Chapter 1
The nice thing about a lover with a perfect arse and long legs, Juimei thought happily, was how very splendid it was to watch them move. His grace, the count Mikinze of Wedeiloizui, was most assuredly aware how much pleasure he gave as he bowed. "Blessings upon this joyous day, your highness. May you have many more birthdays to come."
Juimei smiled graciously at the elaborate flourish, admired how Miki's natty short jacket did very fine things for his impressively broad chest and his firm posterior, and grinned at the wink his count gave him as he straightened up. "Thank you. Do I get a kiss too?"
His lover smirked and remedied the offence with enthusiasm. "My apologies, your highness. Perhaps this might take away the scent of my error?"
From his jacket pocket, he produced a small wooden box inlaid in iridescent shell and stones, with an intricate pattern that suggested leaves, or perhaps feathers, depending on how it was turned. An exquisite piece, the artistry immediately recognisable as being from the Kefensel workshop, the best in Visiqe. "But I have hundreds of jewellery boxes, Miki." Juimei got a pitying look for that as he took the thing from Mikinze's hand, then opened it. He could only stare in astonishment at the lovely object before him. "Oh...my word."
Mikenze stroked his moustache and gave him a sly smile. "I very much doubt, your highness, that you have hundreds of these."
Miki looked smug – as well he might. The ring nestling inside the box, cushioned on fine gem-cloth, was superb – jet black ifino, inset with red gems and pearl stone in the form of Juimei's own personal crest. It shone dully with hidden fire as Juimei twisted it, an elegant and clever example of the gemsmith's craft. He slipped the heavy ring onto his finger – a perfect fit, of course. Miki's attention to detail was, as ever, immaculate. "Miki, it's magnificent – but far too much...."
Miki reached over and put a finger on his lips, his eyes slitting with suggestion and promise. "Not at all," he said, his voice, as it ever was, a silken thing with undertones of sex and intrigue. "Nothing is too much to show the depth of my regard for you, my dear highness."
"Miki...." His lover pulled him close, the beautiful jewellery box tumbling carelessly to the carpet as Juimei was crushed possessively to Miki's hard, perfect body. "Thank you," he breathed into Miki's ear as his lover began to nibble at his jaw. His moustache tickled, a surprisingly erotic sensation. Of course, it depended on where he was being tickled. Juimei had spent all winter experimenting to find out where it could be used most pleasurably, and even now the memory of those long, dark evenings in bed with this man was making him hard as stone.
But Miki was just as affected. "Oh, I expect more thanks than that,” he said, deep voice gone husky. "Something...much more prolonged...." His hand cupped Juimei's groin and massaged it with brutal skill. Juimei pushed against him eagerly, greedily, wanting even more for his birthday gift than the beautiful gem.
"Much...uh...more...."
A cough from behind them. Juimei disengaged without haste and turned around smoothly. "Yes, Neime?" he said, as behind him, Miki bent casually and picked up the wooden box – no need to treat such a valuable item carelessly after all, Juimei thought.
His young features set in apparently perfect subservience, his page bowed. "Your highness, his majesty requests the honour of your presence for the morning repast."
The invitation was a formality of course – birthday breakfasts were an unbreakable tradition in the palace – and Juimei wondered if Neime had just wanted the opportunity to interrupt. He didn't miss the quick, disapproving look at Miki and then at the new ornament on his hand. "Thank you, Neime – how many people have we invited this year?"
"I think at least two hundred, your highness," Neime said with a slightly rueful grin.
Juimei smiled as Miki snorted with laughter behind him. "Mother's overdone it again."
"She always said it's your fault for being born in the spring when there's nothing much else going on. Meant respectfully, your highness," Neime added, glancing at Miki again.
Juimei shook his head impatiently at the apology – Neime knew perfectly well that he wouldn't take offence at a remark like that, and neither would Miki. "Of course. Well, you better see what rags I've got that are up to the occasion." As if Neime hadn't spent days selecting the perfect outfit for this important occasion – it wasn't something that Juimei cared about, but Neime loved to see him nicely turned out, and his mother would be insulted if he didn't make the effort. "In the meantime, his grace and I are going to be...um...."
"Busy, your highness," Miki said, taking his hand possessively. "For at least an hour."
"You heard his grace, Neime. And lock the door."
"Very good, your highness," his page said, scowling.
Juimei ignored the tone and the look as Miki tugged him towards the inner chamber and firmly closed the door behind them.
As he took Juimei into his arms again, his mouth quirked. "He doesn't like me. I'm crushed."
"He's just protective of me. He's a good lad. You have to tolerate a few eccentricities in personal servants."
"There's eccentricity and then there's downright insolence," Miki said dryly, as he began to strip Juimei. "If one of my people gave me a look like that, I'd turn them off in an instant."
"Stop talking about my bloody manservant and get on with it, your grace. I'm going to need a damn good fucking if I'm going to get through this blasted thing this morning without snapping at someone."
Miki grinned evilly as he began to push Juimei back towards the bed. "As you decree, your highness. Though, when I'm finished with you, you might need to sit on a cushion to get through it at all."
"Oh, promises, promises, your grace...."
It was a colourful and lively assembly in the great hall. After the closed in months of winter, with often only family and servants for company in the bitterest weather which had, this year, lasted eight weeks, people were glad to show themselves again. It was a chance to display their fresh, new wardrobes, to catch up on the gossip, speculate about the doings of government and their friends – often the same thing, in this place anyway – and to renew or begin alliances among their peers. Spring sunshine poured through the high-vaulted windows and down over elegant clothes, the modest yet carefully crafted adornments of the older nobles and councillors, and the more ostentatious jewels at the neck, ears and hands of their young colleagues. People were in high spirits – it was a happy occasion, and the spring woke up all Andonese, got their blood fizzing through veins, hearts bursting to make the most of the warmth and longer days.
It was, despite his grumbling earlier, something Juimei rather enjoyed, at least in small amounts, but he was having trouble concentrating right now. Sometimes he wished Miki's attention to detail wasn't quite so thorough, he thought, as he squirmed, trying to ease his bottom. Neime had discreetly added another cushion, but he was still uncomfortable.
"Something bothering you, my son?"
Smiling brightly, he turned to his father, resplendent beside him in one of his lesser diadems, and an imposing gold chain and medallion of state around his neck. Spring had infected the royal wardrobe too, inspiring a beautifully embroidered green and yellow shirt that Juimei’s mother had made with her own talented hands. "No, father. I'm merely excited at the pleasure of being with so many of our dear friends this morning."
His father rolled his eyes, even as he acknowledged the bow of a passing noble with a graceful incline of his head. "Yes, I'm sure. It's your mother's idea. Always is. Makes me glad there's only three of you."
"Yes, father. Because then we'd have to share you even more."
"Don't be flattering me, boy. You know I'm fond of you, don't overdo it." But his father smiled at him without any annoyance in his expression. "Handsome ring."
"Thank you." Juimei didn't feel it necessary to explain every friendship token he received. If his father wanted to know where he'd got it, he'd ask. His relationship with Miki wasn't exactly a state secret, though they didn't bruit it about. "The weather looks set fair for this afternoon. Should be a good tournament."
His father grunted, accepting a small glass of fruit wine from a servant before speaking. "I've been told that the crowds are expected to be even larger this year. All the more people to watch you fall on your privileged bottom."
"You mean, uphold the honour of the line of Godiw, don't you, father? Someone has to, now Furneim and Siliki have retired from the field."
"I think the line of Godiw can stand the indignity of not having any princes of the blood wasting their time playing doig-ito, my son. You know it worries your mother."
"Yes, father. I'm always careful."
"So you should be. I've spent a lot of time and effort training the brain inside that privileged skull of yours. I shouldn't appreciate having it end up smeared all over an ito field."
Juimei winced a little at the image, then smiled as one of the councillors came over to wish him a blessed birthday. "I said I'd be careful, father. Besides, I'll only be young once. In a year or two, I'll be too old and then it won't be a worry to anyone."
His father only gave him a grave look, then turned to answer a question from his companion. "As you say," he said quietly once they were left in peace. "But this isn't a suitable topic for a birthday repast. However much of a nuisance you are, it's still a day of celebration." He stood, and servants rang a gong to call for attention. The noisy assembly fell silent at once, and he lifted his glass. "My friends, my loyal and wise councillors, my dear and pious wife, and my beloved children – I offer a toast to my youngest son, his highness, Prince Juimei. He has been a blessing from the benevolent god for twenty-four years, and may he remain so for many more to come. I call on Sephiz to protect him, and your good selves to pray for his continued happiness and well-being."
The guests rose at once, lifting their glasses and goblets high and cheering him noisily, stamping their feet, and even whistling. Juimei grinned, and bowed, and raised his glass to toast king and council in their turn, which got equally generous cheers. Even used to acclaim as he was, he was still warmed by the sincere enthusiasm, and even more by his father's smile, his mother's proud look, which were more precious to him than any gift – even a beautiful and valuable ring. Though the birthday fucking had also been damn fine, he thought somewhat ruefully as his arse twinged again. Across the hall, Mikinze lifted his glass and stroked his moustache as he smirked knowingly – it almost made Juimei laugh out loud, knowing his lover had guessed exactly what had gone through his mind just then. Oh, yes, the fucking had been very fine indeed.
The birthday repast went on for another hour, and Juimei was kept busy accepting good wishes and the occasional small gift from close friends. The rest of the day would be ordinary business, at least until the tournament, but there would be a family dinner that night in his parents’ apartments – a tradition Juimei rather enjoyed, since they had few enough opportunities to just be together as a family without courtiers. Now that his brothers were so heavily involved themselves as councillors, and he himself was taking on more duties, they hardly had time anymore for such things, but his mother insisted on their birthday suppers being kept as private celebrations.
His mother, dressed in a pale blue gown that suited her rather well, came over to give him a kiss as his father rose to leave for a meeting with the council. "Happy birthday, Jui. You're looking even more handsome than usual. And what a lovely ring."
"Thank you, mother. Yes it is."
She lifted his hand for a closer look. "Was this anything to do with the reason you were shifting around like someone had stuffed a baby dowkiqu down your trousers?" she asked, smiling innocently.
Juimei flushed. "Mother!" he said in a low voice. "Don't be vulgar."
"Was I being vulgar? I thought I was merely being concerned for the health of my dear son. I suggest you look after this ring, Jui – and step along to a healer for something for the other one in case you've done yourself a mischief."
"Mother!"
She grinned and kissed him again, patting his hand. "Such a little prude, Juimei, considering. Darling, do you really have to play in the tournament this afternoon? No one would criticise you if you pulled out for my sake."
"I would, mother. I'm the captain and my team mates are counting on me. I'm sorry."
She sighed. "Just like Furneim. He had to break his wrist before he realised how silly it was."
"Mother, he tripped over on his way to the stables."
"Yes, but he wouldn't have even been there if he'd not been playing. Well, if you insist, I'll be there like a dutiful parent and wave you on."
Juimei knelt before her. "Will you let me carry your favour, mother? I would be honoured."
"Hmmm – seems to me you're already carrying enough favours, my son." But she undid the simple chain from around her neck, upon which hung an enamelled portrait of her husband, and placed it carefully around Juimei's neck. She kissed him again. "Do your best for the line of Godiw, Juimei. But play safely."
"Of course, mother. Thank you. Sephiz will protect me."
"Yes, he will, but he and I expect you to wear your helmet anyway."
The court rose as his parents left, and people began to drift off. Juimei smiled and acknowledged greetings, but began to walk determinedly towards the doors, Neime at his side. "Be a good lad and find me Count Mianzin, will you, Neime? There's time before lunch for us to talk."
Neime bowed and slipped through the throng. An amused voice made Juimei turn. "Have we time for me to soothe the pain I've caused you, your highness?"
He wagged his finger at Miki. "You bastard. Mother was actually asking after my arse, can you believe that?"
"Can't say you weren't warned, your highness," Miki said, his dark eyes full of evil humour. "Or that you weren't willing. Want me to kiss it better?"
"Yes, but I can't. I have to talk to Mianzin about the finance arrangements in Gironzodei district. I promised father I'd get that sorted out today."
"But it's your birthday. You work too hard, Jui."
Juimei poked his lover in the chest. "And you don't work hard enough, your grace. They'll be cutting your tax concessions if you keep this up."
"I earn my keep. Just not in obvious ways, your highness." He turned and made a slight bow to the noble who had come to their side. "Good morning, your grace."
Count Mianzin returned the politeness, with a deeper bow to Juimei. "Blessings upon this day and you, your highness. I take it Gironzodei is on your mind?"
"Yes. Shall we go to my office? Your grace, until this afternoon?" Miki bowed, raised a disobedient eyebrow at him and then walked off. Juimei tried not to think of how much more enjoyable it would be to follow the man than to spend two hours locked in dry though essential discussions over funding in the northwest, then smiled at his noble companion, took his arm, and led him away.
The meeting took longer than he'd hoped, and once he had dismissed the count, Tezrei Dunaima had begged a few moments of his time since he was heading back to Tsikiugui the following day and had several matters he wanted advice on. By the time he was done, it was long past noon, and only an hour or so before he was due at the ito field. Neime, used to his habits, had arranged a spare, simple lunch for him to eat in his office, and joined him to eat at his invitation, as he often did. Neime put a small pot of medicinal cream on his desk next to the tray – Juimei raised an eyebrow in enquiry. "Her majesty asked me to pass it on. She thought you might neglect the injury."
"Ah – and did you remind her about it, Neime?"
"No, your highness. I figured you must enjoy the suffering, to incur it in the first place."
Juimei sighed, and rested his chin on his hand so he could look at his page. "You don't like the count. Why?"
Neime scowled. "Not my place to say, Juimei."
"Never stopped you before and you know it. He said I should turn you off for your insolence."
The lad looked at him with startled hurt. "Your highness? Would you?"
"No. But I'd like to know what offence he's given you. He's one of the most senior nobles in my father's court, you know. An important man. Kin, though distantly. If nothing else, it would be diplomatic to feign politeness towards him. You're smart enough to know that."
Neime scowled. "He's lazy. Arrogant and lazy. Not your match by any measure, Juimei."
"So you're jealous. Want to be warming my bed yourself, do you?"
"No! Your highness!"
"So you don't find me attractive?"
Neime clenched his jaw and stood. "If my services aren't required here for the moment, your highness...."
He reached over and tugged on Neime's jacket. "Oh, sit down, lad, I'm only teasing. By Sephiz' beard, I thought you had a sense of humour."
Neime sniffed. "Not about that man, no. Juimei, he's only using you to advance himself."
"Hardly, Neime. He doesn't need me to do that. I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but...." Juimei glanced down at the beautiful ring on his finger. "His grace may become a rather more permanent part of my life at some point."
"Are you...you really would life-bond to him?" Neime's mouth hung open in surprise. "Truly?"
"I'm considering it, certainly. Would that make your position impossible?"
His page bit his lip, and wouldn't meet his eyes. "I swore to serve you for the rest of my life, Juimei. Whatever happens. Unless you turn me off. But...." He looked up. "I would always think you could have done better. Are you really going to bond with him?"
"Maybe. I don't want to hurt you, Neime, and I certainly don't want you to serve me if it causes you offence. If I decide to bond with him and he accepts, I'll find you an honourable post here in the palace."
Neime's eyes widened, but then his expression suddenly closed off. "Yes, of course, your highness," he said dully. "Thank you."
"Neime? Is that not acceptable?"
"Yes, your highness. Of course it is. Thank you."
Juimei sighed again. "It's only a possibility, lad. As you know, he's returning to his estate next week until the middle of autumn, so nothing will happen until then. But while he's around, I'd like you to at least be pleasant to him, if only for your own sake. You know what it's like here – his people could make life difficult for you, and I don't want that in my household."
"No, your highness."
"Good. Now eat up, and then we'd better get over to the stables. I want to check my gear again."
Neime nodded, but still seemed rather subdued. Juimei didn't know whether to be touched by his devotion, or annoyed at the aspersion cast on his taste and sense. But Neime was a good lad – a younger son from an eastern tribe, who'd applied for a position at court and a chance to improve himself. Juimei's mother had suggested him two years ago as a replacement for Juimei's previous manservant who had decided to join the army. The lad had been an excellent servant, a pleasant companion, and a good friend in many ways. Having to place him elsewhere would really rankle, but if he wouldn't get past this odd dislike of Miki....
Miki was arrogant, Juimei knew that, and lazy too. But he had a mind like a steel trap, and his estate was very efficiently run, since his laziness was of the type that saved unnecessary effort rather than avoided work altogether. He would make an excellent life-mate for a prince of the blood and could have a place on the council for the asking. He was also, Juimei thought, concealing another wince, an incredibly gifted lover, and very devoted. A man could hardly ask for more, and Juimei certainly didn't. In his position, there weren't many people who would make an acceptable partner while still allowing him to follow his path at the court. Mikinze suited him very well, and really the only thing making him hesitate was the idea that his lover might not feel the same way. But glancing at the ring on his finger again, he thought he had the answer to that now. It was the kind of thing one gave in advance of a betrothal – and it was most likely Miki was only waiting for Juimei to do the asking, as was only proper given their positions.
It was just a damn shame Neime was so hostile because he was terribly fond of the lad. But he wasn't going to give up Miki just to keep his page happy – that would be utterly ridiculous, and Juimei intensely disliked the idea of appearing the fool. If Neime couldn't get used to the idea, then he'd have to go, all regrets aside.
But to preserve peace, he didn't bring Mikinze's name up again, and they ate lunch in companionable silence, except for Neime's quiet questions about the meeting with Dunaima and Juimei's appointments on the following day. The lad was such an efficient assistant, Juimei thought. The answer had to be to get him to accept Miki, and then all would be well. He didn't want to lose either of them.
The cream thoughtfully – if mischievously – supplied by his mother was used, and it helped considerably, though Juimei thought he really would have to ask Miki to be a little more careful if they were making love before a major tournament. His main gear was stored at the stables, but he changed into the royal team colours in his rooms, as did Neime to show support. Then they headed out for the playing field.
Though it wasn't far, there was no question of him walking there, or going with only Neime as his companion. A squad of soldiers formed a necessary barrier between him and the enthusiasm of the crowds lining the narrow streets, all anxious to wish him a happy birthday as well – Juimei rather suspected it was his success on the ito field as much as his royal birth which made him popular, and he had no doubt a lot of money would be changing hands after the match. All quite illegal naturally – and quite impossible to stop. His father never tried that hard. Juimei, loving the sport for its own sake, found the betting distasteful, but was resigned to its existence, and just hoped that some of the cheering people along the route to the field would actually enjoy the match itself. Flags with the royal colours were waving everywhere he looked, though here and there he saw those of the remote districts and clans. It was a fine day – it would be a lovely spring, he could feel it in his bones.
Father was right – there were a lot more people around this year for the royal tournament. Probably because it had been a harder than usual winter, so people were feeling a bit stir-crazy. The thaw was always eagerly awaited since one could not play on frozen ground, and it had been late this year. The royal tournament marked the start of the doig-ito season throughout Andon, and all the young bloods in Visiqe were hoping to make a mark early and win honour for their tribes and families. Perhaps it was a silly game, just as mother had said – but it was a very useful way of working off excess energy and aggression, and encouraged good riding and tactical skills. It was one of the more popular recreations among the army for that very reason. The main playing field was next to the barracks, and it was the soldiers who maintained it for their own use as well as the visiting teams.
His team mates were already at the stables, and he was greeted cheerfully, with best wishes for his birthday, and many promises of razika to celebrate their certain victory over the western province team, their strongest opponents. Juimei thought the royal side was better, but it all depended on how the match went on the day.
He'd noted that there was still snow on the ground in parts. "Anyone checked that the ground is actually thawed?"
"Yes, your highness. Can't have you landing hard on that royal arse, can we?" Tetwei said, grinning cheekily.
"I seem to recall it was you who ended up arse skywards last time we played, you brat. Neime, bring my guards and helmet over, would you? I just want to check my mount."
The doigs were all impatient, stamping their hairy hooves, and snorting as if they couldn't wait to get out on the field. Juimei fed his chosen animal a handful of grain and patted it. "Fat little bugger," he said, nodding at Neime. "He can do with the exercise. Maybe I should get you riding him when I can't."
"No thanks, your highness. I'll ride if I need to, but not for fun. Urs beasts make a better mount."
Juimei grinned. "Call yourself an Andonese? And did not Sephiz in his benevolence create these animals for our comfort and convenience?"
"Convenience, yes. Comfort – well, your highness, I imagine you'll find out all about that in a few minutes."
Juimei rolled his eyes at the unsubtle reference to his aching bottom, and Neime laughed. He brought over the leather protective gear and helped Juimei strap on the arm and leg guards, finally checking the helmet was firmly and securely in position. The rest of the team were coming in now, and it was time for him to mount up. "Wish me luck, Neime!"
"Good luck, you highness. For the glory of the king and council!"
Juimei saluted, then signalled to the rest of the riders to mount and fall into line. He led them out onto the field, and the cheers of two thousand voices hit him as people recognised the colours of the local heroes. He stood in his stirrups, waving to acknowledge the accolade, then he led the players over to where the other three teams were waiting before the royal dais. He bowed his head as his father raised his hand to greet him. Juimei saw his mother looking too, so he lifted the little pendant from inside his shirt, kissed it, then tucked it safe away again – she smiled and nodded at the gesture.
The match marshal came forward, and at the king's nod, lifted his flag. "Players – to your quarters! Prepare for battle!"
Western province got first throw, and the royal team thundered after the ito which had flown hard into the army quarter. Juimei swept it up and pitched long into their area, but a Western player was there, defending. Tetwei managed to hook it and carry the save, but lost it trying to be clever. Juimei cursed and whipped his mount in pursuit of the lost ito.
They made mistakes, but they were the first to score, and then again before the Westerns gained the advantage. Merchants formed a brief alliance with the army to get the ito back over to the army quarter, and scored, but Juimei led his side through breaches in their shoddy defences, and, at the price of a few bruises and even a bite from a disgruntled beast, scored again. The crowd screamed their delight at the Royals' success, and emboldened by their support, two of the minor players on the team, who were mainly used to distract, managed a nice little play of their own and hurled the ito into the basket. Juimei bellowed his approval at them as they galloped past. "Well-thrown! Do it again!"
"Yes, your highness!"
The teams managed to stop any of the others scoring, but that was all until half-time. Juimei accepted fruit juice and a sweetmeat for the energy from Neime who had organised refreshments, but his mind was still on the game. "We need to keep Merchants and Army from allying. Godo, you did nice work out there – think you can do it again?"
"I hope so, Jui," his younger team-mate said.
"Right – then here's the plan. Anytime we seen Merchants and Army teaming up, I want an attack on the Army flank – they've got their weakest riders on that side. Tetwei, if we have to drive ito, that's the direction we go in. Godo, they won't be watching you if Tetwei or I are in play – that's your chance to be sneaky again."
"Right you are, Jui."
Frustratingly, Army scored twice in the first few minutes of the second half, bringing the total score equal to the Royals'. Juimei wouldn't be satisfied with a draw – he'd rather lose fighting all the way down than merely draw while wearing his mother's favour. But he was determined to win.
