Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4)

by Ann Somerville

  The prince bowed, then raised his hand, as a couple of the patients tried to stand. “Now, now, don’t get up. Thank you for that. I won’t be staying long, I know you need your rest. I just wanted to tell you that on behalf of his majesty, I pledge all my strength, and all the services of the council, to helping you. We have your families well looked after, we’re finding them shelter, and we’ll rebuild your homes to be as good or better than before. None of you need to worry—no one will be left behind, or ruined. It might take a while, but we will rebuild, and we will overcome this. Together, as Andonese. You have my personal vow on it. “

  Another cheer—it really seemed his words had been of comfort to many. Wepizi could imagine why. Trapped here by injury or ill-health, worrying about their loved ones, it must have been very hard for these people.

  Juimei spoke to a couple of the patients very eager to talk to him, and then touched Wepizi’s arm. “Why don’t we split up? Visit as many as we can?”

  “Good idea. But you need an attendant—”

  “I’ve got an infirmary full of people ready to help me, tezrei,” Juimei said with a wry smile. “I’ll be fine. Go find your soldiers.”

  Wepizi smiled and agreed, and to himself, wondered at how this disaster could become a personal salvation for their governor. It was almost as if what he had really lacked since his injury had been a meaningful challenge. He had that now in barrow loads.

  The main infirmary building was much as the tent had been—ordered, clean, but crowded. This was where the more seriously ill patients were being cared for, so he didn’t linger, just greeted his medics and the civilian healers, and asked if they needed anything. They reported they were holding on pretty well, which was all he could ask for at this point. Turning to look for his soldiers, he ran into Neime, and was shocked to find the lad obviously distressed, his cheeks pale and his eyes shocked-looking. “What’s wrong?”

  Neime swallowed before he spoke. “That girl—they’re going to take her leg off. They said it’s the only way to save her life.”

  “Then it will be. It’s possible to live a good life even with a limb missing.”

  “I know.” He shook himself. “Where’s Juimei...I mean, his highness?”

  “Juimei’s visiting patients, and managing just fine. He sent me away to see my people, so you don’t have to rush off and find him. Neime, look at me.” He made the lad face him. “You can’t do anything for her now—but when they’ve done operating, I’m sure she’ll appreciate a friend. We need to find out where she came from, find her family.”

  “I’ll look after her, don’t worry,” Neime said, a determined set to his jaw. “Your soldiers are in the school house—the last I heard, they were all doing well. Want me to show you?”

  “No, stay here, you’re needed. And doing a very good job. I know it’s a relief to me and to Juimei that we can rely on you.” He gave Neime’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “You go on.”

  The school house had been turned over to non-patient use, mostly—a field kitchen, a place to wash and prepare dressings, drugs and bandages, and so on—but two rooms were being used for recuperating injured. He found his ten injured soldiers in one—the main occupants, in fact, of the entire room. Slates and models, schoolbooks and desks were all shoved in a corner—there was so little room to put anything, that was the problem. But here, as in the rest of the infirmary, there was no disorder, and his people lay or sat on pallets in neat rows. He waved down attempts to rise and salute.

  “At ease, all of you. How do you feel? Any complaints?”

  He spent time with each, and found spirits were high, though the injuries were painful, and the hastily made straw pallets far from the most comfortable places for injured people to rest. The soldiers weren’t interested in discussing their own ills—instead they wanted to know about their comrades, and how the restoration was going. All were eager to be well and out there doing their jobs, and Wepizi had to remind them that their first duty was to get fit.

  “There’s plenty of work going begging,” he told them wryly, raising grins. “This job won’t be done in a month, or six months.”

  “Sir, what about the winter? We can’t rebuild the barracks and the houses in time.”

  “It’s a problem, certainly. But I’ve spent winters in tents, and I know you have, so we’ll be all right—the civilians are more of a worry. Once you’re all a bit stronger, I might use you to help us plan things, and if you have any good ideas, pass them on. Broken legs won’t affect your brains now, will they?”

