Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

“Foolish man! You’re supposed to be talking him out of it.”

  With an effort, he managed not to jump or betray his surprise. “Nuveize, stay out of this. It’s too important for games.”

  “It’s too important to us. Please, Wepizi.”

  “Go away, please. I mean it.”

  He forced himself to ignore her, but then to his relief he felt her leave his mind anyway. He couldn’t concentrate with her listening to his every word.

  Juimei was watching him. “Nuveize, yes?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “I’m familiar with the symptoms,” he said dryly. “But that brings me to the other point. My father also says the feeling is that the Blessed should go to Visiqe and submit to the will of the crown and council. He says that he wants them to feel free and happy, but they’re too important and dangerous to be allowed to run wild. If I go, then I can’t really claim that they’re under control and managed here.”

  “Your replacement could—”

  “You want me to go, don’t you. You’re trying to talk me into accepting.”

  The dull tone in his lover’s voice was like a knife in Wepizi’s heart.

  “No, I’m trying to talk to you and have you make this decision for the right reasons. I could be killed in an accident or have a heart attack or get sick like Lema did. If you turn this down for me, and something happens to me, then you’ll be here and not there.”

  Juimei clenched his fist. “Would you have made this argument if I’d been a woman? If I’d been Lema?”

  Wepizi winced. “Lema was not a prince of the blood. You’re not an ordinary person and you know it. You have a great destiny and it’s being offered to you as is only right.”

  “But what if I don’t want that destiny? What if I want to stay here with you?”

  Then do that, Wepizi wanted to say. Please, because I don’t want you to go. “You have to do what’s best for you.”

  “I would stay in a heartbeat if you asked,” Juimei said quietly.

  “That’s why I can’t. It can’t be for me.”

  Juimei’s mouth tightened. “I see. I...need to think.”

  Wepizi reached across the desk so he could hold Juimei’s hand. “Please...don’t take this as an insult. If I cared for you less, I’d be more selfish. You know I want you to stay, but I won’t ask.”

  “Your honesty has always been the thing I’ve prized most about you,” Juimei said with a grim little smile. “Do you want to stay tonight? You have your friends.”

  “Who’ll be asleep and won’t miss me. I want to stay,” he said, his voice gone husky, trying to put the want and love he felt into his tone so Juimei could believe in them.

  “Then do. I won’t decide tonight.”

  Wepizi stood and urged Juimei to do the same, so he could come around his side of the desk and take him into his arms. “I wish...I could make this easier.”

  “I wish this had come a year ago. But then I might not have been ready for it. Ironic, don’t you think?”

  Wepizi laid his cheek on Juimei’s forehead. “It’s still good news, whatever you decide. You were so sure you couldn’t go back and have a role, and now you have a choice. People haven’t forgotten about you. I...won’t forget about you, whatever you decide.”

  Juimei’s hands twisted painfully tight in Wepizi’s sleeves. “I know. But that makes it harder, knowing I would hurt you.”

  “I can survive it. It wouldn’t be as bad as losing you to death. Knowing you were doing what you wanted, would be a comfort.”

  Juimei looked into his eyes. “I hate to ask this—but would you consider coming with me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Like you...I dare not ask. Damn it, why did that letter come when I was just finding peace again?”

  Wepizi stroked his back gently. “Because challenges keep us alive. This isn’t the end of us, Jui. Or you.” He tilted Juimei’s face up and kissed it. “Can we make love?”

  “You know you don’t need to ask.”

  Juimei’s eyes held a request for another question he wished Wepizi would ask, but he just couldn’t. The very fact he had the power to change Juimei’s fate by making one simple request, meant he could not use it. But he wanted to, oh how he wanted to.

  Benevolent god, please—guide him to the right decision. Lema, love—you too. You know how much I want him, and I know you must want this to be. Help me—help him. Help us both be happy.

  And then he took his lover to bed, hoping that Sephiz’s wisdom would work a miracle for him—and if not, he was determined to enjoy every moment left to him with Juimei. He’d learned the hard way never to take such time together for granted.