Keqwino got the ito, and suddenly the match went their way – two more in-throws pushed their score up. All they had to do was keep the others from scoring, but the other teams didn't see it that way. A three-way alliance was suddenly formed, and boxing the Royals in. It took a bit of nastiness to get free, and Juimei was hit on the upper arm by a carelessly flailed stick, but they managed it, only to lose the ito clear across the field when the Merchants got it and fled. More by surprise than skill, they scored, and then the Westerns, stronger than either Merchants or Army, stole the ito back.
Damn it – level pegging again, and the last but one sand timer was already running. It was time to cast what little caution they'd been exercising to the winds. "All or nothing," Juimei said to his team as they lined up for another throw. "Lose or win, but I don't want any bloody draws on my scoreboard. Right?"
"Right!" his team bellowed back, and he grinned in a feral way. Those Westerns were getting too confident. Time to show them the real value of the blood royal.
The ito flew, and it was Godo who got it, deflecting nicely and skittering away on his lighter mount from under the grabbing stick of a huge Western. "Jui!" Godo cried, and tossed it his way. Juimei raised for it, but had to defend sharply against a sneak Army attack – Tetwei saved it, and raced off, hotly pursued by two Westerns and a Merchant. Juimei shouted for his people to deflect and defend, but that inconvenient alliance between the other teams was back in full force, and they couldn't get an edge.
The last timer was turned over. Tetwei was cornered, and in desperation threw it high. Keqwino got it, belted off towards their corner, but found himself stopped by two Army, and with nowhere legal to run. "Damn it – someone, take it!" he yelled, and threw. Juimei lunged for it, scooped it out from under the nose of a Western, wheeled and ran, praying someone was running cover for him behind, because all he wanted to concentrate on was getting near enough to that basket to throw.
They came from every side, but he pushed his mount until the damn thing was almost shuddering with the effort. He couldn't make progress, ducking and avoiding and trying to keep the ito from being knocked from his stick. He was running out of time – but he couldn't get any closer. Finally, in desperation and with no expectation of success, he threw wildly, with all the force in his frame. The ito hit a post – then bounced into the basket. Juimei blinked – that had never happened before.
The horns sounded, and he realised they'd done it. They'd won, by Sephiz! He tore off his helmet and tossed it up in the air, as did the rest of the team, while the crowd roared their delight, the pennants and flags in the royal blue and yellow being waved everywhere he looked. His team mates piled on him, hugging and crowing at their victory. "You're a bloody miracle, your highness!" Tetwei yelled, ruffling his hair happily.
"We all are. For king and council!" he cried and the crowd roared back its approval.
Still muddy and heart pounding from the rush of the game, he led his somewhat disorderly team over to the dais, the losing sides trailing after them disconsolately. The marshal decreed, to more roared cheers, that the royal team had retained the prize for another year, and then Juimei's father rose, accepting the victor's sash from an attendant. "My son, approach me."
Juimei climbed the stairs, grinning like a fool. His father was beaming too, for all his professed dislike of the game. "Well-played, your highness," he said, as he put the sash over Juimei's head.
"Thank you, your majesty." He rose and turned, and received the adulation of the crowd, his team mates applauding and stamping their feet in approval. The roars grew even louder as he indicated his team below. He was so proud of them, he felt like his chest was about to burst. Truly, was there a finer feeling than this in the whole world?
Neime came up to attend him as he left the field, and he threw a happy arm around the lad. "Did you see? Wasn't I magnificent?"
"You were, Juimei. Magnificent and modest with it." Neime ducked before Juimei could poke him in revenge for the smart remark. "Did you get hurt? I saw the stick hit your arm."
"Probably bruised," Juimei said cheerfully. "The steam room's all I need. Razika! Someone bring me a damn drink!"
A flask was broached and passed around the team, and there was a lot more yelling and backslapping before they got back to the stables. Neime offered to settle Juimei's mount but he insisted on removing the tack and brushing the beast down himself – only fair since the little bastard had done so well. But he was happy enough to let Neime take his muddy gear away to clean – he wanted more razika and to celebrate a little more with his team mates before he went back to the palace.
"Well-played, your highness."
He turned, and grinned in delight to see Mikinze in the doorway of the stables. "Just the man I wanted to see – I want a word with you, your grace," he said, bounding over to him, grabbing his lover's arm, and tugging him around the side of the building. "And a kiss for the victor too."
"Your highness, discretion, please," Miki said, glanced around quickly, but giving him a peck on the cheek anyway.
"Oh, piss on discretion – Miki, I want you to bond with me. Say you will."
"Jui? Are you serious?"
"Don't you want to?"
"Of course! It's just...I wasn't expecting...."
"I know, but I thought...I'm not getting any younger. You do want to, don't you?"
His lover smiled. "Yes. Yes, I do. And I will. But I want to tell my father first. Can you bear to wait until the winter feast to announce it?"
"I can wait forever, so long as you'll be mine," Juimei declared, pulling Miki close and kissing him firmly, though being careful not to muddy the fine clothes his lover was wearing. "By the benevolent god, I love you, Mikinze."
"And I you, Juimei. I've long hoped for this day."
Juimei held up the hand with the beautiful ring. "And this was a hint, yes?"
"Yes. Glad it wasn't too subtle."
"Not too subtle, no. I won't say anything to my parents until you've spoken to yours. But I wish you didn't have to go back so soon."
"Ah, duty, your highness. Always duty, as you yourself are forever reminding me." He stole another quick kiss but people were approaching so he stepped back. "Are you sure they'll approve?"
"Of course! You're the man I love, what can they object to? And if they do, I'll run away with you."
Miki smiled and shook his head. "I don't think that'll be necessary." He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "As your almost betrothed, your highness, I think it's incumbent upon me to mention the fact you smell."
"As your almost betrothed, I shall courteously overlook the insult, your grace. Come to my rooms tonight? After dinner with my family?"
Miki bowed. "Of course. We can't waste the time we have. You've made me a very happy man, Juimei." His eyes narrowed a little as he added in a whisper, "I intend to prove how happy when we're alone."
"Just be a little more careful of my tender arse this time, you oaf. Remember, it's got to last you a lifetime now."
"I shall treat it with the utmost respect from now on, your highness. Until this evening?"
Juimei squeezed his arm again and then Miki walked off, being claimed by his friends. Was there anything better to look forward to on one's birthday, Juimei wondered, and almost wished he could get out of the meal with his parents, though he knew he'd enjoy it, all the more for the victory this afternoon.
But he did smell, and he needed to get back to the palace for a wash. He turned to find Neime – and found his page standing in the shadows near the door.
"You asked him."
"Yes, I did. Not a word to anyone until it's formally announced, Neime. You know how these things are done."
"Yes, your highness."
Juimei came closer to the lad. "Neime – he's really a decent fellow once you get to know him. He loves me – he only wants the best for me."
Neime's chin tilted up. "I'm glad he loves you, Juimei. I want you to be happy."
Juimei put his hand on Neime's shoulder. "I want you to be happy too, Neime. Won't you stay with me, at least for a while?"
"If you want me to, I will. It won't be me asking to leave. I made an oath, remember?"
"I remember. I just want you and Mikinze to be polite to each other. I need all the people I love around me."
"To the end of my days, your highness. I am so sworn."
Juimei smiled and ruffled his hair. "Don't make it sound so much like a sentence, lad. It'll be fine. But for now, I'm muddy and disgusting and the steam room is calling to me. Come on – no long faces. It's my birthday – I forbid it."
"Of course, your highness." He plastered a huge and idiotic grin on his face and Juimei laughed at him. "What?"
"I think I prefer the scowls. Let's go."
The week until Miki's departure flew by, however much Juimei wanted to delay it – and there was much to discuss. They agreed that Miki would approach the council and apply to be a member, an appointment which was virtually assured. Juimei, in turn, would arrange to spend part of the year on Miki's estates. Such a peripatetic existence wasn't perfectly satisfactory, but among the nobles at court, it wasn't particularly unusual. At least his parents would have his brothers for companionship when he went southwest with his mate.
Discussions only took up some of the time – the rest of it was spent in feverish lovemaking and frankly romantic dinners. Neime made himself scarce with a tact that Juimei appreciated, but wished wasn't necessary. At least the issue of Miki's disapproval of his attitude didn't come up again. Juimei didn't want to spoil these few days together with petty arguments over his household anyway, and he was sure Neime's attitude would improve over time.
Finally Miki departed, and Juimei was left to fill his time once more with his duties and his sport. The weeks that followed Miki's departure dragged as slowly as the days before it had sped past, and Juimei found it hard to conceal his eagerness for the seasons to turn and his lover to return once more. He threw himself into doig-ito, easy to do since his team's success in the spring was followed by yet more during the summer – the crowds were beginning to expect the home side to win, and usually they did. His parents rarely missed a match – or an opportunity to suggest that there were safer ways for their youngest child to spend his leisure hours. For his own part, Juimei welcomed the physical exhaustion of the game, and the comradeship of his team mates helped ease the loneliness somewhat. He enjoyed the popularity that winning brought him and his team, but he was now old enough to be cynical about it. It would only take a short run of losing games for the crowds to lose their enthusiasm. For now, he just enjoyed it for what it was, knowing that once he was bonded to Mikinze, he would most likely have to give this up – he would have to give all his energies to his mate and his duties, as was only proper. A small part of him thought he maybe wasn't quite ready to settle down, but he only had to remember the last time he'd made love to Miki to know that there could be many compensations for giving up doig-ito.
The summer slowly edged its way towards autumn, and Juimei's impatience grew. Still, there were many things to occupy him – his oldest brother and sister-in-law had their third child, a healthy girl, and his other brother's wife announced she was pregnant for the first time. Their parents positively glowed with happiness at the news, and Juimei held his breath, expecting one of them to hint about how it was time he settled down and started a family of his own. His mother made a remark or two which left him wondering if she had guessed his secret, but nothing more was said, thank Sephiz, and though he was much in demand at the high summer ball, the usual jockeying for his attention as a potential partner was not followed, as it sometimes had been, by artless matchmaking by his sisters-in-law. Love them both as he did, he had occasionally got a little irritated by their belief that everyone should be married with children. Children he liked fine, the idea of being married he liked fine. But he had wanted to wait for the perfect partner, and now he had found one. Children, sadly, would not be possible, but it looked like being an uncle was going to be a full time job, if his brothers kept up this pace.
Mikinze had not mentioned children – perhaps they needed to discuss that too. But like him, Miki had siblings with offspring a-plenty. Both families had secured their dynasties quite healthily. Neither of them would feel any great pressure to procreate, at least for that reason. Once the intention to bond was announced, all such talk would end anyway. Love was the important factor, in all things. If Sephiz had thought it essential that he should breed, then either he or Miki would be female, simple as that.
The first frosty night and the chill morning that followed, announcing the arrival of autumn, put a spring in his step and a smile on his lips. "In four weeks, he'll be back, Neime," he said as they ate lunch, forgetting, until he said the words, that this was not necessarily good news for his page. Neime hadn't mentioned the upcoming betrothal even once since Miki's departure. Juimei suspected he was hoping the arrangement would quietly die – not a chance of that, though.
Neime only bowed his head a little. "It'll be a time of joy for you, Juimei. I'll do all I can to help it work for you."
"Will you?" Juimei said, startled and pleased at the declaration. "Then you've already made me happy, Neime. This is going to be the start of a new adventure in my life – a great partnership. Miki and I will accomplish many things together, I feel it in my water."
"I'm sure you will, your highness," Neime said neutrally.
"Come now, lad, don't get all stiff and cold with me. This is going to be a great adventure for you too – travelling to new parts of Andon, new responsibilities. You could be chamberlain one of these years."
"Perhaps," Neime said, smiling a little. "It's not something I've an ambition to do. Hadn't we better be leaving?"
"Sephiz' beard, yes, we had." He'd let himself be distracted, but if they were going to win the match this afternoon, he had to get his mind off his lover and onto the more mundane matter of doigs and itos. This wasn't a big event – just a friendly between the palace team and the army, a warm up for the final tournament of the season in a week's time. More games might get played after that, depending on the weather, but at this time of year, the first snows could come at any time, and then it became too dangerous to play. Ice ito was fun too, but it would be two months at least before the lakes froze hard enough for that. Normally he wouldn't be looking forward to the interval, but this year, he had more than enough to fill his thoughts. He smiled to himself as they made their way to the palace stables. Next year, he'd be playing ice ito on the lakes on Miki's estate – and maybe he could finally interest his mate in a sport that he loved himself. Miki disliked doig-ito because of the mud and the mess, but the ice form was far cleaner and faster. Yes, Juimei had high hopes of getting his fastidious lover onto skates within a year.
They encountered his mother in the courtyard, carrying a basket of baby clothes and other mysterious items. "Ah, off for another match, Jui?"
Juimei bowed. "Yes, mother. Are you coming to watch?"
"Not today, dear – I've got a meeting with some of the council and then I'm visiting Lekwinu and the baby. She wanted some advice and some reassurance, I think. You should be finished early, I believe? Isn't it just the single game?"
"Yes – I could come to their apartments for drizu after."
"Clean up first, Jui, won't you?"
He grinned and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry – I'll be scrubbed and presentable. Say hello to them both and tell them to get ready for uncle Jui."
"I don't know there's enough warning in the world for that. How are you, Neime?"
Neime bowed. "Very well, your majesty. Do you mind if I come along too?"
"Not at all – Lekwinu's very fond of you, you know. More than this great oaf," she said, chucking Juimei's chin.
"Charming. Rejected by my own kin. How can I bear it?"
"With your usual grace," she said dryly. "Well, be off with you – make sure you win."
"Yes, mother."
"And make sure that helmet's on tight this time."
"Yes, mother. It was a broken strap, you know. It's not like I tied it badly."
"Hmmm. Neime, you make sure you check the strap. Go on." She shooed them off, and grinning, Juimei did as he was told.
"It's a new helmet anyway," Neime said quietly.
"I know, she just worries. I probably won't need the gear any more after the end of this season."
Neime stopped. "Why?"
"No time. When I'm here, I'll have to be working on court business, and when on the estate, I'll have to work on Miki's."
"Oh. I never thought about that. But you love doig-ito."
"Yes, I do. But I love Mikinze more, and I'm prepared to make that sacrifice. You could take over for me as palace champion though," he said teasingly.
"No thanks. Unlike a certain prince of the blood, I like to look after my bottom."
"Cheeky brat. Come on."
There were more people come to watch than he was expecting and his appearance on the field was greeted with cheers, which he acknowledged with a wave. This was a highly informal event, and no one stood on ceremony around him – even less than they usually did. People called his name and yelled out encouragement in fairly earthy terms – just as they did to the army players. He would miss this a great deal, he thought wistfully. This more than the big matches in a way, for being equal, part of a team where every man counted for themselves, was a precious thing if you were born in the royal line. It was only here – or in bed with Miki – that he could really set aside the fact he was a prince, born to great privilege and great responsibility. He didn't resent the fact of his birth – but it was sometimes nice to pretend he was just an ordinary man. It was very restful.
It was only a two-side match, so there was a lot more ground to cover. He almost preferred two-side, because the riding was a lot faster and more furious, the ito flew higher and harder, and in his opinion, there was more skill involved, at least in manoeuvring the doigs and anticipating the flight of the ito. The army were merciless players too, and not above some damn dirty tricks – more than once, Juimei blocked a seemingly accidental strike against his animal's rump. "Curse you, keep your stick to yourself!" he yelled at the offending groi after the second attempt, but then had to jump for it as the ito flew his way and the game pressed on.
Dust rose from the much-travelled field, too late in the season to have any protective grass. The hooves of the doigs sounded like winter hail against the constant cheers and encouragement of the crowds, the smack of stick on stick, the yells from the teams crying out tactics, punctuating the noise. Back and forth, high and wide, the ito flew, and the goals mounted up, a closer game than he'd been used to of late, and everyone was nursing bumps and bruises from enthusiastically – or maliciously – wielded sticks. "Your men need to learn some bloody manners," he cursed at the army team's leader as they jostled for position in the line up for a new throw.
"You're just too soft, your highness," the man said with a sneer. "This is how real men play."
"Oh? I thought real men used their balls for better things – my mistake. Obviously you army types wouldn't know about that."
"Don't you worry, we've got balls to spare...."
"Heads up!" the marshal called, and the ito came their way, cutting off the jiren's banter. Juimei had to jump for it, but managed to sweep the ito away from the range of the officer, then he whipped up his mount and pounded across the field.
"To me, Jui!" Tetwei yelled. "Hurry!"
The danger was behind him, he knew, so he stood to fling the ito from the catcher towards his second. He leaned forward – and was flung back as his doig jerked and then bucked ferociously. He struggled to get control, and tossed the ito ungracefully before turning to find that cursed groi behind him.
"My beast bit yours – accident, I swear!"
"Keep away from me, you little shit!"
The marshal was looking their way, but Juimei did nothing to call his attention. It was all part of the rough and tumble – the rough was just a bit worse than usual. But he'd get that little bastard back if he could.
At half-time, it was time for strategy. "I'll kill the next man who hits me with his damn stick," Tetwei growled, rubbing his arm, and glaring balefully over at the army team. "What's got into them?"
"Their tezrei wasn't too happy they lost to us in the tournament last month. I think he said they'd let the reputation of the army down," Lonizig said.
"So they're taking that out on us?" Juimei said. He coughed and spat – damn dust got into everything – then swilled out his mouth with the water Neime handed him. "I thought they had more honour than that."
"Not all of them – just that groi and that bloody jiren. He's new," Tetwei said.
"Then I think, lads, it's up to the palace to teach them a few manners, don't you think?"
They were only a goal ahead, and Army levelled it within minutes. Juimei was determined that was the last flight they were going to make that game. At the break, they'd identified the strongest Army players, and now they put the tactics into play, boxing those riders in mercilessly, and giving them no room to throw or to defend. It made tempers worse, and sticks were now being employed without much discretion – players from both teams were sent off, and the marshal told them sternly to knock it off, before giving Army a free throw. That made Juimei grind his teeth with frustration – no way was it fair – but it was the game, and the game had to be won.
Godo hooked the ito and fled with it. Juimei pounded after him to help him defend, but found he was being hounded by three Army – returning the compliment, it seemed. Time and again their mounts jostled his as he fought for possession of the ito, and he was forced to watch helplessly as Tetwei fumbled it and lost it to Army again. His oppressors suddenly abandoned him, to charge after their team-mate, and Juimei belted after them. The man with the ito was one of their worst players, couldn't fly an ito for a bag of seed. "Watch him – he throws badly," he said to Godo as his team-mate galloped close. "Be ready!"
Godo saluted, and sure enough, the ito went wild, well out of quarter. Tetwei hooked it, flung to Godo, who tossed it immediately to Juimei. He raced off towards their goal end, but here came those bloody Army thugs again, determined to stop him getting a clear throw. Tetwei was ready, positioned discreetly, looking as if he was defending, but ready to take Juimei's play. Juimei kept up the pace, the riders pursuing him.
"To me! Jui, to me!"
Riders were bearing down on him fast. Juimei saw Tetwei was right where he needed to be, raised his arm to throw – and was flung from his doig as a thundering mount crashed into his, the animals colliding with angry screams, sending him hard across the dirt, his unprotected hands scraping painfully. The crowd roared in dismay at the fall of the favourite, like thunder over the squeals and snorts of the panicking animals, but he was too distracted by the immediate danger, aware of flying hooves and wildly cavorting beasts too close to him. Hemmed in by the doigs, he instinctively covered his head, but a moment later something powerful and heavy hit his helmet, knocking him sideways, dazing him.
"Jui!"
He didn't know who yelled. Something struck him hard in the stomach, and he curled over the pain, all the breath driven out of him, his vision whiting out.
"Jui, watch out!"
He never did find out what for.
Chapter 2
"Squeeze again, your highness? Very good. Try your toes again? And again? Thank you."
Juimei closed his eyes and wished the bloody healer would just leave him alone. Every day for two weeks she had come and every day they went through this pointless routine. She insisted that with time, there would be some improvement if he kept doing the exercises she prescribed – but nothing was going to disguise the fact that his left side was permanently ruined. Not quite paralysed, but as good as. All the exercises in the world wouldn't change that.
"Your highness? It's important you keep doing this."
"Go 'way," he slurred. "Ti'ed."
"Say it properly. 'Tir-ed.' Make your mouth form the word correctly."
He glared at her, and ignored her request. To add insult to damn injury, no one did anything he asked them to do any more. It was as if his words – formed correctly or not – had no importance. He had no importance. He was just a patient to be pushed around and ordered about.
Finally she sighed. "All right. Enough for today. I know this is hard, your highness, but this is the only treatment we have for your injury. I've seen people recover from worse, but it takes time."
"How lon'?"
"A while. Maybe even years," she admitted. "Perhaps never, not perfectly. But you will not improve if you don't try."
He waved his good hand at her in dismissal. She shook her head at him, pulled up the sheets and blankets, bowed, and then left. Immediately, Neime rose from his silent vigil at the thermal vent and came to his side. "Do you want anything, Juimei?"
Without being asked, Neime helped him sit a little higher, and tucked the blankets around him better. He seemed to know what Juimei wanted almost before he'd decided it himself. It was about the only good thing about his situation now. "Mi'i?" he asked hopefully.
"No word yet, Jui." The lad's face was pinched with sadness – he'd taken Juimei's injury almost as hard as Juimei himself. "There's been heavy snowfall in that region – it might take longer than he'd planned anyway. You should just concentrate on getting well."
"Ne'er ha'en." He picked up his useless left hand with his right, then let it fall. "Bro'en."
"That's not what the healer said."
"Lies."
"I don't think so. Her majesty wanted me to let her know when you were ready to see her again. Are you?" Juimei shook his head. She would only fuss. "Jui, you have to let her see you. You're her son, she worries."
"No!" He thumped the covers with his good hand. "Da' it! Leave me a'one!"
Neime bit his lip, then bowed. "As you wish, your highness." He retreated to his seat by the warmth, and stared at the tiles as if they were suddenly fascinating.
Juimei felt he should apologise, but then he would apologise a hundred times a day if he was just. He thought about calling Neime back, but then wondered what was the point. Neime would get sick of looking after him eventually – he hadn't planned on looking after an invalid when he signed up for this post.
He closed his eyes again, wishing his head would stop hurting, that his vision would clear, that he would wake up and be able to walk and talk as he had done before that stupid bloody game, just a bare month ago. He couldn't remember a thing about it. The last thing he recalled was a meeting that morning with his father and the council – after that, it was a complete blank. He'd been told that he'd fallen and been kicked in the head – twice – and had been knocked out briefly. It was only later that the healers had realised his injury was more serious, and indeed, his life had been despaired of. He couldn't remember anything about that either – just waking up and not being able to move one side of his body hardly at all, or speak. His face, his mouth, was not under his control anymore. He felt like his body had utterly betrayed him, and now he was trapped in its rotting hulk for whatever was left of his miserable life.
There was a knock at the door – he huddled down under the covers, determined to feign sleep. He heard Neime speaking to whoever it was, and then footsteps coming back into the room. "That was the lady Lekwinu. She was hoping you would see her. I...told her you were exhausted. She sends her best wishes."
Juimei grunted but refused to look at his page. At least Neime was following his orders – no one else was. He heard Neime come closer. "Are you going to hide forever, Jui? I know you're tired now, and in pain, but people are worried. You should let them help you."
