Inheritor

The pilots wanted him to write a recommendation to the aiji and to the legislature—and there was, additionally, a letter from the head of the Pilots’ Association stating that they accepted the use of computers on his recommendation that they would prove necessary (this had been a verydifficult matter) and hoping again, since he had supported the paidhi in that situation, that the paidhi would grant his support in their cause.

The fact was, he did take the Guild status seriously—for reasons he didn’t quite want to make clear to the pilots involved.

Yet.

They were, assuredly, going to enjoy a certain importance once the earth-to-orbit craft was flying; and once the coming and going became frequent; but more than that—more than that, he began to think, the computer programs the pilots right now disdained were ultimately going to be run by atevi computer programs, using atevi grasp of mathematics.

And in that respect he could see where it was going to go over a horizon he couldn’t see past, into mathematical constructs where a lot of atevi couldn’t follow, arcane mysteries that might totallyconfound a set of philosophies built on mathematical systems. And responsible handling of thatmight be far more important to atevi than any reason these men and women yet saw.

Aiji-ma, he wrote somberly, these pilots will in years to come work closely with the Mathematicians’ Guild and with the Astronomers in whatever capacity the Astronomers enjoy at that time. I believe in due consideration that there will be reasons to facilitate exchange of information at Guild level. I know that I, being human, only imperfectly comprehend the advantages and disadvantages of a change from professional Association to Guild, but there may be special circumstances which will place these persons in possession of sensitive information which I think your greater wisdom and atevi sensibilities alone can decide.

Let me add, however, that the term Guild as atevi apply it is not the human model; and this should be considered: it came to be among the most divisive issues of the human-against-human quarrel that sent humans down to the planet.

There was a human named Taylor once, when the ship was lost in deepest space and far from any planet. Taylor’s crew gave their lives to fuel the ship and get it to a safer harbor. The sons and daughters of the heroes, as I was taught was the case, gained privilege above all other humans, used their privilege and special knowledge ruthlessly, and attempted to hold other humans to the service of their ship, a matter of very bitter division.

He stopped writing—appalled at the drift of what he was admitting to atevi eyes, to an ateva who was working to his own people’s advantage far above any theoretical interest he held in humans—an ateva whose feelingsabout the matter he couldn’t begin to judge, no more than he could expect Tabini or even himself accurately to judge the feelings of humans dead two hundred and more years ago.

He was appalled at how far he’d forgotten the most basic rules in dealing with atevi. He security-deleted what he’d just written, wiped every possible copy, and then grew so insecure about his fate and that of the computer he wasn’t sure humans had told him the truth about a security-delete.

The room after that was quiet. There was the dark outside the windows. There was the hush in a household trying not to disturb those doing work they generally couldn’t discuss. There was the burden of knowing—and not being able to talk about things.

Never being able to talk. Or relax. Or go out of that mode of thought that continually analyzed, looked for source, looked for effect.

Looked for ulterior motive.

And he was on the verge of making stupid, stupid mistakes.

He needed a human voice, that was what. He badly needed to touch something familiar. He needed to seesomething familiar—just to know—that things he remembered were still there.

He folded up the computer, got up, walked back to the office, quietly so. Jase was still in the library, reading, but Jase didn’t look up as he shut the office door.

And dammit, no, Jase wasn’t the prop to lean on. A human born lightyears from the planet wasn’t it. A man under Jase’s level of stress wasn’t it. He didn’t need to dump all his concerns on anybody.

He just needed—he needed just to hear the voices, that was all. Just needed, occasionally, to hear the accents he knew, and the particular human voices he’d grown up with, and even—he could be quite brutally honest about it—to get mad enough at his family to want to hang up, if that was what it took to armor him for another three months of his job. He loved them. He was technically allowed to say the fatal word lovein their instance, angry and desperate as they could make him.

Maybe, he thought, thatwas the part of his soul that needed exercising. Maybe it was hearing Jase talking to his mother. Maybe it was the self-chastisement that maybe he ought to make peace with his own family, and not carry on the war they’d been fighting.

Maybe it was the definite knowledge that his mother had justification for complaints against her son. It came to him with peculiar force that he’d been blaming her for her frustration when it was the same frustration and anger the whole island of Mospheira was likely feeling with him, and showing to his mother by harassing her sleep. Hecouldn’t explain his position to her, hell, he couldn’t explain it to himself on bad days, and now she had health problems the stresses of hisjob weren’t helping at all.

Not mentioning the mess he’d put his brother and his family in.

At least he could call. At least he could make the gesture and try to plead again that he couldn’tcome back and turn over the job to Deana Hanks, which was his alternative.

Jase didn’t look up. The hall was shadowed: possibly Jase didn’t notice him at all. Or thought he was being checked on by security or one of the servants—or by him—and purposefully didn’t notice.

He went to the little personal office instead, picked up the phone and, through the Bu-javid operator, put through a call into the Mospheiran phone network, which got a special operator on the other side. Checking the time, he put through a call to his brother Toby’s house.

“ This number is no longer a valid number. Please contact the operator.”

“ I’m sorry,” the Mospheiran operator said coldly, cutting in. “ There’s a recording.”

I know there’s a damn recording! was what he wanted to say. Instead, he said, reasonably, “Call Bretano City Hospital. My mother’s a patient there.”

There wasn’t even a courtesy Yes, Mr. Cameron. The operator put the call through, got the desk, a clerk, the supervisor:

“ We have no Ms. Cameron listed as a patient.”

“ They say,” the operator said, “ they have no Ms. Cameron listed.”

He didn’twant to call the Foreign Office. He had a short list of permitted persons he couldcall as paidhi without going throughthe Foreign Office or higher. And he was down to the last ones. His mother’s home phone didn’t work during the evening hours: the phone company had blocked incoming service because of phone threats. Toby mightbe there. His mother might be. Possibly she’d come home from the hospital and Toby might have taken his entire family there because he didn’t dare leave the kids or his wife alone back at their house. Damnthe crawling cowards that made it necessary!

“All right. Get me Barbara Letterman,” he said to the operator. “She’s married to Paul Saarinson.”

“ I don’t have authorization for a Paul Saarinson’s residence.”

“You have—” He made a conscious effort to keep his language free of epithets. “—authorization for Letterman. She is the same Barb Letterman. She has a State Department clearance to talk to me. She hasn’t changed her clearance. She just got married.”

“ I can only go by the list, sir. You’ll have to contact the State Department. I can put you through to that number.”

The operator knewthat number wouldn’t find anybody able to authorize anybody at that hour. He could try Shawn Tyers at home. But he didn’t want to compromise Shawn, and he had sure knowledge that his calls were monitored at several points: in this apartment, with Tabini’s security, with Mospheiran National Security and God knew, it was possible there were leaks with this particular operator. George’sfriends were gaining increasing access through appointments to various offices, just a quiet erosion of people he usedto be able to reach.

And it did no good, no good at all to lose his temper. He wasn’t out of names, if thatold list was the one she was going by. There was one woman, one woman he’d dated in time past and who had gone on the list, before he and Barb had almost gotten to talking about a future together. Sandra Johnson was a date, for God’s sake, not a resource for a Foreign Office field officer in trouble. But she was a contact—to prove he could get someone.

