Conspirator

“And shall we sleep underwater, nandi?” Cajeiri asked.

Bren nodded agreement. “You may, if you choose, young lord.” His own boat had sleeping only for nine, and that was going to be room enough to put the youngsters below: but somebody was going to have to sleep on deck, if Barb and Toby came along, as he expected them to do. Problems, and possibly they should use Toby’s boat, which accommodated a larger number. But the problems were small ones, and he had promised Cajeiri hisboat, now that Cajeiri had made the crossing of the straits on Toby’s boat—one learned, with the heir, that such details in a promise were a gate through which a whole mecheita could be ridden, sooner or later.

They came down the hill toward the drive, and swept up to the front door, which was a paved stretch. Barb and Toby came out with the staff to meet them, and as Bren got off the bus with Jago and Banichi right in front of him, the young rascal clattered down the steps after him, waved an arm and shouted out, “Hi, Toby! Hi, Barb!”

It was not Toby and Barb that Cajeiri shocked. Ramaso looked completely set aback, others of the staff looked from one side to the other, as Toby called out, in Mosphei’, “Hello there! How was your trip?”

“Pretty good,” Cajeiri said in a ship-speak accent and let Toby clap hands on his arms. “This time we rode in a car with canned food.”

Last time had been iced fish. That was true. Bren laughed. Toby and Barb looked puzzled.

And there was the important matter of manners to account for. Bren said, under his breath: “Courtesies to the staff, if you please, young lord.”

Cajeiri immediately refocused himself, disengaged, and spotted the important-looking staff quite accurately. Having been properly noticed, they bowed. Cajeiri bowed in return, that slight degree high rank dictated, and Bren said,

“This is Tabini-aiji’s son and heir, Cajeiri. Nandi, this is Ramaso, the major domo of my estate, who bids you welcome.”

“Indeed. One is very pleased to be here.” A second slight bow from the young rascal. “One has heard so much, nadi. Nand’ Bren has told me all about Najida. And he has promised me fishing tomorrow, on his boat.”

“Then that there will be, young lord,” Ramaso said. “The boat is fueled and being made ready, stocked with everything you could wish. And Cook offers a light snack ready, on the chance that young folk may have arrived hungry from such a long trip. Or there is a bath drawn, and a suite made ready should you wish a little rest.”

“Food, nadi! Food, indeed, and one is most grateful!”

“Perhaps the bath should come first,” Bren said, in his capacity as the adult in charge. All three were grimy, and their luggage, which Jegari had carried aboard the bus and off again, consisted of a single duffle, which was hardly enough for the three for seven days. “And staff may sort out your wardrobe.” God only knew what condition the clothes were in by now, in a soft duffle, and packed by these three. “Surely the food may wait an hour more.”

“But we’re starved!” Cajeiri protested in ship-speak, and Bren said, in courtly Ragi:

“A snack, perhaps, delivered bathside. But baths, young gentleman, are definitely in order.” The visible dirt, and the slight air about the three youngsters was notgoing into Ramaso’s tidy dining room. “I am quite firm on this matter, young lord.”

“Well, we shall eat in the tub. Shall Antaro bathe with us? Shall she not have as good as Jegari and I?”

“There is the backstairs bath ready,” Ramaso said. “It is quite a fine bath, nandi.”

“Perfectly adequate,” Bren said firmly, “and Antaro will have a maid’s attendance, and everything sent from the kitchen just as quickly as you. Trust my good staff, young lord, to offer no slight to yours.”

Cajeiri looked at him, and if said young imp had ever observed that Jago shared a bath and a bed with him, and should now mention it, the fishing trip would be in decided jeopardy. Bren made the limits clear in the eye-to-eye glance he returned—Cajeiri being, at eight years of age, about on eye level with him.

The momentary imp faded and left a perfectly agreeable and sensible boy standing there. That boy bowed quite courteously. “We shall be extremely sensible of the honor of your house, nand’ Bren. And we shall not behave badly. We are grateful you were willing to receive us and especially—especially that you felicitously improved the number of our days.”

The imperial we, the language of a century ago, courtly language: that was the dowager’s two years of intense schooling. And the rest of that courtly extravagance? Who knew?

“One is gratified, young lord. You should understand that your esteemed father gave me no chance to ask for the first five days. Your fathersuggested them himself.”

That honestly surprised the boy. “Why did he? Do you know, nandi?”

“Perhaps because he was once your age, and understands the weight of the Bujavid on young shoulders. Perhaps because the world is now somewhat safer than it was, and he wishes you to have a healthy respite from schooling—before the legislature goes into session and the Bujavid exerts itself in even tighter security. He is not ignorant of your considerable accomplishments and your personal efforts over recent months. One believes, in short, it may be a reward in earnest of good behavior.”

Several thoughts flitted through those amber eyes, one of them being, surely, My father is not that tolerant of my misdeeds, and another being, Adults in the world are surely all up to something.

“You doubt my truthfulness, young lord?”

“One certainly would not call the paidhi a liar!”

This from a lad who had grown up where a strong word could bring bloodfeud.

“One would never expect so. One offers one’s personal assessment of the situation. And one hopes for you and yours to be very happy in this visit. We shallhave our fishing trip. And if there had been any advance warning, I should never have scheduled the visit to the neighbors. But perhaps it will not be too boring for you. They will certainly be very excited to meet you. In the meanwhile, we shall have a reasonably early supper tonight, then board the boat in the morning and put out to the head of the bay for some fishing, then out into the wide ocean—well, the straits, which is as large a piece of it as we need—and a little wide-open sailing for the evening. There should be a fair wind beyond the harbor mouth and we shall use the sails.”

“Has it an engine?”

“It does, as does Toby’s, but the sails are the best going.”

Cajeiri’s eyes fairly danced. “One wishes we might stay out for days and days!”

“I shall show you how to steer the boat.”

Truly danced. “We shall be extraordinarily careful, doing so, nand’Bren!”

“Off with you. Wash! Thoroughly!”

“Yes!” Cajeiri said, and was off like a shot, cheerful and eager.

Bren looked at Jago, and at Banichi, who had just come in. Both looked amused.

“It seems very likely the young gentleman and his companions will wish to see the grounds and tour the building before dark. An escort would minimize troublec and keep them off the boat during preparations.”

Banichi laughed outright. “Gladly,” Banichi said.

Banichi had more than once shepherded the boy on the star-ship, but he had had very little time to spend time with Cajeiri since their return, and it was a fortunate solution on all sides. Jago said she would happily rest for a few hours, Tano and Algini were due a chance to go down to the shore, and take in what staff was doing with the boat. So all in all, it was a relatively well-arranged day.

The little hiatus for the youngsters to have their bath and take a tour provided him—granted there was no chance of resuming his speech-writing—time with Toby alone, possibly the chance to have a cautioning word or two with Toby, in fact, and to find out how things stood between them, granted he’d been back on the planet for months and hadn’t had a chance to have a conversation that wasn’t witnessed, managed, or otherwise inconvenient. There was so much they’d never had a chance to discuss: their mother’s last days, when he’d been absent; Toby’s divorce, when he’d been absent; Toby’s meeting up with Barb, when he’d been absentc

And in his imagining this meeting during the long years of the voyage, there’d been all sorts of time for them to sit and talk and reestablish contact. Now—

Now he was down to a few hours before dinner on thisday, before two days or so on the boat with Cajeiri and a day he’d be at the neighboring estatec all of which was adding up to most of a week, when Toby wasn’t going to be here that long. His chances to see Toby for the next number of months would be scant and the chance of something else intervening beyond that was high.

And the longer some things went unsaid, the worse. He didn’t particularly look forward to doing it—but if they let one more meeting go by without ever reforging the links they’d once had—

Well, it just got harder and harder to bring up the topic of his two-year absence, harder for him to find out what had gone on, harder for him and Toby to discuss family business. Harder to be anything but old friends who’d somewhere lost the “brother” part of it all.

They could become more distant than that, if events intervened and made their contacts rarer still. If Toby married Barb, and finally settled. It was a good thing in that sense that Toby had taken to the boat, and lived from port to port. He didn’t know what in hell income his brother was living off of— whether the government runs kept him in fuel and dockage and repairs. And he didn’t ask. Maybe Barb brought in resources. He hoped she did something constructive.

And he really, really wanted not to have Barb in the conversation.

Sure enough, Barb was there when he gave a single rap on the door and walked in on her and Toby in the sitting room of their suite. She was in the act of getting up, perhaps to answer the door—not the atevi way of things. Lacking the formality of a servant’s attendance, and he had absently signaled the maid on duty in the hall that he would not require that—the caller would open the door himself, if it was not locked; and he had done that. He bowed—not their way of things: the bow was as reflexive as the lift of the hand instructing the servant.

“Having a good morning?” he asked.

“A relaxing morning.” Barb went back to sit on the arm of Toby’s chair, a detriment to fine furniture. Absolute anathema to the staff.

He decided not to say anything. It just led to unpleasantness. And he might not, unless he had Barb dropped in the bay, geta chance at Toby alone.

So he did the only thing he could do, decided on intervention, and pulled the cord before he sat down, calling staff to serve a pot of tea.

“I really don’t like tea that well,” Barb said after the door had shut again.

“Well, it’s a bit early for brandy,” he said.

“Your rules,” Barb said with a little laugh, and finally got off the hand-embroidered chair arm, Toby’s hand following her, and trailing off the ends of her fingers. “Rules, rules, rules.”

He smiled, not in the least amused. “They’re everywhere, I’m afraid.” And got down to basic business. “The staff is still prepping the boat. Tano and Algini will be down there supervising. I hope you’ll go along on this trip. I’ve rather assumed you both would.”

“Sure,” Toby said. “Of course we will.”

“The two youngsters with Cajeiri haven’t likely seen water larger than ponds. I hope they won’t be seasick. Probably they won’t be: they’re athletic youngsters. I promised the boy specifically my boat, or we might all of us fit without sleeping bags. But at least one person’s going to end up sleeping on the deckc probably one of my staff.”

“I don’t mind the deck,” Toby said, “but Barb would want a cabin.”

Notably, Barb did not chime in with, oh, no, the deck would be fine.

“No question,” Bren said. “And my staff won’t let me do it, I’m afraid. The kids may want to. It’s an adventure to them. I wouldn’t turn them down. My staff deserves soft beds. But they assuredly won’t let you do it, Toby. Kids are one thing—it’s play for them. But you’re nand’ Toby. Won’t do at all. Dignity and all. Although they did talk about sleeping below the waterline. I think the notion intrigues them.”

“Just the security people are going?” Barb asked.

“Just the four. House staff will be busy here.”

“Not too much for them to do without us,” Toby said.

“Oh, they’re busy: they have the village to look after, too. Not to mention setting things up for the upcoming visit to Kajiminda—that’s Geigi’s estate. They’ll be seeing the bus is in order, that the road over there is decent, all of that. There may be some potholes to fix. Given the recent rain, that’s likely. They arrange things like thatc and that road only gets used maybe once a week, if that.” The tea arrived, and service went around, to Barb as well.

“All right,” Toby said. “Once a week. Why once a week?”

“Market day in the village. The Kajiminda staff will come over and buy supplies. We have the only fish market on the peninsula.”

“Here?” Barb asked.

“The village.” Inspiration struck him. “You asked about shopping. I suppose you might like to do that.”

“Can we?”

“Well, it’s fairly basic shops. There’s a fish market, a pottery, a cordmaker’s, a weaver’s, a woodcrafts shop and a bead-makerc I should send you with one of the maids. They’ll take you to places they know and I don’t.”

Barb’s eyes had gotten considerably brighter. He got up and pulled the cord again, and when the maidservant outside appeared: “Barb-daja would like to go shopping. Kindly take Barb-daja to the market. Just let her buy what she wants on the estate account. Walk with her, speak for her, and keep her safe and out of difficulty, Ika-ji. Take two of the men with you.”

The maid—Ikaro was her name—looked both diffident and cheerful at the prospect—bowed to Barb, and stood immediately waiting.

“Get a wrap,” Bren said. “It’s nippy. People will be curious about you. Just smile, buy what you like or what you might need for the boat. Provisions. I’d meant to send those with you, as was. Pick up some of the local jellies—Ikaro will make sure you get the right ones. —Ika-ji, she may buy foods: no alkaloids.”

“Yes, nandi.”

“Toby?” Barb asked.

“Is it safe?” Toby asked. “You always say—”

“The village is only over the hill and very safe. The men are just to carry packages, in case,” he added with a grin at Barb, “you decide to bring back sacks of flour. Just enjoy yourself. Buy something nice for yourself. You’re on the estate budget. Get something for Toby, too, if you spot something.” He went near and said, into Barb’s ear: “There’s a very good little tackle shop.”

Barb was honestly delighted. She disappeared into the bedroom, with the disconcerted maid in pursuit, and came back with a padded jacket and gloves—and Ikaro.

“You’re sure you’ll be all right?” Toby said, getting to his feet.

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” she said, and proceeded to mortally embarrass the maid by kissing Toby on the mouth, not briefly either, and with a lingering touch on Toby’s cheek. “You be good while I’m gone.”

“I have no choice,” Toby said with a laugh, and the little party got out the door—which shut, and left a small silence behind.

“You’re sure she’ll be all right,” Toby said.

“My staff would die before they let harm come to her,” he said, and sat down and poured a little warmup into his teacup. He had a sip, as Toby settled. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you, not really. We’ve been in rapid motion—certainly were, the last time we met. It’s been a little chaotic, this time.”

Toby wasn’t stupid. Far from it. He gave an assessing kind of look, beyond a doubt knowing that he’d just maneuvered Barb out the door. “Something serious?”

“Just family business. Not much of it. Nothing I could have done but what I did, but I am lastingly sorry, Toby, for leaving you when I did. I don’t know what more to say. But I am sorry. I had two years out and back to think about that.”

“Hey, you have your job.”

“I am what I am. I don’t regret much, except I know what you went through. I say I know. I intellectually know. I wasn’t there, that’s the point, isn’t it?”

“I read the journal you gave me,” Toby said. “I read every word of it.”

Bren gave an uneasy laugh. “The five-hundred page epic?” It was, in fact, hundreds of pages, uncondensed, but deeply edited—compared to what Tabini had gotten: the whole account of his two years in deep space, hauling back unwilling human colonists from where they had run into serious trouble, trying to prevent a culture clash—the one that might eventually land on their doorstep.

The kyo would arrive as promised, he had every anticipation— a species that had come scarily close to war with a colony that hadn’t asked before it had established itself too near. A colony their own station had had to swallow—a large and unruly item to try to assimilate, given the attitudes in that bundle of humanity.

But that had nothing to do with the situation he’d left Toby in—their mother’s last illness and Toby’s wife walking out, with the kids. Two years. Two years, and no more house with the white picket fence, no more wife, no more kids. Barb and the boat, the Brighter Daysc

“It’s no excuse,” Bren said. “Not from your vantage. Go ahead and say it. I have it coming.

“Say what?” Toby shot back. “Don’t put words in my mouth, brother. Don’t tell me what I think.”

“Maybe you’d tell me.”

“Which is why you maneuvered Barb out of here? She ismy life, Bren. Not just your old girlfriend. She’s my life.”

He didn’t like hearing it. But he nodded, accepting it. All of it. “Good for both of you. If she makes you happy—that’s all that matters.”

“You’re not still in love with her.”

God. He composed himself and said quietly, “No. Definitely I’m not.” And then on to a gentle half-truth. “I hurt her feelings when I broke it off. I was rough about it. She’s still mad at me. And she probably doesn’t want to admit it.” It didn’taccount for Barb making a ridiculous marriage on the rebound, divorcing that man and attaching herself to his and Toby’s mother, and then to Toby. And lying to his brother regarding the evident tension between them wasn’t a good idea. Toby knew him too well, even if Toby didn’t wantto read Barb, in that regard. The hell of it was, Toby wasn’tblind, or stupid, and Toby couldread Barb, which was exactly the problem. “I have every confidence in Barb, when I’m not there provoking her to her worst behavior. Is that honest enough?”

Toby didn’t look happy with the assessment. “It’s probably accurate.”

“Doesn’t mean she loves me. You want my opinion?”

“I have a feeling I’m going to get it.”

“Not if you don’t want it.”

“Damn it, Bren. Fire away.”

“Barb doesn’t turn loose of emotions. She doesn’t always identify them accurately. That’s always been a problem. She’s still charged up about me, but it doesn’t add up to love. There was a time we were really close. I’ve tried to figure what I felt about it, but I’m not sure we ever did get to the love part. Just need-you. A lot of need-you. That was all there ever was. Not healthy for either of us. Now it’s done. Over. Completely. Where you take it from there—I have no control over. I don’t want any.”

Toby nodded. Just nodded. How much, Bren asked himself, how much did Toby add up for himself? How far did he see— when he wanted to?

“I don’t want to lose my brother,” Bren said, as honest as he’d been hedging on the last. “Bottom line. I want you around. As much as can be. I don’t make conditions.”

Second nod.

“You’re mad at me,” Bren said. “You don’t want to be, but you are. Do you want to talk about it?”

Toby shook his head.

“Is it going to go away?” Bren asked. “I’m not so sure it will, until we do talk about it. Is it Mum?”

Toby didn’t look at him on that question.

“It is,” Bren said. “I wasn’t there. Not only at the last. I wasn’t there for years and years before that. Flitting in for a crisis. But you were there every time she needed something. You want my opinion again? You shouldn’t have done it.”

Toby stopped looking at him. Didn’t want to hear it. Never had wanted to hear it.

“Toby, I know it makes you mad. But you were there too often. I’m saying this because I love you. I’m saying this because I was sitting safe and collected on this side of the strait and you were getting the midnight phone calls. I shouldn’t say it, maybe. But I think it and I’m being honest.”

“Think what you like. How was I going to say no?”

“I wish you had. I wish you had, Toby.”

“Shut up. You don’t know a thing about it.”

He nodded. “All right. I’ve said enough.”

“I deserve a woman who was there when I needed her. Barb was there, at the hospital. She was always there. She wasn’t throwing a tantrum every time I had to go and see about Mum. She wasn’t pitching a fit in front of the kids. She wasn’t talking to them about me while I was in Jackson at the hospital. You want the bloody truth, Bren, it was better there than with Jill.”

There was a revelation. The happy home on the beach, the white picket fence, the tidy house and the two kidsc

Toby went home to mother. No matter how rough “home” got, home wasn’t with Jill, not the way Toby remembered things now.

It was also true their mother had had a knack for finding the right psychological moment and ratcheting up the emotional pressurec I need you. Oh, I’ll get along. I had palpitations, is all. Well, go to the doctor, Mother. Oh, no, I don’t need the doctor. Smiles and sunbeams. I’m feeling better. You know I always feel better when you’re herec

After he’d flown home from the continent in the middle of some crisis, because she had one of her own; and she’d hover right over the breakfast table and praise him to the skies and tell Toby what a good son his brother was—salt in the wounds. Absolute salt in the wounds. She’d had Toby rushing to her side because he never loved her enough, never could equal the sacrifices brother Bren made for her, oh, it was so good when Bren was there. She just sparkled.

Hell.

“I love you,” he said to Toby, outright. “I love you even when you’re mad at me—which I don’t blame you for being. You can take a swing at me, if you like.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It might clear the air.”