"Ca't. Jus' go 'way. I...." His breath hitched in a sob. "No one ca' he'p," he whispered. "Sca'd."
Scared and ashamed of his fear, and only to Neime could he reveal this weakness. He felt Neime take his bad hand. "I know you're scared, Jui. I'm scared too, because I thought you were going to die. They said you might – I prayed so hard. And Sephiz answered my prayer. If he did that, I believe he'll answer this one too – that you will recover, learn to walk again, learn to speak properly again. But I think you need to give it more time, and more effort."
He turned to glare angrily at his friend. "You thin' I wa' to be li' this? You thi' I' no' try'ng?"
"Yes, you're trying. But you need to keep trying. Please, Jui. Don't give up. Please."
To Juimei's shock, he saw tears in Neime's eyes. He reached out with his good hand to touch the lad's cheek. "So'y. Jus'...ti'ed."
"I know. Would you like a massage? The healer said that was good for you."
He didn't much want one, but Neime was so desperate to help, and wanted so much to see some improvement – any improvement – that Juimei didn't have the heart to refuse. He nodded, and Neime smiled in relief. "Let me warm the oil and open the vent a bit more. We can't have you getting cold."
Juimei caught his arm. "Don'. You' wear you'sel' out. "
"Jui, it's my job. I'm sure it's harder for you than it will ever be for me."
Juimei released him, and Neime went to fetch the oil. Juimei was rather humbled at the kindness being shown to him by someone he had been contemplating setting aside for the sake of his lover, however gently he'd been planning to do it. He might have expected consideration and care, yes – but this devotion went beyond what might be expected of a servant, even a page. He resolved to try and keep his temper in check, at least where Neime was concerned, even if only for selfish reasons. Driving him away would mean he would have to get used to someone new, and right now, the last thing he wanted was a stranger touching him and being disgusted by his weakness.
The apartments had grown dark and Neime lit candles. It was very quiet now – Juimei had gathered that people had been told to keep their voices down near his rooms, and to otherwise not disturb his rest – so Neime's careful massage was carried out in an almost sacred hush. Neime didn't speak as his hands worked his magic on Juimei's body, the warm scent of lightly spiced oil pleasant in the room. It was nice, relaxing, and for a few moments, he could even forget why it was being done. With his body limp anyway, he couldn't immediately tell that one side was unresponsive for more reason than the massage – he tried to concentrate on the feel of Neime's strong fingers, and let the soothing sensation flood through him, pushing away the persistent ache from the concussion. He began to drift off to sleep, and in his half-awake state, he began to dream that he was whole and well again, and this was just a temporary illness, to be recovered from like any other.
He was woken by a knock at the door, and was confused for some moments as to where he was and why he couldn't seem to move. The room was dark again, but already a candle was being lit – he saw the blurry glow moving towards the door, and then heard Neime speaking.
Moments later, another voice. "Jui! By the benevolent god, you're alive!"
Juimei's heart lurched, and he struggled to sit, Neime coming to his side immediately to help. "Mi'i," he sighed, reaching out with his good hand. Neime stepped back, and he must have lit more candles for the room grew brighter.
Miki grasped his hand and sat on the bed, bending to kiss him. "Oh, my love, are you still hurt? Tell me – you're worrying me."
Juimei swallowed, and forced himself to speak as slowly and carefully as he could. "I ca' mo-ove my lef' side."
Miki's eyes widened. "You're paralysed?"
"Your grace, it's not full paralysis – a severe weakness. It may improve with time."
Miki didn't even glance at Neime. "So, a temporary injury. Thank Sephiz – they told me you nearly died." He nuzzled Juimei's hand. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here. How long will it be before you recover, did they say?"
Juimei glanced at Neime, who cleared his throat. "Your grace, the healer says it could take some time. Even as long as several years." Or ever, Juimei amended silently, though he was grateful Neime had decided to omit that detail.
"Years! I had no idea...." But then he squeezed Juimei's hand. "Then I shall just have to look after you until you're well again," he said, smiling.
Juimei sagged with relief. "Tha' you."
"That will be all, Neime. His highness and I need some privacy."
Juimei blinked a little, and he saw Neime stiffen. "Are you sure, your grace? His highness...."
"Will be well cared for this evening. I'm sure he's grateful for your devotion, but he and I require some privacy."
"As you wish, your grace. Your highness?"
"Tha' you, Nei'."
Neime bowed, though he scowled briefly at Miki who ignored him. He sent a worried look over his shoulder as he left the room. Juimei felt absurdly sorry to see him leave, but Miki was right – they had things to discuss, even in his wretched condition.
"You look as if you have a headache."
"Co'cussion."
"Of course. I presume your speech will improve with time too?"
Juimei shrugged. "Ho' so."
"So do I – it will be difficult to announce a betrothal otherwise." He smiled, but Juimei was suddenly a little uncertain exactly what he meant by that. He wasn't up to asking, and he certainly didn't want to speak more than he had to, since his lover minded it so much. He could hardly blame Miki for not liking to see his future bond mate so helpless and voiceless.
Sephiz' beard, it felt good to have Miki hold him again, though it was frustrating to have to lie in bed and only be able to respond in such a limited way. He felt so pathetically useless, and was sure he must look dreadful. Miki didn't seem to mind though, stroking his hair and telling him of when he had got the news, a rider meeting him on the road, and how worried he'd been. "I want another opinion on your treatment – we should have the finest minds from the academy. Even write to the Darshianese, if we need to."
"She' goo'," Juimei slurred. The healer, Keraminze, was his mother's own personal healer and was highly trained.
"I don't care – we need as many opinions as possible. I want you to be able to dance with me at our betrothal feast."
Juimei stared at him helplessly. What if that could never be? "I' try," he whispered.
"Good. I'll speak to his majesty when I ask for a place on the council – it's the ideal time with Darnwei retiring."
His head throbbing, Juimei didn't much want to talk about the council, but he smiled and let Miki explain his political ambitions, and his plans for them both. Perhaps Miki was right – this was only a temporary thing, and they had to plan for their future together. Just because he was laid up, didn't mean the world stopped turning. He didn't really need Miki to take over his medical arrangements but was touched at the concern. This was what mates did, of course. Miki was only being a proper spouse-to-be, more proof of the excellence of Juimei's choice.
He wished he had more energy though, and his headache and weariness could not, finally, be ignored. "Ah, and I've been selfish," Miki said ruefully, kissing his forehead. "You should rest. I'll return tomorrow and we'll get started on putting you on the road to recovery. Really, I'm not impressed by what I've seen so far – you deserve better. Good night, my love."
Miki kissed him again, and Juimei smiled as brightly as he could, but inside, his heart was sinking. If his lover wasn't impressed, then it had to be him Miki was disappointed with. He would have to try much harder to overcome this blasted weakness – no matter how tired and angry he got.
He realised he was helpless with Mikinze gone. "He'p? Nei'?" He tried to get up, but the covers were as effective as chains weighting him down. He almost started to panic before he heard the door opening again, and Neime came in, holding a tray.
"Oh, he left you alone? I'm sorry, I just went to get your supper."
Juimei slumped back, ashamed. "He thin's I'll ge' be'er. Soo'."
"Yes, I know. So you'd better get better, right?"
He tried to smile, but Neime's encouraging expression didn't reach his eyes, and Juimei knew as well as his page did, that it might not be possible to recover from this as fast as Miki wanted – or at all. And if he didn't – where did that leave him?
Things got rather more busy after that, starting the very next morning. Miki ordered a whole team of healers in from the academy to examine him, and Keraminze was replaced by not one but three physicians, who were ordered to do nothing but attend to Juimei's needs and see to his rehabilitation. A strict regime of exercise and diet was put in place, and Miki said he would come by three times a day to check on Juimei's progress, and receive the report of the healers himself.
Eager to please his lover, and with Miki's energy giving him hope that perhaps he could beat this, Juimei allowed him to do whatever he wanted, though Neime scowled the entire morning. His page wasn't the only person put out – Juimei's mother came to eat lunch with him, and expressed, in the politest way, that she thought dismissing her own healer might not have been necessary.
"He jus' wan' to he'p," Juimei explained.
"Yes, I understand that." She sighed. "Well, perhaps he's right – Keraminze said she was planning more vigorous treatment once you were over the concussion, so this is likely not to be a bad thing. He's a very devoted friend to you, I must say." Juimei concentrated on spooning soup into his mouth without spilling it, and avoided her eyes. "Is there something I should know about your arrangement with him?"
Juimei stared down at his bowl. It was the perfect time to tell her about the betrothal – but he didn't feel he should do that without speaking to Miki first. "No," he muttered, feeling Neime's eyes upon him.
"Ah, well. So long as you're content, dear, and the treatment helps, I won't interfere. You know your father and I will do anything we can to get you well. We both expect to see you at the mid-winter feast."
Juimei scowled. His father had had the best carpenters in the palace construct an elegant and comfortable chair with wheels for him to use but so far, Juimei had steadfastly refused to sit in it. "Whe' I ca' stan'." The feast was three months away, held on the shortest night of the year. It was possible he would even walk by then, if he pushed himself to the limit.
"Of course. Though it would be a shame to deprive people of your company just because of your accident, dear. No one would think any less of you."
"I wou'."
She tsked. "Such a stubborn child, you always were." She bent over and kissed him. "I'll come back tomorrow. You look tired, Jui. You mustn't overdo things."
Neime carefully didn't say anything – Juimei knew his views on the subject. "I wan' to wa'k. I ha' work to do."
"Yes, of course." Neime bowed as she stood. To Juimei's surprise, she chucked his page under the chin. "He's a lucky man to have you too, dear. His majesty and I are very grateful."
"Thank you, your majesty. I consider it an honour to serve."
"You are such a good lad. Tomorrow, Jui."
Juimei pushed the bowl away as she left the room. "Sto' sco'ling," he said to Neime.
"What do you expect me to do, Jui? He just marches in and takes over, when we've been working so hard for you for weeks – he acts as if none of us have any idea what will help you."
"He wan's to he'p. He lo's me."
"But he's not the only one who loves you, Jui." Neime frowned. "You can't blame me for worrying."
"I don'. Jus' wan' to ge' be'er."
Neime took his hand and smiled at him sadly. "It's what we all want. Very well – if this is what you want to do, then I'll do my best."
Juimei smiled crookedly. "Tha' you. Can' do wi'out you, Nei'." Surely with the support of a good friend as well as his lover, he could overcome this.
The weeks that followed were punishingly hard. Every day, his apartment was invaded by healers, masseurs, or one of two singers from the theatre that Mikenze had hired to put him through long and rather tedious vocal exercises. His inability to speak clearly seemed to trouble his lover most of all, so Juimei was willing to put any amount of work into improving his slurred, weak speech, afraid of driving Mikenze away through disgust. He was desperate to reward his lover's efforts on his behalf by showing him progress, and every advance, however small, was carefully demonstrated to him on his daily visits. The healers had quickly insisted on reducing the number of those visits from three to one to give Juimei time to rest, and he felt this was also for Mikinze's benefit, since he detected some impatience with the business of illness and sick rooms. Hardly surprising, when Miki had hardly ever had a day's sickness in his life, and was still vigorously engaged in the real world, while Juimei lived a life of isolation and tedium, shut away in his apartments. He hadn't left them once since the accident – but he was determined to do so for the winter feast. He would stand at his lover's side and announce their betrothal in his own voice. It gave him something real to aim for.
Neime worked as hard as he did, and without complaint, at least on his own behalf, though he protested that Juimei was working too hard on those frequent occasions when Juimei fell asleep over his supper from pure exhaustion. "S'no diff'rent from trai'ing. Train-ing," Juimei said as Neime scolded him for overdoing it.
"People don't train with injuries like this, Jui. You've got to allow yourself energy to heal."
"No time." The feast was at that point, just a month and a half away. His speech was better – but he was no closer to walking unaided. He pushed his food away – his appetite had not really recovered since the accident, and he found eating a chore at the best of times. When he was tired, he honestly thought the effort of shoving the stuff into his mouth for the sake of the fuel, was more trouble than it was worth. "He'p me stan'."
"No, you're tired. Tomorrow."
"Now. P'ease."
Neime sighed. "All right – but not for long, and then a wash and bed."
He knew Neime thought this was pointless – standing without walking wasn't achieving much – but it made him feel normal, to see the world from his proper height, to look Neime in the eye and not upwards like a child.
He was heavy, so it was hard for Neime, but his page never complained about lifting him. They'd been doing this for a couple of weeks now, just him and Neime, since the healers were of the opinion it was too soon for him to attempt it. Juimei believed they were wrong, and was determined to prove it.
Neime pulled him up – Juimei gripped the bedpost tight. "Careful – don't let go of me yet." Neime waited until he was completely balanced. "All right – moving away now...."
There was always this moment of terror once Neime relaxed his grip, and then elation as he found he was still upright. It was probably pointless – his good leg was doing most of the work, and any fool could stand on one leg – but he was still upright, on his own. He grinned at Neime, who smiled tightly back, even though he still tried to look disapproving and was clearly worried. "Tom'ow, I dance."
"Huh, not yet, your highness. Now...." He turned at the sound of a knock on the door.
"Ge' it."
"Let me...."
Juimei shook his head. "Ge' it."
Neime pursed his lips in annoyance, but did as he was told. Juimei locked his knees and concentrated on not falling.
It was Miki, who did a beautiful double-take to see him standing. "Juimei!" Juimei grinned at his honest astonishment. "By Sephiz! You're cured?"
"No. But I'm be'er. Bet-ter."
"Can you walk? Show me!"
Desperate to please, he tried to take a step, and actually succeeded – but the second one sent him falling, saved only by Neime's strong arms and then Miki's. "Be careful, your highness," Neime scolded. "You're not there yet."
Mortified, Juimei had to let them help him into a chair. To his surprise, Miki gave Neime a cold look. "He won't learn to walk if you continue to hinder him, Neime. This was what I was coming to speak to you about. Is his highness aware that you're sabotaging his medical treatment behind his back?"
"Nei'e?" Juimei said, looking at them both in astonishment.
Neime seemed just as confused. "Your grace? What are you talking about?"
"You, boy. Healer Canzeigu complained to me about your attitude and what you said to him. You have no business contradicting a physician. You're only a servant, not a healer."
"I just asked him to take things a little easier, because his highness...."
"And what business is that of yours?" Mikinze thundered. "Are you qualified in any way to tell a healer what to do?"
"Your grace...."
"Mi'i." Juimei thumped the arm of his chair with his good hand. "Lea' hi' a'one. Alone."
"Why? When I've discovered the reason for your slow progress? I intend to ask his majesty to have this disloyal creature removed from your service. No wonder you're not advancing."
"I am!" Neime was backing away. "You're wron'. You ca't re'ove him."
"I can and I shall. As your fiancé, I have the right to insist on your proper care."
Juimei drew himself up. "No' my fi'nce yet, Mi'i. You go too fa'."
"Indeed? Perhaps it's as well our betrothal has not been formalised. I thought you were prepared to work at this, your highness. Do you think I can bring a cripple home to my father's estate? Do you think that you will make a suitable mate, when you can't conduct council business because of your speech impediment, and you can't even walk the corridors of your own palace? Are you asking me to tie myself to someone like that?"
"No," Juimei said coldly, holding himself as straight as he could. "I'm no'. Ask'g."
"Then I'm not accepting. Not until you can walk to that door, and speak my name correctly. If you prefer the company of your servants to that of your peers, your highness, then that's your choice. Good night."
"Wai'!" Juimei yelled, knowing if Miki walked out the door, he might never return. "P'ease. Mi'i. I'm so'y."
Neime moved away discreetly as Miki turned. "So am I." He came back and knelt before Juimei's chair. "I'm sorry, my love. I only want the best for you, and I get so impatient, so worried.... Forgive me."
Juimei stroked his cheek, making sure to use the hand that bore Miki's ring. "I wi' wa'k." Damn it, if this was earlier in the day, his voice would be so much stronger. "A mon'h. Gi' me a mon'h."
"As long as you need." He looked up. "You mean to attend the feast after all?"
"Yes. An' an'ouce our betro'l."
"So be it." He kissed Juimei's hand. "I'll try to contain my impatience."
"I lo' you."
Miki rested his head on Juimei's knee and Juimei patted his head, relieved beyond words that he had been able to rein in this quarrel before it became fatal. Miki had a temper – they both did. His heart had died a little to hear such harsh words from his lover's lips, and if it had been anyone else, he would have never forgiven them. But Miki was also right that Juimei wasn't exactly a prize right now. He had to work harder to be a suitable mate – it wasn't fair to tie Mikinze down to a cripple when that wasn't what he'd agreed to.
So the intense regime continued. The greatest improvement was in his speech – if he was well-rested, took his time and stayed calm, he could sound almost normal. He could stand and sit pretty well now without assistance, and had taken a couple of shuffling steps, but real walking seemed as far away as ever, which depressed him. He even thought he couldn't face going to the feast because he was unable to walk there, but his mother dismissed that concern. "Just go in a litter. Councillor Feinorei broke his leg – you won't be the only one who can't walk, dear. You're making too much of this, you know. It's not something you need to be ashamed of."
He supposed she was right – Keraminze, who had been brought back to advise on his treatment after Juimei had dismissed healer Canzeigu, had been very pleased with his progress, and cautiously optimistic on her prognosis, but she said he was still looking at a very long recovery, which would almost certainly not be as complete as he might want. "But you're doing very well, your highness," she said. "Truly, your determination and willpower have wrought a miracle."
Not enough of a miracle, he feared, but to Miki, he presented a cheerful face as much as he could. Neime was the only one who knew his frequent despair and frustration, and who bore the brunt of occasional tantrums. Neime was the only one he could trust not to reject him on account of them. He had never felt so vulnerable in all his life, and wondered if Sephiz had done this to him to teach a lesson in humility. He was certainly getting one.
Finally the deadline to which he'd been working so fiercely hard, arrived. He prepared himself with great attention to detail on the day of the feast – two hours of vocal exercises, a massage to help him relax, then a long nap, so that he would be at his best that evening. When he woke, he ate a light meal, and then Neime washed him carefully, shaving him and brushing his hair until it was sleek and glossy. He looked, he had to admit it, very fine in his new russet jacket, and the gold chain that had been a gift from Lekwinu on his birthday. Of course, Miki's ring was where it had been throughout, soon to be joined by a mate's band. He had been practicing his announcement for days, weeding out all the words over which he was most likely to stumble, and forcing his disobedient mouth and tongue to work to their limits in his quest to sound as he used to. Neime had assured him that he was succeeding. He could only pray to Sephiz that Miki would think the same.
At last, Neime was done. "Well?" he asked his page.
"You look very handsome, Jui. More handsome than you usually do."
He smiled, relieved. "Flat-terer."
"It's true. His grace should be here soon – shall I have the attendants bring the litter chair?"
"No." He still hated the idea of it, and wanted to put the moment off as long as possible. At least he should be able to stand long enough to get into the thing. Being carried like a child would be far too humiliating. "You get ready."
Neime's preparations were far less tiresome, but he was still straightening his shirtsleeves when there was a knock at the door, rather earlier that they were expecting. Juimei sat up, trying to look as normal as he could. It was no longer as much of an effort to control his mouth as it had been – he had been horribly afraid he would start to drool if he lost concentration, but he now had fair use of his facial muscles.
To his surprise, Neime led not Miki but his mother into the room. She was in new robes too, but then she had an entire household of people to make such things if she wished. She had very high standards.
"Juimei, dear – you look very fine."
"Thank you," he said accepting a kiss on the cheek. "Why are you here?"
Solemn-faced, she sat, then took his hand. "There's something I thought I ought to tell you about before the feast. I wasn't sure if you knew about this already, but your father had a meeting with count Mikinze this afternoon. He wanted an announcement made about a betrothal."
"He did?" Juimei grinned. Miki was trying to upstage him? The little bastard.
"Oh – so you know about it? I wasn't sure." She seemed relieved. "Your father said it took him quite by surprise."
"We were...going to tell you."
"You? Why would you tell us? Surely that would be the lady's chore – or her parents', I suppose."
"L...lady?" Neime came silently to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What lady?"
"Mikinze's betrothed. Count Asinke's sister – lady Wilonsui. I thought you knew about this." She frowned. "Jui – you said there was nothing between you and Mikinze...."
"There isn't," Juimei said coldly, his heart a stone in his chest. He struggled a little to remove Miki's ring from his weaker hand, then gave it to Neime. "Take that and drop it in the mi'en. Midden. Now."
"Yes, your highness."
Neime slipped away with hesitation, and Juimei heard the door close. That left him staring at the wall, not meeting his mother's puzzled look. "Mother, I...am unwell. I will...not...attend."
"Jui? Was there some understanding after all between you and the count? Your father could speak to him."
He raised his hand. "No. No un'erstanding. A mis-take. Mother, le-leave me a-lone. P'ease."
"Son, I'm sorry – by the benevolent god...."
"The be'volent god has d-deserted me. Lea' me. P'ease. Please." He turned anguished eyes upon her. "Please go."
"But Neime...?"
He stared at her silently until she shook her head and stood. "Son, I'm sorry. Don't let this wear you down." He didn't answer, so she kissed his cheek and caressed it. "I'll call in after the feast."
"Please do...not."
"As you wish. But I shall visit tomorrow."
He stayed stonily silent and she was forced to give up, finally leaving him alone. He felt so cold, a cold that had nothing to do with the weather. He didn't know where to start to think about Miki's actions, so he didn't. He thought of nothing at all until at last, Neime returned. His page lit some more candles, then came and knelt by his chair. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, laying his head on Juimei's knee.
"Me too. It's over. All over." Sephiz had already granted him the miracle of allowing him to live. He obviously didn't deserve better than that.
"All over," he whispered.
And so it surely was.
One good thing about having Prijian friends, Wepizi thought fondly, was that they were easy to spot. Although the fact that his Prijian friend was waving madly, as were the other Darshianese, from the deck of their ship, would probably have given a hint to a far duller mind than his. In minutes, the gangplanks were down and Karik and Romi were rushing onto the docks, Karik's golden hair a bright point of colour on an overcast day. Wepizi was familiar with their enthusiasm by now, and he grinned to see them. "Careful, my friends, you'll trip and break an ankle, and then you'll have to turn around and go back home."
"Not a chance," Romi said, bowing, and then abandoning formality for a hug. "How are you?"
"Very well – as you seem to be. Welcome back to Andon, Karik," he said, embracing his friend enthusiastically, and then nodding to the rest of his team. "By Sephiz, you all look fit and well. It does my heart good to see you."
"It'd do my heart a lot more good to have some drizu and something to eat, Wepizi," Karik said with a shiver – for all that spring had begun, Wepizi knew it would still feel very cold to the southerners. "Shall we?"
Wepizi just had to give orders to his people about the Darshianese stores and baggage, then his friends shouldered their packs for the walk back to the barracks. "So tell me all your news. Karik, how are your brothers, and your daughters?"
"All doing well, Wepizi – you really have to come to Darshek soon and meet them all."
Wepizi smiled. "I'd love to meet them, and I shall – but I have some news of my own to impart that might affect that plan." That got them both very curious, but he insisted on saying nothing more about it until they were at the barracks and settled in. Instead, he wanted to hear about Karik's family, and his and Romi's visit to Kuprij and southern Darshian – both had gone very well, and Romi introduced two members of their team who had been recruited from the south. They managed to get a solid liaison set up there, Romi said, while the mission this year would further strengthen the Andonese side of things.