  “No, sir,” they chorused.

  The man nearest the door suddenly sat up straight. “Come to attention for his highness!”

  Wepizi turned and found Juimei limping in, waving at the soldiers to be at ease. “No, please, don’t get up. I just thought I’d come by and see how you all were doing.”

  Even with the order to relax, his people tried to at least lie at attention, but Wepizi understood the instinct and knew there was no fighting it. “Have you seen all the other patients?”

  “Most of them—some are too ill to be visited, and of course, I couldn’t leave without seeing his majesty’s own soldiers,” he added, raising his voice and smiling at the patients, who grinned. “And I bet you all thought your school days were behind you.”

  “Never too old to learn, your highness,” a groi with a broken arm and heavily bandaged head, said cheerfully.

  “No, I’m finding the truth of that every day. Is there anything you need? We need you back on your feet, so don’t be shy about asking for anything that will help that.”

  Wepizi found a stool for the prince to rest on, then watched in some amazement as he chatted unselfconsciously with people he’d been barking at just weeks before for ‘staring’ at him, and with an ease he would never have suspected him capable of. His soldiers were charmed, pleased as anything to have the personal attention of his majesty’s representative, actively willing themselves to get better so they could go back to serving not just the king and council, but this man personally. And the prince rose to their expectations, so it seemed to Wepizi—growing in confidence and kindness even as he watched.

  Juimei stayed only twenty minutes or so, then excused himself because he and Wepizi both had things to do, but in that short visit, he had done a good deal to boost the soldiers’ morale—no bad thing even under better circumstances. Once they were out of the room, Wepizi realised the prince was tired again, but his concern was brushed aside.

  “Talking takes it out of me, that’s all. Did you see Neime?”

  “Yes—he’s upset about that girl. They’re going to amputate her leg. Can’t be helped, of course.”

  Juimei winced a little. “He’s taking the injuries and death too much to heart. He feels things so much, that’s the problem. Do you think I should put someone else in charge of this?”

  “You know him best. But based on my own assessment, I think he’ll cope—with the support of his friend.”

  “Friends, you mean,” Juimei said with a smile. “He counts you as one.”

  “I would be honoured if he did—but you’re his companion, the man he trusts and loves. If you’re there, he can do anything he needs to.”

  “Put a lot of faith in me, don’t you?” They began to move slowly towards the door.

  “A lot of people are. From what I can see, it’s justified.”

  “I sincerely hope so, because getting this wrong won’t be like losing an ito match, will it? Come on, I dare say the mayor will be annoyed if I disappear for too long, and we can’t have his honour all ruffled up again.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  All afternoon, he and Wepizi worked next to each other, struggling to stop the town descending into chaos, encouraging, chivvying, giving orders, and settling the disputes that arose when one got hundreds of worried, tired people crammed together without any promise that their ordeal would end soon. There was another aftershock two hours after noon, but it caused no further damage—and since
everything he’d read, or that anyone knew, said that the aftershocks always continued to reduce in strength, he consulted with the engineers and Wepizi about putting people back into the standing houses. Clouds were gathering, and it seemed likely there would be rain in the next twenty-four hours—possibly overnight. They took the decision that householders could go back if they wished, but no one would make them. In every case, people were eager to get back into their homes, and most willing to billet anything from six to ten extra people. The more reluctant ones were told they really had no choice about it, but that they would be given all the help they needed.

  By sunset, that meant they had found shelter in house for nine hundred people in proper houses, and most of those who were left, were taken to the cleared warehouses. The square was now empty of pallets and bedding, though field kitchens still needed to remain there, and it was still the best place for Juimei to be based for ease of communication and access. The few remaining refugees were sent out to the camp to be squeezed in somehow—Wepizi assured him they could be found somewhere to sleep, at least for that night. The warehouses were not ideal places for people to stay, but they would keep the rain off, and that was the most important consideration at this point. The mayor was most unhappy about the treatment of his stores, but with the river blocked, it wasn’t as if he could easily get them to market anyway. Juimei had told him to cover the goods as best he could, but to stop complaining or he’d have the lot set on fire to keep people warm. Wepizi had arched an eyebrow at that, but Juimei noticed he hid a smile behind his hand as the mayor stomped off angrily.