“Clear the air, hell! Your bodyguard would blow me to confetti.”

“Well, they’re actually not here, but if you want to, let’s move away from the antique tea service.”

“Now you arebeing ridiculous. Don’t.”

“Well, but I’ll specifically instruct my bodyguard that if you ever do take a swing at me, they’re to let you. You’ve got one on account.”

“Damn it, Bren.”

“Yeah. Honestly, I know more than I look like I do. I know the things Mum did, playing one of us against the other—she did; you know she did. I winced. I didn’t know how to stop it. I honestly didn’t know. I mediate between nations. I couldn’t figure how to tell Mum not to play one of us against the other. She taught me a lot about politics. I never got the better of her.”

“Me either,” Toby said after a moment.

“Did she ever talk about me, you know, that awful Bren? That son that deserted me?”

“No,” Toby said. “You were always the saint.”

“Worse. A lot worse than I thought. I wish she’d damned me now and again. You deserved to hear her say that.”

“Never did.”

“If you’d been the one absent on the continent, you know you’d have been the saint and I’d have been in your spot.”

That was, maybe, a thought Toby hadn’t entertained before now. Toby gave him an odd look.

“So, well, you and Barb can talk about me. Blame me to hell and back. It’s therapeutic.”

“I don’t. She doesn’t. Honestly. She’s not bitter toward you. You want the truth—she’s mad at you. But it’s hurt feelings. Like you say. Hurt feelings.”

“Barb’s probably scared to death we’re getting together to talk about her. She knew damned well I was manuevering her out the door. But the moment dawned, she got her courage together and went shopping. She let us get together and now she doesn’t even know if we’ll make common cause and if she’ll have a boat to get home on. That’s Barb. She’s upset, so she’ll buy something expensive for herself. But she’s brave. At a certain point she canturn loose and take care of herself. That’s the Barb I loved. Back when I did love her, that is.”

Toby managed a dry laugh. “She’ll want to know what we said. And she won’t believe it wasn’t really about her.”

“Better make up something.”

“Hell, Bren!”

“Funny. When I think about thatBarb that just went shopping, I know I probably did love her. But I don’t get that side of Barb anymore. That Barb’s all yours now. I don’t know how long that’ll be so, but I do know she won’t come my way again. It’s guaranteed Jago would shoot both of us.”

“Hell, Bren!”

“Well, Jago would shoot her. That, in Jago’s way of thinking, would solve all the problem.”

“Are you joking or not?”

“I actually don’t know,” he said, and added, dryly, “but I’m certainly not going to ask Jago.”

Toby actually laughed, however briefly, and shook his head, resigning the argument.

“So—are you and Barb going fishing with us after this? Can we share a boat? Or is there too much freight aboard?”

“Sure,” Toby said. “Sure. I honestly look forward to it.”

“Good,” he said, and because the atmosphere in the study was too heavy, too charged: “Want to have a look at the garden? Not much out there, but I can give you the idea. I actually know what’s usually planted there.”

“Sure,” Toby said, so they went out and talked about vegetables.

He went in after a while, and left Toby in the garden, where Toby said he preferred to sit. Barb was still shopping—that was rarely a quick event. The youngsters were settling in. He had— at least an hour to attend his notes. He went to his study then, and wrote an actual three paragraphs of his argument against wireless phones.

Crack.

Possibly the staff doing some maintenance in the formal garden, he thought, and wrote another paragraph.

No, it was notgood for the social fabric for wireless phones to be in every pocket, the ordinary tenor of formal visitation should not be supplanted—

Crack!

Skip and rattle.

That was a peculiar sound. A disturbing question began to nag at him—exactly where the aiji’s son and his companions might be at the moment.

He put away his computer, got up and went out to the hall.

There was no staff. That was unusual. He went down the hall to the youngsters’ room, and found no one there.

That was downright disturbing.

So was the scarcity of staff.

He went to the inner garden door, and walked out into the sunlightc where, indeed, there were staff.

All the staff.

And Banichi. And Toby, and the Taibeni youngsters, all facing the same direction, into the garden.

Crack. Pottery broke.

A smaller figure, one on Toby’s scale, took a step backward, dismayed, with a very human: “Oops.”

Oops, indeed. Bren walked through the melting crowd of servants, saw Ramaso, saw Cajeiri and Toby, saw Banichi on the left. Then he looked right, at the bottom of the garden, and saw a shattered clay pot, with dirt scattered atop the wall and onto the flagstones.

“One will fetch a broom, nandi,” a servant said in a low voice.

“Nandi,” Ramaso said, turning.

Cajeiri looked at him and hid something, hands behind his back, while Toby just shrugged.

“Sorry about that.” Toby gave a little atevi-style bow, showing proper respect for the master of the house.

Bren was a little puzzled. Just a little. He looked at the broken pot, looked at Cajeiri.

“One did aim away from the great window, nandi!” Cajeiri said with a little bow. And added, diffidently, “It was the ricochet that hit it.”

“The ricochet?” he asked, and Cajeiri brought forth to view a curiously familiar object—if they had been on the Island: a forked branch, a length of tubing, probably from the garden shed, and a little patch of leather.

“A slingshota!” Cajeiri announced. “And we are verygood, with almost the first try!”

There had been several tries, one bouncing, probably off the arbor support pillar, into the stained glass window.

“Well,” he said, looking at his brother. “Well, there’sa little cultural transfer for you.”

Toby looked a little doubtful then. “I—just—figured the boy could have missed things, with two formative years up in space.”

Bren pursed his lips. As cultural items went, it was innocuous. Mostly. “You made it.”

“Showed the kids how,” Toby said in a quiet voice. “Mistake?”

“Slingshota,” Bren said, and gave a sigh. “New word for the dictionary. Just never happened to develop on this side of the water, that I know of. Banichi, have you ever seen one?”

“Not in that form,” Banichi said with an amused look. “Not with the stick. Which is quite clever. And the young gentleman has a powerful gripc for his age.”

Witness the demolished potc a rather stout pot at that.

“Well, well,” he said, “use a cheaper target than that, young gentleman, if you please. Set a rock atop the garden wall.”

“I am sorry,” Toby said, coming near him, so seriously contrite that Bren had to laugh and clap him on the shoulder, never mind the witnesses present.

“If the young gentleman takes out the historic ceramics in the Bujavid,” he said, “I may be looking for a home on the island. But no, no damage is done. Just a common pot. I’m sure some entrepreneur will make an industry of this import.” Or the Guild will find use for them, he thought, but didn’t say it. Banichi clearly was taking notes. “Just supervise, will you?”

“No problem,” Toby said, and Bren laughed and patted his shoulder and walked away, Banichi in attendance, to have a word with Ramaso. “Let them have a few empty cans from the kitchen, nadi-ji. That will be a much preferable target.”

“Yes, nandi,” the old man said, and went to shoo the servants back inside.

“Interesting device,” Banichi said. “Not nand’ Toby’s invention.”

“No. Old. Quite old.”

“We have used the spun shot,” Banichi said, “an ancient weapon.”

“Very similar principle,” Bren said. “Except the stick.”

“One does apologize for the pot,” Banichi said.

“Just so it isn’t the dowager’s porcelains, once he gets home.”

“One will have a sobering word with him, Bren-ji.”

“Quietly, ’Nichi-ji. The boy has had a great deal of school and very little amusement since the ship. Perhaps one may put in a word with his father, to find him space in the garden to use his toy.”

The boy had used to have racing cars—almost the last real toy he had ever owned, except what his human companions brought for his amusement. The last of the cars had come to a violent end—blown up, with explosives, in very fact. Banichi had done that—in a moment of need and improvisation. Toys since—no, there just had been very few.

“He will learn weapons,” Banichi said. “And hunting.”

Guns. And the other items of mayhem in the Guild’s repertoire. The boy already knew about detonators and wires. Knew about bombs and had seen things no eight-year-old ought to have seen.

“Not too soon,” he said sadly. “Not too soon, Banichi. His aishid is going to have to go off to train. That will be a hard time for him, when Antaro and Jegari go to the Guild.”

As they were already beginning to do, to become security for a boy who would be aiji—with very serious threats to deal with.

“Will those two do all right in that, do you think?” he asked, on the opportunity. “Do you think them apt, after this escapade with the train?”

“They have excellent background,” Banichi said, and, as they reached the study door: “We have had a serious talk,” Banichi said. “If you will, we can take them in hand—and not neglect the paidhi’s security. They are trustworthy, to let within the perimeter. Jago concurs. So do Tano and Algini. We think there are possibilities in these two.”

Of very, very few individuals would his security say that, he was sure.

“Would working with them take you away?” he asked, when he had opened the door and brought them into his study.

“No, Bren-ji. It would let the youngsters stay closer to the Bujavid, closer to the paidhi-aiji, as it happens. With the boy. We may be able to persuade his father.”

He’d missed Cajeiri. Broken pots and all, he enjoyed the company.

“Tabini-aiji said,” said Banichi, “that he came very close to death, this last year. He said that you and the heir might need the closeness of mind you gained with him on the ship, that it might serve you well. The boy has needed time to be atevi: he has needed to develop the instincts—the proper sense of being what he is. But, Tabini-aiji has said, this was never intended to sever you from the heirc should anything befall himself.”

He was a little shocked. Greatly sobered. Grim thought, and profoundly affecting, that the aiji had expressed that intention to his aishid.

“One has regretted the heir’s absence,” Bren said earnestly. “One has regretted it extremely.”

“Your staff knows that,” Banichi said, with an uncommon intensity.

“What do youthink, ’Nichi-ji?” Man’chi, that instinct to group together, that bond that held a household together in crisis, was as profound to atevi as love was to humans. Say that atevi didn’t love. Didn’t feel friendship. That was true. What they did feel was as powerful, as intense. And emotionally-based. “Do you agree with this notion? Does it disrupt us? Does it affect man’chi?”

Banichi had shepherded the young rascal aboard ship. Banichi had built the cars with him. Banichi had guarded the aiji’s son; and Banichi had been in Tabini’s own aishid, once. So had Jago. Now they were in the paidhi’s man’chi, together with Tano and Algini, who had come to them from a slightly more esoteric attachment—the Assassins’ Guild itself.

And didpotentially having the boy and his household tangled in theirs—somehow disturb the equation?

“We would not accept it,” Banichi said, the four-fold-plus-one weof the aishid itself. “We would never accept it, Bren-ji, if there was any possibility it would affect our man’chi to you.”

Bren bowed his head, deep appreciation, with a little tightness in his throat. “One is quite emotionally affected by that declaration, Banichi. You should know that.”

“One is still not a salad,” Banichi said wickedly, and made him laugh—old joke. Old, old joke, between them, from their first try at straightening out that particular question. He’d nailed it down a little better since. They both felt keenly what they did feel. The gulf was still there. One didn’t ask the other to be what he wasn’t, or, to a certain extent, to do what he couldn’t. Banichi and Jago had been ever so frustrated with him on one notable occasion, when their charge had risked his neck trying to protect his bodyguard.

He still would, if it came to that. It frustrated all of them that he had that contrary instinct; but they knew, if push came to shove and he panicked, he’d behave in a very crazy way. They just planned on it; and he tried not to.

Idiot, Banichi might as well have said; and he’d say, That’s what you have to work with, ’Nichi-ji.

It turned out to have been a good thing he’d sent two men with Barb and Ikaro. Barb had restocked the Brighter Days’galley with about a hundred kilos worth of foodstuffs, bought a very, very fine knife for Toby, and a complete atevi child’s dinner gown and coat for herself. She came back down the main hall in a froth of high spirits, while Ikaro privately came to Bren in the study doorway and presented the bills with deep and mortified bows.

“She is the associate of the aikaso’aikasi-najawii of my house,” he assured the young woman: that mouthful was to say, the companion of my sib of the same mother and the same father. “And by no means will the estate bear this expense on its books. I shall, as a gift to my brother. Tell Ramaso I wish to speak with him, and by no means be in the least distressed, nadi-ji. I am not, in the least.”

That was somewhat of an untruth. Ikaro was upset, and on no few levels—distressed that she had not been given the power to restrain Barb, distressed that she had had to worry all afternoon about his reaction, distressed now that the paidhi had possibly been put into a financial position and been finagled into restocking his brother’s boat, distressed that the paidhi was now going to have to talk to Ramaso to straighten things out, and distressed that she might not be kindly dealt with in that discussion. He tried to reassure her. He hoped that Ikaro might confide in him anything she felt she needed to confide regarding the event, if there was, say, more than a hundred kilos of goods, a knife, and a dinner gown involved.

Yes. There was.

When he said, “One hopes that my brother’s lady was circumspect, nadi-ji,” and Ikaro did not look at him eye to eye, but bowed very low indeed, that was a warning.

“She was not circumspect,” he surmised.

Intense embarrassment. Another deep bow, still without looking at him. “It was surely a misunderstanding, nandi. One failed to convey.”

“What happened?”

Hesitation. “She wished to purchase a ninth-year gown.”

He didn’t know what to say for a moment. A child’s coming-to-notice. Officially. And they were hand-made, a costly centerpiece of a family celebration. “One is certain she had no notion that it was a festival gown,” he said.

“Indeed,” Ikaro said, not looking at him.

“Surely—she did not succeed in this purchase.”

“No, nandi. One believes she understood there was a problem.” A bow. “One could not adequately interpret.”

“Possibly the paidhi-aiji could not have adequately interpreted.” He constructed the scene in his mind, the maids, the men, the townsfolk, and Barb, unable to communicate. The gown in question—the gown would have been made for a specific young lady who would have been, yes, Barb’s size. But the special-made gown now had been the subject of an argument—exceeding bad luck for the impending birthday—and Barb had offered more money, a suggestion which Ikaro had not dared translate.

“One understands,” he said. “You did your best, Ikaro. One will manage the matter. Please call Ramaso. And thank you. You have done everything you could have done.”

Besides flinging herself bodily on Barb and pulling her out of the shop.

God!

“One believes it might be best to replace the gown,” he said when Ramaso had come in and heard the matter. “May the paidhi do so, at his expense?”

“That would be extremely gracious of the paidhi,” the old man said. “The event is for spring. There is time.”

“The paidhi might favor the young girl with a festivity in the estate on the auspicious day—might we not?”

“Indeed,” the old man said. “Indeed. That would be most generous.”

“Do I know the girl?”

“She is the sailmaker’s daughter.”

“Egien? Then the paidhi will be extremely delighted to offer the event the hospitality of his house if they will take it.”

“One will send that message immediately, if the paidhi will write.”

Before the ill omen of the criticism of the little girl’s gown reached the couple. It had already distressed the tailor, who must be wondering what he could do.

So he wrote two letters, one to the tailor: The paidhi has learned of a misunderstanding in the village this morning in your establishment. Please accept the apologies of the paidhi-aiji for the difficulty. The paidhi wishes to gift the child with a new gown of the best materials in your stock, and has every confidence in your skill to accomplish this in a timely way. Please bill the paidhi directly, courtesy of the estate, and please add the cost of the discarded gown to the bill. It is my gift to the family.

Then he wrote to Egien-nadi: This morning, the paidhi has learned with great joy of the impending felicity: the paidhi has been extremely distressed to understand that a misunderstanding in the shop has compromised the tailor’s work for this happy event. This accident must not compromise the omens of the occasion. It is the paidhi’s wish to have the happiest of events for this child, the daughter of a skilled craftsman who is an asset to the village.

Accordingly he wishes, as Lord of Najida, and in gratitude for the work of your house, to offer an ensemble of the finest work. He offers his estate’s hospitality with a dinner and celebration for all the guests on the festive dayc

That would be the whole village.

c Please accept this gesture with the paidhi’s personal wishes for felicity and prosperity.

Barb’s tab for the morning had run to, oh, a considerable figure. The ensemble Barb had admired would have to be burned, and a new gown made, to purge the taint of envy and criticism from the child. For the rest, he’d meant to offer Toby fuel and resupply, he wasn’t sorry to have Toby have the knife, and if Barb’s new atevi clothes, the clothes she’d actually bought in that shop, pleased the pair of themc well, good, he thought. Worse could have happened. The girl would have the birthday of her dreams, the village would be happy: over all it added up to felicity, and that, on the most superstitious of occasions, the entry of a child onto the fringe of adult society, was the important thing.

So when it came to supper, he even fell into the spirit of the occasion by kitting Toby up in one of his less formal coats—the trousers were impossible—and the shirt and coat were a close call: Toby was a little stouter below, and his seafaring life had given him a greater breadth of shoulder than one gained sitting at a desk, never mind the exercise the paidhi attempted to take.

“I swear I’m going to have it in the soup,” Toby said, apprehensive of the lace cuffs. “Bren, God knows what Barb’s outfit cost this morning. I don’t want to ruin a shirt for you.”

“I’ve spilled a little soup in my career,” Bren said. The two of them were in his bedroom, with Koharu and Supani standing by to adjust the coat. “You use the wrist, turn the hand and lift when you reach for your wineglass—drop the fingers, pick up the glass. Keeps the lace right out of the soup bowl. I’m not kidding.”

“Turn and lift, huh?” Toby gave it a try. The lace wrapped onto his wrist in a decently elegant gesture. “Hmn.”

“Works as a gesture, too, just the half-reach. If you really want the water goblet and can’t safely cross the territory, wait till the servant takes the soup bowl out of the path: he’ll notice your signal. Nobility has some sacrifices.”

“It’s an incredible life.”

“Honestly, I don’t even think about it. I just keep my cuffs out of the soup.”

Toby laughed. “Never that successfullyc figuratively speaking. You’re always in it.”

He laughed, at the same joke, for once. “Still, I try. Shall we see if the maids have gotten Barb into that outfit?”

“I’ll check,” Toby said. “You go find the royal youngster, why don’t you?”

“No smoke has risen,” he said. “And there’s been no further sound of breakage. I’m fairly sure my bodyguard has been able to keep up with him.”

He sent a manservant to advise Banichi and the youngsters, wherever found, that supper was in the offing, and dropped by to consult Jago and Tano and Algini, who had been resting in quarters, playing dice, and actually enjoying themselves.

Deep breath. Calm. Everything was handled. He didn’t tell Jago about the ninth-year ensemble. Not on so pleasant an evening. He just met Banichi and the youngsters near the door, advised the youngsters to wash up, and looked forward to what the major domo informed him was a very extravagant effort from the kitchen.

Well, so, they would have all five courses, and helpings on an atevi scale. Time to pace oneself, or be sorry. And the lord of the place was obliged to be last to table—but he paced that, too, and contrived, with Jago and Banichi, to get himself into the dining room and settled into the conversation before Cajeiri and Toby had gotten much beyond, “You look great, nand’ Toby, Barb-daja!”

Barb got to preen in her new clothes. She had gotten herself a sea-green dinner ensemble with gold beading. It was, to be sure, styled for a slightly built child, with a high neck—and the sea-green outfit was really quite becoming to her slight figure, with its wide belt, gold embellishment, and a long scarf trailing just a little onto the floor—adjustment would still have been indicated. But there it was. He’d lent Toby a beige informal coat with velvet same-shade collar and, of course, the shirt and lace. Toby had on his best brown corduroys and a pair of boots in good polish, and actually looked quite the figure in it, as long as he didn’t reach and split a seam. The youngsters were duly impressed, and consequently put on their party manners—though for this household meal, Antaro and Jegari ate at table, in their best.