Wepizi wished he was going with them, but he had received new orders. Over drizu and soup in his private quarters, he told them what he was doing. "The king and council want to strengthen the defence and army response in the eastern regions, so I've been ordered to take a team to Dizeindo in the Huoinevol district and set up new barracks there, enlarging the existing establishment, and creating a permanent outstation for the region. In a year or two, you can use it as a staging post – and for training too."
Karik frowned. "So you're leaving Tsikiugui permanently? And you won't be going on research missions? Wepizi, you're important for our plans."
"You flatter me, my friend, but this is important too – and aids your plans, albeit indirectly. As for 'permanently' – well, there's no such thing in the army, as Romi will tell you."
"It's all right, Karik," Romi said. "Wepizi's only been based in Tsikiugui for the last seven years. Officers of his rank move around a lot because the country needs their experience. You won't be sorry to leave here, I imagine?"
He shared a private, sad look with his friend. "Except that it means seeing you less often. But other than that, no, my friend, you're correct. I've been rather restless after our mission together, and I could do with this challenge. Huoinevol district covers some interesting territory, and the soldiers I've encountered from there, have struck me as being good people. So no long faces, Karik – I'll be here until your team leaves, and I'd be surprised if I didn't see you again within a year or two. The Tuqul range and Mount Karvelino would bear close examination, I feel."
Karik brightened and turned to his lover. "He's right, you know. It's not well-explored, and so far the mountainous plants have been by far the most fascinating. If we could set up a decent base there, we could really explore that area very carefully."
"So, you see, it's not bad news after all. Now, what news of my friends Jou and Netu? And Sibu? What of her?"
Romi's team was due to spend a week in Tsikiugui, training and preparing, before they were to head west for four months. Wepizi would leave a few days after they did – he had to wait for soldiers travelling from Visiqe who were moving east with him. The idea of exploring the Huoinevol region took a strong hold in Karik's mind and over the week they had together, in the evenings after they had all finished their separate tasks, he questioned Wepizi closely about what might be achieved, and what kind of establishment Wepizi was planning to set up. "A lot will depend on the governor, won't it," Romi said. "Is he interested in science and research?"
"My tezrei met Prince Juimei several years ago and says he's an intelligent, open-minded man. More than that, I don't know."
"A prince? Isn't that unusual?"
"Yes, though not unprecedented. He's the youngest son of the king. Count Fiezenai who was the governor before, had no natural successor lined up, and his majesty appointed Prince Juimei to take over the district from him when his grace wanted to retire. I've never met him, but I've no reason to think he would be incompetent. Just because he's royalty, doesn't mean he wouldn't be interested in your work, Karik. I'm sure you could convince him of the merits even if he wasn't."
"I don't know why I would have to convince anyone of the merits of finding new medicines, Wepizi," Karik said, somewhat tartly. Romi just grinned, and Wepizi hid his own smile behind his hand as he stroked his moustache. "Well, I expect you to put a good word in, and start a proper recording regime. Once you're set up, I'll get Kei to send you basic texts and papers, personnel even, if you need it. He said he would gladly do that anywhere in Andon."
Wepizi gave a little bow of thanks. "Then your uncle will have my gratitude, and I will indeed contact him. We are starting with a blank canvas there – we should be able to set up a base which suits your needs perfectly."
It was so good to have his friends with him again, though it was always slightly bittersweet to see Romi. Romi understood though, and his company was much more pleasure than pain. Karik, sensitive man that he was, made sure Wepizi had time to talk to Romi on his own, which was much appreciated. Lema would have been so happy to see their friend with a mate so well-suited to him. Ah, my love, how you would like Karik, he thought as he watched Karik and Romi having an animated discussion with their team and some of Wepizi's soldiers. There was always a lot of laughter at such times – the Darshianese had made such good friends in Andon. And were such good friends themselves.
Their time together went all too quickly. On their last evening, Wepizi felt sadness descend upon him, as it often did at night, so he excused himself and went out to the verandah to sit under the stars and think. He wasn't sorry to leave Tsikiugui but it had been a place of happiness as well as great sorrow. Lema wasn't buried here – he had taken her body back to her tribe who lived a hundred miles west along the coast – but it was still where she'd died, where they'd spent three happy years together in their new home after Wepizi had made lep. The thought that leaving here meant closing off that chapter, as well as making it harder to keep in touch with his friends, was making him melancholy, though he knew there would be compensations in his new post.
"Wepizi, even for you, surely it's too cold to be sitting outside at night."
He smiled up at Romi who was shaking his head at his stupidity. "Nonsense, my friend – it's good and bracing. Strengthens the lungs and the body."
"That's not what Karik says it does." He came and sat down beside him on the edge of the verandah. "Though it's a beautiful evening."
"It is. Perfect for your mission. At least we've got decent beasts for you this time. My tezrei has finally been forced to admit that importing the animals from Darshian was a good idea."
"You can tell him that we might be importing doigs in a few years – Karik's Pa is doing good things with that pair we brought back for him last year. At least they're not dead yet."
"They're Andonese, they adapt," Wepizi said with a slight smile. "Your life seems so content and full, Romi. I'd be jealous if I wasn't so pleased for you. You really enjoy being a father?"
"Honorary Pa, you mean. But yes." Romi's eyes crinkled as he grinned. "Karik's girls are great, and his brothers are such wonderful little boys. They've turned Karik's uncles' lives upside down and they don't mind a bit."
"Children can be a blessing, certainly. We never knew why Lema couldn't conceive, whether it was me or her. We always prayed Sephiz might relent and allow it, but in his wisdom, he did not."
Romi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but said nothing. Wepizi was rather ashamed of his self-pity, but at the same time, it was good to be able to say her name and talk about her to someone who had actually known her. It kept her memory green in his mind and in the minds of those who'd met her – that was all that was left to him now. He cleared his throat. "Once the new establishment is bedded in, I plan to apply for long service leave. I'm more than due it – and I can then come to Darshek. I want to see what you're doing there."
"You'd be more than welcome, Wepizi – you might just find no one'll let you leave." Wepizi smiled at the compliment. "But will they let a tezrei take long leave so soon after setting up a new barracks? You are getting a promotion, aren't you?"
"I have no secrets," Wepizi said mournfully. "Yes, the post comes with a promotion. Though I'll still be a lep in rank, and I will be doing much the same as I do now, only more of it."
"I bet," Romi said dryly. "Why didn't you say anything? We could have drunk to it, or something. Promotion to tezrei – that's a big thing."
"Well, yes, but it's only because the size of the post demands it. It's just an administrative matter."
Romi punched his shoulder gently. "False modesty doesn't suit you. Congratulations. You deserve it."
"Thank you, my friend. I expect to congratulate you before long too."
"Me? The next rank is colonel. Not much room in Darshek for another one. I was lucky to make captain when I did – and that was only an administrative matter too."
"Yes, of course. We're both unworthy," Wepizi said with a straight face.
Romi punched him again, then left his hand on his shoulder. "You must come to Darshek. By then Jou and Netu will be based with us, and they'll be wild to see you again."
"If Sephiz wills it, then they shall. I'm so glad I was here to see you this year, Romi. It does my heart good."
Romi stared out over the moonlit yard. "Maybe...getting away from here, meeting new people...might give you another chance for love, Wepizi. I know you say you aren't looking...but I wasn't looking and love fell into my lap anyway. It can happen."
"Certainly it can, and you've caught yourself a magnificent mate. But I had my own magnificent mate, and she died. It would be very hard to find her equal, and I won't sully her memory by having a lover for a lover's sake."
"No one would want that for you, Wepizi." He squeezed Wepizi's shoulder. "But after what happened to me, I'd say never say never again, because the gods love a good practical joke as much as anyone, or so Arman says."
"The Prijian gods need things to occupy their time since they don't care for their people as carefully as Sephiz does."
Romi arched an eyebrow at him and grinned. "Oh, I can't wait for you to meet some of our Prijian friends so you can go in for competitive theology with them."
"We would win," Wepizi said simply, but then grinned himself. Life was too short to get worked up about heathen gods. "Shall we go back in?"
"Are you feeling better?"
Ah, so Romi had noticed. "Yes. Always better for your company, my friend. Come on, a last mug of drizu and then we both need a good night's rest. We both have great things ahead of us."
Chapter 3
They reached Dizeindo little over a month later, with the spring well underway, and the sun now truly warm – warm enough even for those hot-blooded Darshianese, Wepizi thought, as he'd wondered how his friends were getting on.
For the last three days, the caravan of mounted soldiers and carts had travelled along well-worn roads through fertile, spring-green farmland. They'd had Dizeindo in their sights for a few miles, squatting low in the foothills of the Tuqul range and Mount Karvelino. Snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance, while the wide river snaked across the landscape between dense forests and wide plains. Dizeindo marked the end of its navigable length, at least for larger barges and sailing ships, and so it was an important trading post and dock. Tall sails of the many barges that plied the river had been visible all day as they'd got closer to the town.
He had sent advance riders ahead the day before to announce their arrival to the barracks, so he wasn't surprised to find his party met a mile or so outside the town by two jirens and a smartly turned-out squad. He was saluted, and returned it, confirming his identity. "Greetings, Tezrei," the senior of the two jirens said, after introducing himself. "Lep Tovoi sends his compliments, and asked us to show you the way."
"Thank you, Jiren. Has his highness been told of my arrival?"
"Yes, sir. Lep Tovoi will tell you more about the arrangements for you to meet him."
It might have been more polite to have gone straight to the governor's house and pay his respects, Wepizi thought, but he was new here and the local customs were as yet unknown to him. He decided to be guided by the lep's suggestion, giving the order for his people to fall in behind the welcome party.
The town's walls rose sharp and high against the backdrop of mountains and farmland - made of earth banks and local hardwood, dark, imposing, solidly protective in the eastern style. He noted approvingly that the walls were well-guarded, sentries walking along the ramparts, guard towers not just at the corners but at intervals between. The walls enclosed the homes and many of the businesses of the three thousand residents. Mills and engineering works on the river side were dockside, for easy access to the water - he could hear the creaking of the great wheels as they turned under the river's force. He couldn't see, but guessed that there was a heavier guard on that side - the river was a strength and a vulnerability, but without it, the town would not exist.
They entered through the southern gate, admitted under the watchful eye of the soldiers of his new command. The barracks were close by the gate, pressed hard against the walls, hemmed in close by civilian homes, businesses and warehouses. Immediately Wepizi saw why expanding would be such a problem. Quadrupling this establishment would simply not be possible within the current boundaries – nor within the current town walls. It was going to be a major engineering task to increase both walls and barracks – but he already knew that. He had been given a big job to do, and was eager to get on with it.
He'd brought three hundred soldiers with him, and their arrival, even with warning, was going to put the town barracks under strain. However, Lep Tovoi was all smiles as he came out to bow and greet them. "Welcome, Tezrei – welcome, everyone, to Dizeindo."
"Thank you, Lep. I take it you have everything in hand as to where we're putting everyone."
"Certainly." He whistled up his junior officers and got them sorting it all out. Wepizi was invited to come along to his new, if rather small and shabby, office – which he would have to share for a while with the lep. He didn't mind that. Tovoi seemed to be a pleasant man – only two years in post here and young to be a lep, though it was often the way in the distant postings that people advanced much more quickly. Wepizi was slightly concerned the man might resent him, since Tovoi had been considered for the promotion too – but as Tovoi had less experience, Wepizi had been appointed instead. He could detect no sign of hostility, thank the benevolent god. He was politely offered drizu and hard biscuits to tide him over until supper, and invited to take the lep's own desk for now. He was glad to sit – they had been riding for so long without a single day's break, and it was beginning to catch up with him at last. Tovoi sat down in front of the desk and folded his arms as he leaned back in his chair. "It's very good to have you here, Tezrei – everyone's excited about this expansion. It will make this town a major centre in the east."
Wepizi took a sip of the drizu, almost sighing with pleasure – trail tea got rather dull after a while, and this was excellent stuff. The main ingredients for drizu came from this region, after all. "So his majesty wishes it. I'd like you to arrange a meeting with the engineers and architects tomorrow, and any civic officials who need to be there. I should speak to his highness first – I presume he will want to be at this meeting too."
But the lep was shaking his head as he picked up his own mug. "I doubt it, sir. His highness has little interest in military affairs – little interest in anything, so I understand it. To be frank, sir – he's a bit of a bastard to work with. He's uncooperative, rude, and unfriendly." He grinned ruefully. "Dealing with him isn't my idea of fun."
"That's odd." Wepizi leaned forward, frowning as he recalled the conversation he'd had in Tsikiugui. "My old tezrei spoke most fulsomely of him, praised his manners and his understanding."
Tovoi shrugged. "Well, his understanding might be sharp enough, but he seems to have lost his manners somewhere along the way. When his majesty appointed a prince of the blood to the governorship, the town was honoured at the recognition, but now, I think you'll find most people wish Count Fiezenai was still with us. I know I do."
"He interferes?"
"No – just the opposite. He does the bare minimum, doesn't observe any of the ordinary courtesies. There hasn't been a governor's winter feast here in four years, and when he's prised out of his house, he won't talk to people, or offer any pleasantries. If he wasn't royalty, no one would invite him to anything, governor or not."
"So...it wasn't him suggesting the barracks expansion?"
The lep gave a short laugh. "No, sir. That was his majesty's idea, and Prince Furneim's. It would have happened sooner if his highness the governor had shown more enthusiasm. You won't get any help from him, sir."
"Hmmm, we'll see. The governor needs to be involved in this, Lep. It will need the entire town involved. Does he not even care about the new infirmary? The engineering workshops?"
"No, sir. At least, he's never said anything. We do wonder sometimes if his majesty just wanted to get rid of a troublesome son, sending him here. There seems no other reason for him to do so."
It was hard to conceal how much his lep's words had depressed him, and he was still puzzled as to why his tezrei had been so enthusiastic about Prince Juimei, when the reality was apparently so different. Still, a soldier did his duty regardless of circumstance, and if the governor was difficult, then he was just an obstacle to be either surmounted or avoided.
There were only two hours of daylight left but Wepizi was anxious to avoid appearing in any way discourteous to the governor – especially if his lep was right and the man was prickly and unpleasant – so he sent a message to the residence politely asking if he might attend and present his papers that afternoon. A brief reply told him to do so no later than the end of second quarter – that gave him time to wash quickly and change. Then he made a brief inspection of the barracks to meet his junior officers and introduce himself. He was shown where the tents were being set up on the training track and the courtyard, space which would have to be sacrificed for the duration until the new barracks were built, asked about the food and watering arrangements, and what medical facilities were available. Everything seemed to be well in hand, so he asked one of the jirens to arrange a small escort to ride with him the half mile to the governor's residence and offices.
Coming up towards evening, the low sun was striking the peaks of the Tuqul range, making them shine like flaming gold. The streets were still busy, both with people and with doigs, even the occasional urs beast, and carts, headed for the main market on the town square. Spring was a busy time, of course, and here more than most. Dizeindo was the hub of an important farming region, though farming was not its only activity. There were valuable mines in the hills, and timber too was harvested and shipped to the coast via the nearby Huoinevol river which gave its name to the region. A paper mill was beginning to ship products even to Darshian, and a good deal of light weight cloth was made here from the futik plant which had been introduced from Darshian and which grew very well in the east. Such cloth was in demand both in Andon and abroad, and was a major source of income for the Huoinevol region.
It was a huge territory, and even though it was sparsely populated, as was all of Andon, still eight thousand people were under the authority of the governor of Dizeindo – though he was never likely to see more than half that number in person. There were nine hundred soldiers already established throughout the district, two hundred here in the town and around it. Wepizi's brief was to increase that to eight hundred eventually, the same size as the Tsikiugui barracks, and with the total complement in the region to be raised to close to two thousand. His majesty was hoping to double the population of the region, extending the Andonese settlements eastwards for defence reasons, and for practical ones – but there had to be better infrastructure and military protection first, before more settlers would be attracted to the area.
Wepizi had already recognised on the journey that this was a region with great potential, though it had been sadly neglected for many years after the defeat of the warlords. It wasn't the most easterly province, nor the wealthiest, so it had been considered less important militarily. But it could be much more than it was, as his majesty had clearly decided. Strange that his son did not support his father's ambitions out of simple filial duty.
The town square was surprisingly grand, and wastefully large, considering how tightly some parts of the town were packed. It was cobbled stone, and except for the large, busy market which spread out from the western corner, bordered by solid respectable buildings and houses. Some had shops at ground level, and others had a duel purpose, the look about them as if business was transacted there, as well as providing homes for their wealthy owners. The mayor’s residence and town hall was the most imposing building, by far the tallest and most splendid in scope. A steady stream of people passed in and out its heavy brass-embellished doors. Next to it, stood another large, though more utilitarian building – the infirmary, so a carving in stone over its entrance announced – and next to that, the school. All these buildings, built of stone and in some cases brick, were largely the exception from what Wepizi had seen. The region was prone to earth tremors, and the local building material of choice, as least for the common folk, was wood – cheap, quick to work with, and in plentiful supply. Stone of course was also plentiful, but stone masons were not, while any fool could swing a hammer if need be.
The low building style was, to Wepizi's eyes, rather dull, even more so than Tsikiugui's which was hardly outstandingly lovely. But it was tidy, the streets well-swept, the people clean and confident, an air of quiet prosperity about them which made the ordinary architecture look dignified and comforting. This place felt much more self-contained than Tsikiugui, but a port city with its mixed population was always going to seem more unstable than this, where the residents lived in the one place all their lives, doing the same jobs their parents had, and living in the same houses. Placid – that was the word for it.
The governor's house, located in what seemed to be the more prosperous northern end of the town on the far side of the square, was a large, elegant building, far more beautiful than many of the surrounding houses, and like the mayoral residence, was constructed mainly of white-painted stone. It stood out quite markedly, and not just for the generous gardens in a town where space was tight. Wepizi would have known a ruler lived there, even without the high fence and the soldiers on guard who saluted smartly as he introduced himself. All was as he would have expected at a governor's residence thus far.
But still...already there was something...an air of...not quite neglect, but a lack of interest certainly, in the gardens, as if only the bare minimum was done to keep them tidy. The governor's house in Tsikiugui, though a much less attractive building than this, still had pleasant gardens and sculptures around it, and was constantly being improved by the governor and her husband. Here there were few flower beds and no sculptures at all, mostly just grass and unimaginatively cut shrubs, as if the owner only cared that they were tidy, not beautiful. Not the gardens of someone who enjoyed them, he felt. A shame – in the spring, most houses in Andon were bright with colour, even those with the tiniest of gardens, and as he had ridden through the town, he had seen that provincial Dizeindo was just the same. But this, the largest and most important building in the town, was dull and uninspiring. Not a good sign.
The house proved to be as elegant on the inside as out. Someone in the past had decorated it with taste and an appreciation of how ornamentation could lift the spirit when the residents were trapped inside a home during long dull winter months, using pale colours and scenes of nature to give an illusion of space and light. Wepizi found the effect very pleasing, and a welcome surprise after the gardens. There were quite a number of staff present, and like the soldiers outside, they seemed to be efficient and hard-working. If there was a lack of interest in government from the top, it didn't seem to have infected the lower ranks, which was fortunate.
He was greeted courteously by a senior servant, and conducted without delay to the governor's office which lay at the rear of the building. A young man opened the door and regarded him coolly as he ushered him in. Then he turned to bow towards the person behind the desk. "Tezrei, your highness. Lep Wepizi, his highness, Prince Juimei of Godiw. "
"Thank you, Neime."
The voice was a little odd, Wepizi thought – slightly slurred sounding. He bowed deeply, then straightened. "May I present my credentials, your highness?"
He found he was looking at a thin-faced young man, who was staring back at him with an absolutely unreadable expression. That expression didn't change as he gestured to his assistant, who came over and put his hand out for Wepizi's documents. No one asked him to sit, which he found strange, but he handed his papers over and the assistant took them to the prince. Wepizi had to stand while the governor carefully read his documents – it was like being a junior officer all over again, in his lep's office at a new posting.
He stood to attention while he waited, but used the time to examine the two men before him. The assistant was perhaps only twenty or so – the prince he knew to be nearly thirty, though he didn't look it. Both were dressed rather soberly, servant mirroring his master in plain, dark clothes which would have suited any of the clerks just as well. The prince's dark hair was cut severely short, shorter than even the army required, giving him a rather ascetic appearance, emphasised by the fact that neither man wore any ornament. If Wepizi had passed them in the street, he'd have noted nothing particular about either of them. The prince sat at a tidy desk, with only a single book upon it, open with a bookmark at the page. The normal detritus of a desk was quite absent, as if it was little used – certainly, the desk of the Tsikiugui governor was much more untidy, though it didn't necessarily mean that the occupant did more or less work than someone whose desk was clear. The entire office was similarly orderly, neatly decorated in the same style as the rest of the building – indeed, there was little to distinguish it from the other rooms he'd passed though, as if the occupant had not stamped his personality on it at all. Yet the prince had been here four years. It was most odd.
At last the man finished, handed the papers back to his assistant, who gave them back to Wepizi and then moved away again. "They're in order. Arrangements at the barracks are in place, I assume."
"Yes, your highness – most efficiently. I am to have a meeting tomorrow with the engineers and other officers to plan how we shall begin. If you're free, it would be most helpful to have your views at this stage."
"I shall not be involved in this, Tezrei. It's a military affair. I expect it to be done with as little interference with the safety and operation of the town as possible – other than that, you have a free hand."
The prince didn't even look at him as he said all that, as if Wepizi himself was of no importance. He was beginning to see Lep Tovoi hadn't exaggerated his description in the slightest. "With the greatest respect, your highness, this expansion will have a considerable impact and importance on the civilian population. Decisions will need to be taken and authorised by you, if his majesty's wishes are to be carried out."
The prince lifted his head and gave Wepizi a frigid look. "Are you presuming to tell me how best to serve my own father, Tezrei?"
"Of course not...."
"You better not be. I told you, you have a free hand so long as you stick to your brief, which has been very clearly laid out by his majesty."
"Yes, your highness. However, there is one addition to my brief for which I would like to seek your approval – for several years I have been...."
"Is that moustache regulation?"
"I beg...your highness?" Wepizi blinked, his thoughts completely knocked off course by this interjection.
"That thing on your face – surely it's not regulation."
"Yes, your highness, it's within...."
"I wish it removed. I won't have officers in this town sporting such ridiculous adornments. You will remove it forthwith."
Wepizi stiffened to attention. "Your highness, I regret I must decline."
"That was a direct order!"
"Yes, your highness. One which I regret I must decline."
"You will be reported to the king and council for your insolence!"
"As you see fit, your highness." Wepizi was pretty sure that not even this sour-tempered man would go so far, and if he did, his request would be treated with derision. His majesty had better things to do than worry about the facial hair – entirely within regulations – of an officer in one of the most distant districts. "I did want to...."
"Get out. Just get out. Neime, show him the door."