“Sandra Johnson.”

“ Yes, sir.”

He shut his eyes and blocked out the atevi world. Imagined a pretty woman in an ivory satin jacket, candlelight, Rococo’s, and a quiet chat in her apartment. Nice place. Plants everywhere. She named them. Clarence, and Louise. Clarence was a spider plant, one of those smuggled bits that the colonists weren’t supposed to have taken, and some had, and spider plants were common, but no ecological threat. Louise was a djossivine, and he’d said—he’d said she should set it on her balcony. They liked more light. The paidhi knew. They grew all over Shejidan.

The phone was ringing. And ringing.

Please, God, let someone pick it up.

“ Hello?”

“Sandra? This is Bren. Don’t hang up.”

“ Bren Cameron?” Justifiably she sounded a little shocked. “ Are you on the island?”

“No. No, I’m calling from Shejidan. I apologize. Sandra. I—” Words were his stock in trade and he couldn’t manage his tongue or his wits, or even think of the social, right words he wanted in Mosphei’. It was all engineering and diplomatese. “I’ve run out of resources, Sandra. I need your help. Pleasedon’t hang up. Listen to me.”

“ Is something wrong?”

God. Is something wrong? He suffered an impulse to laugh hysterically. And didn’t. “I’m fine. But—” What did he say? They’re harassing my family and threatening their lives? He’d just put Sandra Johnson on the list, just by calling her. “Sandra, how are you?”

“ Fine. But—”

“But?”

“ I just—was rather surprised, that’s all.”

“Sandra, my mother’s in the hospital or she’s home. I can’t get the hospital to admit she’s in there. Probably it’s a security precaution, but the clerk’s being an ass. I know—” God, he had no shame. Nor scruples. “I know I have no right to call up like this and hand you a problem, but I can’t get through and I’m worried about her. Can you do some investigating?”

“ Bren—I—”

“Go on.”

“ I know she’s there. I know they’ve got police guards. It’s in the news. Bren, a lot of people are mad at you.”

“I imagine they are. But what in hell’s it doing in the news about my mother and police guards?”

“ Bren, they’ve thrown paint on the apartment building. Somebody shot out the big windows in the front of the State Department last week. You’re why.”

He felt a leaden lump in his stomach, “I don’t get all the news.”

“ Bren, just— a lot’s changed. A lot’s changed.”

The operator, he was sure, was still listening. The call was being recorded.

“Shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“ Bren, I’m a little scared. What are you doing over there? What have you done?”

“My job,” he said, and all defenses cut in.

“ They say you’re turning over everything to the atevi.”

“Who says? Who says, Sandra?”

“ Just— on the news, they say it. People call the television station. They say it.”

“Has the President said anything?”

“ Not that I know.”

“Well, then, not everything’s changed,” he said bitterly. Eight days out of the information flow, maybe. But by what Banichi had said about things not getting to Tano’s level, with Banichi gone for six months, God alone knew what hadn’t gotten to him.

And common sense now and maybe instincts waked among security-conscious atevi told him he’d both made a grave mistake in getting on the phone and that he’d learned nothing in this phone call that he could do a damn thing about. “So now that I’ve called you, youcould be in danger. How’s your building security?”

“ I don’t know if we have any.” It was half-laughing. Half-scared. Life on Mospheira didn’t take crime into account. There wasn’t much. There weren’t threats. Or had never been, until the paidhi became a public enemy. “ What do I do?”

“Get a pen. I’m going to give you instructions, Sandra.”

“ For what? What’s going on?”

“Because they’re threatening my family, they’re threatening my brother and his wife and kids, and Barb got married to get an address they couldn’t access. I shouldn’t have called your number.”

“ You’re serious. This isn’t a joke you’re making.”

“Sandra, I was never more serious. Have you got a pen?”

“ Yes.”

“I want you to go to Shawn Tyers. You know who he is. His apartment is 36 Asbury Street.”

“ The Foreign Secretary.”

“Yes.” The line popped. His heart beat hard. He knew he was about to lose the connection and that it was not an accident. The window he had was closing, the operator had found someone of rank enough to terminate the phone call because they’d gotten into things they didn’t want flowing across the strait, and he’d just put Sandra in real danger. “Leave Clarence and Louise on their own, go to a neighbor and get them to take you directly to Shawn. Wait in his lobby all night if you have to. Don’t let them arrest you.” This was a woman almost entirely without experience in subterfuge. And if they were monitoring, the people who would harm her were listening to what he was telling her to do. “This instant. I’m serious. You’re in danger, now. They’re listening on the line, Sandra. These people could send the taxi if you call one. Get help from people you know or don’t know, but not taxis and not government. Get to Shawn. Now! Move fast! Don’t go on the street alone—and don’t trust the police!”

“ Oh, my God, Bren. What’s going on? What are you involved in? Why did you call me?”

It’s not me, he started to say.

But the line went dead.

He stood leaning against the desk. He was gripping the phone so hard his hand was numb. He hung up the receiver knowing he commanded any security help he wanted on this side of the strait—and couldn’t get through to his own mother on the other.

Deana Hanks was broadcasting messages to incite sedition on the mainland. That no one stopped her meant no one knew or that no one could get an order to stop her.

That no one in the atevi government including Tabini had told him about Deana meant that, Banichi’s protestations aside, either no one had told Banichi or Banichi was covering something—Banichi ordinarily wouldn’t lie to him, but there were circumstances in which Banichi wouldlie to him. Definitely.

He’d thrown in the bit about the damn houseplants to cue Sandra he was speaking on his own and now he didn’t know but what she didn’t take it as some joke.

The stakes had gotten higher, and higher.

And higher.

Maybe he was just so out of touch he was a paranoid fool. But what he could feel through the curtain of security that lay between Mospheira and the Western Association scared him, it truly scared him.

He straightened, met the grave face of an atevi servant who’d, probably passing in the hall, seen him in the office and seen his attitude and paused. Or his own security had sent her. God knew.

“Do you wish anything, nand’ paidhi?”

He wished a great deal. He said, for want of anything he could do, “I’d like a glass of shibei, nadi. Would you bring it, please?”

“Yes, nand’ paidhi.”

Instant power. More than fifty people completely, full-time dedicated to his wants and needs.

And he couldn’t safeguard Sandra Johnson and two stupid houseplants he’d put into grave danger.

God! Led by his weaknesses and not by his common sense, he’d made that phone call. Why the hell had he felt compelled to push the matter and try to get information he knew damned wellwas being withheld from him by the whole apparatus of the Mospheiran government and the rot inside it?

What did he thinkwas going to respond when he kicked it to see whether, yes, it was malevolent, and widespread, and it had everything he loved in its grip.

The drink arrived in the hands of a tall, gentle, non-human woman, who gracefully offered it on a silver platter, and went away with a whisper of slippered footfalls and satin coat, and left a hint of djossiflower perfume in her wake.

He finished the drink and set down the glass. The spring breeze blew through the sitting room, chill with spring and fresh with scents of new things.

He’d had a nice, tame little single-room apartment down the hill, before he’d come to this borrowed, controversy-dominated palace.