So did Banichi and Jago and Tano and Algini, with no visible weaponry. It was relaxed, Cajeiri’s youth and rank kept the conversation moderately modest. Everybody smiled, everybody appreciated the cook’s efforts and praised the meal properly, Barb didn’tlean on Toby’s shoulder at table, Toby managed not to drag his cuffs through the soup—actually managed the cuffs with a bit of flair, and the youngsters didn’t drop anything on the tablecloth.

It was splendid, all in allc given the start to the day.

“It could have been worse,” he said, finally relating the whole ninth-year ensemble problem to Jago, after hours, in bed.

A moment of silence ensued, Jago with her head on the other pillow, facing him in the darkness. Then:

“Bren-ji, this woman is a scandal.”

“She will be gone in a few days.”

“And then a birthday party! When are you to get any work done?”

He sighed, heaving upward on one elbow with Jago’s hand on his ribs. “I shall manage, Jago-ji. And by the day of the event, we shall be back in the capital, one is quite sure. There are far worse things. Farworse things. Toby and I spoke quietly and one believes we have settled some matters between us that were far more troublesome for the future.”

Jago rose up on an elbow. “Should your staff know these things?”

“Old matters. Things you do know, Jago-ji. I left on our voyage at a very unfortunate time for Toby and his household, with my mother ill. This was a potential cause of great resentment. We spoke. That was why I sent Barb to the village—to have the chance to speak to him privately. The feeling is very much better between us now. The situation with Barb—well, Barb is Barb.”

Jago said not a thing. He moved his hand on Jago’s bare shoulder.

“The tension will be better in the morning,” he said, “on the boat. Everybody will be busy, and there will be ample distraction. You may even see Toby happy. And if he is happy, one believes Barb will behave better.”

Barb and the youngsters alike would be surrounded by un-crossable water, he was thinking. Both Barb and the youngsters would be in a very good mood—the latter all bright-eyed and earnestly well-behaved. And confined to the deck.

“Come here,” he said, gathering her close. “Forget about it, Jago-ji. Tomorrow we sail out of reach of shops.”

Morning came at a leisurely pace. Jago got up, he did, Jago dressed herself and Koharu and Supani came to dress him after Jago had gone wherever Jago intended to go. None of the rest of the household was awake, except staff. And it was safe here, safe as the Bujavid never was, so he asked for his coat and walked out into the brown, dead garden to take a turn out there, watching the sun come up. The maidservant trailed him: he sent her for tea, and enjoyed a cup. Steam from it curled up into the light of dawn.

Then the rest of the house began to stir—so the servant advised him, and he came back in, invigorated and ready for breakfast—which he shared with Toby and Barb alone until the youngsters came racketing into the dining room, all bright-eyed and anxious.

They settled rapidly and were served their breakfasts. Cajeiri was being so, so good, not asking when they would go to the boat, not asking a thing, and being very elegant with his table manners: Cajeiri and the two Taibeni youngsters wore clearly second-best coats, their roughest clothes probably cleaned by now, for the trip, after their riding the whole way here on boxes of canned goods.

“What willbe our schedule?” Toby asked him finally, prompting Cajeiri’s immediate attention. “Shall we be out and away directly after breakfast?”

“I think so,” Bren was in the process of saying when a servant slipped up to him and said, quietly. “There is a call from Mospheira, nandi. Your staff cannot make out the name, but it seems to regard nand’ Toby. And the caller is a woman who seems distressed and who asks for you.”

“A woman.” He was a little bemusedc until Barb threw down her napkin and left the table without an excuse, and Toby leapt up and went after her.

Thatnarrowed the field of possible guesses.

He got up, bowed to the distressed staffer, and to the youngsters, who had also risen in some degree of concern. “Please finish your breakfast, young lord, you and your household, and please excuse me for a moment. One suspects this is a social matter.”

Nothing to do with politics, Cajeiri’s father, or armed disaster, at least. He left the dining room at a sedate pace, heard from the servant that the phone call might be received in the study, and walked there, also at a sedate pace.

There a servant waited to offer him the phone, which he took.

“This is Bren Cameron.”

“Bren!” He knew that voice. “Bren, I’m so sorry to interrupt your morning. Is my husband there?”

Jill.

“Yes, Toby’s here.” He was quite careful not to refer to Toby as her husband, which, to his recollection, Toby was not. At least—Toby had said it was final. “But he’s not in the room with me. Is there something wrong?”

“Julie’s been in an accident.” Tears broke through. “She’s in the hospital.”

Toby’s daughter. Bren’s pulse rate ticked up. “Serious?”

Sobs. “Bren, she’s hurt. She’s really hurt, broken arm, broken legc”

“My God, what was she doing?”

“It’s not my fault!” Jill cried. “It’s not my fault! She was cycling down Velroski and it was raining and she had an accident.”

“Her head?”

“She had a helmet. But she hit a pothole and the cycle’s a wreck and they don’t know how badly she’s hurt, Bren. Bren, I can’t deal with this by myself. I’ve gotto talk to Toby.”

How in hell had Jill known Toby was here? Had Toby been in contact? Had she gotten it out of State, via Sonja Podesta’s office?

“I’ll go tell him. Can you stay on the line?”

“Yes!” Jill said, so he laid the phone down, told a servant not to hang it up, and headed down the hall to Barb and Toby’s suite.

He knocked once. Pushed the door open. Toby was standing in front of a closed bedroom door, and looked toward him in some distress.

“Toby,” he began.

“I don’t know how she tracked me. Dammit, Bren. It’s Jill, isn’t it?”

“Toby, Julie’s had a cycle wreck.”

The anger drained from Toby’s face. So did the color. “Oh, my God. How bad?”

“Broken arm, broken leg, hit a pothole in the rain. Jill’s still on the line. She wants to talk to you.”

“Damn it!” Toby said. “Damn it! Where’s the phone?”

“My study,” Bren said, and stood aside as Toby left out the door, at a near run.

He was still standing there a heartbeat or two later, wondering whether he ought to go to the study and risk interrupting what those two had to say to each other, and delaying what Toby needed to learn about little Julia—hell, little Julia was a young woman now. It had just been that long sincec

The bedroom doors flew open. Barb stood there, red-eyed. “Where’s Toby?”

“Barb,” he began to say.

“ Where’s Toby?”

“He’ll be on the phone. His daughter’s been in a wreck, Barb. Ease up.”

“Oh, in a wreck! How bad is it?”

“Broken leg, broken arm.”

“Then she’ll live,” Barb said shortly. “How in hell did Jill call here?”

That was a real question. “Probably she phoned Statec Toby works for them, doesn’t he? Or is it Defense?”

Barb scowled at him and started for the door.

“Damn it, Barb, calm down. The kid’s in the hospital. Jill wants advice.”

“Oh, sure, she’s in the hospital. That’s the magic word. And he’ll come running.”

He was appalled. The hell of it was—it echoed Jill herself, when Toby would drop everything for their mother’s every minor crisis. And the last, that hadn’t been minor. It echoed the whole situation that had driven Jill to leave Toby. His warnings to Toby hadn’t mattered then. Wouldn’t matter now. This time he tried logic with Barb. He snapped, “Well, where did youmeet him?”

At the hospital, that was to say, when they’d both, she and Toby, sat up with Mum and started an affair that had led here.

But maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to have said, after all. Barb’s eyes widened and she looked at him as if she’d like to hit him.

So he added, “It’s also where you’ll lose him if you don’t use your head about this.”

She did hit him, right across the face. Fortunately for her, Jago wasn’t there, nor were any of his aishid. He simply absorbed it and looked at her quite, quite coldly.

“You only wish I would break up with him,” she shot back.

“If you think I have any shred of feeling left for you—you’re quite mistaken. It’s what I told you before: hurt him and you’ve got a lasting enemy in me. Other than that, I don’t give a damn what you do in your life, if you make him happy. It won’tmake him happy if you come running to me. Figure it out, Barb.”

Barb stared at him, then renewed her start for the door.

He snagged her arm. “If you don’t want to lose Toby for good and all, don’t everget between him and those kids. He’ll make a choice, believe me, if you put him to it. If he wants to leave here and go to the hospital over in Jackson, you smile and you go with him and you speak nicely and sympathetically to Jill and to Julie, if you have a brain in your head.”

“ Let go of me!”

He did. She massaged her arm in high theatrics and stalked out the door, with sharp, measured strides.

He delayed a moment, asking himself whether he had played that round correctly, but he thought he had. At least he’d told her the plain facts, if Barb had absorbed a single word he’d said. That was always the problem with Barb: somewhere in her head, between her eyes, her ears and her brain, there was some filter that only let through what supported her beliefs.

And right now he was probably the villain. He gave that phase about ten minutes, about as long as it took Toby to tell her something she didn’t want to hear, either. And she was here with no way but Toby’s boat for transport back to the island, so those two would have to work through itc though he wondered for a heartbeat or two if he couldn’t get her on a flight to Mogari, where she could pick up a routine air freight flight or a boat to Jackson, with the canned fish and the sacks of flour that went back and forth in trade.

No. If the relationship really, truly blew up today, somebody would have to escort her—namely him, and he wouldn’t get in the middle of Toby’s problem with her—no way in hell. They’d just have to patch it up and ship back together, speaking to each other or not.

So he composed himself and walked out into the hall, receiving a concerned look from Ramaso, who had watched the drama and had very little information.

“There’s been an accident on the Island, nadi-ji. One of Toby’s children-by-prior-contract is injured and the mother called with information. Nand’ Toby is greatly concerned. Barb-daja—” He hesitated just a heartbeat on a polite lie, and then decided the household needed pertinent facts. “—is disturbed by the notion he may take some sort of escape to void their contract.”

The old man was properly dismayed, and bowed. “One comprehends the distress, then, nandi. Are the injuries life-threatening?”

“No, which is to the relief of us all. You may pass the word on to staff,” he said, amazing himself, he was so completely cold-hearted about his brother’s distress and Barb’s outburst. “They should not accept any blame for the lady’s distress or her discord with nand’ Toby. Likely the decision will play itself out in his decision to stay for the rest of his visit or go to the bedside of his child, which will either please or distress Barb-daja, or him. In either case, it is not your fault, nor can I intervene with a solution. This one is theirs to work out.”

“And repercussions, nandi?”

“None are even possible, regarding this house, nadi-ji, Mospheira having no Guild and neither lady having connections with anyone who would take exception. But if Barb-daja disrespects the staff or other guests in any particular, cease service to her and immediately advise me of the situation. You are not obliged to bear with bad behavior or to carry out any unseemly order. This also extends to nand’ Toby, though from him one hardly expects a problem.”

“Yes, nandi,” the old man said with a deep bow. What the old man thought he very courteously didn’t express in wordsc but if there was one situation atevi did understand it was a marital conflict—to a degree that occasionally resorted to the Assassins’ Guild.

“Where is my aishid at the moment, Rama-ji?”

“Somewhere about the house—one believes, in their rooms. They are not unaware of the disturbance.”

“Inform them, nadi-ji. I wish to have a word with them.” He had the pocket com, but there were times when the deliberation of staff talking to staff and forewarnings being passed— served to calm a situation. Time for things to settle. Calm amid the storm. “And the young gentleman?”

“In his suite, too, nandi.”

Waiting for them. They must have heard about the delay and the family fight, and were just doing the sensible thing and staying out of it. Screaming in the halls in an atevi house—it didn’t happen. Nerves were on edge. His aishid was holding an emergency consultation. The kids had taken cover. Barb’s little scene wasn’t a situation he wanted to explain in detail, not until they had some outcome and he himself could say the dust had settled.

So he walked on down the hall to the study, didn’t knock, and walked in, quietly shutting the door again. Toby was still on the phone, Barb was standing, arms folded, head down, and not looking at either of them, beyond her darting glance to see who had come in. If looks could do meticulous murder, he thought, he’d be on the floor.

He wasn’t. And she couldn’t. So he waited, master of an offended atevi house and brother to one side of this phone conversation, which ran to, “Yes.” “No.” And “That’s good.” “Yes. That’s fine with me.” And: “Tell her I love her.”

Then: “Thanks so much, Jill. Thank you. I owe you.”

Jill said something at length that had Toby looking very sober, somewhat distressed.

“Do you think I need to come there?” Then another long answer. “Well, she’d stay on the boat.”

Barb broke her attitude, moved into Toby’s field of vision and signed a vigorous negative.

Toby made a sign for patience. Wait, that was.

Jill, meanwhile, was saying something he was listening toc something Toby wasn’t altogether happy with, but he wasn’t mad. He was upset. Emotionally upset.

Then: “Jill, I really appreciate you taking that attitude. I do. I know I wasn’t the best husband.”

And Barb threw up her hands and went for the door, banging it open to the dismay of two servants outside.

Bren didn’t stop her. He folded his arms and stood there. The servants quietly shut the door, restoring some dignity to the house.

Toby finished his conversation. “Thanks. Thanks, Jill. I do appreciate it. If you need me, call. You know how. I appreciate your attitude. And tell Julia, if she wants me, I will come. We’ll be here probably another five days if Bren doesn’t throw us out. So we’ll be in reach of a phone call.”

Bren was ready to shake his head no, he wouldn’t throw them out, but Toby didn’t look at him as he hung up. Toby just looked at the phone and looked at the floor and that went on for a full minute, Toby running whatever emotional math he had to run to get his nerves settled.

Bren didn’t move, having decided he didn’t need to ask questions of things Toby didn’t elect to say, and that he could amply read from one side of the conversation. He just waited.

Deep breath from Toby. Then: “She’s taking care of things there. Julie’s all in casts, going to be in the hospital another few days, no head trauma, thank God, nothing lasting.”

“That’s good. Very good. I’m glad. We’d fly you back there if you wanted to go.”

“Where’s Barb?”

“I think she went back to your rooms.”

Toby didn’t say a thing. Toby left, and not a moment after Toby had left the study and before the door had quite shut, Banichi and Jago came in, followed by Tano and Algini, all of them frowningc that was to say, allowing him to see that they were considerably disturbed.

He returned the forthrightness. “Toby’s daughter has had a fairly serious accident and lies in the hospital—a broken arm and leg. Toby’s former wife called. Barb-daja has taken this contact as a threat and behaved badly.”

“Need we take precautions?” Algini asked.

“Against Barb-daja? Unlikely we need do anything, unless she vents her displeasure on the furnishings. Then, yes, advise me. That will not be tolerated.”

There were still troubled looks.

“There is no way,” he said, “to deal with this. The dispute is between nand’ Toby and her, and one has no way to intervene. One would like to know, discreetly, what is said.” He thought he ought to be ashamed of himself for that last, but he was protective of Toby, and if it was a replay of Barb’s old arguments with him—“How can you be that way, Bren?” And, “Well, I know where I come in your priorities, don’t I?”—he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do with that information, but he’d know the scene, at least, if he needed to talk to Toby.

“One can secure a recording,” Jago said. “Algini is set up to do so, quite easily, nandi.”

“Probably without the microphone,” he muttered, knowing the decibel level Barb’s temper could reach. “But do so, yes, nadiin-ji. One needs to know. This is my brother’s welfare at issue.”

They could be discreet. He intended to be.

But damned if she was going to put his brother through the same set of crises.

“The young gentleman,” Banichi reminded him.

They’d promised the boy two days of fishing. Now this. “Advise him we will be some little delayed in setting out,” he said. And then thought, no, the boy deserved to hear from his host. “No, Banichi-ji. I shall do it myself, in all courtesy to our guests.”

Banichi gave a little nod.

“Go,” Bren said, “see what you can find out.”

His bodyguard left, on a direct mission of espionage. He, meanwhile, had to explain to Cajeiri why the latest promise Cajeiri had looked forward to was going to go amiss.

He didn’t look forward to that.

And he didn’t get that far, or need Algini’s electronics to know what was happening in his brother’s suite. One of the maidservants came hurrying out into the hall, distraught, saying that Barb-daja was flinging clothes from the closet and demanding her suitcases. “Should the staff provide them, nandi?”

Well, thatwas a good question.

Chapter 7

« ^ »

Nand’ Bren hadn’t gotten down to the boats yet, and it had been a long wait. But Cajeiri had, right after breakfast, and not by the front doors, where he would have to account for himself to the servants. He’d taken his companions down to the boats while all the adult confusion went on in the house. He knew, of course, he was permitted to be here by the ultimate authority in the house, namely nand’ Bren, so he and his companions just quietly used the garden door, and the garden gate.

That had proved a disappointment. It turned out to be just a little nook where the gardener stored pots and such, but there was a great tumble of basalt for a backdrop, and it had turned out easy to climb up and over the basalt and evergreen and down again right onto the regular walkway, this not being a very secure sort of house. So it was just convenient to go this way, once they were started.

So he and Antaro and Jegari, in their warmest coats, taking a change of clothes, and all ready for their trip, had only minor difficulty getting down to the harbor. Nand’ Bren would send his staff to the dock fairly soon to bring food and such, and so they would be down at the waterside and all ready to go aboard when they brought the yacht, which was moored offshore, up to the dock. Meanwhile he could show Antaro and Jegari nand’ Toby’s yacht, which was moored right up at the dock, and they might not be able to get into the inside, but it was a wide deck and they could walk about on their own. They would give nand’ Bren a little bit of a turn when he discovered they were not in their rooms: but nand’ Bren would know right where they were, and nand’ Bren and even his bodyguard were not dull sticks like Uncle’s guards. They could surprise nand’ Bren and have a laugh about it. Banichi would laugh and forgive him under the circumstances, and be just as sure where they had gone.

And it was certainly better than sitting up in the house while Barb-daja and nand’ Toby had a fight, which was just not pleasant at all—embarrassing, to have Antaro and Jegari hearing such an unpleasant thing in nand’ Bren’s family, and maybe even dangerous: one had no idea about that, but he was sure nand’ Bren would take care of it and get it settled.

The situation was, however, changed, down at the harbor: they saw that when they rounded the first turn of the walkway: nand’ Toby’s boat, like nand’ Bren’s, was riding tantalizingly out of reach, both at anchor—Cajeiri knew about anchors, and sailing, and even how the sails worked, all of which he was ready to tell his companions in great detail.

But the staff had moved nand’ Toby’s boat out from the dock, and had not moved nand’ Bren’s boat in. That was extremely disappointing.

So when they reached the wooden dock, they stood there looking at the water, and watching the boats, and the few fishermen far, far across the bay, where the shore grew hazy with distance. There was no activity about the immediate area, just the thin strip of sand somewhat behind the jut of the dock, the rocks, higher up than that, but one long band of rock disappearing right near the water’s edge, and reappearing just off in the water, a rounded knob of rock where the water danced, covering and uncovering it.

Nand’ Toby’s boat was somewhat bigger than nand’ Bren’s boat, but not fancier, Cajeiri thought. Nand’ Bren’s boat, nearest, was very, very fine, with its shining white hull and a line like a breaking wave painted along its side.

The boats rocked to the light movement of the water, which sucked and slapped noisily against the pilings—pilings was a word Cajeiri knew, from reading. Pilings held up the dock, and went down under the water, and when he got down on his knees and looked down, Antaro and Jegari beside him, he saw streamers of weed there, and they wondered together whether one could see any fish. He thought he had, but the others failed to see it, so he was not sure.