  Home Ground: 32

  Juimei slept badly, but it wasn’t the fault of his companion. In the early dawn light, he watched Wepizi sleep, reaching out a hand to gently brush the dark wavy hair, and even to very carefully caress his moustache, now tousled and unruly from their lovemaking and being slept on. Relaxed in sleep, his laughing eyes hidden, Wepizi was such a different man to look upon. One saw the sadness around his mouth, but also the lines from smiles, a life spent in hard work in the open air, and the powerful strength of will that kept him true to his faith and his own immutable morality. A lesser man would have begged him to stay—Juimei had seen the desire for it clear in his eyes—but Wepizi was almost too honourable for his own good.

  That made two of them, he thought with a quiet sigh. Mornings like this reminded him very painfully of Visiqe—not just lying in bed with Miki, but with other lovers, listening to the sounds of the palace coming into life, knowing that ahead of him was a full day of work or play. Not so different from here, now that Wepizi had coaxed him out of hiding, but he missed his family, he missed the rituals and ceremonies of court, and he so very much missed the influence, the knowledge he made a difference, and that what he did affected the whole of Andon, even in his small way. Out here, his decisions only affected the region, and his influence was less than the meanest courtier in the palace.

  But surely there was more to life than influence. There was happiness, there was...love...the real thing, not the foolish emotions that Mikinze had aroused in him. He knew Wepizi far better than he had ever known Mikinze, and he was dealing with a much more honest individual. Wepizi would never betray him. He might break his heart, but only for the greater good. Juimei accepted that as the price of loving a man of honour and courage.

  It meant he had to act with the same honour and courage, and if he truly could do more for Andon by returning to Visiqe, then he should go. It was what Wepizi would want, and it was what Juimei expected of himself. But it would hurt like hell to leave.

  He continued the languid stroking of his lover’s hair, sorrowfully noting the few strands of grey that Mikinze would have plucked out or dyed rather than allow anyone to see. Wepizi’s sole vanity was his moustache, but no one could consider him vain on the strength of it. It was beguilingly ridiculous, a flamboyance in an unassuming man that made one laugh at the silliness, that told a person here was a man not afraid to be mocked. Not afraid of anything, in fact—not princes in a temper, nor nature’s fury, nor the worst of human nature. Not even afraid of sorrow and loss, for all he knew the pain of it. Juimei envied him that fearlessness, and wanted to hold it close by him to bolster his own lack of courage. But it was a cowardly reason to stay—or to entice Wepizi to leave.

  Wepizi opened his eyes, saw Juimei, then turned and kissed the fingers caressing his face. “Good morning.” He put his arm around Juimei and tugged him closer, so he could kiss his lips instead. “You couldn’t sleep?”

  Juimei shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to get up. Not yet.”

  He glanced at the window, noted, as Juimei knew already, that it was very early, and simply hugged Juimei a little tighter. “Not yet,” he whispered. “Let me just be with you.”

  Juimei was glad to let him, and to lay his cheek against Wepizi’s. “I don’t know what to do.”r />
  “Then wait until you do. His majesty won’t want an instant answer.”

  “No. I’ve been so close to happiness these last few months. More than I could ever have imagined possible. But I get homesick. I miss everyone. You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said quietly, kissing him again. “It’s a powerful reason to go back. You’ve had so much pain, you’re entitled to some joy.”

  Then come with me, he wanted to say, but in his heart, he was not at all sure Wepizi would be happy in Visiqe.

  Wepizi would be effective in Visiqe, which wasn’t the same thing. Wepizi was a man with a big spirit, a big vision. In Visiqe, those talents would be less valued than they were here in this isolated region, but they would be valued, and his Darshianese friends would surely have more excuses to come to the capital than this lonely town. Though his young Prijian friend, Karik, seemed to think there was much unexploited potential in this area, and had big ideas about what could be done here. He’d liked Karik and Romi. They were so unfettered in their imagination. They had courage too—no wonder they’d become Wepizi’s friends.