He’d had glass doors that opened onto a pretty little garden he’d shared with a Bu-javid cook and several clerks, trusted personnel, persons with immaculate security clearances. Never any noise, never any fuss. Two servants, a small office with no secretary at all.

But someone had broken into his little apartment one rainy night, whether a person of Tabini’s staff setting him up, or whether truly an attempt on his life, he didn’t know nor expected the persons who might have been responsible ever to say. He would never ask, for his part, since it seemed vaguely embarrassing to say it to persons who if they were human would be friends.

Persons whose turning against him would mean he’d have only duty left.

He was aware of a presence in the shadowed hall. He thought it was the servant spotting an empty glass. They were that good, sometimes seeming to have radar attuned to that very last sip, to whisk the glass away, perhaps zealous to restore the perfection of numbers in the room, perhaps that the night staff had to account for the historic crystal. He had no idea and had never asked.

He turned his head and saw Jago standing there.

“Are you well, Bren-ji?”

“Yes.” It was perhaps a lie he told her. He wasn’t even sure.

Perhaps Jago wasn’t sure, either. She walked in and stood where he could see her without turning his head.

“Is there trouble?” he asked her.

“Only a foolish boy who tried to ride the subway to the hill. One can’t reach the hill by the subway without appropriate passes, of course. But he carried identification. When he argued with the guards it rang alarms.”

“The boy from Dur?”

“He’s very persistent.”

“He’s not hurt, is he?”

“No, no, Bren-ji. But he isbecoming a great nuisance. Three letters today—”

“Three?”

“Felicitous three.” Jago held up three fingers. “Two would have been infelicitous. He was therefore compelled to send a third.”

He had to smile. And to laugh.

“One did,” Jago said slowly, “listen—to your phone call, Bren-ji.”

It was an admission of many things. And she came to him with that as an implied question.

There was a word, osi, that had no clear etymology, no relationship to any other word. But when one said it, one wanted a teacup full or a piece of information amplified to its greatest possible extent. He said it now, and Jago said quietly:

“This woman. One doesn’t recall her.”

“Sandra Johnson? A woman I saw socially, before you came.” There was no atevi word for dated. Or if there was, it was a set of words for social functions including bed-partners: he was definitely on shaky ground with that vocabulary.

And with Jago. They’d been—interested in each other. Curious, on one level. Aware—on another—that, being what they were, who they were, things being as they were, they couldn’t trifle with one another.

The air was suddenly charged. He didn’t know whether she felt it. He’d been celibate for almost a year, now, in a household full of women all of whom, including women he knew had grandchildren, acted as if they found him attractive. He’d met with too many memories tonight. He’d endangered a woman he’d slept with, trying to reestablish a connection he’d no business trying to activate. He might even have killedSandra Johnson. He didn’t think things had gone that far on Mospheira, on an island where in very many communities people didn’t lock their doors—but he was afraid for Sandra, and felt a guilt for that phone call that wouldn’t make an easy pillow tonight.

He wanted—

He wanted someone to fill the silence.

Someone like Barb. Sandra hadn’t been that way for him. A fun evening. A light laughter. No talk about the job.

But to Barb, he’d told more than he should. And when it was clear he wasn’t coming back any time soon, and when his actions had alienated a lot of the population of Mospheira, she’dmarried a government computer expert, whose clearances and whose indispensability to the State Department could assure her safety in ways he couldn’t.

Jago walked closer to his chair. Was there, in the warmth and scent and solid blackness of an ateva close at hand.

“I should have shot Hanks-paidhi,” Jago said, stating fact as she saw it.

“Possibly it was the right idea,” he said, and Jago’s hand rested on his on the arm of the antique chair.

“Nadi-ji.”

His heart beat in panic. Sheer panic. He thought of moving his hand to signal no. But a sexual No wasn’t what he wanted either, not forever.

“If a person associates with the powerful,” Jago said in that rich, even voice, the low timbre only an ateva could achieve, “there are penalties.”

“But they never expected the paidhi’s job to be that, Jago-ji. I didn’t. I knowyou think Barb failed me. But there isno Guild for her to appeal to. My family has no clan, no power. She went to a man whose connections in the government are more secure than mine.”

“And will Barb-daja help you?”

“If I could get to her—”

“What would she have done?”

“Checked on my mother.”

“And rescued her?”

“Barb can’t, Jago-ji. She has nowhere to go. She has no one to call on. There is no Guild. There’s none for Sandra Johnson. There isno help.”

“I have heard of po-lis.”

“Some of themaren’t reliable. And if you’re not inside the system you don’t know which ones.”

Jago took back her hand. And pulled up a chair. “Is this Sandra John-son knowledgeable of such things?”

“Shawn might help her. The Foreign Secretary. He might put her under some sort of protection. I don’t know.”

“And his superior? What of the President?”

He was suddenly looking not into the face of an ateva he trusted, but an Assassin, a guard in the man’chi of the aiji of Shejidan, asking things he had never quite admitted, like the real inner workings of decision-making. God knew and Tabini knew the President was not quick; but a helpless figurehead, he hadn’t quite admitted to.

Matters on the island had never been quite this desperate, either, unless he was a total fool and had scared himself into some paranoid fancy. Shooting—at the State Department windows.

“Jago-ji. I’m not sure. I don’t knowwho’s holding power. Hanks is using a radio transmitter, on an island. Tellme they can’t find her and stop her. They knowwho’s doing it. There isn’tbut one person on Mospheira who can speak fluent Ragi! They aren’t that stupid, Jago-ji! Stupid, but not thatstupid.”

“If I see her I willshoot her, Bren-paidhi. This is a person doing harm to the aiji’s interests and to you.”

What did he say? Yes?

“I regard you highly,” was what he found to say in Ragi. And what else could he say? Something that evaded moral connection to the ateva she was, and the plain truth and good sense she offered? “You were right, Jago-ji. You were right.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I think so.” She rose and towered against the light, and walked to the door. “Banichi says go to bed and sleep.”

“Does he?” He was surprised. Then amused at the source of it. At both sources.

“Good night, nand’ paidhi.”

“Jago-ji.” He almost—almost—asked her to stay. No matter Banichi’s admonition. But she wouldn’t disobey that order, and he shouldn’t pose that conflict to her moral sense.

“I am also,” she added, “right about Barb-daja. The direction of her man’chi is not to you. She sought another place.—Shall I secure the computer?”

He turned it over to her, and walked out with her. But she went to the left, to the security station, and he went to the right, toward his bedroom, where servants converged and helped him to undress.

Jago’s shots were generally on target. Even the man’chi business, which had no human application.

But it wastrue. He and Barb had done each other a lot of damage, the same as he’d done tonight to Sandra.

Barb hadn’t—hadn’t told him about things. Barb had carried all the load until she couldn’t carry it any more. And he loved her for that.

But she’d acted at the last to save herself. Jago saw that part, too. Practical of Barb. Maybe even essential.

But— dammit—she could have just moved in with Paul. She didn’t have to make it legal. Thatsaid something final to the man she’d been illegal with for years.

It said—a lot of what an ateva had just observed. The drift was in a direction other than toward him.

He sat down on the immaculate bed, and turned out the light and pulled the covers over himself.

He was more tired than he’d thought.