There was a little short ladder down from the dock. He and Antaro and Jegari took turns climbing a little down it to look under the dock, risking getting their feet wet, he was sure—the boards of the ladder were a little wetter higher up than the rung they could stand on, showing how high the water could reach. There were, they all concluded, no fish in view.

But all around them were interesting smells that made Cajeiri remember their trip across the straits on nand’ Toby’s boat, and when they all sat on the edge of the dock—it must be an hour by now—and looked at the boats, he told them about his trip, and how Toby’s boat was on the inside, and about the sails.

And they amused themselves seeing how far they could shoot a stone across the harbor, and then they tried trying to hit a particular rock on the curve of the shore, with the abundance of pebbles the shore provided.

But after all this time there was still nobody down from the house to get them closer to the boat.

And one was tired of shooting stones.

There was, however, back along the strip of sand, a small boat dragged up on shore, and it probably belonged to the estate—which meant it was nand’ Bren’s.

And then he had an idea. They probably could sail it out to Toby’s boat and he could show Antaro and Jegari the boat, and when the staff did come down, they could just sail the little boat back to the shore and surprise everybody. They would look very grand and very accomplished on the water, and nand’ Bren would be surprised and relieved they were so competentc which might mean they could get repeated permission to use the boat.

“Come with me,” he said, and ran back along the straight-back part of the dock and back onto the rock, then scampered down the rocks, surefooted as Antaro and Jegari themselves, who had grown up in the forests and the hills. This was all new territory, this sandy stretch—sand was harder to run in, much harder, so he strode along, looking very confident, leading, as a young lord should. He reached the boat, assessed the situation with the sail at a glance, and pulled the rope to raise it to the top of the little mast as if he had done it every day of his life. It blew lazily sideways in the light breeze, sending the boom out over the side, but he took the little rope and tied it to the open place in the trim near the tiller. Then it was safe.

“Is this nand’ Bren’s boat?” Jegari asked. “Nandi, perhaps we should wait.”

“Oh, we shall just sail out a little way.” The tiller was up. The boat was secured by a knot that was easy to pull loose. “Push it out.”

“Are you sure, nandi?” Antaro asked. “Do you know how to manage it? We have never been in a boat.”

“I have,” he said, and went to the stern and moved the tiller the little it would move. “See. This steers it. See the rope there—that pulls on the sail so you can catch the wind. The oars in the bottom are for emergency, to move the boat if there is no wind. The board that sticks up in the bottom of the boat— that goes down into the water when we push off.”

“Nandi, surely we should wait!”

“We shall go out to nand’ Toby’s boat, and when nand’ Bren’s staff comes down, we shall come right back to shore. They will need this boat to get aboard. Come. Push!”

They looked doubtful, but they heaved and pushed until the stern was in the water, and then he got in, and they all got in.

They weighed the boat down, and it only rocked, but they could not rock it off the shore.

“Shove with the oars,” Cajeiri said, picking up one himself, and put it over the side and pushed and shoved until they were out of breath. “No good,” he said. “One of us has to get out and push and then jump in.”

“I will,” Jegari said, and got up to the bow and stepped out and shoved.

Then it went very fast, the board went down, the boom came around, bang! and the boat, tilting a little, began to move off, but Jegari ran and grabbed it, and got aboard, wet to the waist and nearly spilling water into the boat.

That was bad. But Jegari did get aboard. They had dry clothes, but the servants were bringing those down. Meanwhile nobody was steering and Antaro had gotten her oar overside to row, and because of it, they were going around. A stronger breeze caught the sail, and it popped and snapped against the mast, tugging at the rope.

“Take the oar out,” Cajeiri said, settling and tugging at the rope to bring the sail around. Increasingly the tiller was taking hold. “Just sit still, one on a side, and watch out for the boom. It will go back and forth as we go—you have to let it: just duck; and I shall steer with the tiller.”

It was all going much better, except Jegari being wet. He steered, but there was something wrong with the tiller, Cajeiri thought in a little dismay, since he was steering for nand’ Toby’s boat, but they kept going sideways nearly as much as they were going forward.

He steered sharply, and they made it right up alongside nand’ Toby’s boat, and he tried to come in behind it, where there was a ladder, but he ran into a problem, then, and the wind blew them up against Toby’s boat, scraping the hull.

“Get the oars,” he said, “and push off before we scratch the hull.”

They did, and just then they came around the side of the hull to the end and the boom came over, catching Antaro hard in the back, and nearly threw her in. He hauled on the little rope to try to control the boom, but then the wind was in their faces and the boat was coming around.

That was a problem.

Meanwhile Antaro was leaning overside, trying to reach something in the water.

“Keep in the boat, nadi!” Cajeiri cried, making a reach for her, just as Jegari did, all on the same side of the boat, and for a moment he was sure they were going over, but he leaned the other way, and Jegari did, but now they were entirely past nand’ Toby’s boat, so he turned the bow to face it, and the wind blew and they just kept getting farther and farther from the boat.

“You must be doing it wrong, nandi-ji,” Jegari said.

“There is a way to go upwind,” he said. “One is just having a little difficulty.”

“Nandi,” Antaro said, “I have lost an oar off the side.”

“We do still have the other, however,” Jegari said.

“I am going to try going fast, and then turning,” he said. “Maybe we need more speed.”

“Shall I row?” Jegari asked.

“The wind will take us,” Cajeiri said, and turned the bow. The tiller took hold again as the boat gathered speed. More and more speed, as the wind gusted and strained the sail.

“Surely this is fast enough,” Jegari said.

He thought it was, too: the ropes were singing, the way Toby’s big boat could sing when the wind was behind it. He turned, keeping tight control of the boom. But the wind hit the sail, and all that speed faded, so that they were no longer going forward. They had turned, in fact, halfway too far, and the water was even going backward relative to the boat.

Or they were going backward.

“Damn!” he said, one of Bren’s words.

“Are we in trouble, nandi?” Antaro asked.

“I think we are in trouble,” he said. “Jegari, one greatly regrets it, but we need to row: you need to get into the bow and row one side and the other so we do not go in a circle. I shall steer.”

“I shall try, nandi.”

By now nand’ Toby’s boat was much farther away. Worse, nand’ Bren’s boat and the dock looked quite small now.

“The water is all moving,” Jegari said from the stern. “Nandi, one is rowing hard, but the water is taking us with it.”

“Row!” he said to Antaro. “Help Jegari!”

He held to the tiller and tried it this way and that, but it made very little difference—more, when they went sideways in respect to nand’ Toby’s boat; and he began to think that things were getting worse and that if they could steer in any direction at all, they should go that way, so he did, or tried to, but mostly they were going crooked, because of there being only one oar.

They were in serious trouble.

“I am going to try to gather speed again!” he cried. “Give up rowing! I cannot take it straight into the wind! I am going to try to gather speed and angle it to reach the Najida shore. At this point one hardly cares where!”

“Do so, nandi!” Jegari cried, and the two of them settled themselves again, tipping the boat this way and that, and then he brought the bow around and hauled hard on the rope, so that the wind caught them.

At some point, when he had the most speed, they had to turn, and they did. They were closer, now, to the opening of the bay, and in front of them, there was no land.

He turned. He did his best. But it was like magic. Even though the wind was pushing them straight ahead, something else was going on with the boat, and they were moving sideways, too.

Ahead was all blue sky and gray water and it just went on and on, out where the shoreline quit.

That was the sea out there. And they were moving toward it.

Something was very wrong with everything he had read about boats. Something was very, very wrong.

Barb was crying again, and the door had the security lock thrown, which meant Toby was locked out in the suite’s sitting room, and not happy about it. He’d gotten mad enough to hit the door—so Algini said—and Barb had shouted back at him that, Jago’s report, accurately rendered in Mosphei’, he should go to hell.

That was just tolerably lovely, was it not?

But it was useless sorting it out at this point. There was weather moving in, so the report wasc it was going to shorten their fishing trip as was, they were missing the tide; and Bren sighed and asked himself whether he should not just leave the situation, take all his staff with him, and go keep his promise to the youngsters, leaving Toby and Barb to scream at each other in front of the servants.

Damn it all, they still might have to get Toby to the plane. Or Barb, if things went on as they were going, and that relationship foundered. He’d happily buy the one-way ticket.

And hell, Bren said to himself, and when he had that last report from Jago, that was enough. They’d wasted enough time. He knocked on Toby’s door—Toby had the outer door locked, and, with Toby not answering, he hailed him aloud, then indecorously, and in front of at least one embarrassed servant, declared his business from outsidethe door.

“Toby? It’s Bren. Do you hear me?”

Silence.

“Look, Toby. I have the aiji’s son, who is in my care, to whom I have made certain promises and I have responsibility for his welfare. Let her stew. Just let it go. Weather’s turning. We’ve already lost time. If we need to get you to the mainland we can do that. We can get you to the airport, if we need to.”

Silence.

“At least answer me, Toby, dammit. I don’t like to conduct business through the door.”

He heard steps, finally, approaching the door.

“Sorry,” Toby said icily, from the other side.

“Look. Just let her blow. I know this mode, forgive me. She’ll have her temper. It’ll run its course.”

“Don’t tell mewhat she’s like! I know her better than you ever did.”

“Fine. I’m sure you do. And ifyou do, get your coat and come on and let’s go fishing for a few hours until the weather turns. My staff can manage. We can put back in tonight and pick her up and she’ll be fine, whole thing forgotten.”

“No.”

“Toby.”

“Don’t tell me how to handle this! I’ve got a kid in the hospital and Barb’s throwing a fit. You’ve got the aiji’s son in your care. I understand. Just go ahead, take the boat out, I’ll get Barb back on this planet, we’ll talk it out, and we’ll all be fine. See you when you get back.”

“Got it,” he said, unhappy—deeply unhappy. He moved away from the door, addressed one of the staff, who had stood by worriedly during that exchange. “Kindly advise the aiji’s son that we are finally ready to leave, nadi-ji. Just that.”

“Yes, nandi.”

He went to his own quarters, back to his bodyguard, to advise them they were finally going, without Toby and Barb. He asked himself whether he ought to trust Toby to keep Barb out of trouble or whether he ought to deprive Tano and Algini yet again of what ought to be a pleasurable outing, to stay behind and keep track of his houseguests.

Hell, no, he said to himself as he passed the door. His staff deserved a little relaxation, and Barb’s vicinityc

He didn’t quite close the door. He heard running in the hall. Servants didn’t run in the halls.

This one did. And bowed, distressedly, out of breath. “Nandi. No one is there.”

“The young lord, and his companions?”

“We have no idea where they are, nandi. But no one remembers seeing them out and about since breakfast.”

“Go down to the dock, nadi-ji. Immediately. Find them and tell them stay where they are. We shall be right down.” He didn’t panic, he calmed himself with the expectation that, yes, bored youngsters had found a way out of the house, had escaped adult notice, and simply gone down to the dock to wait for the promised trip. All that was safe to do, perfectly safe.

The question was how long they had been waiting. Cajeiri’s capacity for tedium was very, very small.

He went immediately to his bodyguard’s room—they were set up with sound equipment over by the wall—“Nadiin-ji, the young gentleman has gotten bored and gone to the dock.”

Banichi, Jago, and Tano immediately stood up, and Banichi headed for the door without a word said. Algini removed his earpiece and laid it down, then got up.

“Nand’ Toby and his lady are still arguing,” Algini said.

“Let them,” he said. Algini wasn’t fluent in Mosphei’, that Algini had ever let on. Jago was the one who could interpret. Or deliver an emergency message to his brother. Hell with it, he thought. Toby was no help at the moment, having his mind on his fight with Barb. Let Toby worry about himthis round. “We shall just go down to the boat, and if the young gentleman is ready, we shall leave on the last of the tide.”

Algini picked up his sidearm as he moved, and they all five went out together. Ramaso was waiting anxiously at the door.

“The young gentleman has eluded us,” he said equably to Ramaso, “but is probably at the boat. This is nothing new. Are we provisioned?”

“Yes, nandi, provisioned last night, and ready to sail. Only the boat is not at the dock.”

“We shall manage. We shall go straight down, bring the boat in, and likely shall sail out immediately. If nand’ Toby asks questions or seems upset, say the name of my boat, and that should advise him where we are. He knows a very little Ragi. Barb-daja likely knows none but the word yes, and the word no. Use either, as you wish with her. Address yourself to nand’ Toby, who is much more reasonable, and should he wish to go to the airport and fly to the mainland, assist him. I will pay the ticket.”

“Nandi.” The servant who had slipped in behind Ramaso had gotten Bren’s outdoor coat from the closet and offered it. Bren exchanged coats, then with a parting courtesy to the old man, took Algini and left, calmly, in good order, and leaving the troubles of the day behind him.

Left them, that was, until he saw Tano sprinting back up the terraced walk toward them, out of breath by the time he reached them, and needing to bend to breathe.

“Nandi,” Tano said. “There is no sign of the youngsters and the boat is gone.”

“ Myboat?”

“The tender, nandi, that the staff uses. The boat was dragged out—marks are clear in the sand.”

His thoughts leapt all over the place—the youngsters had gotten to his boat, or Toby’s, let the little sailboat drift away, which could happen—an inconvenience. They might lose it, or it could be battered against rocks along some segment of the shore in the coming weather.

But there were much, much worse ideas.

“Is there another boat, nadi-ji? Can we signal my boat?”

“Jago has swum out to your boat, nandi, to bring it in to dock.”

God, the water would be cold as ice. He started down, taking the atevi-sized terraces with bone-jarring steps, and ran, as Algini and Tano ran behind him. He was almost in as bad shape on the downhill as Tano had been on the uphill by the time he reached the dock at the last, and had a view of Banichi standing out on the sand, looking out toward the water.

He ran down the steps from the dock, ran across the shingle out to where Banichi stood, Tano and Algini right with him.

Banichi looked in his direction.

“Is she aboard, Banichi-ji?” Jeishanhad a stern ladder, so it was possible for Jago to get aboard. He was relieved when Banichi said, “Yes, nandi.” And a moment later he saw the slight puff of smoke above the water as the engine started. The bow power winch went into action, hauling one anchor cable up. Then the other started up, and hauled away.

It was bad news. If the youngsters had been aboard, Jago would just have gone to the rail and signaled. Taking in cable took forever. He stood in the chill wind, waiting, watching as Jeishanbegan slowly to move, her anchors still drippingc not back to the dock—but over within hail of the Brighter Days.

He waited, shivering in the wind, and waited. He heard the loudspeaker clear to the dockside, as Jago queried whether anybody was aboard.

No answer. Nobody came to the rail of that boat. And the last of the tide was moving, rocks standing bare that at high tide were well-submerged along the margin, with far more beach than showed at high tide. Bren’s gaze drifted to the mouth of the bay, all that vast wooded shoreline, where, one could still hope, three youngsters, having realized they were no match for the tide, might have turned back to shore and gotten stranded. Not a one of them had ever handled a sailboat. But all they had to do was let the wind blow them straight across. There were fishing docks across the bay. There were boats out. They could get help.

They might be, even now, hiking to some phone where they could call.

Please God they were safe ashore, just stranded by a contrary wind.

“Nadiin-ji,” he said to the three with him, “can one of you call the house and tell them to ask the village constable to go along the shore on the far side?” They were skittish and wary youngsters, not prone to trust strangers whose man’chi might be in doubt. They would rather try to walk home, but that was a day’s rough hike, just to get to the curve of the bay, let alone clear to Najida.

That was the good supposition. If, on the other hand, they had gotten beyond the mouth of the bay, if they had gotten swept well out, the current off the point bent southerly.

“And phone Kajiminda: tell our neighbor what has happened, and ask Lord Baiji to put out boats to search, in case they have been swept out to sea. Say we have a boat with children swept out into the bay. Tell them we need help.”

He had to call Shejidan. He had to admit to Tabini that he had allowed a catastrophe. They had a radio on the boat, and Jago had it underway again, using the engine to bring it back to the dock. He had his coat, his aishid was equipped, the boat was outfitted for their fishing trip, and that meant entirely—food, blankets, everything they needed for a search.

He stood watching as the boat came closer, and listening as Banichi, on com, spoke to Ramaso up at the house, advising him what had happened, passing orders in rapid succession. He said to Banichi: “Tell Ramaso to tell my brother we have an emergency. Tell him get his boat out. Fast. Meanwhile can you find out if there were any life vests in that tender?”

Banichi nodded, while talking and listening. On the life vests, it was thought, up at the house, that there were two.

Two. Marvelous.

Meanwhile Jago was nosing Jeishanin to dock, running out to toss a line to Tano and Algini. Jeishanhit the buffers, slid along them—Jago had judged the speed tolerably, and there was no great shock as it came in. She ran back up to the bridge to finesse the docking and at that point Tano and Algini had pulled it in, with the engine idling.

Bren jumped for the deck and headed for the bridge, heard thumps behind him as Tano and Algini came aboard, then Banichi. He didn’t even look back, except to take a glance out forward and find his course clear. He didn’t want to take the time for Jago to get the Brighter Daysinto dock, but none of his aishid were experienced seamen, and it was worth it, if Toby’s expertise gave them an expertly-captained second boat to travel line-of-sight and try to figure the currents and where, at the moment, that little sailboat might have gone.

“Jago-ji,” he said as he joined her on the bridge, Jago in nothing but her underwear and a sopping wet tee. “Go aboard Toby’s boat and get it to the dock—wait for him. You can communicate with him. Call the house and have them send down spare dry clothes.” Banichi had come in, meanwhile, carrying Jago’s jacket and other clothes, and she declined to put it around her shoulders.

“Yes,” she said plainly, to his order, and grabbed her clothes and gear up and went outside in the cold wind, wet and half-naked. They were free of the dock, the lines taken in almost as soon as they had pulled into shore, and Bren throttled up, heading for the Brighter Daysand maneuvering to avoid her anchor cables. Jago went around to the starboard bow, ready to move across.

He came in close, very close, backed the engine, and gave Jago as steady a platform as he could—no need. Jago made an easy jump, was on, her clothes and gear tucked under one arm, and on her way to the bridge, where, presumably, Toby had left the ignition keyc

But messages would get Toby down there, and if Toby had the key with him, somebody would have to swim it—likely Jago—one more time. He couldn’t wait. He’d given Toby someone who could communicate on radio, somebody with Guild authority. He throttled up and took out toward the southern shore of the bay, confident that Jago would do what was logical and getToby out on the search.

“Fishermen will help us, Bren-ji,” Banichi said calmly.

“Put out a general call. Say: Children from the village. Compensation from the estate.”

Cover story with the right and useful details: Banichi knew exactly why, and got on the radio and put it out that way— village children swept out in a sailboat from the estate dock, the estate to compensate any fishermen who diverted their boats to the search. There were no better searchers, to know the tide, the currents and the coast, but none of them were going to keep up with the yacht on its way outc Jeishan’swas a potent engine, for security reasons, the paidhi’s security, in point of fact.

But it wasn’t helping them. Tano and Algini were out along the rail, braving a bitter wind to scan the wooded shoreline unobstructed by fogged glass and spatter from the spray. They were moving under power, moving fast, with the last of the tide.

