good enough for you, that’s all I can say.”

  “He is. It’s been a test for all of us, and he rang true. I’m content.”

  Romi gave him a penetrating look, but then smiled. “Then I’m happy for you too. Right—we better get people settled in, take a look around, then clean up and change for this reception. I wasn’t expecting any of this. I’ve not brought my best-uniform.”

  Wepizi dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. “It won’t matter—you’re exotic, you’re new, you could turn up in rags and people would just think it was your way. Mayor Frankel is much grander than even Jui...um, his highness.”

  “‘Jui’? That’s his pet name?” Karik asked. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “Yes. It’s a very good name for him.”

  “I’m sure it is. Why does he walk with a stick?”

  Karik was better qualified than most people to understand the medical details, but Wepizi didn’t think it appropriate to talk about Juimei’s history just now. “Long story, plenty of time to tell you,” he said firmly. “Come, let me show you around.”

  There was much to do, and neither Romi nor Karik nor any of their team were the kind of people to stand still if they could be moving. Wepizi spent the day with them, showing them the damage and the repairs, explaining how the engineers and craftspeople they’d brought from Darshian could be employed, and how the Blessed were helping them. The Darshianese were already fitting in, getting to know their local counterparts, and finding out how they could help the most.

  Romi and Karik wouldn’t be doing much in the town themselves, as they were here to train mostly. They’d brought a great many medical supplies and recent papers for the infirmary’s library, and Karik took an interest in the new infirmary that would, they hoped, finally be built this year.

  They planned to spend only a week or two before taking a much smaller team, with several Andonese for training purposes, up to the mountains. Jozin had asked to go—Romi was still thinking about it. Wepizi said it was up to the two of them, especially if Jera stayed behind to do what Jozin had been doing for them. Jozin’s powers were valuable, but he deserved a bit more life experience than he’d been able to have so far, and Romi would be good for him. Karik would be too, though in a very different way.

  Wepizi, Romi, Karik and the senior staff were expected at the residence before the reception, for the formal presentation of credentials. Jera and Neka were already up there, talking to the Blessed—they would be staying in the residence along with their other civilians, but the rest of the tea
m were spread around the barracks and the town. Romi and Karik would bunk with Wepizi. He probably wouldn’t be able to slip away to see Juimei while they were there—at least, not much. But it wasn’t for long, and he’d missed them a good deal. To have his lover and his friends with him at the same time, was a very rare treat, and Wepizi was determined to enjoy it.

  It meant squeezing into best-uniform again, and being gently teased by Karik for looking so impressive.

  “Dignity of my office, of course,” Wepizi said, grinning back at his friend. “Just because I spent eight months with my backside hanging out of my trousers, doesn’t mean I can forget that.”

  Romi came up and cuffed his lover lightly upside his head. “Leave the man alone, brat. Why don’t you go roust up Jou and the others? They’ve got fifteen minutes, or I’m going without them. You too.”

  “Yes, sir, lord master captain sir.”

  Karik’s hand slipped behind Romi’s back and gave his braid a tug, then he danced off before Romi could exact revenge.

  “Damn nuisance of a man,” Romi muttered, failing to hide the affection in his tone, before turning to Wepizi and giving him a penetrating look. “Now...you’ve got fifteen minutes. Tell me everything.”

  Wepizi motioned him to sit on the bed, while he took the chair. “It’ll take longer than that. But you mean Jui, yes?”

  “Yes. I mean...gods, Wepizi. I wanted you to find someone to share your life with, but a prince of Godiw? Isn’t that awkward?”

  “Yes, sometimes. On the other hand, I’d normally spend a lot of time with the governor, so that’s no different, and it’s hard to find people of equivalent rank to be open and easy with—this is a pretty small town. He’s a good man. Honest and honourable. If he was in Visiqe, he’d stand a good chance of being elected king by the council, and we’re lucky to have him here.”