Worried about Sandra. Worried about his mother and his brother, but he’d beenworried so long he’d worn out the nerves to worry. Things just were. Somebody had thrown paint on his mother’s building and the landlord was no doubt mad; it was in the news it was so notorious and somehow the atevi of the Messengers’ Guild who monitored such things hadn’t told Tano who consequently hadn’t told him.

But Banichi indicated they hadn’t told Tabini certain things, too, and that heads were about to be, the atevi word, collected.

He couldn’t help matters. He knew that now. He sank into that twilight state in which a hundred assassins could have poured through the windows and he’d have directed them sleepily to the staff quarters.

13

The television was on its way out. One servant dusted the table on which it had rested for more than half a year in the historic premises, another stood by with a gilt and porcelain vase which would replace it, and a third carried the incriminating modernism out to the kitchen where (rather than send the thing through the dissection of security when it had to come back again) it would hide in the rear of a cupboard of utensils that the Atageini lord would surely not inspect.

The cabinet that held the vegetables, especially the locker that held the seasonal meat, Bren would not lay odds on. Cook hadillicit tomato sauce. Cook had by a miracle of persuasion gotten it through Mospheiran customs (let Cooktalk to George Barrulin in the President’s office, Bren thought glumly: Cook might fare better than he had) and now the offending cans of sauce from a human-imported vegetable had to hide somewhere. One simply didn’t want to put anything through security examination if it could possibly be tucked away out of sight. Everything that went out of the apartment was a risk and a nuisance in its coming back in.

“I have the dread of Uncle opening a linen cabinet,” Bren said to Jase as they stood watching, “and being crushed by falling contraband.”

“They’ve even checked under the bed,” Jase said. “Will he?”

“I don’t think he’ll go that far.” He’d explained to Jase the importance, the deadly fragility of relations between Tatiseigi and Tabini, and the fact that on one level there was amusement in it; and on another, it was grimly, desperately serious, not only for the present, but for all the future of atevi and humans and Tabini’s tenure as aiji. “Ready?”

“ Hamatha ta resa Tatiseigi-dathasa.”

“Impeccable.”

It was. Jase had been working on that tongue-twisting Felicitous greetings to your lordship. Which wasn’t easier because the name was Tatiseigi.

“So,” Jase said. “Where isthe tomato sauce?”

“Cook’s bed.”

Jase’s nerves had been on all day, a skittish zigzag between panic and nervous humor. He laughed, and looked drawn thin and desperate. “I can’t do this. Bren, I can’t.”

“You’ll do fine.”

Uncle Tatiseigi had asked to see bothhuman residents, a point that had come to them by message from Damiri-daja this afternoon, and he had pointedly not told Jase that small fact, not wanting to alarm him. But either the old man was curious, or the old man was going to make at least a minor issue of the human presence, possibly to try to create an incident that would give him points against Damiri—or Tabini.

“Just, whatever he says to you, listen carefully and stick to the children’s language. He won’t attack you if you do that.”

“What do you mean attack?”

“Just stay calm. You don’t argue numbers with children or anyone speaking like a child. No matter if you know the adult version, stick to the athmai’in. Believeme and don’t be reckless.”

“I don’t see how you do this.”

“Practice, practice, practice.” There was a commotion at the front door. He went and looked from the hall, Jase tagging him closely, and met an oncoming wall of atevi with cameras, cable, lights, and all the accouterments of television. The television setwent out as not proper, not kabiu, in an observant household, while the television service for the Bu-javid Archives came into record the reception and to (unprecedented) broadcast live pictures of the restored lily frieze, the emblem of the Atageini, which, damned right, Uncle wanted on national television.

Tabini had discovered how very useful television was: the world in a box, Tabini called it. The little box that makes people think the world and the screen are the same thing. Tabini used it, shamelessly, when he wished to create a reality in people’s minds, and now Tatiseigi took to the medium, at least, no laggard to understand or to use thataspect of technology.

So there was an interview area being set up in the hallway near the historic dining room, so that for an evening the Atageini household would, hosting the aiji andthe Atageini lady closely allied to him and possibly intended to bear Tabini’s heir, be linked in the minds of the whole aishidi’tat, the whole Western Association, meaning the majority of the world.

And public interest? The rare chance to see, on live television, the residential floors of the Bu-javid, inside a historic residence, with all the numbers and balance of arrangements about the rich and famous apparent to the eye?

The national treasures on display? Museums on both sides of the strait could long for such treasures as filled this apartment, but no public tours such as frequented the downstairs legislative halls had everreached this floor. Such photography of historic treasures the security staff had allowed was limited to fine detail of certain objects, or set against a background, to prevent any public knowledge of the geography and geometry of the—in truth—rather simple and austere corridors outside, and of these fabled, far more ornate rooms. It was a television first.

And a live reception in a premise of the Bu-javid where cameras had never been, with a guest list that included Tabini andhis favored lady, who was contesting Uncle for supremacy in the Atageini clan?

Machimi plays couldn’t possibly touch it.

All of a sudden hisstomach knotted up in panic.

“Nadi,” Banichi said, briskly coming from the same direction as the camera crew. “It’s all on schedule. The aiji’s party is arriving in short order. Entry will be by precedence andtenancy. They just settled it: simultaneouslylord Tatiseigi will arrive at this door and the aiji and Damiri-daja will arrive from next door.”

The mind refused to grasp what convolutions of protocol and argument thatstatement had settled.

“I’m going to forget,” Jase muttered under his breath. “I’m going to forget his name. I’m going to forget all the forms.”

“You won’t,” Bren said. “You’ll be brilliant. Just, if I have to go off with someone, stay with your security: Dureni will be with you— he’lldo the talking.”

Banichi was off down the hall talking to Saidin, who was keeping a stern eye on the camera crew and the gilt woodwork. Junior security was down there standing by with grim expressions. Dureni and his partner Ninicho had come from the security station, junior, very earnest, and they stood by, attaching themselves directly to the paidhiin at a time when Banichi and Jago were apt to have their hands full or be distracted to a critical duty at any given moment.

Jase was saying to himself, “ Hamatha ta resa Tatiseigi-dathasa. Hamatha ta resa Tatiseigi-dathasa. Hamatha ta resa Tatiseigi-dathasa.”

Madam Saidin was talking furiously with the cook. One of the maids ran— ran, to the rear hall. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone run in the household.

The steel security barrier was gone. They’d taken that out while he was getting dressed for the occasion and he still hadn’t seen the breakfast room, though he’d heard relief that the woodwork and the plaster was intact. Carts were coming from the kitchen, he heard them rattling. There was, for which he was infinitely grateful, no formal dinner, just a reception, at which guests, too many to seat, were going to be straying back and forth between the formal dining room and the breakfast room.

No one was stated to be a security risk except the lord who owned the apartment.

The rattle came closer. It and the maid must have met and dodged. There was a momentary pause: then a continued rattle.

Something evidently wasn’t on schedule.

Jago passed them, coming fromthe breakfast room and from a brisk pause for a word with Banichi. She was resplendent in a black brocade coat with silver edgings. He’d never seen her in formal dress. She was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

“They’re coming,” Jago said to them, and delayed for one more word with a servant. “—To the foyer, nadiin-ji, please!”