Wepizi hardly had time to realise that the interview was over before he was hustled out by the assistant and left in the corridor like a misbehaving child. "What in the name of the benevolent god...?" He scratched his head – Lep Tovoi never said anything about the governor actually being mentally unstable. What was this strange antagonism towards his poor moustache? He stroked it protectively. He would do a great many things for his country and give his life gladly to serve its people – but until someone could convince him that shaving the moustache that Lema had liked so much would actually save a life, he would continue to politely refuse such an eccentric order.
He shook his head and began to walk down the corridor, but turned as he heard his name spoken quietly and quickly rushing footsteps. It was the assistant, Neime. He waited politely for the young man to catch up with him. "Wait, Tezrei. Please – his highness regrets...his lack of calmness."
Wepizi bowed. "If I've given offence, sir, then I too offer my regret. I had more things I wished to ask his highness about – should I return?"
"Not today – he's...unwell. It's put him out of sorts. Please – send your reports to me, and I'll make sure he reads them."
"I don't wish to cause further offence, sir, but this project needs more attention than that, if it is to succeed."
"You'll have to find another way around it, Tezrei."
"I don't understand – does he not care at all about what his majesty wants?"
The man stiffened. "Please do not make assumptions about his highness' thoughts or his attitudes, Tezrei. He regrets his behaviour. Don't presume to imagine that gives you any right to criticise him."
"I don't, and I apologise. Please tell him I hope he feels better soon, and I'll send a report on my meeting tomorrow."
"Thank you."
Wepizi was clearly once again expected to leave, and he did so with a sense of relief, though he was hardly encouraged by such a start to his new posting. Ah well. He really would just have to find another way to do this, however oddly that sat with him.
Juimei was staring sightlessly out at the darkening sky as Neime came back in. He didn't turn around – he didn't want to see his page's disapproving expression, for all he deserved it. "Why do you care? He's only a bloody soldier."
"Because I didn't want him to have a bad impression of you, and because he's someone you will need to work with, Jui. You really can't just leave this project to him." He heard steps as Neime came closer. "How's your headache?"
"Crippling."
"Then let me massage your neck."
"Why bother? It'll only come back."
He heard Neime sigh. "Jui – please. I hate it when you're like this."
Juimei hated himself when he was like this too. It was just that his head hurt so badly at times, and that man – and that ridiculous moustache.... He turned around. "Really should report him for his insolence."
"Yes, of course," Neime said dryly. "'Dear Majesty. I have taken offence at a moustache worn by a perfectly harmless officer with impeccable credentials because he reminds me of my former lover. Please have him hanged. Your dutiful son.' Would you like a clerk to write that out for your signature, your highness?"
Juimei leaned heavily on his cane and scowled at his friend. "I should report you for your insolence, Neime."
"Go ahead, your highness. Then you really won't have a friend in the entire Huoinevol region. Don't you get sick of living like this?"
"Yes."
"Then...."
"Shut up. This is the path I choose. Accept it or leave. I have no need of friends – I can hire servants."
"Oh, Jui," Neime said, shaking his head, and putting his hand out. "Come sit – a neck rub will help. So would not getting so upset."
"Command the sun not to rise with greater purpose." He limped over to his desk and sat down. Neime came around behind him, and then clever, careful fingers were at his neck. Juimei bowed his head so his page could work his magic. "The army doesn't need me to supervise this. That's why we appointed a tezrei in the first place – for him to take over. If he needs a civilian liaison, let that be you."
"Yes, because I simply have so little to do all day at the moment. Jui – this is your job. You don't have to be friends with these people – but they need your authority. Even with that moustache, Lep Wepizi isn't...."
Juimei slammed his fist down on his desk. "Do not say that name."
"I wasn't going to. Will you please calm down? Your neck's like an iron band."
He tried to obey, but the odd disturbance in his spirit that he had received from the sight of the new officer, refused to go away. "I'll have him replaced."
"Because of a moustache? Jui, you'll look like a fool."
"More of a fool, you mean. I already lisp and limp, why not be irrational as well?"
"You're certainly doing a good job at that. And you do not lisp. It's not even noticeable, unless you're tired or upset. You know the answer to that, don't you?"
"Sleep more and stay calm. So easy for you to say. You sleep like a child."
"You sleep like a man possessed. I wish I could make the nightmares go away," he said quietly.
Juimei said nothing. Easier for Neime to think he was tormented by evil dreams, than the truth – that in fact the dreams tormented him with images of happiness, where he was strong and fit and in complete control of his body, where Mikinze was his lover and his life mate, never to be parted. More than once, waking from such a thing, and finding the reality once more, he'd been tempted to take his own life. Neime would never know how close it had come – or that he was very often the only thing that kept Juimei from picking up a knife and putting an end to his miserable existence. He prayed, though it was blasphemous, for an illness to carry him off in such a way that Neime would not feel any guilt. But in reproach, Sephiz had granted him good health, if not well-being – he might be crippled, he might be plagued by his headaches and his dreams and his depression, but he never even got a cold. But why would Sephiz reward his blasphemy? He had to admit his approach might be flawed.
"You should go to this meeting, Jui. Your father would expect you to."
"My father doesn't give a damn, Neime. As long as there is peace and taxation collected, Huoinevol district is of no importance to him."
"Then why this....?"
"Furneim. Blasted Furneim, interfering. Huoinevol needs new infrastructure, but doubling the population? It's just empire-making."
"Jui, your brother is a good ruler in the making. He's looking to the future of Andon, as is only proper."
"A future in which I have no place. Leave it, Neime, or we'll be at odds. I can't afford that."
Neime paused in his massage, then resumed. If his page had not proved his worth a thousand times, a thousand times a thousand, Juimei might be worried by the level of trust he placed in a servant. His life was literally in Neime's hands – the lad knew his secrets, most of them, knew his thoughts on just about everything. The only thing between me and stark staring madness, Juimei thought, and wondered whether he should be grateful for that or not.
Normally, Wepizi ate alone in the evenings, though he often joined the lower ranks after supper for drizu and conversation. But tonight he wanted more information, the sort that would only come from senior officers. To that end he organised dinner in his quarters – actually the guest officers' quarters, since rooms suiting a tezrei's dignity had not yet been constructed – and invited the two leps he had brought with him to supplement Lep Tovoi's authority, as well as Tovoi himself. Over the meal he received reports on how his people had been fitted into the compound, and received suggestions for how things should be managed in future, but what he really wanted to know about was the governor.
He told them how the meeting with Prince Juimei had gone – Tovoi wasn't the least surprised. "He threw a glass at the mayor once. That caused a stink and a half, I can tell you. That man of his, Neime, had to come and grovel to stop the mayor having the prince arrested for assault."
"He does seem to be the peacemaker. Does his highness have any friends at all in Dizeindo? My tezrei in Tsikiugui said the prince was very popular in Visiqe."
"Not here," Tovoi said flatly. "He never asks people to dinner, and never accepts social invitations. He hardly even leaves the residence. Doesn't ride of course – not with that leg of his."
"Leg?"
"He's crippled – paralysed or something like it. Has a weak leg and arm. A riding accident – well, a doig-ito accident. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it, sir. It was about four, four and a half years ago."
Around about when Lema died. "I was...otherwise occupied at that time, Tovoi. I didn't notice anything of that kind today – but he didn't stand up, so perhaps I wouldn't."
"He usually doesn't, if he can help it. He speaks a bit strangely – that's part of it too, I believe. The medics can explain it better than me. I'd feel sorry for him if he wasn't so evil-tempered."
"Ah, but it sounds like the secret of his evil temper must lie partly in this injury," Wepizi said. "A terrible misfortune in anyone, let alone a fit young man."
"Perhaps, sir, but Sephiz gives us the choice of how we deal with such things. I can't pity someone who chooses so unwisely."
"Pity won't help, Tovoi. Understanding might – and if we're selfish, we should try to do so if only to profit our endeavours. But now, let's discuss how we'll proceed tomorrow."
So our prince is grieving too, Wepizi thought as he prepared for bed. Only he had lost not a wife, but his health. Four years was a long time to be sure, but Wepizi had not forgotten his sorrow in all that time, and he didn't have to live with a daily reminder of it in the form of a damaged body. Now he knew the facts, the answer to the dilemma was simple – but far from easy. Their governor had to learn to stop grieving. Perhaps when I discover that trick, I can pass the secret on, he thought wryly. But somehow he had to engage this man's interest in the expansion plans. It would be good for his highness, and essential for the success of the project.
What an interesting challenge this assignment was turning out to be – and in most unexpected ways.
The megrims of their resident prince had to be set aside for the moment, as it was imperative to make a start on the new barracks. His first duty was to inspect the land which had been cleared and prepared in advance, ready for Wepizi's newly arrived engineers, carpenters and skilled labourers to begin construction. The plan was to create the new barracks and quarters for the married personnel outside the town walls, while simultaneously enlarging those walls to enclose the planned area of the new outpost. This would increase the length of the wall by almost a third, a task more daunting than building the barracks themselves. Once the extended walls were complete, part of the old wall would be destroyed, so that the barracks would be once more on the inside of the town boundaries. This was as much as was likely to be achieved before winter, when the frozen ground and the weather would put a halt to all building. But it was essential that not only did the newly arrived soldiers have proper shelter for the winter, but that the new infirmary was completed by then. It was intended to serve both the army and the civilian population, and was much needed as the town's present establishment was old and too small for the needs of the existing population, let alone an enlarged one. Indeed, plans to expand the barracks had grown on the back of plans to expand the infirmary, so civilian and military aims were closely tied together on this project.
The engineers began work immediately, since the siting of the soldiers' quarters and its design had been agreed some time ago. Other matters required agreement and discussion, and that was what Wepizi wanted settled at his first meeting with the mayor, the head of the present infirmary, the town elders, and their chief architect. His arrival was cause for satisfaction, as was made clear as they sat down in the main meeting room at the barracks and he was introduced to the civilians. "No disrespect to his majesty or the council, Tezrei, but we've been waiting a long time for this," the mayor said, as his colleagues nodded. "The neglect of our public facilities has been a scandal under this administration."
"Well, we've begun now," Wepizi said peaceably. "Let me hear your ideas."
It became clear they had only been waiting to be heard, and if he'd thought Karik had big plans, it was nothing as to what the civic leaders had. They wanted an infirmary twice the size of the present building, a third again bigger than that already agreed to, and a school to train engineers and chemists attached to it, providing skills to both army and civilians. They wanted better communications, improved roads in the mountains between the forests, mines and the plains, a new bridge lower down the Huoinevol, and locks to make the upper reaches more navigable as they were below Dizeindo. Wepizi listened to the admirable but ambitious plans with apparently polite interest, but inside, his heart was sinking – there was no way even the greatly enlarged establishment already agreed could come close to doing all this, at least, not quickly. And yet all they were saying was perfectly reasonable, and probably necessary if his majesty's plans for the region were to be realised. "My friends," he said finally once the outpouring of suggestions had died down a little, and more drizu was brought to give everyone a break. "You must know that most of this is well beyond my ability to agree to. Have you put any of this to his highness?"
He could already guess the answer, and right on cue, expressions darkened. "Letter after letter has been sent, and all that we get is a 'the matter will be looked into'," the mayor said. "Tezrei, you must impress upon him that now is the chance to put the infrastructure in place. The mines could be expanded, there is farming land yet unexploited, but we need the roads and the bridge and the river improvements. His majesty knows our best engineers work in the army – we can't do this without your help."
Wepizi bowed a little. "Then I shall put it to his highness as best I can. Healer Queon, let's go over this infirmary in more detail as that's the most urgent matter."
The meeting lasted three hours, and he had a headache by the time he was done and had bid the officials farewell. Lep Tovoi had joined them for the last hour, and Wepizi suggested they ate lunch together in his quarters. "I take it you heard the full list of complaints," Tovoi said dryly as they collected the container of stew and bread to take back to Wepizi's rooms. "Though I don't feel charitably inclined towards our governor, I feel our civilians expect the army and his majesty to do what they could themselves be working on. The infirmary is something they could have started."
"But they said we have all their engineers."
"We do, but they didn't need one to extend the existing infirmary. The previous governor even offered them a building to convert, but they wanted a new one, and they wanted the army to build it. The elders said it wasn't up to them to fund it from a civic collection since the army used it too, but there wasn't the funds then to build another."
Wepizi stroked his moustache. "There aren't funds now for these schemes. But maybe some could be done within the existing budget. I need to speak to his highness."
Tovoi lifted an eyebrow. "Good luck with that, sir. Apart from all his other charming characteristics, he seems to be tight-fisted. The school hasn't had any examination prizes donated in his entire time here. It doesn't seem to occur to him that these things matter."
That gave Wepizi almost more concern than his strange encounter the previous day. If the governor and his district lost all connection with each other, how long would it be before the authority of the crown, in whose name the governor ruled, was questioned? Since the overthrow of the warlords, his majesty and council ruled by consent, the army policed by consent. That consent could and had been withdrawn from rulers in the past. The people here seemed too peaceful to revolt, but discontent, unnecessary discontent, was not something Wepizi liked to see encouraged. Andon had only to look to Kuprij to see what could happen if it was left unchecked.
After lunch, he made his notes and drew up a summary of what he'd learned that morning and the ideas concerning the infirmary, and then decided he would walk up to the governor's residence on his own to get a feel for the town and the people. The impression of prosperity he'd got the previous day was confirmed as he walked amongst well-fed, neatly-dressed people. The river was the key to this, he knew – it was ice-free for all but two months a year, and gave this otherwise isolated region a relatively fast and reliable connection to the sea and to external trade. The elders were right – improving the shipping access at the docks would be essential if the population expanded. But he only had five hundred soldiers right here, and they had to police this region as well as work on major engineering projects. The people of Dizeindo could do with some of the famously independent spirit of the northern tribes – especially with the governor they had.
But there was a paradox too – if the prince was incompetent or lazy, Wepizi would expect things to look more run down than they did, for there to be more discontent than there was. Somehow, he was managing to govern without doing so overtly. Or perhaps the previous governor's staff were managing to carry on despite official indifference – Wepizi had known that to happen in the army. A puzzle to work through, he thought as the soldiers at the residence bowed and allowed him through.
He wasn't surprised when his request to present his report to the governor resulted in the man's assistant coming to the reception to take his documents. He had his reply ready. "I'm sorry, sir – but this must be dealt with by his highness himself."
Neime narrowed his eyes at him, then beckoned him away from the front area. "I told you," he said in a low voice. "This isn't possible."
"I regret that it must be, sir," he said with a pleasant smile – this man was only doing his duty and protecting his master. "There are matters which require his highness' attention, and his decisions."
"I'll discuss your report with him and present you with his answers. Why is that a problem, Tezrei?"
"Sir – if you came to the barracks to speak to me, would you consider it adequate if one of my grois insisted on being a go between? If your tribe sent a vote for a council decision, would it be acceptable to have another decision substituted?"
The young man drew himself up, but there was a weary sadness behind his hauteur. "You're being ridiculous – that's not what I'm doing here. What are you implying, Tezrei?"
"Nothing, sir – I do not question your honour in the least. Nevertheless – this is a matter for his highness. Not his highness' assistant."
"Why are you pushing this, Tezrei? No one else has a problem with our methods."
"Are you sure about that?" he answered quietly, fixing Neime with a firm look. "You wish to spare your master trouble and hurt – it's most admirable. But...in shielding him, do you prevent him from healing?"
Neime exhaled sharply. "You're most impertinent, Tezrei."
Wepizi bowed. "I'm sorry if I appear that way. Sir – perhaps you should...allow me to just do my job. If his highness objects, let him do that to my face. I can handle his anger."
"So you think," Neime muttered. "Tezrei, he finds...people...a troubling burden. For excellent reasons. Particularly strangers."
"Then allow me to cease to be one," he said, still smiling. "You'll find me immovable on this point, sir. I, like all soldiers, have my orders. Mine are to liaise directly with his highness in the policing and defence of this region. They don't say liaise with his assistant."
Neime seemed about to snap something back, but then he gave Wepizi a curt nod. "As you wish, Tezrei." He began to walk towards the governor's office, but as Wepizi followed, he suddenly turned, his expression fierce. "You will not distress or insult him."
As if this child had any authority to tell him to do anything – but Wepizi allowed him the moral right anyway. "I try not to distress or insult anyone, sir. It's not in my nature. We're conduits of Sephiz' love, and any of his creatures in pain deserve more, not less care."
Neime stared at him, as if trying to determine his honesty. Finally he nodded. "Come with me."
He was asked to wait while Neime spoke to his master – he imagined the conversation would not be an easy one, but the prince's assistant struck him as a determined young man. A minute or so later, the door opened, and he was ushered in by a stony-faced Neime. The prince was on his feet, and now Wepizi saw he had to use a cane to stand. His eyes flashed with aristocratic anger, and his voice, slurred or not, dripped with hauteur. "Tezrei? Are you in the habit of demanding to see senior government officials without an appointment?"
Refraining from mentioning that he also was a senior government official, he bowed formally. "Your highness, I believe I said I would present the report of the meeting today. It seemed most efficient to simply bring it along."
"And you have so few duties that you couldn't ask one of your soldiers to do that for you."
"Your highness, in matters of such gravity, it is only appropriate that they are handled directly."
The prince scowled at him, as Neime approached and said, "Tezrei, would you care to sit?"
That transferred the evil look from Wepizi to the prince's assistant, but Neime's blank expression didn't change. Wepizi accepted the invitation and sat in a heavy wooden chair in front of the prince's desk, which wasn't as clear as it had been the previous day. It seemed the man did do paperwork.
"Well? Where is this famous report then?"
Wepizi handed it over, and the prince opened it immediately and began to read. There was no enquiry as to whether it was convenient for Wepizi to wait, but he didn't really expect there to be. He waited politely, and used the time to observe the prince in action, trying not to be distracted by Neime's obvious anxiety.
The prince read quickly, but with great attention, occasionally rubbing his temple as if he had a headache. He made a note or two in the margins, and startled Neime by suddenly snapping out an order for a book from the other side of the room, which he then referred to several times as he continued to read the report. Finally he pushed it away from him with a sour look. "Don't want much, do they. Of course this is all impossible."
"Your highness, I believe the cost of the infirmary additions could be recouped by economies in other directions. I've made a note here."
"Pass it over – do I have to drag everything from you?"
Wepizi obeyed, ignoring Neime's annoyed look. The prince took the note, scanned it, then thrust it away irritably. "Oh, this is ridiculous – you want his majesty to spend more money, just to promote a bunch of Darshianese plant collectors? You're as greedy as the elders, Tezrei."
"No, wait, your highness – let me explain."
The prince listened with a sceptical expression, and when Wepizi was done, he dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. "Impossible. If the Darshianese want to spend their money, there's a building they can outfit. That's as much as I can offer them. But I'm not turning over part of the new barracks to their use."
"Not their use, your highness."
"I said no, Tezrei. I've heard all this before, and I've passed on the plans to his majesty. The king and council have yet to decide."
"Have you pursued it, your highness?"
"Are you telling me how to do my job, Tezrei?"
"No, your highness. I just...got the impression that the elders felt their views had been...neglected."
The prince curled his lip. "And you have appointed yourself their champion. Not even here twenty-four hours, and you understand the interactions and politicking of this town so well. My compliments, sir – you're clearly a genius."
Wepizi bowed. "My apologies, your highness. I take the responsibility for such rashness."
"Not a good beginning, Tezrei. I don't really care if you disapprove of my methods, but you will not interfere with my position – do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, your highness. But – your highness, might I persuade you to come and inspect the construction site and meet our engineers? It would make the reports much more comprehensible."
"I don't believe that will be necessary," the prince said, his eyes cold.
Wepizi found the man was staring at his moustache. He stroked it a little and gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry this offends you, your highness. You see – my late wife was very fond of it, so I keep it as much to honour her memory as anything else."
The prince sat back and sneered. "Your domestic misfortunes do not concern me, Tezrei. Are we finished?"
Wepizi blinked – if the man had reached across his desk and slapped him, he couldn't have been more horrified. "Yes," he said stiffly. He got up and stalked out of the room, not caring if he was thought rude, not caring what this man thought about the smallest thing. Benevolent god, forgive me, but if I don't get out of this place now, I may sin most grievously against your laws.
He was pretty sure that punching a prince of the blood on his arrogant nose was not going to advance his career. But he was equally sure that if he ever met this creature again, even with his own distaste for vengeance and violence, he would be very, very tempted to toss his career aside just for the pure satisfaction of landing that hit.
Oh, my dear love, how joyless is a life that can dismiss love and grief so easily. I know I'm luckier than he is, for I have known you and loved you, and been loved in turn. No one could love a man like that. I pity anyone who would even try.
Juimei shoved the pestiferous reports from that obnoxious tezrei into a drawer – did he honestly think the kingdom had so much spare revenue that it could turn this province into a kingdom in its own right? "I told you it was a waste of time seeing him," he said to Neime, who was behind him, near the window.
There was no reply. He turned, annoyed that Neime was on his bad side so it was awkward to twist – and found his page was staring at him, lips pressed grimly together, high spots of colour in his cheeks. "Something amiss, Neime?"
"I was just wondering how I could have been so mistaken about you, your highness," he said, his voice trembling. "To think for four years, I've been feeling sorry for you over your treatment by Count Mikinze, only to find you're just as cruel and vicious as he was."
Juimei felt as if he'd been struck in the face. "You dare to say such a thing to me?"
"Yes I do. I've worked for you for seven years, Juimei. I've served you, I've cared for you, comforted you, covered for you, protected you, even lied for you. I've done this because you're my master and I love you. But I swear upon the benevolent god himself – if you ever say something like that to another person in or out of my hearing, I'll walk out and never return to you, oath or no oath."
Neime's hands were clenched into fists – he was shaking, he was so angry. Juimei couldn't understand why he was so upset. "But he's...."
"Another human being, same as me or you. I don't care what offence you've taken at him, or what reason you had – you went too far, your highness. That was a loathsome thing to say," he spat. "Are you going to pretend your misfortune in love is the greatest tragedy that any man has ever suffered, and the sorrows of everyone else are mere trifles? Your lover rejected you – his wife died."
"I just...."
Neime stalked towards his desk, and even with all their history, Juimei actually wondered if his page was going to hit him. But all Neime did was rest his hands on the desk and lean over. "You. Go. Too. Far. I realise I've made a mistake."
"In serving me?"
"In protecting you. I thought I was giving you time to heal. But all I've actually done is to keep your injury fresh, allowed you to pick at it and worry at it, so it will never heal. No more, your highness. I won't protect you any more. You fight your own battles, you make your own negotiations, and you will apologise to that man."
"Who do you think you are, speaking to a prince of the blood in this manner, Neime? You forget your position entirely!"
Neime bowed in the most formal manner, his lips still pursed in anger. "I am his majesty's loyal and obedient servant, your highness – and yours. But I fear that to do my duty towards you, and serve you best, I must cease to serve you at all. It's only allowing your illness of spirit to fester and to rot, and I'm ashamed of the man you've become."
"Neime...not you too...please...you swore an oath."
Neime stared at him with eyes that brimmed with tears. "I swore an oath, and I've renewed it daily, Jui. I swore to serve you, and I also swore to make you happy. I've failed, so I should go."
"You can't – I need you...Neime, you can't! Please," he whispered. "I can't...go on without your help. Do you want me to beg?"