There was no guarantee if the youngsters had gotten to shore that they would have had the skill or the strength to get the boat in: it might well have gotten away from them, granted only all of them had gotten off if it did float away. It was not guaranteed that there’d been any signal flare aboard or that the youngsters would know what it was for. It was a simple tender-boat, dock to boat and back again, for carrying supplies, and most everyone that handled it was expert, not tending to get into difficulty that needed such things.

The kids had no idea what they were into. He sincerely hoped they hadn’t tried to swim the current. Cajeiri had never swum in water over his head, though, bet on it, he’d read a book about it; while the other two, Taibeni, inlanders, were probably worse off than Cajeiri. The possibilities were beyond frightening.

“There are rocks above water,” he said, veering off from the coastline and driving close to where he knew such rocks were, right near the mouth of the bay—a miserable perch for anybody, but a lifesaver of more than one fisherman in the history of the estate, as well as the ruin of a couple of boats who hadn’t known they were there at high tide. Tano and Algini came into the cabin for a moment to warm up—Banichi turned the heater on, to the relief of all of them, and even started up a pot of hot tea.

They ran by the first rock, with no sign of the youngsters, and on the way to the second, Bren took a cup of tea, as much for the warmth of the cup as the contents. They reached the second half-submerged reef, with still no sign of the kids—the third rock there was no likelihood the kids could reach with the tide running, and he opted to put about back to the shore, to take up that search again, and to run by a fourth rock dangerously close in.

Banichi meanwhile was on the radio, talking to Jago. “Nandi,” Banichi said, “nand’ Toby is on his way. His lady is coming with him.”

“Good,” he said. It wasgood. Barb was many things, but she was an experienced hand with the boat, she had common sense in a crisis she understood, and she knew the sea. “Advise them of our status. Then one regrets to say we must concern the aiji and discreetly advise him of the situation. I would do so personally, and shall, if you will hand me the microphone.”

“Yes,” Banichi said. It wasn’t a call he wanted to make, and there was a certain hazard in announcing to the world in any recognizable way that the aiji’s son and heir was out in a sailboat on a given stretch of water. Bren listened as Banichi made the short call to Jago, speaking in a personal code that, apart from the code the Guild used, was something she and Tano and Algini understood.

Then Banichi used ship-to-shore to call the Bujavid operator, and the aiji’s guard—the best route, Bren thought, gazing out over a vast tract of eye-tricking water and rough coastline, and still not a sign of a boat or the youngsters. Banichi used code there, too, and evidently was able to convey what had to be conveyed, because Banichi didn’t hand him the microphone, just talked in short, coded bursts to whoever received the call. At last Banichi closed off the contact, and said:

“The aiji has been informed, nandi. The aiji-dowager is airborne from Shejidan and intends to come in at Dalaigi. It seemed more discreet for me to make the call.”

“The dowager was back in Shejidan?”

“One apprehends that she had stayed there the night, Bren-ji, after the last incident, had resumed her flight to Malguri today and is now turning the plane around a second time, and coming here. They did not give an estimated time, doubtless a security concern.”

“One is by no means sorry to have her assistance,” Bren said. He could only imagine the dowager’s state of mind after twoaborted flights. And he could only imagine Tabini’s state of mind dealing with the dowager and his son’s second disappearance, this time into real danger. But Tabini’s guard were all new men, since the failed coup, the dowager’s were not, and they had worked with Banichi and Jago extensively. Bren was himself very glad to know Ilisidi was bringing in her resourcesc upset as he was to be the cause of the problem. He only hoped they could find the young rascals before she got here and end the day with a phone call to Tabini and the dowager presiding over a family dinner party up at the house.

The light, meanwhile, hurt the eyes, glancing off the water. The sun was headed down the sky, now, into afternoon, and the far distance was obscured in white haze.

Banichi surrendered the radio to Tano, and went out with Algini to watch the shorelinec but by now certain other boats showed on the northern expanse of water. None of them were the sailboat. They were fishermen from the village and the neighboring district, all spreading themselves out in the bay and sweeping the area they had already crossed, a precaution for which Bren was very grateful.

Tano listened to something on the radio, then said, “Nand’ Baiji is launching his boats and Lord Geigi’s personal yacht, nandi. They are going out to meet the coastal current. Nand’ Baiji is going out personally.”

“Good,” Bren said. That was the most important thing, to get boats into position to catch the youngsters if they had been swept out into that southerly flow—a current strong enough in some seasons that even larger boats had to take notice of it. It was very, very easy to assume one was making progress northerly, unless one had a shoreline for reference.

More than one fishing boat had been lost when that treacherous current met a contrary wind and the waves turned chaotic. And that was not a situation he wanted to contemplate.

The peninsula that divided Najidami Bay from Kajidami Bay, where Kajiminda sat in much the same position as Najida, had a hellish set of rocks at low tide.

“What does the weather report predict?” he asked Tano, and Tano checked and reported.

“A front will arrive by morning, nandi, with southerly winds and overcast, rain in the afternoon.”

Not as bad as could be: winds blowing with the current, not cross-grained, but it would speed the little boat along. And rain and rising wind could swamp a little sailboat, not even mentioning hypothermia.

He wished that the tender had been equipped with a locator. Or a radio. Or—he had to admit it—the detested wireless phone. Any sort of communication. If the youngsters had the presence of mind to use the sun, and a shiny object. Anything.

But there was so much light out there, and his eyes burned with the effort. No sunglasses, no protection, nothing of the like turned up in the bin by the wheel. Damn it all. He wasn’t sure he wanted to come back if he couldn’t find the kidsc didn’t want to face Tabini and Damiri, or the Taibeni kids’ parents. Or the dowager. God knew he’d tried to keep up with the kids. He’d gotten distracted. He’d failed for one miserable hour to post a guard on the kids, even his aishid had been distracted for that hour, under his orders, and they’d just—been kids. The eight-year-old steered the group, the other two didn’t have the fortitude to tell Cajeiri no, or didn’t think they had the authority to fling themselves on him bodily and stop him. Adults had fallen into the same trap with the boy. A long string of adults.

“Nothing,” he said to Tano, beside him. “Has Toby’s boat left yet, nadi-ji?”

“They are away and coming up the opposite side of the bay, nandi, in case they went straight across.”

“One fears they have been swept out to sea.” He didn’t trust himself to find the current. They were out far enough now to avoid the rocks. He throttled way back as they nosed into the offshore current and let the current take the boat, just reading that and the shifting wind as best he could. If the wind had kept up as it had been off the point, the youngsters would have been swept northerly. But after a brief lull as they had been outbound, it was shifting to carry them southerly, increasingly so. The change in wind direction meant smoother water for the little craft—but a far, far faster passage, and it was continuing to shift. Tacking against the wind—that wasn’t something they likely knew how to manage; and that rocky coast was not their friend. “Get up atop and look out as best you can, Tano-ji. Trade with Banichi and Algini when the cold gets too much.”

“Yes,” Tano said, and went out, admitting a gust of cold air. His footfalls resounded on the ladder as he went up with the various antennae and the dish—he wouldn’t improve reception, but it was the best vantage they had, and that, at the moment, was everything.

The current had them now, and Bren throttled up just a little, hoping desperately that a boat moving under power would not just run past the kids.

Hoping for a sight of a very, very small object, in all the sheet of white light that was the Mospheiran Strait.

The sun was warm, at least, though the wind was biting cold, and they had wrung out Jegari’s pants and coat, as hard as they could, even putting the oar handle into the loop of cloth and twisting with all their strength to wring out the last drops of moisture: that was Antaro’s idea, which Cajeiri thought was outstandingly clever. They had found two floatation vests, and putting one of those on Jegari offered him some protection from the wind. Cajeiri thought Antaro should wear the other, since she could not swim at all, but both of them insisted he put it on, so he did that, and made them happier, uncomfortable though it was: he and Jegari agreed they would keep Antaro afloat should they have an accident.

The situation they were in, however, was worse and worse, and the water that splashed aboard was cold as ice. They tried again to row in toward shore, and worked at it, but got nowhere: they let the sail down and just tried not to go too far. Then Cajeiri remembered he had read about swimming that if you were caught in a current you should swim hard with it and get speed enough to swim across it.

So they put the sail up again and tried to do that. They rowed with their single oar in the bow—Antaro doing much of the rowing, since she was the only one not encumbered by a vest; but that was no good, and then Cajeiri tried to turn the boat in toward the rocks, but that was a worse mistake: the tiller went over, but when Jegari put in the oar hard, straight down, and tried to pull on it, it twisted in his hands and then broke right in two. The end went floating right away from them.

Jegari was terribly embarrassed at that, but not half as embarrassed as Cajeiri felt for the whole situation.

Still, mani had taught him not to make excuses when it was really bad, and it was. It was very, very bad. He was so sorry his gut hurt. But that meant his companions were really, truly owed an apology for his bad leadership. And it hurt his conscience that Jegari was doing all the apologizing.

“One accepts all blame for this unfortunate situation,” he said to his two companions, “and you should forget the oars.”

“We are equally to blame, nandi,” Antaro cried.

“We are older,” Jegari said. “We saw danger in it. We should not have agreed.”

“You are not to say no to me!” Cajeiri snapped. He was determined on that. “Or we willdisagree.” But his associates on the ship, Gene and Artur, had argued with him. They had also agreed with more than these two would ever agree to. “This time perhaps would have been a good time to say no and argue,” he acknowledged unhappily, as the waves tossed their little boat in a little space of calm, and the wide, sunlit ocean sparkled fiercely around them. “We have no water to drink. Sea water would kill us. I know that. And we have no food.”

“Nand’ Bren will come after us once he misses us,” Antaro said.

“He will,” Jegari said. “And his big boat can go faster than this, surely.”

“His boat and nand’ Toby’s certainly can. They can cross the whole ocean in a day, almost. Well, from the Island to the north coast. And you are right. They will be looking for us. We must surely be easy to see. The big boats have a much better view.” He sat and thought, and thought, and the wind puffed at their sail, and the sail filled, and took them further south.

He thought it was south, at least.

And he had learned one thing about boats, or, to tell the truth, remembered something that nand’ Toby had once told him, which was that the tiller could not turn the boat if the boat was not going faster than the water was, and they had had ample proof of that fact. So he turned the boat as much toward where he thought land was, as much as he could get without losing the wind, and with his two companions gazing hopefully at him, he tried to remember everything else he had learned from nand’ Bren and from nand’ Toby and from Barb-daja about boats. He thought he at least lookedconfident, with the boat moving again, and his hand on the tiller.

He did not feel that confident at all, and he was trying to remember his maps, which he had studied, whether they had already passed Kajidami Bay, too, and whether Kajiminda Peninsula jutted out far enough they could run into it. There was Dalaigi Township, beyond that, but Kajiminda Peninsula was a huge hooked jut of land with yet another deep bay that he thought inset into the continent, so they could completely miss it, and end up in the Southern Ocean where the seas got really rough.

It was just a mess, was all. A very unfortunate mess.

Antaro had had the best idea, hoping for Bren to turn up. So did he. Bren would surely be looking for him about the time he failed to appear for lunch. Bren would search the whole house, and know right where to look—and somebody would surely miss the sailboat. The only foreseeable problem was that the sailboat they had taken was the boat that would help nand’ Bren get out to the big boat to come after themc but Bren would find a way. He believed that.

Bren would be out looking, by now. They would have to search the shore first, and now that he thought about it, he was sure he would have been a lot smarter to use the wind to carry them straight across Najidami Bay to land on the northern shore.

But he had not been that smart. So it would take nand’ Bren time to search where he should have been, and only after searching the shores would nand’ Bren figure they had gotten out of sight of land, and start looking for them out in open water.

Nand’ Bren would search where the wind blew. Nand’ Bren would waste no time in the other direction—and if the wind had only changed beforethey had gotten out of the bay, they could have gotten back to Najiminda and had no problems at all.

Wishes are no substitute for planning, mani had told him once, severely.

He had hoped, for instance, that nand’ Bren had not called his father to send airplanes, which would just make a terrible fuss.

But as the sun went lower and lower in the sky he began earnestly to wish he would see an airplanec

Because the white glare of the water faded to a colder, less fortunate shade, and the sun began to go down not below the horizon, but behind a bank of clouds in the west.

He had learned something about weather from nand’ Toby. Weather came out of the west and blew to the east, and clouds in the west always meant rain on its way.

He had thought their situation could not get worse. But the clouds were getting taller as the sun sank lower, and their wind was sinking as it became a reddish sky with purple clouds.

Sunset dyed the water orange where it was not gray. The sky looked thoroughly ill-omened.

They were not moving much, now: the sail flapped. And when he began to wish for a wind, he could only think how storms did come in, swept in on a lot of wind.

With that cloud building to the west, there would be a storm wind coming down on them, pushing them toward land, for certain. But rain was coming, almost certainly, and more water inside the boat meant less difference between the water outside and the water inside.

Which could mean, besides them being very wet and cold and exposed to lightning, that their boat could just fill up and sink. They could throw water out: they had a little metal cup that rolled around under the tiller seat, but if the waves got rough, their boat was very low to the water.

That was a scary thought.

It was very scary.

Chapter 8

« ^ »

The Brighter Daysrode off to starboard of Jeishan, at the limit of vision, while the sun came down into rising clouds. The Najiminda headland showed as a dark rim on the lee side—a situation which afforded a little hope: that if the wind got up, the lee shore might receive a drifting boat.

Calls to the estate had turned up the information that, yes, the sailboat had oars aboard, as well as the two life preservers: the major domo was very sure of that. But whether the youngsters could row with any skill, or enough strength, was a question.

Fisherfolk had come out past the end of the bay, a fair-sized little fleet, and used their knowledge of the currents to scour the coastline and likely rocks. The wind, which had backed around once, had been fickle, but that cloud on the horizon would bring a driving wind as well as strong waves—two other forces that might push the little boat, this time shoreward and across the current. But waves could easily swamp the boat, in a moment if the youngsters let the boat go broadside to the waves. The boat could survive in the hands of an expert: but one mistake, one miscalculation, and they would just roll under and come ashore like those mysterious splinters of driftwood— from some boat, a long, long time ago.

They had to find them, was all—before the gust front got here.

The dowager’s plane should be landing soon—and now they had one search plane aloft, scanning the shore. The young lord of Dur had gotten a call from Najida, and that young man, a pilot himself, discreetly contacted a few southern fliers he knew as trustworthy, so they were coming, but that took time, and involved the airport down at Dalaigi. Right now, only that one plane was aloft, quartering the sky, running out to sea and back, and thus far turning up nothing.

Lord Baiji was out from Kajiminda in Geigi’s yacht, searching that outer coast, and all their people who had boats, no few, made a net as tight across Kajidami Bay as they had people to make. Therewas their greatest hope, because the main current ran as it ran, generally southward, and it swept inward right there, give or take what the storm did to the waves. Lord Baiji and the Edi folk were a vast catch-net, to prevent the strayed boat from getting out of their search area.

And if the young gentleman and his companions turned out, after all this, to be asleep under some hedgerow along the estate road—having lost the boat on launch—

Or if the tide had taken the boat, and the youngsters were out on some lark—

He would be outstandingly reasonable if that proved ultimately the case. If it was all a mistake, a missed communication— he would be so everlastingly grateful.

But as evening came on, as time elapsed with no word from the estate, the more likely their almost-worst fears became, that the youngsters were out here in the path of the storm— their worst fears being that the small boat had already capsized out here in rougher water and the youngsters were at the bottom of the bay.

But, he told himself, it was a wooden boat. It wouldn’t just sink. It would float along capsized, if the youngsters had sense enough to stay with it and cling to it and its balloon of trapped air—an overturned boat was a far, far easier thing to spot than one boy in all that water. The Taibeni youngsters would insist that Cajeiri should wear that bright yellow life vest. Cajeiri would, of course, insist otherwise.

This time Bren prayed the Taibeni overruled the young gentleman.

“The dowager has landed, nandi,” the estate called to report.

“Do as she asks in all particulars,” he said, knowing there wasn’t much his estate could do more than they had done. They had both boats out, every fisherman was out, Lord Geigi’s people were out, and there was nothing Ilisidi could do, except deploy her young men out along the roads where village folk were already searching, and look with whatever high-tech gear her bodyguard had brought with them—that was one hope she brought with her—that, and the fact that the aiji now knew, and would be deploying his own people, a presence that did not announce itself.

But now the light was fading fast, and lightning flickered in the clouds to the west, which loomed up taller and taller. The wind had not changed—yet. But that front was rolling in fast. Radar, they had, but the sailboat had no reflector, and radar thus far picked up nothing—because the boat was so low and so small—

That, or because the boat was not there to be found. But he refusedto think that.

Out on deck, Banichi and Tano and Algini relied on their night vision, having requested the running lights be cut off. Theycould see in the murk, and Bren cut even the chart light most of the time, relying on the slight glow that lit the compass. He was using the locator; he had told Banichi and the other two that if they saw three rocks ahead or looked to be getting closer to the shore, that they should run and warn him. He had laid a course to miss the Sisters; but they were a hazard, one the sailboat could run right over, but the Jeishancouldn’t. Even with the locator, it wasn’t an area to try to search in the gathering dark.

Ilisidi had not called: that was for security reasons, but he talked to the house, off and on, reporting indirectly about the “lost child.” If the aiji’s enemies could not put two and two together, with the aiji-dowager having landed at the local airport, they were asleep tonight. But things were as they were.

More lightning, this time with the rumble of thunder, and Bren cast a routine glance at the fuel gauge, thinking that the same wind blew both bad and good—both saved them fuel and made the location of the little boat an even chancier guess.

Big bolt, that split the sky end to end of the windshield, and threw the bow railing of the boat and his bodyguard into stark contrast to the darkening water.

Then a beep from the radio alerted him to a call, and he fumbled the headset up, keeping one hand on the wheel. “This is the paidhi-aiji. Go ahead.”

“This is Baiji out of Kajiminda, nand’ paidhi. Radar has picked up one brief anomaly.”

“Bearing?” he asked, white-knuckled on the wheel, and he absorbed it to memory and signed off abruptly, having no hand to spare to write it down in grease pencil on the chart until he had dropped the headset. He steered blind for a moment, trying to figure that location on the chart relative to Jeishan.

Baiji could only be approximate in location: it might have been a piece of flotsam. If he left the search pattern, it left a gap in their net, maybe a critical one.

But it was the first hope they had had.

He snatched up the headset again. Called Toby’s boat. Jago answered.

“We shall be moving on the report of a blip in Baiji’s search, nadi-ji, as fast as we can. It may be nothing. But we are going there. Keep your pattern.”

“Yes,” was Jago’s terse answer, and he wished Jago’s night-sight was out there in the darkc but Jago needed to be at Brighter Days’radio. Probably Barb was out on deck, at that post.

He didn’t want to worry about that. He simply throttled up and veered onto the new heading.

Lightning split the sky, far out from the cloud, and it had gotten darker and darker.

Cloud was much, much taller than it had been. It covered three quarters of the sky and it was still coming.

“Sleep,” Cajeiri said to Antaro and Jegari. “Sleep if you can. It will be hard to do once the storm comes. I am pulling us as close to the land as I can without losing the wind. All we can do is what we are doing. When that storm hits, the wind may carry us ashore.”