“Calmly,” Bren said, and with Jase, walked to the foyer, which smelled of the banks of springtime flowers, and sparkled with crystal and gold and silver. Mirrors multiplied the bouquets, and showed a pair of pale, formally dressed humans. Saidin overtook them, and so did Jago, and they made a small receiving line.

The door opened. Tabini and Damiri were there, Tabini in a brilliant red evening-coat; Damiri in Atageini pale green and pink, both escorting an elderly gentleman with an inbuilt scowl and a dark green coat with a pale green collar. Atageini green, like Damiri’s.

Saidin bowed, Jago bowed, they bowed to the lordly arrivals. Tabini wore his cast-iron smile, Damiri had hers stitched in place, and Tatiseigi—Bren had no doubt of the gentleman’s identity—came forward with jutting jaw, folded hands behind him, and looked down at them with unconcealed belligerence as a black and red and dark green wall of atevi security unfolded into the foyer, transforming the place from bright floral pastels to a metal-studded limiting darkness.

“Lord Tatiseigi,” Bren said, as he had prepared to say, “thank you for your”—he had meant to say gracious, and gravely edited it out—“presence on this occasion.”

Tatiseigi said, “nand’ paidhi,” in glacial tones, and turned an eye to Jase, who said with an absolutely impeccable bow, “Felicitous greetings to your lordship.”

Tatiseigi stood and stared. Jase stood his ground, bowed his head a second time, briefly, a trick of courtesy he had—thank God—correctly, but verging on impudence, recalled.

Miming him, dammit, Bren thought. It put the onus of courtesy on Tatiseigi.

“Nadi,” Tatiseigi said. Not the rank: Nand’ paidhi. Not the respectful: Nand’ Jase. But the more familiar and in this case slightly supercilious nadi, as acknowledgement and finality on the matter.

And looked at Tabini and Damiri. “I’ll see the room.”

Tabini had an eyebrow that twitched occasionally. It never boded well. “That way,” Tabini said with a negligent wave of his hand toward the hall, as if the lord of the Atageini didn’t know the way under his own roof.

“Tati-ji,” Damiri said, snagged the old man by the arm and whisked him off down the hall.

Tabini cast a look at them, drew a deep breath, and before there could be courtesies, followed as if he were going into combat.

Bren found himself with an intaken breath and a rise of temper he hadn’t felt since he’d last dealt with the Mospheiran phone network. And he was still politely expressionless as he said to Jase, “You took a chance, Jase.”

“What was I supposed to do?” There was a touch of panic in the half-voice. “He was staring at me!”

“Don’t flinch. Don’t stare back. You did the right thing. Just don’t risk it again with his lordship. Wait for help.”

“From who?”

“Whom.”

“Dammit, whom?”

He had his own quirk of an eyebrow. He gave it to Jase, who shut up, shut down, and lowered his voice.

Just as the door let in the aiji-dowager.

And he couldn’t— couldn’tresist Tabini’s grandmother. Ilisidi, diminutive and wrinkled with years, with her lean, graying chief of security, Cenedi, beside her, cast an eye about, leaned her stick on the polished stone of the floor, and snapped, in the face of noreceiving line but him, Jase, Jago, and Saidin, “Well, well, if my grandson won’t stay to meet me, at least the paidhiin have manners. Good evening.”

“Nand’ dowager.” Saidin bowed, Jago bowed, he bowed. And looked up with no need to mask his delight to see the old woman.

“Nand’ dowager,” Jase said. “I’m honored.”

“He’s improved,” Ilisidi said with a nod at Jase. “Hair’s grown. You can understand him.”

“Yes, nand’ dowager.”

“So where’s my damn grandson? Here to meet me? No? Lets his grandmother wander about without directions? Where are these fabled porcelains?”

“Nand’ dowager, we would most willingly show you the restorations.”

“Manners. Manners. You should teach my grandson. Andhis neighbor. Weshould have stayed at Taiben, for all the courtesy we have here.”

Cenedi never cracked a smile. But, veteran of many, many such maneuvers, Cenedi caught Jago’s eye and stayed, along with the rest of the abandoned security who had gone into the security station to talk, as Saidin and Jago stayed to greet the rest of the guests.

Ilisidi was bent on viewing the interior of the apartments. Bren offered his arm, and Jase walked on the other side, as the aiji-dowager went.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” Ilisidi said. “Gods felicitous, the old man hasn’t moved a stick of furniture in twenty years, has he?”

“I’m only a recent guest, aiji-ji.”

“Tatiseigi has no imagination. Noimagination. I’d have thought young Damiri would at least be rid of that damn vase.” This, with a wave of her cane narrowly missing the vase in question. A servant flinched. “The old woman hated that thing. Tatiseigi’s motherhated it. But no, they shoot the lilies, never the damn vase. Next time someone tries to shoot you, Bren-ji, promise me, havethat vase in the room.”

“One will remember, aiji-ma.”

They reached the back halls and the formerly walled-off doorway that let into the brightly lit breakfast room, where lordly guests and armed security, notably Banichi and Algini, in formal knee-length coats, stood before buffet tables laden with fantastical food, Cook’s supreme and sleepless effort since yesterday’s notification of Uncle’s chosen menu.

There wouldbe a kitchen tour, Bren was quite sure.

“ Thereyou are!” Ilisidi said in the felicitous three mode. It was Tabini, Damiri, andTatiseigi she headed for; and it was time for the paidhiin to beat a judicious retreat from potential in-law negotiations.

“Is there going to be trouble?” Jase asked as they ducked out and back toward the foyer.

“Only if they get in ’Sidi-ji’s way,” Bren said, in high spirits for the first time in two days. “And don’t call her that! I don’t. Certainly not here.”

Jase had met her before. And knew, at least, the aiji-dowager’s abrupt manner; but lasttime he hadn’t been able to understand a word except Felicitous greetingsand My name is Jason. Don’t shoot.

They reached the foyer again, and enjoyed a few moments alone with Cenedi, Jago, Saidin, and the flowers, before another party turned up at the door, the lord of Berigai and his entourage, early, while Bren was sure the company in the breakfast room was still engaged in preliminary negotiation and had hardly gotten to the general walking tour the staff expected.

But he knew that Berigai, in whose province Grigiji the astronomer emeritus lived and taught, was well-disposed to him; and by extension, to Jase or whomever the paidhi wished to introduce him to—the Grigiji affair having brought good repute to the observatory and prosperity to the region. It was a very auspicious start to the party which would begin in the formal dining room with a few tidbits and a glass of spirits until it had gathered numbers.

And until the business in the family was settled.

More guests showed up. Jase was bright-eyed, and stayed with hot tea—they both did, as some of the guests also chose to do. There was nothing on the menu, Cook had promised them, except any dish with the red or the purple vegetable, that was harmful to humans. There were a couple of noble guests clearly in the Tatiseigi camp who spent a great deal of time in the corner looking toward them, and discussing matters in private behind the floral arrangement.

Then another arrival, who created some movement among the quiet security presence, and brought Cenedi to consult with Tano, quietly, just outside the dining room. Another lord walked in, unescorted.

Algini slipped to Bren’s side.

“Nand’ paidhi, Banichi wishes you to know that lord Badissuni is in the company this evening.”