Neime shook his head. "No. But I can't bear to see you become a heartless, cruel, selfish bastard either. I've made excuse after excuse for you – but I can't do that anymore. You have to find your own path to redemption now. You're beyond my ability to help anymore."
Neime turned, and, panicked, Juimei struggled to his feet. "No! Neime, please – don't...don't do this to me...please, I'll do whatever you want me to do, just don't go...." He grabbed his cane and limped around the desk. His stupid foot caught on the carpet and he stumbled – instantly Neime was there to catch him, put him upright, as he had done for nearly five years with utter, perfect loyalty. Juimei clutched his shirt in his hands and stared into his friend's eyes, begging him not to go. "I'll do whatever it takes," he whispered. "Just don't abandon me. I'll try, I'll truly try."
Neime put his hands around Juimei's. "Jui...it's not that you don't try, it's that your efforts are going in the wrong direction. I hoped and prayed that you'd come out of this on your own...but I don't think you know how to anymore. But I don't know what to do either, except this." He squeezed Jui's hands gently. "This time, you have to find different answers."
"I could apologise...."
"Yes, you could."
"Will you fetch him back then?"
"No, I won't. You offended, you do the running. You don't need two good legs for this."
Juimei smiled a little, but his heart was still stuttering with fear. "You won't leave?"
"If you fix this, no. I can't stay if you won't, Jui. To facilitate those who would do harm is a sin as great as doing the harm yourself."
"I still need your help, Neime. I'll always need your help."
But that seemed to upset Neime again. "My prince – if that's true, then I really have failed. All I've wanted for you since you were hurt was for you to stand on your own two feet again, and be the man you were – happy, brave, independent. If all I've done is make you into someone who can't survive on his own, then I've done you more harm than good."
He felt suddenly cold, chilled to his very core, like it was winter in this room and in his heart. "I'm the failure then."
Neime shook his head, his expression kind. "No. You've stumbled. I caught you. Try again. That's how you taught yourself to walk – now teach yourself how to live again too. But live as a man, not an animal. Don't be like him, Jui."
He closed his eyes, knowing which 'him' Neime meant, unable to stop the memories flooding back. Neime had been right to compare him to Mikinze – Miki had been cruel, and his tongue had never hesitated to flay without conscience. The last time Juimei had seen him, he'd received a torrent of scorn and disdain for his weakness, for his failure as a potential mate, that had left him suicidal. And yet, even knowing what that felt like, he had carelessly dished out the same kind of thing to someone who had not done him an ounce of harm, nor intended any. "I don’t want to be like this," he murmured.
"Then stop."
"So simple?"
He opened his eyes. Neime was still smiling kindly, though a little sadly. "Simple, yes. No one said anything about 'easy'. You were never one to give up because it was hard, though."
"I try not to. What should I do to mend it?"
"First? Read those reports again, and this time, try not to be such a bastard about it."
He laughed, as much in relief as at the rudeness – he had been afraid he would never be teased again. "You are a most insolent page, Neime."
"Only when you need it, my prince. Now go and sit down before you fall down, and let's begin on this."
It took Wepizi several hours, and, finally, a silent vigil up on the city walls, keeping watch alongside his soldiers, before he could recover some calmness of spirit, and put Prince Juimei's stupidity into perspective. Of course it wasn't personal – the man had never met Lema, and didn't know him, so it was just mindless spite. No, it was Wepizi's own weakness that allowed him to be so hurt and offended by the words of a fool, to contemplate actions which would shame both him and Lema's memory, even if he had not the slightest intention of ever offering violence to anyone, let alone a prince and a governor.
Ah, Lema, my own wounds are still too raw for complete rationality. You would pet me and tell me I was being silly, and make me laugh. I wish you were here now, my beloved. He stared up at the moon, seeing her face instead. Sometimes, it seems only yesterday you were by my side. How can it be four years ago already?
The silent sky had no answer for him – it never did. Finally he sighed, stretched cramped muscles as he stood, and nodded to the soldiers standing watch close by him. The men probably thought he was a little touched, and perhaps he was, tonight at least.
He returned to his quarters, and opened his diary. He had kept one sporadically all his adult life, but after Lema's death, he had begun to address the entries to her, at first to express his grief and longing, and then as a way to keep her in his life, to keep her memory and the friendship they'd always had, a part of him. Even though nothing could replace talking to her in the flesh, he often found that writing down his thoughts as if she could read them, allowed him to imagine what she would say, what she would advise, the comfort she would give. He spent a little time trying to collect himself, to describe as plainly and fairly as he could, what had happened that afternoon, and why he had reacted so. But tonight, he wasn't getting any sense of peace from the exercise, and finally had to admit defeat, closing the book and kissing the cover to apologise to Lema for cutting off the conversation – so to speak.
As he combed out his moustache as he always did before bed, he wondered again why the prince had this odd animus against it. The only real answer was that the accident which had crippled him, had addled his sense and his manners. And for that, not even Lema's wisdom had an answer. "Sephiz, I need your help as always. Grant me patience – and please protect my moustache, benevolent god." He chuckled, the first smile in hours. Maybe he should make it a little suit of armour or something – to save it from predatory princelings.
He slept soundly and woke in a better mood, feeling he had been rather foolish to overreact so. He had far more important things to deal with. Since it seemed his highness refused to sanction any deviation from the original plan, then that was what he would have to go with – but he thought he might still be able to accommodate a little of the elders' wishes, and Karik's, without going against his brief. He needed the architect again, and after breakfast, he had another meeting with her and their chief engineer, who agreed to give the matter some thought.
They went up together onto the town wall to survey the site. Only a few days had passed but already the place had turned into a hive of organised activity. Wepizi had put his and his troops' travel time to good use and had the men sorted into teams and the basic approach half-decided by the time they'd arrived in town. That forward thinking had paid off. Now the air rang with the sound of hammers striking metal, stone and hardwood, and dull thudding as crowbars broke up the earth prior to digging trenches and postholes for laying the foundations. Further back, away from the labouring men and where equipment was being assembled, came the grinding of mortar mixers and crane mechanisms, and shouted commands as other teams worked on their tasks. Choking dust and smoke rose from every quarter, and Wepizi followed the chief engineer’s example, pressing an arm over his mouth and nose. Down below amidst the boards and beams, many of his people were working with kerchiefs tied over their faces. The conditions looked hellish, but the workers seemed happy enough, shouting and laughing while they worked. Along the city wall, bricks, prepared elsewhere in the town, were being piled into neat rows, ready for use. Timber too, was being assembled and dressed, and the rasp of a dozen wood saws made it impossible to hold a conversation in that part of the site.
Wepizi didn't need to linger, fortunately, and once they'd made their brief inspection, they descended, and walked out across the site over to the southern side, which was opened to the farmland beyond. His experts seemed pleased with things so far. Not being an engineer himself, he had to trust the expertise of the people he'd brought with him from Tsikiugui, but Engineer Foinoiz was highly qualified – he had studied both at Darshek and at the Visiqe academy, and had rebuilt the city walls at Pinheine after a flood and landslide had devastated the north-eastern town. Wepizi's job was coordination, planning, liaison – all the really clever stuff, he had to leave to more learned professionals.
"Tezrei? The governor is here and wants to see you."
The groi who'd rushed up with the announcement was out of breath, and he looked as surprised as Wepizi felt. "Here? You mean, at the site?"
The groi pointed across the trenches, and there indeed was a small doig-trap standing on the track they had laid from the road out to the site. "Yes, sir. He wants to see you now, sir."
"And without an appointment either," Wepizi murmured. "Very good, groi. I'll see to it. " The groi bowed and returned to his duties while Wepizi wondered what had prompted this unprecedented excursion. Sephiz, keep me calm and preserve my manners, he prayed as he walked without haste over to the vehicle, and bowed. "Your highness, you wished to see me?" The prince was looking very ill at ease, and Neime, beside him, was biting his lip. "Your highness?"
"I...wished to see the site for myself. As you suggested, Tezrei. I wish to be shown around."
"Very well. You'll need to walk, your highness – the ground is not suitable for this vehicle."
The prince stiffened, and Wepizi thought the impromptu visit was about to come to a premature end, but then the man nodded. "Neime?"
Neime climbed out quickly, and then, in a way which suggested long practice, helped the prince awkwardly down from the trap, making it clear Wepizi's assistance wasn't needed or welcome. Once on the ground, the prince seemed even more uneasy, and then looked past Wepizi's shoulder. "What are you staring at, girl?"
Wepizi turned, and found a young soldier behind him. "What is it, soldier?"
"Sir," she said, looking slightly nervously at the prince, "Engineer Foinoiz says there's a problem with the proposed line of the first wall."
"Stop staring at me, soldier!"
"I'm not, your highness."
Wepizi ignored the prince's temper. "Tell him I'll be there shortly, soldier."
She bowed and scurried off, no doubt relieved to be away from the prince's hard glare. Wepizi noted Neime's hand on his prince's arm, which looked as if he was trying to calm his master down, but decided it was better not to mention the paranoid utterances. "Your highness? I need to look at this – do you want to come along, or would you prefer to wait?"
The prince clenched his jaw. "Carry on, Tezrei."
It became clear that walking was a slow business for the prince, at least over this rough ground, and Neime had to constantly support him, though Wepizi was once again politely nudged out of the way. As they made their tortuous progress, the prince seemed to find offence at every juncture, and muttered under his breath, Neime making low comments in response. Wepizi thought it was politic to ignore all this too, but wondered even more what the man thought he was doing. With a bit of warning, they could have made this easier for him, laid planking down to flatten the path, and if he wasn't still smarting from the previous day, he might have pointed this out to his highness. But with a lamentable lack of charity, he decided that the prince could damn well discover for himself the truth of what he would have advised. It wasn't like he would have listened to him anyway.
Polite bows were met with terse acknowledgements from the governor. "Just carry on, Tezrei. I have no wish to interfere with your work."
"As you command, your highness." Wepizi turned his back on the man, and asked Foinoiz what the problem was. It turned out there was a difficulty with the substrate that their initial survey had missed, a vein of hard rock which they could not penetrate easily, which meant the alignment of the wall would have to be changed, or the design would. Both had implications for the rest of the development, as the engineer carefully explained.
"Why can't it simply be moved?"
Wepizi turned. "Your highness?"
"The building. This rock vein – how extensive is it?"
Foinoiz answered. "I will need to make further investigations, your highness. They are usually not extensive though."
"Then move the building. Reverse the plans – what implications does that have?"
The engineer's eyebrows lifted but then he turned to Wepizi. "That would be the simplest solution – if the vein doesn't extend too far. I would need to check my calculations."
"Do what you need to, keep me informed." Foinoiz bowed and left.
Wepizi turned to his companions – the prince was giving him a hard look. Wepizi inclined his head. "Very helpful, your highness."
"I'm surprised you needed that assistance, Tezrei." But as Neime narrowed his eyes, he added with a cough, "though doubtless you might have thought of it on your own."
"Doubtless," Wepizi said politely. "Shall we continue?"
He really hadn't planned on spending two hours this morning ushering a prince around their worksite, and it was far from being the most pleasant or useful time he'd ever experienced. The prince was so clearly uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally, that a dozen times Wepizi bit back the very obvious suggestion that they do this some other day, or at least, that they cut this short. He bit it back because there was a determined look in his highness' eye that warned him that he would attract more nasty comments if he expressed what was on his mind.
There were no more suggestions or comments, though the prince listened to Wepizi's explanations and occasional conversations with his subordinates with intense concentration, his expression an almost constant scowl, changing to a glare only if he fancied someone was staring at him. Of course they're staring, Wepizi thought in exasperation. You're a strange civilian on a military site, and it's their job to know who's wandering around their territory. Did this man know nothing at all about the army?
At last, Wepizi felt he had done his duty, and suggested that they had achieved as much as would be profitable on this tour, and led them back to the doig-trap. "I trust that was informative, your highness."
"Very. You were right – it makes it much clearer." Wepizi acknowledged that with a slight bow. "Uh...Tezrei, I...." He glanced at Neime, who nodded. "Tezrei – I...should not have made that remark about your wife. It was uncalled for."
Wepizi only bowed again. "Your highness," he said neutrally.
"Uh...was it a recent bereavement?"
Wepizi straightened and gave the prince a cold look. As if he would give the man another chance to smear Lema's name. "I regret that I do not wish to speak of this, your highness."
"But...."
"I regret that I do not wish...."
The prince pursed his lips. "Yes, you said. Neime, I'm going. Help me up."
Wepizi didn't offer to help, and watched impassively as Neime helped the prince back into the trap, then climbed into the driving seat. Neime gave him a brief pleading glance, but he stared stolidly straight ahead, only bowing in the correct manner as the trap was driven away.
He heard a low whistle from behind him. "Benevolent god, what was all that about?"
Wepizi turned and made himself smile at Lep Tovoi. "No idea. Come on – I need some drizu, and I need to tell you about a plan change we might be making."
What had that all been about?
"That was a complete and utter waste of time," Juimei muttered, his cheeks still burning from embarrassment at being dismissed in that manner – and by a damn soldier, no less! "He obviously despises me."
"You weren't exactly being your most charming self, your highness," Neime said calmly.
"I apologised, what more did he want?"
"Technically...you didn't actually apologise. But I'll allow that it might be taken as one," his page said, smiling a little.
"Well, I've done all I need to. I've looked at his bloody site, and I've expressed my bloody regrets. What more is there for me to do, Neime? My leg hurts now, and so does my head." He was aware he sounded petulant, but his head did hurt. He was exhausted after walking all that distance and for so long. He'd have called it to a halt much earlier, but he was damned if he would give people the satisfaction of seeing his weakness. "So rude – staring at me like that."
"Mere curiosity, your highness – harmless. You are a prince, after all – people always want to see you."
He glared at Neime, who seemed to be wilfully missing the point. "I know the difference between curiosity and pity, Neime."
"I sometimes wonder if you do, your highness."
"Stupid waste of time," he muttered, and stared carefully at nothing for the rest of the journey. Neime helped him out of the trap and into the building, giving a quiet order to the servant who came to meet them to have the residential healer sent along. "I don't need the healer."
"You need a massage, and I want your leg checked. It shouldn't be hurting that much."
"You fuss too much, Neime."
"Yes, your highness," he said calmly.
Juimei had to endure an examination, and then a deep massage, which he reluctantly admitted did help the cramping in his leg and the pain in his head. The healer advised him to lie down until lunch. "I have work to do, you know," Juimei grumbled as Neime returned from showing the healer out. "All morning I've wasted on that. They don't need me, I was right."
"You made a useful – if rather rude – contribution, Juimei, even in that short visit. Don't tell me you learned nothing, because I know you did."
"They don't need me."
Neime sat down on a stool next to his couch. "Yes, they do. Look – the kind of decision you were able to make there and then will come up a dozen, a hundred times on a project like this. Are you really happy leaving that to soldiers? Something this important?"
Juimei regarded him sourly. "Neime – try to remember you rule me, not Huoinevol region. If I take charge of this, I open the governorship up to all the demands that the tezrei presented yesterday. If I leave him in charge, he has no authority to alter my father's brief. I won't have this project fatally delayed because it loses focus, and I won't have the region bankrupted by the greed of the elders. A new bridge? Do they know what that would cost and how long it would take to build? Can you imagine their reaction when the taxes go up to pay for it, even though Mayor Gixiel's mills would be the primary beneficiary? No. The tezrei is there in my place for a reason."
"I understand, Juimei. But...you can still be involved. You should meet with him, keep in personal contact. You two are the most high-ranking government officials in this district – you should work in harmony."
"He hates me."
"He's not happy with you, no. And why do you think that is?" Neime asked, folding his arms and looking at Juimei with a wry expression. "' I'm surprised you needed that assistance, Tezrei.' Blessed Sephiz, you all but called him a fool to his face."
"Well, I was surprised. That's all."
"Hmmm. You should rest. We can work on your papers after lunch – I have some things I can clear up without needing to trouble you. If that's all right with you, I mean."
Juimei waved a hand tiredly at him. "As if you need my direction in anything, Neime. Do what you need to." Neime went to stand, but Juimei caught his sleeve. "What...should I do?"
"About the project?"
"About the tezrei. My offence remains. I want it cleaned away. It's intolerable that he can look at me in that manner with any justification."
Neime patted his hand gently and smiled. "Yes it is. There's a vein of manners and charm within you. I suggest you go mining, your highness."
"You're no bloody help, Neime."
"No, your highness. We'll talk after lunch. Just rest. Does your leg still ache?"
"A little."
"Do you want another massage?"
"No. Consider it the price of incivility."
"As you wish," Neime said, grinning at his grumpy decree.
He lay with his arm over his eyes, willing the cramps in his thigh and calf to ease a little. He needed more exercise so such minor exertion didn't reduce him to this, but it was so difficult here. The governor's residence didn't have large enough gardens for long walks in privacy, and he absolutely loathed walking down the streets of the town with the way everyone stared at him, pitying, disdainful. If he could ride a doig outside the walls, that would help, but he didn't have the strength in his arm or leg to properly control a mount any more. He supposed with a lot of practice and a safe place to do that, he might learn to ride again in some fashion, but the only area within the walls which offered that kind of security was at the barracks. He cringed at the idea of fumbling his way around a training track in full view of curious and highly capable soldiers.
He hated this life. He hated himself. He wasn't even, at least in other people's opinion, good at his job. He tried to be, but the population and their civic leaders didn't just want him to govern, they wanted him to lead. That meant they wanted more of him than he had to give – but they didn't need more. He wasn't the king and council – merely their representative. If they wanted a ruler, they should ask for his father to come visit – as if that would ever happen. His father wrote once or twice a year for personal reasons and that was that. His mother wrote more often, but it was clear that they had been grateful to shunt him off to the distant regions where their crippled, reclusive son could no longer embarrass them. With Furneim on his fifth child, they had more family around them than they knew what to do with.
He hated this too – this self-pity. Along with his fitness, the accident – and Mikinze – had stolen his manhood too. No wonder that bloody tezrei despised him.
He sighed. No, the bloody tezrei despised him because he had been vile to him, and today hadn't helped. He shouldn't have gone to the site – they hadn't been prepared for his visit, and there were too many people around. It had thrown him off-balance and made it even more difficult to be pleasant. He used to be good at this, damn it! He used to be able to connect so easily to people, make friends, win their trust. But he no longer trusted them not to hurt him without reason, and like a doig, people could smell when you were afraid of them.
He struggled to sit up, and shoved a cushion behind him. He had work to do, and he wasn't an invalid. That suggestion of the tezrei...he wondered if he'd been overhasty there. He would look at it again, and perhaps he could use it as a way of building a bridge. That kind of bridge, at least, didn't need extra taxes, he thought wryly.
Trench and post hole digging had to slow down while Engineer Foinoiz carried out his additional surveys, but even with six months of effective construction time in hand, Wepizi knew they didn't dare waste even a day, so he set his soldiers on to materials preparation and other tasks that weren't dependent on the siting of the buildings and walls.
As he carried out his daily inspections, and negotiated all the changes with the engineer, there were always at least a dozen matters clamouring for his attention and his thoughts. There was an enormous amount of logistical organisation that went with a project like this. Three hundred new residents in a town this size meant a large increase in food, hay and water requirements, and though Lep Tovoi had made arrangements for these, Wepizi felt there was some refinement needed. That kind of thing had to be dealt with, along with all the administrative duties of a large, busy barracks. Time had to be set aside for getting to know his officers and his soldiers, as well as the local way of doing things. Between meetings with civilians, and site inspections, and report preparation, there was very little spare time in his day.
Which was why he was not entirely delighted to receive an invitation to have lunch with his highness three days after the prince's unexpected visit to the barracks. It couldn't be refused, of course, but his highness' newfound fondness for interactions with his subordinates was poorly timed. "I thought you said he was horribly rude to you," Tovoi commented when Wepizi said he would have to reschedule the meeting with the mayor and the owner of the local foundry to fit in the invitation.
"He was. Maybe he wants another chance to express his feelings. I'll try not to be long – ask Foinoiz and Rineninke to come to supper here, so I can get their reports in person."
"Yes, sir. Good luck with our prince."
Rank has its privileges, Wepizi thought wryly – and some of them he would gladly give away. He went on his own but took a doig to save time, arriving just as the noon bell was tolling at the mayor's offices just across the road from the governor's residence. He wondered why his highness had thrown a glass at the mayor – the man was rather pompous, and, so Tovoi told him, rapacious – but even having witnessed the prince losing control, it was hard to see how he could have gone so far as offer physical violence. Not with the tongue on him at least.
Neime came to meet him, smiling politely. "Thank you for coming along, Tezrei – I hope it wasn't inconvenient."
"I serve his majesty and council, therefore my time is his, sir."
"Ah – so it was inconvenient."
Wepizi shrugged apologetically. "Only a little. Is it something urgent?"
"His highness can explain that. He doesn't want to waste your time, that's for sure."
"No, sir." He waited patiently for Neime to lead the way, but the man seemed to have something on his mind. "Was there something else, sir?"
"Yes. Uh. His highness...uh...." He sighed. "Allow me to be frank?" Wepizi nodded, wondering what on earth was wrong. "His highness...has faced much sorrow, and he's...lost the gift of dealing with people easily. He's trying so very hard to heal, Tezrei, but...he only has me. You...you're the only person who comes close to being his equal here in Dizeindo."
"Sir, are you asking me to be his friend?" Neime nodded, rather embarrassed. "I'm sorry for his pain, but really...I think you're being a little unrealistic. Friendship comes from respect, from mutual interests...forgive me for being blunt, but his highness hasn't given me any sign of either thus far."
"Can't you give him another chance, Tezrei? For the sake of Sephiz' love, if nothing else? You know we should never turn our back on a wounded soul."
Wepizi bowed his head to acknowledge this fact. "Indeed, and I would never deny him or anyone else help if they need it. But...my liking is not something I can turn off and on, and I'm sorry – I don't like him."
"Because of that comment about your wife."
"That didn't help, no. It indicated a meanness of spirit which makes me uncomfortable."
Neime stared at him, pleading. "He's not like that, not really. He's kind and generous and he feels everything very deeply – but he's been hurt."
"Many people are hurt, sir. They don't throw glasses at public officials or deride the grief of others."
"The mayor was being a hectoring bully that day, Tezrei, and he made an utterly despicable remark about his majesty. His highness shouldn't have thrown the glass, but he had cause."
"And what cause had I given him, sir? Other than this," he said, stroking his moustache.
Neime drew himself up. "None. He admits it. He wants to apologise. Please, I'm asking you to allow that."
"But he already apologised, sir."
"No he didn't, and you didn't accept it. Please – for the love of the benevolent god who guides us all, Tezrei, can you find forgiveness in your heart for him?"
Wepizi shook his head with a rueful smile. "You plead his case very well, my friend, and that you're so devoted to him, is the best thing I've discovered in his favour so far. I've no wish to cause him pain – but he's not dealing with toys. We have feelings, we react if attacked – same as him. Can't he see that?"
"Yes – when he's not blinded by his own emotions." He bowed a little. "Forgive me for imposing on your goodwill, Tezrei – I just sense that you're a decent man and a kind one, so I hope you'll understand why I'm saying this."
"I do, and I take no offence. Shall we go? I really do have to get back to the barracks soon."