Before it sinks us, he thought, but he did not say it.

They tried to sleep. He sat and thought, and thought, and it seemed to him somewhere in the books he had read there was something about a sea anchor one used in storms on wooden ships.

Well, theirs was a wooden ship. And they had a bit of rope, not much of it, just what one might use for tying up. But he thought about it, and he thought if the wind started pushing them and the waves dashed them around, having something large and soppy trailing them on a string would possibly keep them from rocking so much and maybe keep them aimed better. Truth, he had no clear memory what it was really supposed to do for a ship. But they had their rope, and they had three coats, and if they sacrificed one and just heaved it out, it might help.

They just had to stay upright and not have a wave go over them. Then, maybe since storms went to shore, the wind could drive them there.

His mind raced, trying to think of things they could do.

He thought about ripping up the benches and seeing if they could use those for oars. But they were very solid. He was not sure they could get them free. And it might weaken the boat.

The cloud flashed with lightning, and thunder boomed right over them, rousing his companions.

Cajeiri grabbed up Jegari’s coat, which they never had been able to get dry.

“Get the tie rope,” he said. It was all the free rope they had. The wind, like a rowdy child, might roll them right over if they kept wallowing about like this. The waves when they hit the boat tended to slosh right into it. And that was getting scary.

They got the rope. He tied Jegari’s once very good coat into a bundle and threw it overboard, and tied the other end to the boat.

Lightning showed two worried faces.

“We shall come through,” he said to them, and the thunder boomed, and about then a gust of wind hit the boat. He made a desperate try with the tiller, but so far their sea anchor did nothing, and water slapped the boat and rocked it in a moment of following lull.

But slowly, slowly they did slew about a bit—the tiller still not working, but the sail starting to fill. He dared not lose that little boom rope. He took a double and triple tie on its end to be sure that the boom stayed within limits.

“Sit in the bottom together!” he cried. “Link arms and keep out of the way of the boom. It will be rough!” It might be a stupid idea, but it was better than no idea, and the waves were ruffling up and the wind was like a hammer, making the ropes start to sing as the sail strained and the dragging sea anchor lagged behind them. He had no reference point to tell where they were going. But the wind was coming more or less at their backs, and spray came up, mingled with rain as, all of a sudden and with a rush of wind and a crash of lightning, the heavens opened up and let loose on them. Water sloshed in. He kept one hand on the little rope, one on the tiller, and now with that one wave, the bottom of the boat was awash.

“The little bucket!” he shouted out. “Use the bucket!”

Antaro leaned back to get it from behind his feet, and got back again, and they did, one of them and then the other; and meanwhile the rigging screamed, and the rope burned his hand when the boom jerked outward. He hauled as hard as he could, thinking—if the little rope broke, if that little twist of rope let go or something came untied, or he even made a mistake and lost his grip and let the force of the wind hit that knot he had made, they were all going to die.

They bailed and bailed. Jegari was trying to do something in the interval. Lightning flashes showed him trying to link his belt to Antaro’sc Antaro the one of them with no life preserver.

Antaro suddenly paused bailing, pointed out into the dark ahead and a little to the right. “I see a light!” she cried.

He could not see it. He thought it wishful thinking.

And then he did see it, a faint, faint glow. They had no light to signal back. Water hit him in the face, salt water, that stung. He could no longer feel the tiller under his arm, his face was numb.

But the light reappeared as he blinked clear, a faint glimmer. “The light isthere!” he cried. It went out again, lost in the murk, and then reappeared. It might be a house on the shore, he thought, and hugged the tiller and feathered the rope as the boat tipped and rocked alarmingly in the gusts. “ ’Gari-ji, if we fall in, keep hold of Antaro, hear me? Do notboth of you try to reach me! I shall float and reach you. That is an order! Hold to each other!”

“We shall come back there, perhaps! I have linked belts with Antaro! She will be all right! We should stay close!”

“You shall not! You will tip the boat over! Stay where you are and hold on to each other! I order you! We have a light! We are going there!”

His voice cracked when he shouted. He hoped they heard. More, he hoped they would do what he told them to do. He had had experience of humans, who did notgroup to their leader as desperately. He understood in his own body—it was hard for them all not to rush together. It was terribly hard; but he had to be here and they had to be there in the middle and balanced to keep the boat afloat in this heaving water, and he was sure of his instruction.

Water hit him in the back. Worse, it crashed past him into the boat, a whole bathtub full.

And when he blinked the stinging flood from his eyes and swiped them with a sodden sleeve, he saw a brilliant light, a blazing white light.

So did his associates, who pointed at it and shouted, and dangerously tried to get up to wave.

“Stay down!” Cajeiri cried, and waved his own hand, hoping to be seen. The light swept away from them, and swept back again, casting the waves into relief against the dark, showing the shapes of his companions ahead of him. “Yell!” he shouted across the wind.“ Help!”

The light left them, swept back again, glared down on them like a single wide eye, unblinking and turning the water to green glass. “Hold still!” he cried as Jegari started again to try to stand. “Sit down, ’Gari-ji!”

Jegari plumped back down, and that light eclipsed behind a wash of water and then came back again, flaring above them and then on them and then below as the sea heaved. Cajeiri clung fast to the tiller and tried to steer, such as the boat would, toward that light. It was no good. There was no steering.

But the distance between them and that light grew less. Cajeiri heard a steady thumping, that at first sounded like a deep, powerful heartbeat, and then he knew it was an engine, and it was surely nand’ Bren or nand’ Toby come after them. It was up to them simply not to sink until they could meet up with that boat.

He could see a hull now, a white hull with a blue line, the only color in the world beside the glass-green of the heaving water, The glaring light proved to be a spotlight on a swivel, and some dark-uniformed man worked the light, which the boat kept continually centered on them as it came close.

The boat came right by their bow, towering over them with a loud racket of the engine, and fought to stay there. Their boat bumped into that pristine white hull and turned and grated against it.

Two men then. One flung out a rope with a weight on the end of it, and shouted, “Make that fast!”

Jegari and Antaro scrambled to do that, wrapping it about the middle seat, that being what they could reach. Another weighted line came down to them, and Cajeiri let go the tiller and grabbed it.

Smack! They ran into the side of the big boat. He fell off his seat, and held to the rope, and scrambled in freezing water to tie the rope somewhere, anywhere, which turned out to be the bar across the tiller opening.

“Are you attached?” a big voice shouted. It was Banichi. Surely it was Banichi; and he shouted, “Yes, nadi-ji! Both lines now!”

“Who has no vest?” he heard, above, and then saw, in the wandering and bobbing of the spotlight, another rope come down to them. “Tie that around you!”

“Antaro, go!” Cajeiri yelled out. “Now! Hurry! Get loose and clear the way!”

Antaro unbuckled her belt, then got on her knees and, steadied by her brother, grabbed the line, wrapped it about herself several times. It went taut and hauled her up.

“You next, nandi!” Jegari called out. “Go!”

That was reasonable. He and Jegari both had floatation vests. He lurched upright, grabbed Jegari and the rope came down again, and he wrapped it around and around himself and held onto the rope’s end.

Immediately, he was yanked up like a fish on a line, dragged painfully over a small steel rail and dumped onto the deck.

“Rope!” Banichi’s voice shouted next, and another man— it must be Algini—raked the rope off him and threw it down again, all the while the boats grated together and thumped and banged. Cajeiri clawed after the railing and clung to it trying to see, with the rain coming down and the spotlight bouncing up and down.

In the next moment a hand seized him unceremoniously by the back of his life vest and jerked him up, hauled him around.

“Banichi-ji!” he protested, but Banichi shoved him against the railing and shouted, “Hang on with both hands, young gentleman!”

Hang on he did. He grabbed the rail and hung on with both arms, this time. He was cold as ice, and beginning to shiver, and sick at his stomach all at the same moment. He was aware of Antaro holding on beside him, and he had a good view as Jegari came over the rail, likewise hauled in like a fish and dumped on the deck.

Last, Tano shouted up at the others and Banichi and Algini together hauled him up to his feet, dripping wetc Cajeiri had the reflected light off the superstructure to show him their faces, all desperate, all dripping and drowned in the rain, and immediately Banichi seized him around the ribs and just carried him, so tightly he was close to throwing up, he was so cold and so clenched up.

He saw the doorway from his sideways vantage, the lighted white door. The lighted wooden floor—amazingly real—came up at him and righted itself as Banichi heaved him somewhat upright. The world had been all lightning-shot black, and now it had wonderful things like polished wood, and railings to hold to, and warmth.

He saw nand’ Bren at the wheel, very relieved and very worried at once. “Is that all of you?” he asked, “is that everybody with you?”

“Yes, nandi,” Cajeiri managed to say, teeth chattering. “We are all aboard.”

“We are too close to shore,” Bren said. “Cast the tender free, ’Nichi-ji!”

“Yes,” Banichi said, and was off, and the door shut again.

Cajeiri saw a bench and got up and sank down on it, dripping wet. The big boat was so much more stable. The air was almost thick, it was so warm, compared to outside.

He saw Bren turn the wheel furiously, and heard the boat’s engines labor as the deck pitched.

They could not wreck nand’ Bren’s boat on the shore. They must not. Between Antaro and Jegari, Cajeiri clamped his teeth on his lip and clenched the edge of the white-painted bench, just holding on as Bren jammed the power on.

Something scraped all down the hull of the boat, and was gone, and then the boat righted itself and the engine sounded different, freer, more powerful: buffets from the waves came at the bow of the boat, and these came faster and faster as the boat took another turn, increasing power.

Then nand’ Bren looked easier, too, easing his grip on the wheel, concentrating on the view out the windows, and occasionally down at something Cajeiri could see lighted on the counter.

“One is extremely sorry, nand’ Bren,” Cajeiri offered. “One is very extremely sorry.”

Nand’ Bren did not speak to him, not immediately, and that meant nand’ Bren was probably framing an educational remark, something he might think adequate to the situation. It was taking a very, very long time to come out, or to organize itself, or possibly a long time for nand’ Bren to surmount his temper, and Cajeiri began to agonize about the adequacy of his response, right along with nand’ Bren.

“Nand’ Bren,” Cajeiri said finally, breaking the deathly silence that hovered above the rumble of the boat engine and the noise of the thunder. “Nand’ Bren, one understands that our stupidity has exceeded all previous limits, and that we have exposed you to the displeasure of my house, which is entirely unjustified, and we shall tell our father so. We are all three extremely grateful to you and your guard for our rescue, because we could have been killed—though one was making the most earnest efforts to steer the boat and to reach the shore. We are most sorry. We shall obey all instructions from your staff. We shall ask funds from our father to pay your estate for the boat, which we in no way intended to destroy; and we shall pay for the damage to your boat. And we shall forever observe much, much better sense than we did in going out on the water. We shall be much wiser from now on, nand’ Bren.”

He ran entirely out of breath: his teeth were chattering so he had had trouble getting that much out. But he added, because he had to know: “Have you told my father, nandi?”

“Yes. And the aiji-dowager is aware. You should know, young gentleman, that she had turned back to Shejidan after the incident of your freight train. She started home a second time and has now turned around a second time in mid-flight, hearing you were lost, and come here. She will be arriving at the estate, and one is about to call her to inform her you are safe, now that we are somewhat on even keel.”

Great-grandmother. Two flights turned around. He wasin great difficulty.

He sat absolutely still while Bren took up the handset, punched buttons, and made a call, first to nand’ Toby, and to Jago aboard nand’ Toby’s boat, telling them to come about, that he had them all; and next to a Lord Baiji, which seemed to be another boat, thanking him very much for his assistance in locating them.

And then nand’ Bren called the estate, which took several tries before he succeeded.

“Nadi,” he said to the person who answered, “inform the grandmother that the lost is found and securely aboard. Request of the grandmother that she inform the relatives. You are breaking up, nadi.”

At last he put down the handset and remarked, “One hopes they heard all of that.”

“One is very, very sorry, nandi.” Cajeiri found himself shivering, and where he and the others sat was now the source of a very large puddle, which was running across the deck, this way and that according to the pitch of the boat. It went here, it went there. It was a large puddle, augmented by what had run off Banichi and Tano and Algini, who were almost as soaked.

“There is weather gear in the locker,” nand’ Bren said. “Put it on for warmth.”

“Yes,” Antaro said, and got up and brought back two raincoats. She wrapped one around him and put the other around her and Jegari despite the boat pitching about. It was warmer, very much warmer, already, and Cajeiri began to shiver.

“I gather,” nand’ Bren said, “that you attempted to go out to the boat.”

“We did, nandi. And one thought one could sail back, but every time we tried, we went further out.”

“First, sailing against the wind is not an easy skill. It can be done. But when the moon pulls on the water, young gentleman, it and everything sitting on it move out to sea—in the case of bays along this coast, quite rapidly so.”

“Is that what happened?” He was amazed. He knew about tides. But he had gotten caught, all the same, and never realized what was happening to them. “Nandi, we meant only to go out and see the boat.”

“No excuses, young gentleman. You should have sailed straight across the harbor when you realized you were in trouble. You would have reached land before the tide pulled you out.”

“We were trying to go faster, nandi, and use the speed to go against the wind.”

“That will never work. Given time, and if you do not drown yourself, young gentleman, one will be pleased to show you how to sail against the wind. It is a case of patience and subtlety. One recommends both.”

“One offers no excuses for our behavior, nandi,” he said very meekly. “One accepts all responsibility. My companions urged us not to do it.”

“Nandi,” Jegari said, “you are not obliged to say so. It is our responsibility.”

“It ismy fault,” Cajeiri said, angry, and upset. “And we choose to take the responsibility.”

“One dares say you will. Antaro.”

“Nandi?”

“There is a dry life vest in that bench over against the wall. Go get it and put it on.”

“Are we going to sink, nandi?” Cajeiri asked.

“You will notice wewear them in these seas.”

That was so.

“Put it on,” nand’ Bren said. “And next time you steal a boat, young gentleman, be sure you have oars and enough life preservers.”

“Yes, nandi.”

He knew he had to hear very stern rebukes from his father, his mother, Great-grandmother, and eventually Great-uncle Tatiseigi. It made it worse that he had, this time, richly deserved it.

But it was, after all, interesting that they had gotten caught by the tides, which was a mysterious thing, and not something he had ever been specifically warned againstc

“Hot tea?” Tano suggested, and, indeed, from further back in the cabin, Tano brought a big tray of mugs. Algini was nursing a sore hand—the swelling looked very nasty, and Banichi was soaked and grim, and very gladly took a cup. So did nand’ Bren, and they three did.

Hot tea helped. It warmed all the way down. Cajeiri drank half the mug and sat contemplating the scope of the disaster around him. And then curiosity about what Bren kept looking at on the table propelled him to his feet, though everybody else had sat down. He staggered a little on the heaving deck, but he came close, and saw it was a chart on a lighted table.

“Where are we?” he asked nand’ Bren, and Bren pointed to a place just off Najida Peninsula.

“We have to go wide into the bay,” nand’ Bren said, “because those are rocks. They lie beneath the water at high tide, and have taken the bottom out of boats.”

It was all more complicated than he had thought. He had known the starship—well, not how to run it, but how to run most everything he met, and to open most any door, and he had always known where things were kept.

The planet was just big and full of surprises. And tides. Surprises got you even when you already knew about them, if you failed to use your head. And when you needed something, it might be clear back in Shejidan.

“One is very sorry about the boat,” he said. “Nand’ Bren, we tried to row back, but we lost the oars.”

“It can easily happen, young lord,” nand’ Bren said. He was less busy now. He managed the wheel with one hand and held his tea mug with the other. “Did you know how to secure them through the oarlocks?”

“No, nandi,” he said, since, whatever that was, he had not secured the oars at all.

“Well, young gentleman, I shall also show you how to row a boat, if the aiji-dowager permits the time.”

“One would be most grateful, nandi.” He was thoroughly miserable. And he squished when he moved, even if the raincoat made him much warmer. He looked down at his feet, and saw he was still adding to the puddle that was wandering back and forth across the deck. “We shall never, ever take a boat that is not ours again.”

“That would be wise, young lord,” nand’ Bren said calmly. Nand’ Bren was always calm, no matter what. He wished he could be as calm. And nand’ Bren said: “Not taking anythingthat is not yours, except, of course, should there should be an emergency, would be a very good policy, young gentleman.”

“One hopes never to do such a thing again, nandi.”

“My household accepts the sentiment,” nand’ Bren said, and Cajeiri found he hurt in very many places. He would hurt in more places than that once mani laid hands on him, he feared.

This time he was very glad to have only lost a boat, and not his companions. For a while out there it had been very, very serious, and they had all thought about drowning, and that would certainly have been a sorry end to all he wanted to do and to all the questions he wanted to ask.

He was so exhausted he went back to sit down, and Tano poured him another mug of tea. He rested and drank his tea, and found all the energy flowing right out of him.

He had yet to answer to mani, who was going to be very upset with him. He decided not to mention buying nand’ Bren a new boat immediately. But it might be easier to ask mani than to ask his father.

He was going to have to think how to explain it all to his father.

It was a far faster trip back than the trip they had made out, searching all the shoreline. The young rascals slept the rest of the way, all of them folded over together, three dark heads bowed, three young bodies making one sodden bundle.

Bren sent his bodyguard below to change to dry clothes, one after another. He was the only one aboard who didn’t leave a puddle where he stood, and he managed the wheel easily, downing more than one cup of hot tea. He had turned on the running lights from the time they had begun to use the searchlight, and now through the dark and the rain he saw a red running light, Toby’s Brighter Dayseasily keeping pace with Jeishannow as they motored down the center of the bay, running fairly fast, in the interests of getting the youngsters safely ashore and into a protective security envelope as soon as possible.

They hadn’t heard a word, for instance, from Tabini—but bet that there were forces landed.

And Tabini was likely going to be damned mad—he’d let the elusive young rascal get loose, Bren said to himself. He did notdeserve credit for a rescue when his caretaking had let the boy steal a boat and go floating off unattended, except by two central district kids who couldn’t swim and had never seen a major body of water.

The only harm done, thank God, were scratches to Jeishan’shull, and the loss of an aged little sailboat, very minor damage, on the cosmic scale.

The young rascals were still sleeping off their adventure, when he carefully put Jeishaninto her berth at the dock and turned the controls over to Saidaro, one of his own staff, who waited on the dock in a driving rain, beneath the sole and lonely light, and who caught their mooring line.

“How are we to manage this?” Bren asked him when he had come into the cabin—at the waft of cold stormy air from the door, the youngsters began to stir and blink and realize they were at dock. “There’s no room for Brighter Daysbehind us.”

“We have help, nandi. One will anchor in harbor, and one of the fishing boats will get me back to dock, after nand’ Toby comes in.”

Wonderfully managed. He would owe the fishing boat captain, as well as Saidaro. He found himself exhausted, and glad to gather up the youngsters and herd them back onto the deck. He was done in—and the exhaustion of his long-suffering bodyguard was apparent. Estate staff came aboard to see to things— he had been pumping out all the way from the mouth of the bay, considering all the slosh and the rain that had poured into the well, but he left the shutdown to Saidaro, who tended Jeishanin ordinary times. He simply joined his bodyguard in getting the young rascals safely off the deck and onto the steady, very welcome dockside.