Badissuni, Bren thought, looking at the thin, grim-faced lord who broke into a pasted smile as a servant offered him a drink, then coasted up to the lords and ladies around the dining table. Conversation there staggered, took note, and lurched forward valiantly.

Algini had gone, doubtless on some business known only to security. The business in the Marid had just walked in, had a drink, and smiled its way around the table with the occasional flat, wary glance atevi gave to the novelty of humans.

“What’s the trouble-in-the-house?” Jase asked in a low voice, and this time the noun was entirely appropriate.

“Badissuni, from the peninsula. Messenger to Tabini. Don’tget involved with him.” The doorway electronics, he was sure, contained a metal detector of some kind. His mind was busy adding up Badissuni as a guest while the relatives of the man Badissuni was serving (and wished to kill: dead before autumn, Banichi had said) were guesting in the house of the lady Direiso, who was Tatiseigi’s ally last year when Tatiseigi was plotting against Tabini—who was back on the kitchen tour with Tatiseigi and Damiri looking for contraband in the vegetable bins, God save them.

Badissuni smiled at everyone but him and Jase: the smile was still there, but it went rigid and unpleasant when his gaze fell on either of them, and Bren avoided staring back. Jase was staring—and he moved between Jase and the view of trouble.

“Don’t look at him, nadi. You invite trouble.”

“He doesn’t like us here.”

“No,” Bren said. “He doesn’t like us anywhere.”

Jago appeared from the doorway and definitely kept a watch on the situation. Cenedi had gone back to keep an eye on the dowager and no doubt to pass a message, but Jago tracked them, and eased up next to him.

“That is Badissuni, Bren-ji. Don’t come close to him.”

“Is he armed, nadi?”

“No one brings weapons past the door save the three authorized security present: the aiji’s, the aiji-dowager’s, and lord Tatiseigi’s, one assures you, nadi.”

Which counted his own among the aiji’s and Saidin technically among Tatiseigi’s, to be sure.

“Danger?” Jase asked.

“Be careful, nadi,” Jago said to him. “Only be careful. He is an invited guest.”

“Who invited him, nadi?” Bren asked.

“The aiji,” Jago said—Jago who’d wished for the contract on that lordling’s life, and who’d already occupied a rooftop vantage in the Hagrani estate. Jago was, he was sure, armed; and that coat surely concealed body armor. “Don’t stand near him, nadiin-ji.”

“Nadiin.” Madam Saidin appeared and spoke in a clear voice. “The host suggests the party adjourn to the breakfast room.”

They lingered with Jago, letting the lords and ladies exit, Badissuni among them. The party left a table of serving platters mostly down to crumbs by now, and a clutter of abandoned glasses which the servants hastened to gather up on trays.

“What’s happening?” Jase asked.

“Just be calm,” Bren said, and they drifted in the wake of the others toward the restored rooms, which rapidly filled shoulder to shoulder with guests admiring the lilies, praising the workmanship, gossiping about the event last year which had necessitated the repairs. There was applause, and lights glared as cameras pretended to be unobtrusive, creating the effect of sunlight across the lilies and the blinded guests. Security was tense in that moment, and Naidiri himself, chief of Tabini’s security, set himself in their path and moved the traveling cameras definitively out of the room.

The camera lights went out. Music began, a simple duet of pipes played by two of the servants, who were quite good at it. Talk buzzed above the music and grew animated.

The two humans found refuge against the restored frieze and simply listened to the conversation, as Tatiseigi and two other provincial lords discussed the menu, and Tatiseigi looked at least marginally cheerful, except the looks he threw Badissuni.

“Doing all right?” Bren asked.

“I think,” Jase said. He looked tired, and it wastiring to keep up with a high-speed translation problem. Jase had gone into it on the edge of his nerves.

“So tell me,” Ilisidi said, coasting up, one of the few atevi present not too much taller than a human, “how do you find life on Earth? Different than the ship, nand’ paidhi?”

Jase cast him a desperate look.

“Answer,” Bren said. “nand’ dowager, I did tell him be careful with his language.”

“Different,” Jase said. “Thank you, nand’ dowager.”

“Vastly improved,” Ilsidi said, leaning on her stick, creating a small space around them by her presence. “The last time I saw you, you and those two human women were boarding a plane for Shejidan, and they were bound for the island. How arethey faring, nand’ paidhi?”

“I hear from my companion from the ship, nand’ dowager. She fares well, thank you.”

“And nand’ Hanks?”

Nand’ Hanks, hell. Ilisidi neverused honorifics for Deana Hanks. Bren’s heart rate kicked up a notch and weariness with the noise went sailing on a sea of adrenaline.

“I don’t hear from nand’ Hanks, nand’ dowager.”

“Does your companion?”

“Aiji-ma.” Bren took a deep breath. “How do you find the lilies?”

Ilisidi broke into a grin. “I was wondering how to get you off to yourself, Bren-ji.” She snagged his arm and drew him aside, and he could only go, trusting Jase to the security watching both of them.

“Neighbors will talk, aiji-ma.”

“Become a scandal with me.” She leaned on his arm and directed their steps toward the windows. “Ah, the city air. You should come back to Malguri.”

“I wish that I could, aiji-ma.”

“I think, if the schedule permits it, I shall invite the astronomer emeritus for a weekend at midsummer. Thatshould prove interesting, don’t you think?”

“The last I saw they were shooting at strangers, aiji-ma.”

“They neednew ideas. I would delight to have you at the gathering, nadi. Do consider it. Malguri in summer. Boating on the lake.—You should,” the dowager added, with a wicked grin, “bring this nice young man. He has possibilities.”

“Should I assist a rival to attain your interest, aiji-ma? I am devastated.”

“Oh, but one hears that youhave favored a certain member of your own household, nand’ paidhi. Should I not take offense?”

He was appalled. Did she mean Barb, perhaps, or—God help him—Jago?

Dangerous territory. He was nevercertain whether Ilisidi’s romantic fantasies were a joke, or just a hazardous degree serious.

“Aiji-ma. No one could possibly rival you. I’ve so missed our breakfasts together.”

Ilisidi laughed and squeezed his arm. “Flatterer. I shall steal you away alone to Malguri in a lightning raid and simply not return you to my unappreciative grandson at all.” Curtains billowed around them, and Ilisidi’s face went grave. “So would Mospheira lock you away. Bewarethat woman.”

“Hanks?”

“Hanks!” It had as well be an oath. “I warn you, beware her.”

“1 do. I do very much.—May I dare a question, aiji-ma? Should I also beware the lord of the Atageini?”

“Presumptuous, Bren-ji.”

“I am very aware, aiji-ma. But I have never known you to lie to me.”

“I’ve loaded your arms with lies, nadi! When in our dealings have there not been lies?”

“When I have relied on you for advice, aiji-ma. When I have truly cast myself on the truth inside your mazes you have neverleft me lost, aiji-ma.”

“Oh, you thief of a woman’s better sense! Flatterer, I say!”

“Wise woman, I say, aiji-ma, and cast myself utterly on your tolerance. Should I beware the lord of the Atageini?”

“Beware Direiso. As hemust. As that scared fool Badissuni must.”

“I entirely understand that.”