  They could have made love again, but this was better, being held, being together. So many mornings Juimei had woken alone. He’d often wanted to beg Neime to share his bed just to avoid the emptiness, but he’d refused to indulge that want. It was unfair on the lad to impose more of his emotional fragility than he already did.

  Wepizi kissed his forehead. “Is there anything I can do to help you get back to sleep? You look tired.”

  “No, but thank you. Will you be with your friends today?”

  “Yes, some of it. You could join us.”

  “No, you spend it with them. But bring them up here again—they really are charming fellows. Er...and that female officer, Jou.”

  “Yes.” Wepizi grinned. “Darshian’s secret weapon. I don’t think my old bones are up to sparring with her anymore, but I’ve asked her to give a few demonstration matches while they’re in town. You should watch. It’s impressive.”

  “No doubt. Not today, though. I need to think.”

  “Yes, of course.” He took Juimei’s hand, held it between them, fingers lacing with Juimei’s, a sweet gesture that always made his heart stutter a little. “Is there anything I can do to make this easier?”

  “Certainly. Tell me to stay, or tell me to go. Or spontaneously decide you want to go to Visiqe without my having to ask you.”

  “Jui.” His eyes were regretful. “My only reason for going to Visiqe would be you. You know that.”

  “Quite,” Juimei said wryly. “So the real answer to your question is no. I have to do this on my own.”

  “The decision, yes, is yours. But you aren’t alone.”

  Not yet, Juimei thought.

  But he let Wepizi cuddle him and kiss him and pretend for a little while longer that nothing threatened this serenity. Then, reluctantly, he knew he had to get up—Wepizi had work to do, and so did he.

  Breakfast was brief, and then Wepizi dressed in the set of fatigues he kept at the residence these days. He caressed Juimei’s cheek, and kissed him tenderly.

  “Send word when you want me to come up?”

  “Of course. Enjoy your friends’ company.”

  “My other friends,” he said gallantly. “Don’t give yourself a headache over this. Ask Iome for a massage if you need it.”

  “No. I’ll ask you for one.”

  Wepizi smiled. “Of course.”

  After he left, Juimei sat and stared disconsolately at the remains of their meal. This had become such an important part of his life, his routine, after a few short months—strange to think that after a much shorter relationship, he’d been prepared to life-bond to Mikinze. His ability to judge other people and his feelings was not, from his record, something to boast about. He felt whatever he chose now could be a terrible mistake, and hurt the very people who meant the most to him.

  There was a knock at the door. “Come in.”

  Giwade—Juimei realised with a guilty start he’d completely forgotten it was a day for the lad’s lessons. “Oh, Giw—I’m sorry, I’m not quite ready for you.”

  Giwade smiled. “Oh, well, then, if you like, I could go and work in my garden until you are.”

  “Ah—how’s that going?”

  The boy had befriended one of the gardeners, been given a plot of dirt to work with, and every so often, mentioned what he had planted, how the plants were growing and so on. He’d never tried something of the kind before, and was fascinated by the simple processes of life. A garden, Juimei suspected, would be a very soothing environment for the lad with his talent.

  “Really well—I could show you.”

  Juimei started to refuse, but then thought spending some time with Giwade on something he loved wasn’t a bad idea. He wanted to talk to him anyway.

  “Why not? Ring the bell cord for me, and let me finish dressing. I won’t be long.”

  By the time he was dressed, and had put his outdoor shoes on, the dishes had been removed.

  “Shall we?” he said, laying his hand on Giwade’s shoulder.

  In the hall, they encountered Neime, clearly on his way to see Juimei. “Are you busy, Jui?”

  “Not really, but I know what you want to know, and all I can say is, please give me some time before I talk to you. Now don’t pout, Neime. Did Laovei enjoy herself last night?”

  That brought a smile to his face. “Oh yes. Now she wants to travel to Darshian and meet the others. Do you think she ever could?”