They waited there, just a little, as Saidaro pulled Jeishanout and Toby brought the Brighter Daysin. The heavens cracked with lightning and water sheeted down as Jago joined them, first off that boat. She also looked exhausted, her ordinarily immaculate hair stringing a bit loosely about the ears.

The rain pelted down, cold, numbing cold, as they trudged up the long terraced climb to the house, and the shelter of the portico and the welcoming light of their own front door was a beautiful sight. Staff was waiting to take coats and whisk them to hot baths the moment they arrivedc almost.

The aiji-dowager, with her cane, walked out into the entry hall to meet them, to bend a disapproving look on her great-grandson, and lastly to nod slowly at Bren, and at his aishid. “Well,” she said, “nand’ paidhi, will you take a brandy after your bath?”

“Very gladly,” he said, “aiji-ma.” It was very courteous of her, all things considered—it was beyond courteous: it was magnanimous, addressed to the author of her second aborted flight, the caretaker of her great-grandson. Physically, he would rather have fallen into bed. Mentally—he would not turn that honor down, even if it came with a stern warning.

He took a quick, almost a scandalously quick dip and scrub in the large marble tub: he came out steaming, and still feeling chill at the core, while menservants wrapped him in towels, and stood ready with a dressing gown. Jago awaited the other bath—Toby and Barb had come up to the house, and were using it, directly after the youngsters, who had taken it in sequence.

“Nand’ Toby and Barb-daja—together?” he had asked Supani, and received an affirmative.

At least it would speed Jago’s access to hot water, he thought. Banichi and Tano and Algini meanwhile had insisted on waiting their turn for the tub—Algini had been icing his bruised hand; and he insisted now that they go on in and stay there. “Please have your bath and take your time about it, nadiin-ji,” he said wryly. “The youngsters have had their bath. My brother and his lady will be out soon, Jago will finally have her turn, and if the aiji-dowager intends a justified assassination, I should have known by now.”

“Nandi,” Tano protested.

“A joke, Tano-ji, a joke. One promises to tell you every detail of the meeting.”

“Yes,” Banichi said, the simple weary yes of an order taken, mission accepted. “But if you will hear counsel, Bren-ji, do not accept blame. It was your bodyguard that failed you.”

“My bodyguard never failed me, ’Nichi-ji, though one appreciates the motive of the suggestion. Naively assuming the boy was where he should have been, I gave orders that brought you to mein the very confusion our young scoundrel used in his escape, and one will report that fact as it stands. Patience in our young guest was not likely, given the promise, and the circumstances. The servant I posted in the hall had naturally run to see to the lady. And I do not wish to express, at the moment, my vexation with the lady. So no more of this. Into the bath with you. Koharu!”

The servant, waiting at the door, held his dressing gown.

“Brandy or whatever else my bodyguard wants,” he said. “The best for them. And Banichi, acceptit.”

“Bren-ji.” A nod from Banichi. “But you will nottake all blame, Bren-ji. One will speak to Cenedi.”

“No,” he said shortly. It was as close as he and Banichi had ever come to an outright argument, and he meant to win it. “This is my personal embarrassment, and I refuse to share it, ’Nichi-ji, I outright refuse.”

“Nandi.” A bow. Banichi gave in, not that Banichi was notreserving the option to talk to Cenedi about the event. Banichi shed the bathrobe to Supani’s hands and stepped into the bathc so with the rest, while Bren belted on his dressing gown and sat down on the bench.

The tub overflowed into its side drains as three replaced one, sinking deep into the warmth and washing the salt off. Bren let Supani braid back his hair in a simple damp knot, even while his bodyguard took to vigorous scrubbing and sloshed warm water over his bare feet. Brandy arrived, with a set of three serving glasses, and none of them turned that down.

“One has requested the same for Jago-nadi,” Koharu reported with a little bow. “One hopes this was intended, nandi.”

“Indeed,” he said. He was exhausted. He was assuming things, leaning on his staff to do his thinking. The distress of an argument with Banichi had rattled him. But his bodyguard was taken care of. The youngsters, his brother, Barb, and now Jago—all were settled.

He was going to ache in the morning. Amazing how fighting the wheel had taken it out of him. Maybe it had been the death grip he had maintained on it throughout, to and from.

Things were better now, much better.

Koharu provided dry slippers, then, clear of the slosh zone, he headed back to his room to dress informallyc informally, that was, by Bujavid standards: one did notvisit the aiji-dowager in one’s bathrobe, not by a mile.

“One is so glad, nandi,” Koharu ventured to say as they entered his rooms.

“How arethe youngsters?” He had not inspected them for bruises and injuries, but news of such would fly fast among the staff. “Are they well?”

“A few scrapes, nandi,” Supani said. “And a few blisters— the young gentleman particularly. But no more than that.”

Cajeiri had been at the tiller, managing the boat: likely he had been, the whole time. Brave kid: he’d done all right, past the initial flurry of young, overconfident mistakes. He’d done just all right. And hadn’t said a word about the blisters. Probably hadn’t felt them until he’d warmed up.

So the young gentleman and his aishid had gotten out with blisters and probably were going to be just as sore, and the aiji-dowager was, meanwhile, waiting, with her bodyguard, in the sitting room. He gathered himself together, put on a proper indoor coat, and went out and down the hall to the study, where the dowager waited, to give his accounting.

He entered, past one of the dowager’s young men, who stood guard. Cenedi, Ilisidi’s chief of security, rose from his chair as he came in, a warming token of respect to the house, in lieu of Ilisidi rising, which the aiji-dowager did not. She sat, cane in hand, and Bren came and gave a deeper than usual bow.

“Nand’ dowager. One is extremely regretful—”

“Oh, posh. The Guildcannot track the boy. How could you?”

“All the samec” He had his facts assembled. He was ready to give his account.

“We have heard the entire tale, nand’ paidhi, the promised sailing trip, the phone call from the islandc Barb-daja’s distressc”

He feared he blushed. He earnestly tried not to, and bowed again. “One is extremely sorry, aiji-ma, that things under my management went so very wrong.”

“Oh, sit down,” Ilisidi said with a move of the cane. So he sat, which meant Cenedi could sit down, and Ramaso and staff, frozen until now near the doorway, could move in with the dowager’s requested brandy. Ramaso gave a bow, the servants served the brandy to the dowager, to him, and to Cenedi, in that order, and Bren caught Ramaso’s eye and nodded a dismissal for all staff.

So the first several sips of brandy went down in genteel silence and composure. It was fire on a raw throat, and then comfort, all the way down.

“We have decided we shall stay a few days,” Ilisidi said, then, “and escort my great-grandson back to the capital in person. We shall not deprive him of his promised holiday, despite this disgraceful behavior. But we shall not place such a burden on your staff. It is a pleasant venue, what little we have seen of it. We look forward to its garden and its views.”

“You honor this house,” Bren said, which was pro forma, but it was also true: the household staff would be extremely excited to host the aiji-dowager. “Any hospitality we can offerc”

“Oh, just carry on, nand’ paidhi, carry on as you would have, with your kinfolk and all.”

“Nand’ Toby will possibly be here the week,” he said, “but he has received word his daughter of another union is injured, and he may opt to sailc one has no idea.” It was in his head that, under changed circumstances, he ought to ask his brother to leave—one needed to concentrateon a guest like Cajeiri, and not have another incident. “One has not had an opportunity to speak to him.”

“One believes you were discussing this very matter when my great-grandson chose to go boating.”

“The aiji-dowager is, as always, very well-informed.”

“One gathers Barb-daja is not pleased at your kinsman’s contact with the prior union.”

God, the aiji-dowager loved romantic scandal, every morsel of it. Of course she had heard, and she was interested.

“That would be understatement,” he said ruefully, and Ilisidi looked pleased. He could only imagine the disaster if the dowager chose to convey her amusement to Barb, and offer advice.

“Pish, pish, your brother should stay. We are acquainted with him and Barb-daja, and shall have no objection to sharing accommodations. No more of this.”

“Yes, aiji-ma.”

“And Lord Geigi’s nephew, this nand’ Baiji. We understand he not only aided in the search, but actually provided the first sighting of my great-grandson’s boat.”

“He did, aiji-ma.”

“Inconvenient.”

“Aiji-ma?”

“He has notpresented himself at court.”

“His predecessor died during the Troubles, aiji-ma: there may exist some confusion in the house. One understands he is youngc”

Ilisidi waved a thin hand and took another sip of brandy. “Excuses. But the fact, nand’ paidhi, is the fact. Geigi’s house, during the Troubles, presented no respects to the assassin of my grandson’s staff, true, but has paid none, either, since my grandson’s return. There is a list of persons who have not come to court nor contacted my grandson. It is a scandal that the nephew of our trusted associate should be on it, but he is. Geigi has promised that Baiji will attend the coming session—but that is not now.”

“One completely understands, aiji-ma.” It was not the law that a new lord had to come to court, but it was unusual, and foolish, given the importance of contact with the aiji, for a lord not to take advantage of that opportunity. “Lord Geigi still being lord of Kajiminda, the nephew never having received a face-to-face appointment from his uncle, perhaps, aiji-ma, he feels that his uncle’s frequent contacts with the aiji are the valid ones.”

The dowager nodded, reached, and began to refill her own glass. Bren started to get up to do so: Cenedi was faster. She had her sip and everyone settled.

“That, certainly, is an unusual circumstance,” she said, “and we would overlook his reticence, nand’ paidhi, but under other circumstances, notably the situation in the South, we cannot, officially, initiate contact. It would make a very unfortunate precedent that others could use to offer insolent behavior. In point of fact, Lord Geigi does suffice, for my grandson’s satisfaction with his house; but in terms of an official thanks to this young lord in Kajiminda, we are distressed to say we cannot pay it.”

“The paidhi would willingly do so. One is scheduled to meet with him in a few days. We might change the schedule and call on him tomorrowc should the dowager find that useful.”

“If you should chance to express our favorable sentiments,” Ilisidi said with a slow nod, “that would be appropriate. Baiji. Certainly more enterprising and useful in his performance this night than the reports of him have said. And you will urge him to remove himself from the list of those who have not contacted my grandson: it is very unbecoming company. My great-grandson will go with you tomorrow. He will not express thanks, but being a child, he can at least honor the house that aided in his rescue, and not enter into their debt.”

An important technicality: if there was a debt, it could notbind a child who would be aiji. It had to be paid in courtesy, but being the visit of a child, would never be at issue unlessthis young lord someday became a true lord and delivered his man’chi to an adult and seated young aiji. Thenthe event might be remembered with some meaning.

So it was an honor the dowager proposed, one with limited current political value, but great potential value, if Baiji had any sense at all and bestirred himself to do what was right.

“I shall make immediate arrangements, aiji-ma. This cannot be allowed to hang fire or become gossip.”

“Exactly,” Ilisidi said. “The paidhi has an excellent grasp of the delicacy involved.” The other brandy vanished, in three sips. “Now we are assured our great-grandson is safe and that the paidhi-aiji has not frozen or drowned, so we shall sleep soundly tonight.”

“One greatly regrets, aiji-ma, to have been the source of inconvenience in your trip east.”

“Oh, pish, my cousin will still be there a week or two. A little sea air comes welcome. We shall expect to take our own turn on that boat of yours, paidhi-ji, before we fly off again.”

“Gladly,” he said. “A very pleasant prospect, aiji-ma.”

“Then good night to you, paidhi-ji.” She set her cane in place, taking just enough time for Cenedi to spring up and reach her side, to provide a more helpful, yet discreet assistance. Bren rose, bowed, and the two of them, Ilisidi and Cenedi, left the room.

Bren downed the other half of his brandy and let go a long, slow breath, then walked on out into the hall himself, and down the little distance to his own door.

Jago, meanwhile, slightly damp from the bath, had made it back to the room. She was waiting for him.

“The dowager is not out of sorts,” he said, finding cheer in that—if Ilisidi was still speaking politely to him, Tabini-aiji probably would, also. And he found even more cheer in saying, “One is relatively certain the young gentleman will be in his own bed by now.”

“We are assured of it,” Jago said. “The dowager’s guard is on watch tonight at that door, and will not leave it. The staff reports no more calls from the mainland. One supposes there is no news of nand’ Toby’s daughter.”

“None that I know. The dowager is willing for him to finish his visit here.” He sank onto the dressing-bench, and in the discreet absence of Koharu and Supani, began easing off his own boots. “In one way of looking at it, this is a good thing: he has not abandoned his own interests. He was extravagant in his dutiful response, before, which broke his relationship with his first wife: much as I dislike Barb’s behavior—I cannot forgive Jill-daja, either, for leaving him when things were at their worst, so I am far from even-handed in the matter.”

“And Barb?” Jago omitted all honorifics.

“Has admittedly behaved badly in this visit,” he said, “but she has gotten Toby’s attention—and gotten him to stay with her despite the crisis on the Island. Given my brother’s reactions previously, this is a change in him.” He sighed. “But one dreads to imagine tomorrow, when I take the young gentleman to Kajiminda, and the dowager will be under my roof with Barb.”

“Is that the plan, Bren-ji?”

“It seems nand’ Baiji, in the confusion of his situation, with Lord Geigi in regular contact with the aiji, has not paid due courtesies in court, and the aiji-dowager will not visit him. But the young gentleman will come with me, so one hopes the situation can be regularized. Certainly, we owe the man. And thatis to the good. And one assumes you will come with me.”

“We shall.”

“So the dowager and Barb will be under one roof with only the dowager’s guards.”

“Barb may not survive,” Jago said. She was behind him, massaging his shoulders, but there was a smile in the voice.

“Someone who can speak to Toby must be here,” he said.

“You would not wish me to do so,” Jago said. “I would be honest.”

“Tano, then.”

“He will not be much more pleased.”

“Tano and Algini. They can understand what they hear.”

“Some on the dowager’s staff can do so. The dowager herself, one suspects, Bren-ji.”

“Nevertheless,” he said. “Nevertheless, Jago-ji, one makes one’s own provisions. I do not want Toby in difficulty. Make Tano and Algini understand this.” Algini’s hand was painful, and a little light duty would, he thought, be the best thing over the next several days.

“One will explain matters, Bren-ji,” Jago said, and a moment later: “I would actually do this duty, if you asked.”

“I know you would, but should never have to.”

They went to bed. Jago’s body was always a few degrees warmer than his. He apologized, on this particular night, but Jago pulled him close and evened out the difference.

It was soon very warm in bed. And he was out in minutes.

Chapter 9

« ^ »

It ought to have been a leisurely morning. It might have been, had the dowager not been in residence; but Ilisidi took her breakfast at the crack of dawn, and, detecting the stir in the household, Bren got up, which consequently meant more stir in the household, and in the staff.

And that meant the youngsters got up, and once the youngsters were up, nobody was fated to get much sleep.

So in fairly decent time, Toby and Barb arrived at table, too, to meet a truly formal and large atevi breakfast, with staff attending, and bodyguards and attendants properly on duty.

Staff had mightily exerted themselves in the breakfast offering, with the aiji-dowager as their guest—there were eleven items, from grain porridge to fresh fish, eggs, and toast, and the aiji-dowager took to all of them with evident pleasure.

Which was good to see. Ilisidi was in high good humor, which was a great benefit in dealing with Barb and Toby. Cajeiri was on spectacularly good behavior, took particular care of his manners, had his staff standing at formal service, and in short order, actually wrung a good-humored laugh from the aiji-dowager when he nearly overset his water goblet and caught it miraculously before it spilled a drop.

“One tries,” Cajeiri said, in great frustration, “one tries, mani-ma, and things fall over.”

“One believes you exude a vibration,” Ilisidi said, “from the effort of sitting still. Well caught, Great-grandson.”

“Mani-ma.” A little bow of the head.

“Are you through? You may be excused. You know you have a duty to do today.”

“Yes, mani!” Cajeiri got up—thumping the table in his haste to be proper, shaking all the water goblets up and down, and gave a little bow to try to cover that, a bow to his great-grandmother, and to Bren, and to Toby and Barb, last of all to his great-grandmother again, and then he left, back to the halls, drawing his two companions with him.

Toby and Barb hadn’t said a thing, a novel and pleasant behavior on Barb’s part—who couldn’t understand a word of the conversation, and Bren was very grateful. Predictably, Barb’s temper had vanished in the excitement, and all seemed smoothed over there.

“So,” the aiji-dowager said, in the waning of the meal, during which one might properly discuss light business, “you are off to Kajiminda this afternoon, nand’ paidhi?”

“Yes, aiji-ma. The arrangement is made. We may take tea, but no more, as we anticipate: we shall pay our respects and be off. One begs your indulgence for leaving you.”

“We shall enjoy the gardens and the coast. Cenedi and I shall walk down to the shore today and no doubt find a shell or two of a sort our Eastern lake does not provide.”

“One begs the aiji-dowager to avail herself of whatever diversion or comfort this estate can provide.”

“We plan to, we hope without inconvenience to your other guests.”

“There can only be felicity in the aiji-dowager’s presence.”

“Especially since we have recovered my great-grandson from his folly. Tell these persons of your house that we recognize them for their assistance in this latest event as well as the prior, and invite them to take luncheon with us.”

A great and appalling honor, one he conveyed with a nod to the dowager and, turning to Toby and Barb: “The dowager has just thanked you for your help finding her great-grandson and for your assistance getting to the mainland in the first place. Understand, her thanks is a very, very high honor in itself, and one an atevi house would memorialize in family records. More than that, she asks you to lunch with her. We are speaking of international relations, treaties, and peace here. There will be limited translation. You should appear in your ordinary clothes and the servants will cue you. Tano and Algini will attend you and supply some translation. I am so sorry to leave you. I have no choice, considering the relations with our neighbor. Pleasebe extremely formal. This is beyond any state dinner in the Presidential Palace.”

“Understood,” Toby said. “Best coat, best manners, and all.”

“Best,” Barb said.

“Rely on the servants. Rely on the servants to cue you. And Tano and Algini. They will. If they ask you to do something, please don’t even question. Just do it.”

“I swear we won’t embarrass you, Bren.”

“I know you won’t,” Bren said, “or I wouldn’t leave you here, because it is that important, Toby, Barb. You both take care, will you?”

“Sure,” Toby said. “We’re pretty well done eating. Can we excuse ourselves out? Or should we sit a while?”

Bren turned to Ilisidi. “They consider the honor you offer extravagant, are very grateful and will of course be at luncheon. They ask, too, if they may gracefully retire now—atevi portions are somewhat generous for us, aiji-ma, and one believes they have become somewhat over-full.”

Ilisidi waved a hand in good humor. “Well enough, well enough. We look forward to the event.” Her expression instantly became businesslike, Ilisidi suddenly bent on a point she wished more urgently to carry. “One expects a full report on your return, nand’ paidhi, on this nephew of Geigi’s. One believes Lord Geigi himself would appreciate a report.”

“One will pay greatest attention to details, aiji-ma.”

“Then you, also, will wish to proceed, to be back in good season.”

“Yes, aiji-ma.” That was a dismissal from table, an urging to pursue his day’s business without worry, and he meant to do exactly that. He rose, bowed, leaving the table, and the remnant of the excellent breakfast, to the dowager.