  “Is it wise to upset him?” Wepizi asked.

  “I no longer care very much—when this is over, I’ll do what I can to persuade him to step down. Either that, or he’ll have to answer some hard questions why my father’s laws about all buildings being made to proper standards seem to have been disregarded over the period exactly coinciding with his incumbency.”

  “Our barracks suffered the same lack—you can’t blame him for everything, your highness.”

  “I can try,” Juimei said, with a carefully neutral expression, which only made Wepizi smile more widely. “Nuleima?” he called, to one of his ‘special couriers’ who was waiting nearby. “Would you fetch Neime from the infirmary for me?”

  “Yes, your highness.” She sped off to do his bidding.

  “When will the assessment of the bridge be completed?” he asked Wepizi.

  “Not for a week. I don’t know when we can start trying to raise that ship either. I think we might need help from Nedriz for that.”

  “Even that might not be enough—we need to start thinking about evacuation. I need realistic estimates of how many houses we can rebuild before winter, but if we can’t move goods easily up and down that river, some of these people won’t have livelihoods to stay for. If the mine road can’t be cleared, the town might die completely,” he added, suddenly struck by gloominess at just how bad this could be for the town.

  “I don’t believe we’re anywhere near the point of needing to give up,” Wepizi said gently. “Already we’re in better shape than I thought we would be at this point. We’ll get more reports and assessments tomorrow—then we can make a better judgement. For now, you should stop, go back and get some rest. You sound tired.”

  Juimei rolled his eyes. “You mean I’ve started to lisp worse than usual.”

  “No, I mean, you sound tired. As I do, I imagine.”

  “Even your moustache looks weary.”

  Wepizi laughed and stroked the silly thing. “Ah, yes, it’s suffering from inattention. I’m hoping I might be able to change my uniform and groom myself better tomorrow, if we can get at my quarters. Then my moustache will be proud and perfect once more.”

  “I can hardly wait,” Juimei said wryly. “Yes, Nuleima?”

  The girl bowed sketchily. “Begging your highness’s pardon, but Neime said to let you know that he wants to stay in the infirmary tonight to watch one of the patients.”

  “Over my dead body, he will,” Juimei muttered. “Thank you, Nuleima—you go find your father, and well done.” She bowed again and ran off. Juimei got to his feet, groaning as stiff muscles protested. “I’m not having him wear himself out over a single nameless girl. We need him too much. Wepizi? Fancy being moral support?”

  “Whatever your highness commands, of course. But Jui...he might need to do this.”

  “No. I won’t allow it. You don’t know him like I do—he’ll work himself into exhaustion, trying to make it right for her. And he can’t, because she’ll be crippled, same as I was.”

  Wepizi stood up and looked him in the eye. “You’re walking proof that Neime’s love can work miracles. I wouldn’t deny that to another so quickly, if I were you.”

  Juimei blinked, surprised at such a deeply personal remark. “Uh...right. Still...the lad needs to rest.”

  Wepizi bowed a little. “So he does. Shall we?”

  It was getting dark, and Wepizi ordered two soldiers to attend them and bring lanterns. Inside the infirmary, patients were being given supper, and Juimei’s reappearance caused something of a flutter until he told them he was just collecting his page and then going. They were directed to the main ward and found Neime sitting at the bedside of the unknown girl, holding her hand and frowning as he stared intently at her pale features. She was unconscious, the blankets over her legs raised by something, a basket or frame, underneath them. She must have had the surgery.

  Poor child, to be maimed so young—but at least she was alive. He came and put his hand on his page’s shoulder. “I asked you to come along, Neime.”