“Wise man. Would that Tatiseigidid.”

He almost threw into the mix a similar and equally urgent question about lord Geigi’s current relations with Direiso, and with Tatiseigi, and instantly thought better of it. Geigi had ridden beside Ilisidi to the rescue, after Ilisidi had repeatedly and forcefully called Geigi a fool. He believed that in her riddling reply about Tatiseigi needing to beware of Direiso, Ilisidi had just told him the unriddling truth on three points: that something was going on, that Tatiseigi was still uncertain in his man’chi, that Direiso was very much a problem.

But regarding the matter of Geigi’s relation to Ilisidi, Geigi might be a fish best left below the surface of that political water, where he could swim and conduct his affairs unseen.

It was Direiso on whose affairs Ilisidi might have information she was willing to share with him. In specific, she had signaled she would talk about Hanks, but he prepared a question, a simple, But what ofDireiso and Tatiseigi—skirting around the fact of the departed Saigimi’s wife’s relationship to Geigi andto Direiso.

Badissuni and Tatiseigi were at the moment in converse, the topic of which seemed grim and urgent.

“Nand’ paidhi,” a servant came to him to say, and placed a note in his hand.

A male human on the phone, it said. Something wrong with his mother, was all he could think; and his face might have gone a shade paler. He might have looked as blank and stunned as he felt for a moment, blindsided out of a totally different universe.

14

Difficulty?” Ilisidi said to him.

“Forgive me. It’s a phone call from Mospheira. It can wait.” He was watching Badissuni and Tatiseigi as they spoke briefly, then moved apart, Tatiseigi instantly surrounded by the curious and less restrained, and people gazing in speculative curiosity at Badissuni, whom—God!—Tabini snagged for a small exchange.

And his mother—dammit, he needed to know.

“Go, go, go,” Ilisidi said, “attend your phone call. Come back to me. I’ll gather the gossip. Your mind is clearly distracted.” Ilisidi’s face betrayed no concern whatsoever. But her tone of command, sharp and absolute, told him he’d slipped his facial control and let things through he would rather not have allowed to the surface.

But he wantedthe phone call. Ilisidi gave him leave. And might learn more than he could—or than she could with him attached.

He cast a worried look around for Jase, who was quietly in the corner, talking to his security and having no difficulty. Jago was watching him, and he coasted past Jago on the way to the door. “A phone call’s come from the island,” he said. “I’m going to the office. I’ll be right back.”

“Yes,” Jago said, and tailed himas far as the door, when he’d been so bothered he hadn’t even twigged to the possibility of a set-up to draw himto disaster. She stayed close, stationing herself in the hall as he went the short distance to the private office, at the door of which the servant stood.

He went in and picked up the phone. “Hello?” he said. “This is Bren Cameron.”

“ Bren, this is Toby.” It was a tone of voice he almost didn’t know. “ I thought I’d better call.”

“Damn right you’d better call. How are you? How’s Mother?”

A pause that said far too much. “ Heart attack. Small one. How are you?”

It was better than his worst fears. His knees weren’t doing so well. He sat down. “I’m doing fine. Tell her that. Listen. I want you to call Barb and have her call me.”

“ No. No! You get yourself home, Bren. You want your damn business carried on, you come do it, andyou come back and take care of the things you need to take care of! Stop asking your family to put up with this kind of crap! Mama’s having surgery this week. She wantsyou, Bren. She wants you to be here.”

“I can’t.”

“ I can’t be up here in the city, either, but I’m doing it! I can’t leave my house and my business, but I’m doing it! Jill can’t answer the phone without lunatics harassing her! We’ve had to leave home and all come up here, and I can’t let my family go down the street to the park! You know what put mama in the hospital, Bren? You did. People throwing paint on her building, the landlord saying he wants her to move—”

He tried to think through the things he didn’t want to hear to the things he hadto hear—while remembering agencies on both sides of the water were recording everything. “Toby. Call my office. Ask Shawn—”

“ I’ve done that! I can’t get through! None of the numbers you’ve given me work any more, and I don’t even know whether Shawn’s in office this week, by what I’m hearing in the papers!”

“What’s in the papers, Toby? They don’t exactly—”

“ No, no, no! I’m not doing your work for you! I’m yourbrother, not a clerk in the State Department! And I want you back here, Bren. I want you back here for mama! One week, one miserableweek, that’s all I want!”

“I can’t.”

“ The hell you can’t! Tell the aiji your mother coulddie, dammit, and she’s asking for you!”

“Toby—”

“ Oh— hell, I forgot. You can’t explain feelings, can you? They’re not wired for it. Well, what about you, Bren? Is it all the office, and nothing for your family?”

“Toby.”

“ I don’t want your excuses, Bren. I’ve covered for you and covered for you and not told you the truth because it’d upset you. Well, now I’m telling you the truth, and mama’s in danger of her life and I can’t take my family home, and I’m scared to death they’re going to burn my house down while I’m gone!”

“Just hang on, Toby. Just a little longer.”

“ I can’t! I’m not willing to, dammit! I’m tired of trying to explain what the hell you’re doing! We can’t explain it toourselves anymore— how inhell do we make it make sense to the neighbors!”

“You know damn well what the score is, Toby. Don’t hand me that. You knowwhat’s going on in the government and what game they’re playing.”

“ What are you talking about? What are you talking about, Bren? Thatwe’re the enemy, now?”

“I’m saying call Shawn!”

“ I’m saying Shawn’s number doesn’t work anymore and the police won’t answer our emergency calls, Bren, try that one! You’re not damn popular, and they’re taking it out on my family and our mother!”

“Wrong. Wrong, Toby! It’s not the whole island, it’s a handful of crawling cowards that on a bright day—”

“ These are ourneighbors, Bren. These are myneighbors that aren’t speaking to me, people I’ve known for ten years!”

“Then get yourself a new set of friends, Toby!”

“ That doesn’t work for mama, Bren, that doesn’t work in the building she’s lived in for all these years and now they don’t want her any more. What does thatdo to her, Bren? What do you say to that?”

“It’s a rotten lot of people you’ve fallen for.”

“ What are you talking about? What are you talking about, Bren? I don’t understand you.”

He grew accustomed to silence on his feelings. He was a translator, a technical translator, by necessity a diplomat, by cooption a lord of the atevi Association. And he spoke out of hurt and anger on the most childish possible level, maybe because that was the mental age this argument touched, the last time he and Toby hadaccessed what they felt. Toby had moved out to the coast. He’d thought then, and still thought, it was to put space between Toby and their mother. He’dgone into University, and aptitudes had steered him toward what the job was supposed to be, which hadn’t been this.

“Tell mama I love her,” he said, and hung up on his brother.

That little click of the receiver broke the vital connection, and he knew there wasn’t a way to get it back. The training didn’t let expression reach his face. The training didn’t let him do anything overt. He just sat there a moment, with an atevi lady’s office coming back into focus around him, and the sounds of the party going on above the silence that click had created, and with the knowledge he had to get up and function with very dangerous people and go be sure Jase was all right.

And he had to finish his talk with Ilisidi, somehow, get the wit organized to regain that mood and that moment and do his job.