He had, first, of course, to gather up Cajeiri and the Taibeni youngsters, pass on their attire—which proved far better than he had hoped. The servants informed him that all three—actually, probably Cajeiri, to do him credit—had had the foresight to pack something decently formal, in case manners were needed. Everything in the duffle had surely been crushed, but the staff, having wasted no time putting things in order, turned them all out quite nicely, given the situation.

“So,” he said as they gathered in the hallway, near the front doors, “we shall drive over to the neighbors’, pay our respects, have tea, and be back in time for supper. We shall not likely dine there tonightc possible, but unlikely.” If it had been Lord Geigi, no question he would have expected dinner, but Geigi was just that sort of fellow—nobody escaped his hospitality. Baiji was—so report said—an unenergetic fellow, and given the irregularity of his relations with the aiji, and given the fact he was leaving Toby and Barb in the dowager’s care, there seemed no likelihood at all of sufficient reason to overstay their intentions. There might be further exchanges: there might even be a reciprocal visit, if the dowager would agree to receive Geigi’s nephew: that would be socially dicey. A phone call from Baiji to the aiji’s secretary could straighten some of that out—but it hadn’t happened. It was a peculiarly sluggish young man—who just had not stirred out to secure his fortunes, trusting, one supposed, in his famous uncle’s relationship with the aiji, and his uncle’s ability to do business as needed.

But Baiji had, he chided himself, scrambled right quickly to save Cajeiri’s life—so perhaps it was just a reluctance to make moves that might cross Geigi’s. He had been fast enough last night. Picking up anylittle boat had been chancy in bad weather, and Baiji had at least ordered Geigi’s yacht out. One wondered if it had been Baiji at the helm last night—by what he had heard from the dowager, that seemed less likely; but if it had been, the young man was a very good yachtsman. And it hadbeen Baiji who had advised him on the radio where to look for the youngsters. So he had been out there.

So he certainly owed the man. They all did.

Banichi and Jago showed up, and they went out under the portico just as the bus came trundling up the cobbled drive. Iscarti was driving, one of the younger staff, a competent, cheerful fellow who also specialized in mechanical repairs and plumbing, jack of several trades.

That meant Banichi and Jago could settle back to be passengers as they boarded. The youngsters took the third and fourth seats, Antaro sitting up with Cajeiri, right behind the seat Bren claimed, as senior present; and Banichi and Jago across from him, behind the driver. They started out, a little rough over the ancient cobbles, and then more smoothly as they reached the drive.

Bren got up and leaned on the seat railings, with the attention of that young trio, and most especially Cajeiri.

“You know certain things, nandi, nadiin: that Lord Geigi has served the aiji for years as the aiji’s representative to the space-faring folk, an inestimably valuable and clever associate. He appointed a lady, his sister of the same father, to be lord of the estate: she died. Now her son, nand’ Baiji, has been governing the estate in the lady’s stead—and we do not know this man. We have scarcely met—though we are greatly in his debt for his assistance last night. But here is the delicacy in the matter: Baiji has not officially paid respects to your father the aiji, and he held neutral during the Troubles. This does not mean he was ever an enemy to your father. It was a strategy which preserved Kajiminda from attack, giving it a low profile, and probably incidentally preserving myestate, on its little peninsula, from any concentrated attack, so it was not badly done. The rebels were quite busy with people who wereresisting them, we were away in deep space, I presented no threat and had no influence on any large scalec in short, because Baiji kept Geigi’s estate politically quiet, and because Geigi, up on the station, concentrated on relations with the humans and was not making any great noise about it, either, myestate at Najida remained insulated and safe. So I owe him a debt for that. Second point: the people of this coast are largely Edi. Lord Geigi and his relatives are Maschi clan, ruling with Edi consent. The usurper’s Southern allies are historic enemies of the Edi. Geigi’s absence would easily have been an excuse for them to come up the coast onto this larger peninsula and pay old grudges. But they did not. The reason appears to have been their preoccupation with the capital: they may not have wanted to open a second war, while they were busy with the first. As for where Lord Geigi himself stood during this period, he was laying plans and building a network, should your father have died, young lord, to raise a war against Murini in the north, and his Southerner supporters. Geigi would notlikely have claimed the aijinate for himself: in my own estimation, he is not a traditional person, nor would he enjoy being aiji. He likely would have backed your great-uncle Tatiseigi, young lord, who would have ruled in the hope of your eventual return. Geigi was responsible for the robot landers. He was responsible for the network of communications along the coast. He was responsible for very many things that made your father’s return to power easier. Therefore, your great-grandmother is much more tolerant of nand’ Baiji’s lapses in protocols, so we shall not mention them, agreed?”

Cajeiri listened to this with more apparent attentiveness than he gave most lectures. It involved him, and his father, and things Cajeiri did understand far better than most eight-year-olds.

“So,” Bren continued, “Baiji. Baiji has been quiet here. He has not visited the neighbors, including my estate. He owes my estate money, which he has not paid, but one does not mention that, either. He seems to be the sort of man who does exactly what he has to do and no more.” This with a look directly at Cajeiri, who should understand that this was not an ideal state of being. “But you are not to say I said so nor are you ever to say so outside your own house: this is an opinion taken in council, and should be left there. This man saved your life, and the simple thanks for that is what we are dealing with today.”

“Yes, nandi.”

“So.” Bren brought his hand down on the seat rail. “So we shall hope to meet an excellent if retiring young man, one who, whatever his failings, offered the proper response when you were in trouble. Is that entirely agreed upon?”

“Yes, nandi.”

“ Pleasestay close to me and my aishid.”

“Yes, nandi. We shall be very careful. We shall be absolutely well-behaved. And we shall not touch anything.”

“One is grateful. You may justly discharge your debt by visiting him, briefly, and expressing a reserved gratitudec in one sentence, young lord! For the rest—you are your father’s son and your great-grandmother’s great-grandson and you are not obliged to twosentences.”

A bright grin. A laugh. Cajeiri had one excellent quality, having had the dowager for a teacher: the ability to see when grownups had their reasons, and to sense that complex politics should be left to his elders. “Yes, nandi! One sentence. We promise.”

“We will handle other matters.”

“Yes, nandi.” Eyes flitted to a fair-sized animal bounding along beside the bus. “Is that an ai’wita?”

Hopeless. The kid waseight. Bren laughed, and waved his hand. “Go look at it.”

A thunder of youngsters leaving their seats, headed for the back windows to have a look, and Bren turned and sank down in his own seat, with a roll of the eyes toward Banichi and Jago, who were amused.

He truly wished he could bring up Baiji’s debt, but that was going to have to be finessed, now that Baiji had paid off in other ways. Possibly, too, Baiji had gotten on the wrong side of some of his uncle Geigi’s talent—a knack for standing on both sides of an issue—he could still be playing minor politics with old Southern contacts, who knew? It could be useful. Tabini-aiji was working hard from the other side, trying to use the Farai as a wedge into a changed Southern political landscape. Their layabout lordling Baiji could end up being useful a second time.

Meanwhile, his own day’s program involved getting back to the estate before even mild-mannered Tano locked Barb in her room.

The south road, past the intersection for the train station, rose over rolling hills as a slightly muddy track, not well-kept—shockingly not well-kept, one might think. It devolved from a graveled stretch of dirt to a thin pair of wheel marks through tall grass with only the memory of gravel to keep it from mud puddles. It was not overgrown with brush, one could at least say that for the traffic, as the people of Kajiminda had surely come and gone to market in the village, and up to the train station or as various freight might have come from the airport. Surely Najida had sent some small commerce over to Kajiminda’s farming village, and conversely. But the upkeep had definitely fallen off since the last time Bren had seen the route, and, Bren supposed, it was not all one-sided. Things must have fallen off during the Troubles.

So hisestate might make the gesture of improving it, putting down gravel, and cutting the grass, at least to the halfway mark.

He was already seeing certain things he thought he should report to Lord Geigi, once they drove onto Kajiminda: the condition of a low wooden bridge, blocked with brush and ready to become a major problem of local flooding—erosion across the road, a hard bump for a bus or a truck: points against the young caretaker lord. Those inroads of erosion were going to become a gully at that low spot. And he noted loose boards on the second low bridge they crossed. The road definitely should be an issue in their eventual conversation, when they had done their fill of thank you and what a storm that had been.

The outlying signage was yet another matter: it generally needed painting. And the sign that pointed to Kajiminda, where the main market road went on down the coast toward the greater township in the region, and the lesser one went on toward the estate—that was lying on its face in the grass.

Certainly, the factory further down the main road in Lord Geigi’s district should be generating traffic clear to Dalaigi, and up to Kajiminda—but it looked no better on the track they did not take. Lack of maintenance up in this direction might have discouraged it, that, or habits and patterns of travel had shifted during the years of the Troubles—granted, this was not a main road, and possibly some change in rail service had encouraged them to use the rails for something that local. But it didn’t change the fact that the road needed to be fixed.

He remarked to Banichi and Jago, “We shall want to visit the factory, on some day before we leave the district. There is a certain lack of maintenance. But despite other circumstances, one has no wish to enter upon a neighborly exchange with an excessively critical view. There may be reasons.”

“Yes,” Banichi said, but Banichi’s gaze was otherwise out the window, observing details, marking this, marking that. So was Jago’s attention.

The youngsters clearly thought the jolts and ruts were exciting. The road had, to the paidhi’s eye, a certain spookiness about itc and still he told himself that it was no good going into a negotiation with preconceptions based on road maintenance.

In that view, as they had turned onto the unmarked and overgrown track that led to Lord Geigi’s estate, Bren said to himself that he might reasonably extend the gesture at least of mowing, if not patching allthe road up to Geigi’s private road—he should offer that, for an old ally’s sake, and for the help Baiji himself had rendered in a desperate situation. If there was any dearth of proper equipment in this estate, there was not in Najida: he had a grader, and a truck, and he could get repairs moving. This young man might have felt somewhat isolated and lacking direction in his situation during the Troubles. Perhaps he had simply not been up to the job he was given—the Maschi line was running thin, down almost to its last. Possible Baiji had come in with no training for the job he had prematurely attained. Possibly he and staff had had their difficultiesc Perhaps Najida could help smooth over more than the roads.

Bump! The passage of truck tires—at least more frequent here—had created massive potholes, where the native sandstone, not far beneath the layer of dirt and grass had shattered or eroded into sand.

Well, however, his own two-year departure from the region, almost three years until this visit, had removed the last experienced authority from the district and left everything to Baiji. Could he greatly blame the man, who had at least avoided invasion on this coast? Baiji might be due some credit in areas other than road construction.

And the villa did, when it appeared in the distance, appear much as it had a decade and more ago, red tile roofs above a sprawling structure of the harder, coastside limestone, plastered and painted white.

Well-painted and orderly, still, within its surrounding garden walls, with the little false garden watchtowers, and the villa’s general L-shaped roof reflecting the bright sun in a cheerful way. That view entirely lightened his mood. The orchards were still well kept. The stucco wall and towers—built mostly to keep pests out of the orchard—were immaculate.The natural woodland that ran down to the shore was still what it had been. Geigi’s dock and yacht were not visible from this vantage: the wooded coast curved somewhat, making a neat little cove where Geigi kept his boats, and from which Geigi’s extended household did a little fishing. And when they turned through the gates of the low, white-plastered outer wall, the road became a broad gravel track, leading up to a portico not unlike that at Najida.

The youngsters had moved forward in the bus as they passed within the gates, and now they clustered close behind Bren’s seat as the bus pulled into the little courtyard that faced the front doors.

The driver drew to a sedate halt and opened the door. Banichi and Jago exited first, and now the house doors opened and the staff came out to meet them.

In the center of the doors, hindmost, arrived a well-dressed young man, a little plump—could one at all doubt that he was related to Lord Geigi? He looked like every Maschi lord in the lineage. And he seemed quite fond of gold thread—he positively glittered, the whole expanse of him glittered. But that was no great sin, that the young man should have gotten himself up in his absolute best for the meeting. He shone in gold. A shadow attended him, four men in Guild black, his bodyguard, also in their most formal black and silver for the occasion.

Well, discourtesy to the aiji had ruffled some who noticed such things, and true, the young lord hadn’t phoned first, seeing a neighbor returning after long absence; but one could not fault the turnout now.

Banichi and Jago got out, and took their position, opposite. Bren quietly descended the steps and gave a little bow, as Cajeiri and his pair came clattering down the steps behind, and landed on the aged cobblestones just behind him with a little crunch of sand.

Lord Baiji was of moderate height, taller than his ample figure immediately suggested; a solid young man, and he had a pleasant expression, a little softness about the mouth, but over all distinctly like Lord Geigi.

“Nandiin,” Baiji said, and bowed to him first, and bowed to Cajeiri. “My house is honored. One hopes you find yourselves well, nand’ Bren, after the events of last night.”

“Entirely, nandi,” Bren said. “Thank you.”

“We wish to express our gratitude, nandi,” Cajeiri piped up, coming up at Bren’s side, and bowing, which occasioned a second bow from Baiji. “We were in great distress last night, and very glad to be found.”

That was, Bren said to himself, two sentences. And before he had had a chance properly to introduce the boy.

And simultaneously a peculiarity struck him: nandiin, Baiji had said—the plural my lords. The presence of young, civilian-dressed attendants with Cajeiri was some indication of higher rank, as was the fairly elegant coat Cajeiri was wearing. The Taibeni youngsters were certainly too young to be attending the paidhi-aiji himself. Village child, they had said. And this morning Baiji met them with nandiin.

And came out onto the porch to do it. He had not the manner of a lord in his own hall, rather that of an anxious merchant in his shop doorway.

“The house of Lord Geigi,” Baiji said, “is more than pleased to have been of assistance. We beg you come inside, nandiin, and take tea in the solar.”

Well, well, the man lacked the manner, but he met them knowing more than he’d been told—that was at least commendable industry. And one so hoped to find some sense of ease with this young man, some good point or two to relay to his uncle Geigi.

So they took the invitation, leaving the driver to park the bus and wait.

Now, in the inner hall, was the proper time and place for the major domo of the house to express his own delight at the visit of close associates of the lord, and to show them to the solarium for tea, never mind that Baiji himself had usurped that office. But in fact a sober, quiet man approached and led the way in silence.

Geigi’s major domo had gone with him to space. This man would have been on staff at his last visit—but in some minor post. Other things, however, were much as he remembered. The potted plants in the tiled hall were a bit taller, and when they came into the solar and took their seats, the chairs were a few years more wornc the house was not much using this room. There was a trace of dust in the grooves of the chair arm—Ramaso would never tolerate such a thing—but he was not here to criticize.

It was still a pleasant venue. The room had a frieze of sailing ships. Many-paned windows gave a view of a small winter garden. A small rug covered the seating area of the tiled floor, deadening sound.

The solar, Bren thought, had another advantage—being near the front doors. A quick session, and an early out if things turned awkward—if there was, for instance, any business about the debt to Najida merchants, which he truly did notwant to discuss today, because he would have to say things that would not be auspicious.

So they sat, himself, and Cajeiri, and Baiji, while their respective bodyguards stood in attendance on opposite sides of the room.

Tea was ready with no delay at all: staff must have spotted them coming up the drive, and hastened now to bring forth the service. That provided a decent period of quiet and mental collection.

So they sipped their tea, Cajeiri in very commendable silence, until Baiji asked his young guest how he found the district.

“Very beautiful, nandi. Thank you.”

Commendable brevity. And offering the suggestion, on Bai-ji’s side, that Cajeiri was not quitec as advertisedc local.

Hell, Geigi would have asked the facts at the front door. Baiji just insinuated bits and pieces of what he knew.

So it was, Bren decided, on him to explain matters decently. That had been a diffident probe, at least, perhaps the man’s attempt at genteel inquiry. He took a sip of tea—his sips were scarcely enough to wet his lips, cautiousc alkaloids were always a risk, in unknown hospitality. Then he said: “One must apologize, nandi, for the slight deception on the radio last night. You have clearly guessed by now that my young companion is not from Najida village. Let me introduce, nandi, nand’ Cajeiri, the son of Tabini-aiji, and his young staff.”

“Nandi.” Their host immediately set aside his teacup and rose. Cajeiri, a properly schooled youngster, also rose, and there was a brief exchange of bows between Cajeiri and Baiji, then a resumption of seats.

“One is extremely honored, young gentleman, and delighted to have rendered service.”

Remarkable. Astonishing. Having already spent his allotted two sentences, Cajeiri merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, and said not a thing, asked not a single question—the perfect model of a young gentleman.

“One should add,” Bren said, “that the grandmother referenced last night is the young lord’s great-grandmother, who is a guest at my estate.”

“One is completely astonished by the honor paid this house.” Baiji had broken out in a sudden sweat, and actually reached for a pocket handkerchief to mop his cheek. “One is very gratified at your visit, nandiin.”

“Security is tight,” Bren said with a calm nod. “We wish no attention to my guests. Nor should it be mentioned beyond staff until my guests have left the region. But as my neighbor, it is useful that you know.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

“Please,” Bren said, accepting another dose of tea into his cup, the servant late to provide it. “Please take my visit as gratitude for your assistance last night. As to your question, nandi, how we find the districtc it is, of course, as I left it—except the roads.”

“Ah! Nandi, one so deeply apologizes—one—”

“If Kajiminda would accept a more substantive token of my gratitude for last night, Najida might mow the road from Najida up to the turnoff, so heavier traffic might be more convenient between our estates.” And I would like my people’s bills to be paid, he thought, but simply had a sip of tea.

“One would be extremely gratified by that favor, nandi,” Baiji said. “We have been short-handed in the estate, and last fall, we let that matter slide far more than we should.”

“Short-handed,” Bren echoed him.

Another pass of the handkerchief. “During the Troubles, certain staff found the need to be closer to their families. And most regrettably, nandi, they have not yet returned.”

“Ah,” Bren said. Not returned to their jobs, and it had been months since the restoration of Tabini’s regime. Odd. He declined, however, to say so, just letting his bodyguard sum things up.

But he was not as easy now. Something unpleasant in the tea? One could become just a little anxious in their host’s continued nervousness, but there was a reason a lord’s bodyguard stood while the lords sat at tea—stood armed to the teeth, and did not drink or eat. It was his job not to drink much of the tea, and to find out what he needed to learn.

And he could wish he had not brought the boy on this trip.

“Do you, nandi, hear often from your esteemed uncle?”

“Not often at all, to my regret, nand’ Bren. One hopes for his continued good health. One has been concerned.”

“One has heard nothing at all distressing regarding his health. We dealt with him briefly on the station, and we have been in contact with him intermittently for months.”

“Then one is glad to know so, nandi.”

“Indeed. He frequently keeps a hectic schedule. I shall be sure to remember you kindly to him.” Banichi meanwhile, in the tail of his vision, had stepped outside the room to have a word, perhaps, with the major domo, maybe to pose his own questions of staff. One of Baiji’s men had likewise left the room. That would not be at all unusual, in two staffs establishing contact. And it was the lord’s job to smooth things over. But it was approaching time to cut the visit short, the gesture made, and the outcome offering more questions than answers. “One has little time in the schedule today, to let us pay a long visit, nandi, but later, should you wish, one might have that road mowed, and your reciprocal visit to Najida might meet no serious obstacles.”