The prince was climbing to his feet as Neime ushered him in. "Took your time," he muttered to his assistant, who gave him an impatient look. "Thank you for coming, Tezrei. I hope this wasn't inconvenient, but I wanted to speak to you before you made too many alterations to your site plans."
"As you wish, your highness."
"Please, do sit down. Neime, can you have lunch brought? And...drizu for the tezrei? Or juice?"
"Whichever is convenient, your highness."
"Then drizu, please, Neime. Thank you."
Neime bowed and withdrew. The prince cleared his throat. "Your reports...you're going ahead as they said?"
"We're waiting for the survey, but it looks that way, yes, your highness. In fact, there might be some slight advantages to shifting the barracks to the other side in terms of access."
"Good. I, uh, was impressed. Yes, uh...impressed by the professionalism of your team."
"I'm glad to hear that, your highness." Not what it sounded like at the time, Wepizi thought, and wondered which was the truth. If he was an unkind man, which he hoped he wasn't, he'd have taken some delight in watching this proud princeling squirm, but all he felt was pity. Was it really so hard for him to carry out a normal conversation? "Was that all you wanted to know?"
"No, of course not, or I'd have sent a messenger," the prince snapped, sitting down abruptly and opening a file with unnecessary force. "I've been rereading your suggestions about the infirmary. Do you want to hear my thoughts on that or are you too busy?"
"Your highness, I'm here at your request."
The prince stared, then cleared his throat. "Quite. Uh...yes." He looked down at his notes. "Tell me more about the work the Darshianese are doing, and how you think we can afford this under our existing budget."
Wepizi rather thought they'd been over this, but obediently he described the expedition he'd been on three years previously, and what had come of that, the teams Romi and Karik were training, and what they were doing in Andon at this very moment. "I hadn't heard anything about this," the prince admitted. "It's ambitious."
"Yes, your highness. My Darshianese colleagues have big ideas."
"And do they have big fortunes, Tezrei? I still don't see how this saves us money."
"In training, your highness. We get free training both of medics and field personnel, as well as the specimens and drugs from the expedition. His majesty considered the benefits outweighed the costs, certainly, but the additional costs, at least for the nation as a whole, are relatively small. Captain Romi's people are self-sufficient once in the field. The facilities we would provide for them, can be used for several purposes, so we don't need to dedicate valuable space purely for their use. It would require an enlargement of the infirmary though."
"Which we don't have funding for – this is the same suggestion I've had from the town elders. Not one of them will put his hand in his pocket to donate to the outfitting of an extension though. I suggested a public subscription, and was rather rudely told that it was government's responsibility to pay for it through taxation. New taxes are very popular, you can imagine. Yet public funds are not unlimited, as you know."
"Yes, I do." Wepizi was having to reassess what he'd been told about this man. He sounded less uninterested than frustrated by competing demands. "I could suggest to the Darshek academy that they might consider it an investment worth making but it would be two months before I could get any answer – and their agreement would not be assured."
"And you need to make the decision now." The prince rubbed his forehead. "It’s not that I'm blind to the benefits, Tezrei. I can see the case perfectly clearly, same as I can understand why people want a new bridge. But we have neither endless personnel nor funding, and every soldier we bring to the region to work on something like this, costs us money just by being here. We have no surplus workforce as they do in Tsikiugui or Visiqe. We've had to send soldiers to help with harvesting futik on occasion, even to work in the mills here – that's how short on manpower we are. Of course, if we attract settlers, that will help – but we need this project completed first."
"Of course, your highness. Have you explained this to the elders?"
"Of course – do you take me for a fool just because I look like one?"
Wepizi kept his expression mild. "No, your highness – not that you look anything of the kind."
"So you say," the prince said bitterly. "I hear the comments, the whispers – I know that people think I'm simple-minded because I slur my words. I'm not simple-minded."
"No, your highness." Wepizi really wished that his position and his own reluctance to offend, allowed him to answer this more frankly, but he didn't think it would be worth the tantrum.
The prince gave him a hard look. Wepizi smiled back benignly, and wondered if this was just a prelude to another display of temper, but the prince's glare disappeared as the door opened, and Neime returned with two servants bearing trays of food and drink. These were placed on a little table that was quickly set up to the side – Wepizi noted approvingly that it was simple fare, not dissimilar to what he would be eating back at the barracks at this time. Neime joined them, somewhat to Wepizi's surprise, but the reason became clear. The prince's weak side, his arm and hand made lifting anything heavier than a spoon rather awkward. He found serving himself difficult, but Neime was obviously well practiced at compensating. The devotion of this man for his master was beautiful to see – Wepizi could only hope that Neime at least was spared the prince's rages. He wondered if their relationship was even closer than that of master and servant – there was definitely love there, but of what kind, he didn't know. So even this man has someone who cares for him, Lema. Sephiz truly is merciful.
He was slightly shocked to find that the prince was trying – in a clumsy manner that indicated he was out of practice at doing so – to draw him out, asking about his career, where he had lived in Andon, what he had seen of the region and so on. Wepizi answered everything politely, but resisted all questioning about his private life, especially about Lema. He sensed this annoyed the prince, but he was firm on this. This man would not sully her memory with his thoughtless cruelty again. He himself was a fair target – but not Lema.
It was an awkward, uncomfortable meal, and the conversation never really flowed, though Neime tried hard to bridge the silences and to smooth his prince's frequent lack of diplomacy, but Wepizi was left wondering what purpose any of this served. He was also acutely aware that there were things demanding his attention back at the barracks, which didn't make him any more patient with this strangeness.
Finally, to his relief, the food was consumed and the prince's limited conversational gambits had exhausted themselves – as well as him, by the look of it. "Well, Tezrei, how much time do you have in hand before you need to decide the final shape of the infirmary?"
"A week – ten days, no more, if I'm realistic, your highness. The foundations must be started soon."
"Is it possible for your architect to design it so it can be added to later, if we have the funds?"
"I don't know, but I'll find out."
"Good, good – well, you'd better get back. Thank you for coming."
Wepizi bowed, and made his escape. That had almost certainly been a complete waste of his time – but he had learned a little more about their governor. Nothing useful – but it was knowledge all the same. Ah well. It seemed Karik's dreams would have to wait a while.
"Now what did I do wrong?" Juimei asked as the door closed behind their visitor.
"Nothing, your highness. I thought you did very well."
He glared at his page. "Oh, don't humour me, boy – you saw, the man enjoyed it about as much as I did. Which is to say, not at all."
Neime began to collect the plates together. Juimei nearly snapped at him to leave it for the domestic servants, but he was trying very hard not to lose his temper today. "I didn't say he enjoyed it. I said you did very well, and you did."
"So what went wrong?"
"Two things. One, he's busy and this wasn't convenient...."
"He could have said!"
Neime gave him an old-fashioned look. "I don't think so, your highness. And the other thing was that you made a bad impression to begin with. But you didn't reinforce that today, so I would say you did very well."
Juimei made a disgusted noise. "Absolute waste of time," he muttered, limping off back to his desk. "I've got better things to do than to pander to bloody army officers."
"And he would say he's got better things to do than to pander to bad-tempered princes, Juimei. Please don't give up so easily. He's a very nice man, don't you think?"
"I suppose. That moustache makes him look like he's eating a dowkiqu."
Neime came and sat down across from him, and rested his chin on his hand. "You don't like people judging you by your appearance, so why are you doing it to him?"
"Because...damn it, it makes him look like...you know who he looks like!"
"Yes – he doesn't, though. He's a lot older, and really nothing like...the count...in appearance. He's got much kinder eyes for a start."
Juimei glared. "Are you matchmaking, Neime?"
"No, Jui. I'm just saying he's not Count Mikinze." Juimei shot his page an evil look for the lurch in his guts that name always gave him. "I think you should persist. Maybe...avoid personal matters though. He doesn’t like it, you can tell."
"What do we know of his wife? Do we have his records?"
"There was nothing in the reports on him – the barracks would have his personnel records, of course. He'd know if you asked for them."
Juimei grunted. It irked him unreasonably that this minor detail was a secret about which he must not enquire, but he realised he was being irrational again. "This extension – it's a good idea. But we just don't have the money. I can't ask that tight-fisted bastard of a mayor for it either, since he just wants more beds, not a research station."
"I doubt he's inclined to do you any favours anyway. Are you sure his majesty would turn you down?"
"It's the time factor, Neime. They need it now. I don't have the money now."
His page shrugged. "Then it's impossible. It’s not your fault, Jui. He won't blame you for that."
And Juimei knew that was true. Yet it still bothered him. It symbolised so much that was wrong with his life – the disaster of his personal relationships, the limits on his powers as a governor, the frustration of being so far from Visiqe and the centre of influence. Surely there had to be an answer. At least – an answer to some of it.
Lunch with the prince, and the conversation with Neime before it, occupied some of Wepizi's thoughts over the next few days, but really, he was far too busy to spend much time trying to puzzle out their strange governor and his moods. The substrate survey was completed, and though another vein of impenetrable rock had been found, requiring yet another adjustment of the ground plan, finally the engineer was happy and they could begin laying the foundations in earnest. The potential supply problem had been sorted out satisfactorily, and the project was now firmly back on schedule. All Wepizi and his people had to do was keep it there – and also make sure the normal work of the army continued. There was still a huge territory to police and guard, and still far too few soldiers to manage it.
He heard nothing more from the governor, and assumed that he would not. After all, it had been made clear that the man could not authorise an expansion to Wepizi's brief within the time frame granted to them, and there was nothing else left to decide. Wepizi assumed that the prince was happy to revert to his originally stated position – that Wepizi had a job and he could get on with it without interference. While in some ways, it still felt wrong that this was the case, in reality, there probably wasn't much harm to come from it. The town and region had to make do with the governor they had – and now he'd seen a little more, spoken to more people, the neglect he'd suspected was more apparent than real. What was real was the resentment towards the governor, though it was limited to people who dealt with him the most. That worried him – but there was precious little he could do about it. The best hope was his majesty recalling his son and replacing him, and that was probably unlikely to happen.
He was preparing to leave the barracks, on his way to make his routine inspection of the building site, when a soldier came up and saluted. "Sir, his highness the governor is here to see you."
"Again?" He resisted the temptation to sigh. "Very good – please escort his highness to my office, and have someone bring drizu. Oh, and send a message over to the site to say I'm likely to be late."
The soldier bowed and ran off. Wepizi did sigh then, as he walked back to his office. He hoped this wouldn't take too long.
Ten minutes later – much longer than he expected, and after the drizu had been delivered – he heard the slow, limping step on the verandah outside his office, and got up to admit the prince. To his surprise, the man was alone, other than a soldier who was acting as guide.
"Good morning, your highness – please come in," Wepizi said, dismissing the soldier and taking the prince's arm.
The man seemed tired, and glad of his help getting to the chair. "I apologise for interrupting your routine yet again, Tezrei, but I knew there was need for haste. I came to tell you that I am happy to authorise the extension of the infirmary to accommodate the research laboratory. Please go ahead and make the changes to your building plans."
"Your highness...this is very good news – but how?"
"May I have some of that drizu or are you keeping it for someone else?" Hastily Wepizi remembered his manners, and poured out a mug, handing it to the prince. "Thank you. I have to tell you this in confidence, and I want the extension also arranged with as little fuss as possible. I don't want the elders to be aware of it."
"I don’t understand...."
The prince sipped his drizu. "The funds are still not available but I have decided to pay for it from my own fortune. However, that is a very limited pot, and this is strictly one off, do you understand? I don't have a lot of money, and what I have, I plan to use to secure Neime's future. I receive, as you know, an allowance from the state for my work here, and I have written to my father for permission to extend the infirmary. If he and the council refuse, then I've authorised them to withhold my allowance to repay the expense. Neime doesn't know about any of this, and I must insist you not tell him, nor hint at it in any way."
Wepizi sat back in his chair, frankly stunned. "Your highness, this is...most generous. Very generous indeed." The prince dismissed his gratitude with an irritable wave of his weak hand. "But why?"
The prince stared at him in an almost hostile manner. "Because it's something this region desperately needs, and unlike all the other things it desperately needs, this is something I can do and do now. I can't afford a bridge or the locks, or a new road. I can afford this. But I won't eat into Neime's inheritance further. He's served me loyally for seven years, and turned down promotions which would have brought him influence and fortune. He deserves a reward and by Sephiz, he shall have it."
"Which is just and generous, your highness. I only hope his majesty and council will see the wisdom of your decision, and decide to fund this themselves."
"Unlikely," the prince said dryly. "This expansion is the first major project in this region in thirty years. It suffers because it's so remote and now because its governor is disliked by the council – not just here in Dizeindo. If my brother didn't have ideas above his station, I doubt we would even have this now. We must be grateful for small gifts, Tezrei."
Wepizi blinked. "Your highness – you're a prince of the blood. Why does the council dislike you?"
"Long story. Like you, I regret I don't wish to speak of my past."
He acknowledged the barb. "As you wish, your highness. However...may I be frank?"
"When are you not, Tezrei?"
Oh, you have no idea, my prince, he thought. "Your...lack of popularity here, in the town...is something you could change."
"Unlikely. Unless I can scatter largesse around and make promises that I have no hope of keeping, they'll persist in their disdain. Which only bothers me when it hinders my job. Which it doesn't."
"Are you sure about that, your highness?"
That got him a princely glare. "Permission to be frank does not imply permission to be rude, Tezrei. Anyway, I've delivered my message – do I have your word to keep this quiet?"
"On my honour as an officer, of course," he said, bowing. "This is a noble act, your highness."
"Consider it...an apology." The prince's chin jutted out stubbornly as he stared hard at Wepizi.
"An apology which I accept, your highness."
"Good. I...would like to inspect the site again, but I confess I found the other day a trial."
"If you can give me a day, your highness, I can make it easier for you. It's not very accessible now, though."
"Then I'll return. I wouldn't want to put you to the trouble of visiting me again, would I? Since it wasn't convenient, I mean."
"My convenience is at yours, your highness."
"Hmmm – prettily said. You belong at court, Tezrei." He drank more drizu, then set the mug down and got heavily to his feet. "Let me know when I can come. I would like to meet your engineer again – his ideas were interesting. Perhaps...uh...."
"Perhaps I could host a meal for you and my officers?" Wepizi said, covering the man's obvious discomfort. "Would that be convenient?"
"My convenience is at yours," he repeated in an ironic tone, but he wasn't scowling, at least. "Arrange it, let me know."
"As you wish, your highness. Allow me to walk you out."
"Call a soldier, man, don't you have better things to do? You have an infirmary to extend, among other things."
Wepizi hid his smile behind his hand, stroking his moustache instead. "Yes, of course. Give me a moment to call someone."
Well, well, well. Wasn't that an interesting development, Lema? Sephiz does spread his love in some most unusual ways.
The town walls were an excellent place for quiet contemplation and Wepizi's soldiers were already, in just two weeks, used to his eccentricity. He barely excited more than a glance after the regulation salutes, as he climbed up and found his favourite perch behind the palisades. It was a cloudy night, but hardly cold, and it was pleasant looking back down over the city, with the small points of light here and there, candles in windows, people walking with lamps, all lawfully and peacefully going about their business. But it wasn't the citizens of Dizeindo who were occupying his thoughts tonight. He wanted this quiet time to talk to Lema about the surprising development of the morning, and what it had revealed about their most puzzling and confusing prince governor.
What's going on, my beloved? I've really failed in charity, haven't I? Made a judgement based on hearsay, and limited interaction, and condemned the man unfairly. I would have taken more time getting to know the least of my soldiers, than I have for this man. So...what do I do now? Neime wants me to be his friend – but a charity friend is hardly worthy of anyone.
But perhaps, he thought, it wasn't just something Prince Juimei needed. It was different for him now, being top of the hierarchy. Before, he had officers of the same rank as him around him. His fellow leps had been good friends in Tsikiugui, and their families had welcomed him and been so very kind when Lema died. But here...he was a stranger, without peers. His junior officers were pleasant people, good soldiers – but there would always be that barrier of inequality between them which made true honesty, true relaxation impossible. It hadn't really hit him until today, how lonely it could be at the top of the pile, and he envied the prince with his loyal, intelligent companion forever at his side. Almost like a marriage, I suppose. He wondered what Neime got out of it. If he wasn't in love with his master, it seemed he had given up his chance of a normal married family life to be an attendant on an ill-tempered, disabled prince. Unless he had some ulterior motive, it was selflessness well above the call of duty. But his prince appreciated the sacrifice, at least. Wepizi thought that gratitude counted greatly in his highness' favour. A recognition of fault, of debt, of honour – it meant the man was far from irredeemable. If only he wasn't so crotchety and capricious, there would be much to like.
Ah, Lema – does this duty lie upon me? To make a friend out of him, because he needs it, or because I do? Tell me what to do, beloved.
He let the silence of the night fill him, so he could listen to the spirit of his dear wife, who was always with him. Sometimes, he could almost feel her arms around him again, feel her breath against his ear – sometimes. Other times, she seemed so far away. At those times, he felt very alone indeed.
Would he be granted the grace of feeling her with him tonight? He closed his eyes. Lema, my dear one...let me feel you with me? I need your wisdom.
And then, gentle as a night breeze, as warm as autumn sun, he felt her mind brush his. What should I do, Lema?
No answer, but still he could hear her advice clear as if she was standing there with him. 'Give it time,' she would say. 'Let him find a way out of his pain.' Which was what he had to do, and he knew it.
The ache never left him, and when he felt so close to her, yet knowing he couldn't touch her, it drove him almost to despair with the pain of it. I miss you, Lema. Blessed god, how I miss you. One day, I'll be with you again.
But that would not be for a very long time. The empty years ahead yawned, and at times like this, he didn't know how he would ever get through them. He opened his eyes, and found his cheeks were cooling where tears had fallen. He hadn't even felt them before. "Always remember you, Lema. I'll always love you. To the day I die and beyond."
Only the silence of the night greeted him. Would he really find an end to his pain one day? Would he have to forget Lema to do that, or was there a way to get past his grief while still holding onto the love?
He had no idea. But while he lived, while he waited to be reunited with her, he had to be true to the beliefs they both held, the faith that had been her life-long comfort and his too. Prince Juimei was reaching out to him, however clumsily, and somehow, Wepizi had to find it within him to respond with kindness and friendship. He just wished the man had better manners – it would make it so much easier.
Juimei felt rather odd as he left the barracks. He was relieved that he had got this apology made – it had been on his conscience, and not just because he had come so close to losing Neime over it. He felt...elated, almost, to have been able to directly change something for the good, to have it in his power so firmly to make this decision which would benefit this region in years to come. But it was also a reminder of his impotence, that real change, really important decisions, could not be made, unless he decided to become a rogue and disregard the authority of Visiqe – which he would not do just to boost his own ego, because it would harm too many people.
It also reminded him that there could be no real connection between him and the people he governed, even those of high rank, like this Tezrei – whose eyes were kind, Neime was right, even though that moustache distracted him every time he looked at him. Even though isolation was what he craved, what he knew he needed...sometimes, it got rather lonely, even with Neime constantly at his side.
The spring added a little beauty to this dull town, he thought. In nearly four years, he had rarely left the governor's residence, but there had been little incentive to do so. He missed Visiqe, the mountains and the liveliness. Admittedly, Dizeindo might not be so bad if he'd had the ability to explore it, but he hadn't.
So many of the pursuits he'd loved were denied him now, and though he liked to read, and his work kept him occupied, he missed hunting, doig-ito, sparring with his sword master, even the dances at the feasts in the palace. He wouldn't go to feasts here – the pain of watching people enjoy the music and move with an ease forever beyond his ability, was more torture than he had courage to face. If he'd been less fit and agile before, it wouldn't be so bad now – if he'd been older, or had enjoyed the physical pleasures less – but the contrast only got more unbearable as the years passed, and his glory days were further and further beyond his ability to recover them.
He flexed his weak leg. Some days he thought it was getting a little better – but if he was tired, it refused to obey him at all. He was tired today – he'd slept so badly, yet again. He might even have to resort to some of the soporific tea the healer had once or twice prescribed to him, though he hated the thick-headedness it left him with. What he really needed was physical exercise – and that, he simply couldn't get.
Neime was in their office, and tried to look unconcerned. "Did it go well?"
"Well enough. He's accepted my apology, so we're no longer at war." So far as Neime was concerned, that was what Juimei's visit had been about, and he wasn't going to enlighten him.
"Good work, your highness. I'm proud of you."
Juimei smiled – the simple praise meant so much to him. "I would have you always feel that way, Neime. Now, what's on the agenda today?" Neime showed him the letters and requests – nothing much out of the way, except.... He held up a note from the senior teacher of the public school. "What's this?"
"What does it look like? An invitation to give prizes."
"Tell them no, of course. Why have you put it before me? I always decline."
He went to shove it away, but found Neime's hand preventing him. "Wait, Juimei – don't you think...perhaps...it's time you said 'yes'?"
He frowned, genuinely confused. "Whatever for?"
"Because...you're the ruler. You're also royalty. Some of those children might end up working for his majesty. I decided I wanted to work in Visiqe after your brother made a visit to our tribe – he made quite an impression."
"Which I would not. No."
"Please?"
He sat back in his chair. "Why?"
"Because you should. Because you're tired of living like this, you said so yourself. It's a chance to meet people in an unthreatening manner."
Juimei snorted, already pulling other more important documents towards him. "I'll frighten the children – or they'll laugh at the way I talk. No."
"You really think you're grotesque, don't you? Mayor Gixiel has a squint and a wart on his nose. Elder Havime stutters. What about them?"
"They're old men, Neime. People expect that in older people. They also grew up here – I'm a stranger."
"Only because you want to be. Please?"
"Or you'll walk out, is that it?"
Neime shook his head pityingly. "Of course not. But why don't you try? Just once?"
"Neime...blessed god, don't give me those eyes...all right! Stop it, damn it!" His page grinned. "You're becoming a nag, you know that?"
"For your own good."
"Hmph. But on one condition – you convince our moustachioed tezrei to go too. The children will be impressed by such a splendid specimen, and the man who goes with it probably won't induce nightmares. I don't see why I should have to put up with that fool Gixiel on my own."
He thought that might put Neime off, but the grin only got wider. "I think that's a wonderful idea – now all I have to do is get some prizes together. Books, I think – out of the official budget or your private funds?"
"You should pay for it, since it's your idea."
"Um...if you insist...."
"I'm joking, Neime." He had to think how best to arrange this, since he might have just entailed his allowance for the next ten years. "Uh...draw it from my private account, and I'll shuffle things around. But nothing extravagant, please. I don't want to set a precedent."
"Of course not, your highness." His page was getting a ridiculous amount of pleasure from this, and though Juimei thought it was likely to be tedious and embarrassing, it was nice to see Neime grin. He felt guilty at how few opportunities he had given his friend to feel so happy.
"Well, if that's all, we have real work to do. Uh...um...."
"Juimei?"
"Uh...the tezrei might be inviting me...us...to lunch soon. To meet the architect and engineer."
"That'll be nice. Well done, Juimei," he added – and Juimei thought it would be worth any amount of annoyance to get that look of approval in Neime's eyes again. He had so little pleasure in his life – if he could give some to Neime at least, then maybe things weren't so dry and dull as they might be.