  “I can’t see any good reason why not, but that’s part of what I need to talk to you about. Give me until this afternoon. Tomorrow, at the latest. Was there anything else you needed me for?”

  “No. Nuveize was planning to take Neka and Jera and everyone else out to see a bit of the area. I thought I should go with them—do you mind?”

  “Not in the least. Take a couple of soldiers with you, just to be on the safe side, and don’t go far, but make a day of it. Building relations with the Darshianese is important. You have anything pressing on your desk?”

  “One or two things. I can deal with them before I go. Thank you.” He still looked concerned. “Are you sure I can’t help you with whatever it is?”

  “Yes, quite sure. Go show our visitors the wonders of Huoinevol.”

  “I will. Giw, are you going to come?”

  The boy shook his head. “No, I want to stay here today. I had too many people last night.”

  They’d got used to his need to rest after prolonged contact with large groups, particularly strangers, so his statement caused no surprise.

  “Then I’ll bring you back some umis nuts from the hills,” Neime said. “Don’t work too hard.”

  Giwade smiled and said he wouldn’t. Neime gave Juimei a last worried look, and went back inside the house.

  “If you need peace and quiet, are you sure you want me with you?” Juimei asked.

  “I’m used to you now,” he said simply. “What’s upsetting you? You’ve gone all funny,” he added gesturing vaguely with his hands, a reference to the aura that the boy could see around everyone and which apparently reflected every emotion in quite subtle detail.

  Juimei found it the strangest of all the talents the Blessed had. For some reason, it bothered him less than Nuveize’s gift, but that might have more to do with Giwade’s gentle nature, which Juimei always found a soothing influence—though he couldn’t say he had the same soothing effect on the lad.

  “Well, it’s something I want to talk to you about. But let’s see the garden first.”

  Juimei did know there was more to the residence’s planting than the dull formal grounds to the front of the manor, but usually had little reason to visit the large kitchen garden which supplied so much of the produce they consumed, and which had been put to the test quite severely after the earthquake. Their gardeners had now dug even more beds, so they would always have an assured supply of vegetables and herbs even if
there was another disaster—and any excess produced in calmer times could go to the poor. Juimei had readily agreed to that idea, and since the quality of their meals hadn’t changed for the worse, he assumed the gardens were as healthy as ever. He took no greater interest than that—he would happily read technical reports about crops and production, and make plans and suggestions for improving farms in the region, but ask him to name the flowers in his own garden, or how to strike a cutting, and he knew he’d be useless. It was, after all, why he employed gardeners to do such things for him.

  Giwade was different. Giwade wanted to know why flowers were all different shapes and colours, and why some grew on sandy soil, and others died. Giwade asked awkward questions about plant biology, and insects, and distribution, and all Juimei could do was helplessly point him at the well-provided library and give him free rein. He told the lad to write down any questions he simply could find no answers for, and Juimei would send them to the Visiqe academy for answers. Already there was a long list—Juimei had to wonder what on earth the scholars would make of it, but he meant to send it with the very next mail. Even if he had no idea about the knowledge required, the quest for it was something he did understand—and thoroughly approved of.

  The gardeners were hard at work, and bowed to Juimei as they came closer, smiling at Giwade who waved to them.

  “His highness wants to see my plants,” he proudly announced.

  “Well, so he should, lad,” Kefeinwe, the residence’s senior gardener said with a grin. “He’s done very fine with that plot, your highness. He’d do well in our profession.”

  “Now, that’s a thought. So where is this famous plot, Giw?”

  Kefeinwe came over to assist. Juimei suspected he wanted to show off his protégé, and who could blame him? “Just there, your highness,” he said, pointing to a tidily marked-off area at the far end of one of the large beds. “I’ll have a chair brought for you, shall I?”

  “Please. But don’t let me disturb you—I just wanted a chat with Giwade.”

  “Right you are, your highness. I’ll leave you in peace. Giw, you come and get those cuttings today—they’re ready to go in.”