  “I can’t. Someone needs to sit with her—she’ll be so frightened and upset when she wakes up. Can you imagine? She doesn’t know what’s happened to her yet.”

  And what difference would it make when she learned it? “There are people who can sit with her as well as you, my lad. Come along.”

  Neime narrowed his eyes, and with a sinking heart, Juimei recognised his page was in a defiant mood. He didn’t want to quarrel with him, and certainly not here. “No. I promised her I’d stay.”

  “When?”

  “She woke up as they were examining her before the operation. I was the only one who could calm her down, and I promised I’d stay here. She doesn’t know—they didn’t dare tell her what they’d have to do.”

  Juimei was torn, wanting to let Neime keep his promise but worried about the effect on him. Before he could answer, Wepizi, perhaps seeing his dilemma, intervened, clearing his throat. “Neime, his highness is worried about your own health. The lass will not be left alone, you know that.”

  “I promised her.”

  Juimei sighed. “Neime...honestly, you can’t help them all.”

  “But I can help her—please, Jui.”

  “And what about your duties? To me, to the infirmary? When will you sleep?”

  “When she wakes up—it’s only tonight, please?”

  “Oh...do as you wish. You will anyway,” he said grumpily, but as Neime looked down, obviously hurt, he squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “Try to get some rest. Her friend is being buried tomorrow, along with all the others. She’d want you to be there for that.”

  “I will be. Thank you.”

  Though he still thought it was an appallingly bad idea, Juimei thought it better to concede defeat with good grace, so he only smiled, and kept up the smile until they were outside.

  “Now not only will he be exhausted tomorrow, I’m without an attendant,” he complained peevishly. He felt for the girl’s situation, he truly did, but he was tired and Neime wasn’t a luxury for him—he was a necessity and a friend whose company was Juimei’s only solace.

  “Your servants?”

  “All busy looking after our hundred or so guests. Don’t suppose I could trade you a comfortable bed and a wash in exchange for your assistance?”

  Wepizi smiled. “A comfortable bed and a wash? I might be persuaded—this uniform really isn�
��t suitable for sitting around in for any length of time, and I look disreputable.”

  He did rather, his clothing grimy and his proud yellow sash a miserably dirty thing over his shoulder, though the man’s erect bearing and aristocratic politeness covered many sins. “Then come to my residence, and I can offer you a change of clothes too—we have at least got plenty of hot water. Uh...you don’t need to sleep in my bed or anything—Neime has his own.”

  “Either would do,” Wepizi said peaceably. He turned to his soldier attendants. “Let me have one of those lanterns, and tell lep Tovoi that I’ll be attending his highness this evening. I can be contacted at the residence, but I’ll be back here in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir. Rest well, sir,” his soldier said.

  “Thank you, you too. Goodnight.” He waited until his soldiers walked off, then turned to Juimei. “Shall we?” he said, offering his arm. Juimei wasn’t too proud to accept. His body ached from weariness.

  A month ago, he couldn’t have imagined doing this, but it had been the most natural thing in the world to offer. Still, he thought he might have been a bit precipitous. “Your soldiers won’t mind?”

  “Most of them won’t even know, Juimei. We’re spread all over the town. So long as I can be easily found, they won’t care where I am. My leps and jirens are reliable—I can trust them to not need me on the spot.”

  “Ah, good. I don’t mean you to think I consider you nothing but a manservant, though.”

  “I don’t think that. You’re doing me a favour too, and I’m sure Neime would be grateful you were being looked after.”

  “Huh—so this is for Neime’s benefit?”

  “Not entirely,” Wepizi said, with one of his gentle smiles. “Now, please take care where you step.”

  He could have wished for the doig again, but it had been taken back to the stables hours ago. “I can get on a mount easily enough, but I can’t get off,” he commented as they walked slowly up the street. This area was, superficially, the least affected by the earthquake, with so many stone buildings and houses, but the air was still heavy with dust and smoke. If the threatened rain came, it would at least clean that all away, though it would cause other problems.