True to his word – and why Juimei should have been surprised that the promise was actually kept, he didn’t know – Wepizi sent word that a boardwalk had been laid to facilitate the passage of barrows and pedestrians around the building site. He said that he thought, with care, his highness would find it easier to walk there now. Juimei appreciated the tact – if tact it be – in making him feel the arrangements weren't just for him. They probably weren't – the tezrei struck him as the kind of man who wouldn't indulge a person without a point to it.
Astonishing how much they had achieved in so short a time – it was quite transformed, though it still didn't look much like a new barracks and city wall. Men and women were everywhere, operating small cranes, directing the removal of earth and the addition of rocks. Posts were being lifted and carried and inserted all over the place, the noise of hammers and drills, the yelling of incomprehensible commands, quite deafening. The dust of dirt and concrete being mixed, made him cough like an old man with lung fever until Wepizi led them away from the worst of it. His ears continued to ring for some time though, and he could still taste mortar powder even after one of the soldiers kindly brought him a mug of water to soothe his throat.
He could make no sense of it at first. It looked chaotic to him, unused as he was to this kind of extensive construction – one never saw it on this scale in a place as old as Visiqe. The tezrei seemed quite unperturbed as he patiently explained the process of laying the foundations, the difficulty they'd encountered in certain areas and how they'd overcome it, and how long this phase would last. He managed to make it so engrossing that Juimei quite forgot to see if people were staring at him, and when he remembered at last, no one was – of course, people just had better things to do, he imagined. The wooden planks laid down as a temporary pavement, made his progress much easier – he didn't even need Neime's help, which improved his temper considerably. From here, he could see out into the countryside, towards the plains of the south, the woods and farms – towards freedom, or the illusion of it.
"Your highness? Is something wrong?"
He turned to the tezrei. "Just thinking...how nice it would be to see more of the region before it got cold again."
The tezrei smiled. "I was thinking the same myself only last night. Perhaps we should get a party up, make a small expedition to explore."
"I think not," Juimei said slightly, frostily, banging his cane a little against the board walk. "I can't ride."
"There are other ways of transporting a person, your highness. On the mission with the Darshianese, we had two people injured by a tewi – we had to haul them back nearly all the way from Mount Arzha to Visiqe on travois. Now that was awkward, I can tell you."
"Poor bastards," he said with a shudder. "Did they survive?"
"Oh yes," he said with a smile. "And they were very brave about it, though it was most uncomfortable. I'm sure we could arrange something far better for you, should you wish it."
"Perhaps," he said, keeping his voice neutral because Neime was watching him closely. "And the thermal pipes are going here, is that correct? What about rain water collection?"
It gave him a slight jolt to realise, as they were walking back to the doig-trap to return to the barracks, that this was the longest conversation he'd had with another person other than Neime in almost four years. And in the entire run of it, he'd hardly thought of his physical problems at all – they'd been mentioned, but they had caused him not a whit of embarrassment or concern, or been the focus of anyone's attention in particular. For that time, he had been nothing but the governor, pure and simple – spoken to as someone whose opinion mattered, whose assessment was useful. For the first time since his injury, he'd actually felt like a normal member of the society.
He'd forgotten what that was like. It felt good. Dangerously good.
Neime gave him a smile as they settled in the trap, the tall tezrei on a doig behind them, even though he'd probably arrived on foot. "It's all fascinating, don't you find it, your highness?"
"Moderately," he said quellingly, but Neime's smile didn’t dim in the least. Knowing little brat.
They were back at the old barracks in minutes, and there, Wepizi helped him down from the trap with impeccable courtesy. He apologised in advance for the ordinary fare they were about to receive. "I felt your highness wouldn't want any fuss made."
"Quite right. I don't want to interfere with your work any more than strictly necessary, Tezrei."
The man bowed a little. "Your highness, it gives my people a boost to have the governor and his majesty's son take an interest in their endeavours."
Juimei glanced at Neime, who was wearing a rather smug 'I-told-you-so' expression. He cleared his throat. "Well. Just glad to be progressing it, even in this small way, Tezrei."
The tezrei led them to what he said was the senior officer's mess – smaller than what Juimei remembered of the same section in the main army barracks in Visiqe, and rather shabby too. It was clean, but the paintwork needed redoing, there was damage to the door, and there was nothing to brighten the gloomy interior, not even the smallest map or drawing. The mess in Visiqe had been much smarter, proudly sporting large paintings, banners of victories, important or otherwise, and other emblems of a busy soldiering existence. "I hadn't realised how run down this was. Why don't the soldiers maintain it better, Tezrei?"
The tezrei gave him a wry smile. "I can't speak for the previous authorities, your highness, but I do know that if there's a choice between getting out and doing our job, and decorating our quarters, all the soldiers I've ever worked with would choose the job, every time."
"Your highness," Neime said, "the establishment here is spread very thin. They're not given a lot of time to work on domestic matters, I imagine."
"Still...it's important, in our climate – where we spend so much time indoors," he clarified. "Tezrei, this is something which should be looked at when you complete the new building. Something could be arranged with the staff at my residence, perhaps." It surely would cost very little to put a painting or two up, or add curtains or something – anything to cover the bare wood and stone. It was depressing.
"It's an idea, certainly. One which will be welcome. Please do come and sit, your highness."
There were more people in attendance than he was comfortable with, but he wasn't going to back out now, so he plastered a smile on his face and nodded politely as he was introduced to the tezrei's subordinates – his leps, jirens, the engineers and the architect. He said hello to Lep Tovoi and asked him how he was finding it with all the new soldiers around – the attention seemed to startle the man a little. Ah – well, only to be expected.
He insisted that lunch should be as informal as possible, and that conversation should not be inhibited by his presence. After an initial awkwardness, the tezrei took the lead and then things settled into a more natural rhythm. The soldiers seemed to be very comfortable with each other, and the tezrei was clearly popular. In his own 'house', so to speak, he was much more relaxed than he'd been at lunch in the governor's residence. Of course, Juimei apologising for his offensive remark probably eased things too. It had been a stupid, cruel thing to say and the only excuse Juimei had had was that he'd not seen the man as a person in his own right, just another demand on his time and one who bore a passing resemblance to his faithless former lover. Which was no damn excuse at all, and he knew it.
But the more he looked, and certainly the more he listened, that resemblance disappeared. Wepizi was older than Miki, taller, thinner, and he smiled and laughed in a completely different way. Miki had been sardonic – to be frank, rather sarcastic most of the time, which was fine and amusing as long as one wasn't the target. This officer was a much kinder man, gentle in his humour and his comments, and his people responded to him with affection. Juimei felt a twinge of jealousy that this man could have been here for so short a time, and yet clearly commanded much greater loyalty and liking than Juimei had in four years. Not that Juimei wasn't well aware of why there was such a difference. I was once like you, my friend, he thought. I was popular, admired, people listened to me. But he couldn't, with justice, say that this tezrei had led a charmed life which had preserved his ability to be friendly. Juimei wanted to know more about this man's wife – when had she died, and of what? He didn't have children, that much was certain, since he lived in the barracks.
Annoying, he thought. Everyone could tell his weaknesses by looking at him – he didn't have privacy. But other people could hide their pain – it wasn't fair.
"Your highness?"
"Uh...sorry, Neime, I was lost in thought. What is it?"
"I was just asking Wepizi about the prize-giving, and he wanted to know if you two should arrive together and if they should bring any other soldiers."
"Oh." He hastily rearranged his thoughts. "Together would be more...impressive, I suppose. Do any of you have children at the school?"
One of the jirens raised his hand. "I do, your highness. My daughter's finishing this year."
"Congratulations. What's your thought on how we should do this?"
The man looked surprised. "Uh, well, your highness – the children do like to see us marching in formation, that kind of thing."
"Then perhaps a small squad in best-uniforms? Marching up behind my vehicle to the town square? That would be considered something?"
"Oh yes, your highness. I think it would tickle them no end."
"Then arrange that, please, Tezrei."
The tezrei nodded, smiling. "It should be most enjoyable, your highness."
"Hmpf. Well, one hopes so. Tezrei, I really should be getting back, and I'm sure your people have better things to do."
"Other things, your highness – not necessarily better. I'm sure I speak for us all when I say it's been an honour and a pleasure."
Sephiz' beard – he seems to mean that, Juimei realised in shock. "Uh...thank you, Tezrei. Neime?"
Everyone rose and bowed politely – the tezrei accompanied them out to the doig-trap. "May I hope you will find time to visit again, your highness?"
"Don't you find this all a damn nuisance, Tezrei?"
The man's eyes crinkled up in a real smile. "No, of course not. Your input's valuable, and it was a most enjoyable meal. It's important when we're so isolated here, to feel we're all pulling together in the service of the state. It never hurts soldiers to be reminded that we work for the king and council, and to have access to their representative. Unless of course, it's inconvenient for you – I'd understand that."
Juimei cleared his throat as Neime carefully didn't look at him. "Uh, no...I think I can find time to fit it into my busy schedule. However, I expect reports to continue to be delivered, Tezrei."
The man bowed. "Of course, your highness. I'll bring them myself. I can keep you up to date."
"Whatever suits. If not before, I shall see you at this blas...uh, I mean, this prize giving next week. I hope the children appreciate it."
"I'm sure they will. Good day, your highness, Neime."
Neime gave the order for the driver to move off, then sat back. Juimei turned and gave him a stern look. "And when did you and the tezrei get onto first name basis, hmmm?"
"You were there – he said to call him Wepizi. Sephiz' beard, you really were distracted. He's nice, don't you think?"
"Hmmm, pleasant enough. You should preserve the dignity of my office, Neime, and call him Tezrei."
Neime rolled his eyes. "Your highness, you've got enough dignity for both of us. You enjoyed yourself – admit it."
"No."
"Why ever not?"
"Because it annoys you."
Neime grinned. "You're hopeless, your highness. You know, you smiled more over lunch than you have in the last year."
"I was just being polite, Neime."
"You were being more polite than you have been over the last year, your highness."
"Don't be impertinent or you can walk back."
"Yes, your highness."
Brat of a boy, he thought. But even as he did, a smile seemed to find its disobedient way back onto his lips. He was out of practice. Maybe he'd better get some in, unless he wanted to frighten the children next week.
"Are you a magician?" Tovoi asked as Wepizi came back to their office. "He was actually polite to me. He even remembered my name!"
"Yes, I confess I was surprised too. Sephiz must have decided to bless him – or us," Wepizi said with a smile. "He's not too bad once you get past the gruffness. I think I can work with him."
"If you'd said that a week ago, I'd have called you mad. But now...." He shook his head. "Maybe he's learned manners."
"Or remembered those he had. But now, we need to get back to work. We're ahead, but if we get rain in the next two weeks, it'll be a problem."
He didn't mention their prince again, because he didn't want to encourage personal speculation about their superior, but that didn't stop him wondering why the sudden thaw had occurred. He suspected Neime had a hand in it – the lad was so good-hearted, and loved his prince so well, that it was most likely he was gently persuading his master to unbend. And may Sephiz bless your efforts, Wepizi thought. It looked like this posting was going to be a lot more pleasant than he'd feared.
Their luck deserted them briefly, since they had to down tools during three days of rain, but such delays had been planned for, and did not present a setback. The rain filled the barracks' cisterns which was good, though it made the worksite treacherous and the trenches miserable places to work in until they were drained. Spirits were high though, and labour resumed as fast as they could get back onto the site. They were back on schedule within two days.
All of this he put into his report, to take up to the governor's residence himself. Not necessary, he knew – but he wanted to encourage the thaw, and besides...he was intrigued. Their prince seemed so contradictory, sometimes presenting a repellent, charmless façade, and at other times, seeming rather vulnerable and likeable. Wepizi didn’t know which was the reality – and since he had to work with him for years to come, it would repay getting to know the man better.
Neime smiled as he came into the foyer. "Nice to see you again, Wepizi. Did the rain cause you a lot of problems?"
"Not too many, and we need the rain too. How are you, my friend?"
"Fine – always busy. His highness, uh...wondered, if you turned up close to lunch, you might like to join him. If it's convenient."
"Of course – it would be a pleasure." To tell the truth, he'd chosen this time of day to arrive, just to see what would happen – he hadn't been disappointed. Someone's manners were improving.
Neime beamed at him. "Wonderful. Come along then."
The prince rose to greet him as Neime led him into the office. "Good morning, Tezrei. I hope this isn't troublesome for you?"
"Not in the least, your highness," he said, bowing.
"Your highness," Neime broke in to say, "Wepizi says he can stay for lunch. Why don't I go and organise that, and then I have to meet with the treasurer."
"Now? Oh...yes, all right. Sorry you can't join us, Neime. You're more than welcome to."
His assistant wasn't taking the broad hint. "Oh, Wepizi can look after things, and there's no point us all being tied up. I'll see you soon, Wepizi."
Wepizi bowed again, and Neime left the room. Not very subtle, he thought, hiding his smile behind his hand. Then he brought his documents over to the prince. "Everything's laid out there, your highness," he said, handing them across the desk.
"Thank you. Please sit." Wepizi did so, and the prince took his seat as well, unrolling the report as he did so. "That was a good deal of rain we had – there was flooding a mile below the town, so I heard."
"Yes – near the lock weir. We're attending to it. I could arrange for you to inspect the site, if you want."
The prince's head lifted. "Me?" He coughed. "Uh...Tezrei, you seem to forget...."
"Your highness, please, call me Wepizi. And no, I haven't forgotten. I've made enquiries and we have several very quiet, well-trained doigs which you could easily control with a single hand. I knew a man in Tsikiugui who had lost an arm and he still could ride well enough."
"It's not my arm so much as my leg, Tezrei...Wepizi. I've got little strength on that side. I couldn't afford a second fall – not after the first one was so devastating."
"No, indeed. I heard it was an ito match – did you fall from a doig? That was how you were hurt?"
The prince shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Not the fall so much as the two kicks to the head I got from the other mounts. I'm told I was lucky not to have died." He didn't sound all that pleased that he hadn't.
"Fortunate, yes, though I'm sorry it's left you disabled." The blunt use of the word got him a hard look, which he ignored – he didn't believe in pretending things weren't as they were. "Your highness...."
"Juimei. My, uh...friends...call me Juimei. Or Jui. You may use which you like."
Wepizi bowed his head. "'Jui' is felicitous, since it's an archaic word for 'strength' in Darshianese."
The prince sat up, looking rather startled. "Is it? I don't really speak the language – you do?"
"Yes – I learned through the army's training, and have had plenty of chance to use it. It's not the easiest tongue to learn though, with all the tones."
"It sounds rather sing-song to me. I have no facility with languages, I'm afraid. With this...," he gestured at his mouth, "I'm lucky to be able to speak Andonese."
"You're perfectly clear, Jui." It was odd to use the man's pet name like this, but Wepizi could hardly ask him to use his own name, and continue to insist on a title. "Ah, what I was about to say was – learning to ride again, even with your injury, wouldn't be impossible. It sounds as if it'd improve the quality of your life a great deal."
The prince looked away, up towards the window, his mouth set in a tight line. "I...don't like being stared at, Wepizi. People do, you know. And they snigger at the way I talk. Children mock how I limp. It's...painful beyond words. I used to be...I was the doig-ito champion, in Visiqe. Royal team captain. There was very little beyond my ability – now, I'm grateful to walk at all. It's humiliating that...uh...people see the wreck I've become. Forgive me for imposing these personal thoughts on you."
"Not at all, Jui. I know this all must be a terrible trial for you...and yet...if you had a friend who was in a similar situation, and was not doing something that would be important to them, just because of the opinion of foolish strangers...what would you tell them to do?"
"Ignore them and get on with it, I suppose. Different when I'm the one being stared at."
"Yes, it must be."
"I don't want to talk about this, Wepizi. I'm sorry."
"As you wish."
Conversation moved to the upcoming school visit. A squad had been selected, and it had been agreed with the senior teacher that they would give a short demonstration of formation marching and sword work in the town square before the attending officials and audience. There could be as many as two hundred people there, including the mayor and elders, and it was an opportunity for Wepizi to introduce himself as well. "Should impress the little bastards," the prince muttered. "You're not a father, are you?"
"No, that blessing wasn't granted to me." He smiled politely as he said it. "Nor you, I take it."
"Never been married. I...uh...nearly life-bonded with someone once, though."
"Someone...with a moustache?"
"Yes."
Suddenly, much was clear. "Ah. And someone who...?"
"Someone who cast me aside when I was injured, as unwanted goods, Tezrei. Have I humiliated myself enough for you now?"
The fierce scowl could not conceal the wounded look in the man's eyes. "To be unlucky in love, your highness, isn't a humiliation any more than to be injured. It's just one of the things that happens in life."
"Like losing a spouse?"
Wepizi's smile tightened. "Yes, like that."
"You still hold it against me, don't you. What I said – even though I apologised." He sighed. "Can't blame you. It was repulsive of me."
"It's not that." He tried to loosen the muscles in his face, take the tension out of his voice. "I...find it very hard to talk about her to people who didn't know her."
The prince looked at him then, staring hard at him, though without any apparent anger. "So...she's your disability, in a way."
"Yes, I suppose she is. Like you, I have to find a way to live with it, because it's not going away. But what I will tell you, is that it's possible to live with such pain, Jui. The benevolent god asks no more than we can bear – and if he has given you this burden, he must believe you're strong, stronger than most people."
"Rot," the prince said with a derisive snort. "The benevolent god abandoned me a long time ago, Wepizi. There's no benevolence about taking a healthy, happy young man and ruining his life. Or killing your wife, or any of the other misfortunes and tragedies. Sephiz is a tyrant. I refuse to acknowledge his dominion over me."
Wepizi blinked, shocked to his core for the second time while sitting in this office. He started to speak, then realised there was no argument he could muster. Where there was so little faith and trust, there was nothing to add. "I've horrified you, haven't I?" Juimei said, his mouth twisting wryly. "I'm sorry for that. But I won't be a hypocrite and say words I don't believe."
"No, that would be a sin," Wepizi murmured, still trying to collect himself. "I just regret you're without the comfort of your belief, that's all."
"A great many things were taken from me, Wepizi – that was just one of them. If you're offended by my blasphemy, I won't hold it against you if you want to leave."
"Your beliefs don't offend me – they sadden me, but I'm used to the company of those who don't share my faith. Some of my dearest friends are Darshianese, and as you know, they barely have a religion worth the name."
"Ah, yes. I wonder which is stranger – their gods without power, or the Prij with those capricious ones they worship. I don't know how they keep them all straight."
Lunch arrived then, the same simple menu as before, and it was left to Wepizi to manage the dishes and plates. The prince, he noted, had a poor appetite, something that might be improved with more opportunities for physical exercise. He was already beginning to think of ways to get around his highness' physical limitations, as well as his need for privacy – it had to be possible, he thought. But the prince's mind was still on their conversation about Sephiz. Rather to Wepizi's surprise, he began to talk about the comparative religions of Andon, Darshian and Kuprij, a subject on which, apparently, he had a good deal of interest. Though he didn't speak Darshianese or Prijian, Juimei was well-informed, even rather scholarly in his knowledge – certainly he knew more about the Prijian religion than Wepizi did, and his dry comments about this or that god and their supposed powers, startled Wepizi into laughter several times. He was still chuckling over the last acid remark when Neime came in and did a double-take to see them like that.
"Ah, Neime, we were just finishing."
Neime came over to the table they were using, and pulled up a chair. "Looks like I missed all the fun."
"His highness...."
"Jui," the prince corrected sternly, though smiling a little.
Neime's eyes widened, and Wepizi rather thought his highness was enjoying the surprise. "Jui," he amended, "has been telling me how the world is basically a lump of urs beast dung rolled into a ball and given life by the breath of Lord Niko. Which must come as a dreadful shock to Sephiz."
"Do you suppose the gods get into fist fights?" Neime said, grinning.
"No need – Sephiz would win, and the others don't exist anyway," Wepizi said calmly, which made Juimei snort in disgust. "Where did you learn all this, and why, Jui?"
The prince sat back in his chair, holding his mug of drizu. "Had a tutor when I was a lad, who'd lived on Kuprij for a bit – this was before the war with the Darshianese, of course. Even before the first invasion – before they got too big for their boots. He knew a lot about their culture – he tried to teach me Prijian but damned if I could pick it up. I can read it, a little, but speaking it – impossible. He taught me about their gods and their history, and then I learned more about Darshian from another tutor I had, though he didn't last as long. You get information from all sorts of places, living in the palace."
"Like the army – we meet people who've travelled all over Periter, and you just pick up facts from being around them."
"Not a dissimilar process, I imagine." He seemed to realise he'd relaxed quite a lot in front of a subordinate, and became self-conscious again. "Uh...Neime...the tezrei will want to be getting back to his barracks. Wepizi, thank you for coming – a most informative and interesting conversation."
"Yes, Jui, for me also. So you'll come to the barracks at ten and we'll depart from there?"
"Yes, yes, whatever's the least trouble. Neime?"
Wepizi bowed again, and followed Neime out. The man stopped him on the steps of the residence. "You made him laugh," he said in an awed tone.
"He made me laugh, actually. It was most enjoyable."
Neime shook his head. "You don't understand – I've heard him laugh three times in four years. And never with anyone else, and never like that. You made him laugh." He smiled, but his eyes were suspiciously bright. "I will be forever in your debt, Wepizi."
"No need to be, my friend. Neime – I think I can teach him to ride again, if he'll permit it. Right now, he won't."
"I'll work on him, if you think it's truly possible – is it? It'd be a miracle if he could. He wants it so badly, but I don't think he dares try. You can't blame him."
"I don't, and yes, I do think it's possible. Let me put my mind to it."
"Sephiz sent you – I know he sent you. He's done so much more in this last month than he's done in years – and he's agreed to go to the school prize-giving. I've been trying to get him to do that since he arrived."
"He's healing, Neime. Time will do that. Your friendship too – I can't take any credit, not in such a short time."
"Maybe. But I'm still grateful. I just hope this school thing goes well. I'll strangle any child that laughs at him, truly I will."
"Ah," Wepizi said thoughtfully, stroking his moustache. "Would you like me to have a quiet word with the senior teacher? Or Jiren Heininke can, perhaps – he's the one with the daughter there. I'm sure the teacher would be sympathetic."
"If you think it would help, please do. It would be a disaster if he was humiliated by the experience."
"No, not a disaster," he said firmly. "Upsetting, yes – but you and I can help him keep it in perspective. Don't worry about it, Neime. Now, I really have to go."
"Thank you. Sephiz bless you, Wepizi."
"He already has," he said with a smile, then raised his hand in farewell.
He had a lot to think about as he rode back to the barracks. Truly, their governor was a curious creature. One, he was beginning to think, who might be well worth studying.
Want to read the rest of this story?
|
|
After the events in Staying Power, Wepizi was ready for a new challenge, and he gets it, in the form of a new posting. But what he finds there, and the events that take place, will test him more than he ever imagined. And Prince Juimei will learn the true role of a leader in a time of great crisis. In Bearing Fruit, it's time for Kei, Arman, Karik and their friends to explore the fruits of peace and to build upon the hard work of the last two decades. But if they thought life was finally going to settle down - they were much mistaken. An unwelcome figure from their pasts brings surprises and problems, and perhaps more changes to lives which have already seen so much upheaval. Download for US$ 4.99 Buy in print for US$ 15.31 |