If you couldn’t do anything about a vital matter, you postponed it. You put it in a mental box and shut the lid on it and didn’t think about it when there was a job to do.

And once he’d done that, damn it! He was mad at Toby, who knewthings about the government Toby could have told him, critical things, and Toby hadn’t, wouldn’t, no matter whether peace or war could hinge on it. Toby’s peace was unsettled, Toby’s life was put out of joint, Toby came at him with personalgrievances of a sort the family had once known to keep away from him—which Toby could have been man enough to hold to himself this week and handle, dammit, since there wasn’t and wouldn’t be anything he could do from where he was.

But it had been a succession of weeks. Toby was getting tired of holding it.

Jago appeared in the doorway. She had her com in hand. Had been using it, he thought, maybe even following the conversation via a relay from the foyer-area security station. Surveillance here, in these premises, was always close, and lately it was overt, just one of those jobs his staff did to be up on things without having them explained.

Sometimes that was a good thing.

“The aiji is aware, nadi-ji.”

Not Bren-ji, not the familiar; but the still-remote formal combined with the personal address. Jago was being official. He was grateful for the professional distance. It was a damn sight more consideration than his brother managed.

“My man’chi,” he said, going to the heart of what he was sure would worry atevi, “is still to the office and the aiji, nadi. You may tell him that.”

“He wishes to speak to you, but cannot leave the breakfast room without notice nor speak to you intimately there. He says, through your security, that though he has said so before, now he urges your acceptance of his offer: at any time of your choosing, you may bring your household to the mainland and he will establish a place and lands for them, nadi-ji, as fits the house of a man of your stature. If you ask, he will make strong request to the Mospheiran government to secure their immediate passage across the strait, with all their goods and belongings. He is aware of the demands of those of your house, and your difficult position, nadi-ji, and is willing to take the strongest action to secure their safety.”

“Tell him—” The last time Tabini had moved to secure something from the Mospheiran government, he had threatened to shoot Deana Hanks if they didn’t get himback in twenty-four hours. Tabini’s offer was not without international consequences. And not without force behind it, though he didn’t know what human official Tabini could tell them he’d shoot this time. “Tell him I am grateful. Tell him—I hold his regard as the most important, even—” He almost said—above my family’s good opinion; and knew that circumstances and duty had made it true. Now anger and bitter hurt almost confirmed it. “Even above my life, nadi. Tell him that. And I will come back to the gathering when I have composed myself, which should be only a moment.”

“I shall tell him that, nadi.”

Jago was gone from the doorway, then, giving him the grace of privacy, but he was sure she’d gone no further than the hall outside to relay the message. And to achieve that composed manner he tried to widen his focus, to remind himself how very much was at issue, for three nations counting the ship Jase represented; and what a very extraordinary honor Tabini had offered him.

It was done for state reasons, he had to remind himself. For the same damn reasons of state that had put him in the position he was in.

He’d hung up on his brother.

And wouldn’t be home.

Fact. Fact. Fact. There was nothing that could change it, nothing that would get the barrier between peoples down any faster than the things he was doing. So it was two deep breaths and back to work.

He got to his feet and walked out into the hall, where as he expected, Jago was waiting; and where, in the distance, the television interviews were going on, with a scatter of the guests down there in the bright lights. He walked with Jago back into the crowded breakfast room, in which alcohol and alkaloids as well as the sweets were beginning to be a factor and the simple noise of conversation was beginning to sound like the subway below the building. Jase was still safe where he’d left him; and, not willing at this moment to talk to Jase or answer human questions, he tended toward Tabini, who was with Damiri, with Banichi, too.

Tabini’s regular security was at the moment hovering much closer to Tatiseigi, who was talking to Ilisidi.

“Aiji-ma,” Bren said quietly with a slight bow. “I heard your generous offer. I will present it at my first opportunity, but—” His wits unraveled. “I don’t know how to persuade them, aiji-ma. I wish that I could.”

“It seems to me,” Damiri said, “that this is a trap, nand’ paidhi. They wishyou to become concerned and to go there. This attack on your mother’s residence is not unrelated to this pressure on the Association and the outrageous behavior of your government. I even suspect the death of Jase’s father, but I know no design to make of it.”

He felt himself increasingly in shock, and willingto make patterns where possibly none existed. He dealt with atevi. And to the atevi mind there were patterns he could see, too, dire and threatening patterns; but he dealt so deeply in the language now he feared his own suspicions. “I know none, either, daja-ma, but I shall certainly think deeply on it.”

Another person moved up to speak to the aiji, a lord of the northwest coast, who was clearly waiting his turn, and he was, he decided, done with the things he could say. To be replaced was at the moment a relief from having to think in atevi complexity. He moved aside with the due and automatic courtesies—

And encountered lord Badissuni.

“Nandi,” he said.

“Nand’ paidhi.” The thin, unhappy lord looked sternly down at him. “Your security, one wishes to say, is highly accurate.”

What did one say? His heart was racing. “They areGuild, nandi.”

“Two of you, now,” the lord said. “Does Hanks speak for you?”

“By no means, nand’ Badissuni. I disapprove of her adventures and she wishes me dead.”

“So one hears,” Badissuni said. “ Isthis faster-than-light a lie?”

“No, nandi.”

“Will this ship fly?”

“I have no doubt, nandi. There is nodeception.”

“One was curious,” Badissuni said, and strayed off without another word.

More than damned curious. People were staring at him. He had the feeling he’d been used for display. A political prop. Talk to the paidhi. Be seen to talk to the paidhi. As he’d been seento talk with Tatiseigi and everyone else available. He didn’t see Jago. He didn’t think she’d approve his being used; and perhaps neither would Tabini, who’d nevertheless invited the man.

He retreated to the corner next to the doorway, next to a porcelain stand for abandoned drink glasses, where Jase, drink in hand, stood talking with his security, Dureni.

“What was that?” Jase asked. “Is anything wrong?”

A flash of dark and pale green advised him of someone of the house beside him, and he turned to find lord Tatiseigi himself under Ilisidi’s relentless escort, bound past them, he was sure, toward the interview area just outside.

“Everything all right?” Jase asked, and in that sense, yes, he was relieved to think.

Then something popped.

Security moved. Everyonemoved. Tatiseigi and Ilisidi were in the doorway and he didn’t think—he just shoved Jase to the floor as Jase was diving toward lord Tatiseigi in the doorway.

Lord Tatiseigi continued to the floor along with others diving of their own volition—Bren was down, half sheltered by Dureni; everyone was low; and an apparently unarmed security around the aiji had turned into a crouched, gun-bearing battle-line.

“A lightbulb exploded!” someone shouted from the interview area beyond the door, where indeed a deep and startling shadow had fallen. The lily room burst into relieved laughter, and more laughter, amid a murmur of disgust from Dureni and an apology as Dureni hoped he hadn’t hurt him.

“By no means,” Bren said, accepting a hand up.

Jase, meanwhile, was in very intimate contact with a very offended lord Tatiseigi as lights flared in the doorway, and the television cameras, a live broadcast, swept over the confusion, Tatiseigi, struggling to rise—and Jase, who got to his feet with more agility.

“Nandi,” Jase said faintly, edging backward, attempting to efface himself. But the camera tracked him relentlessly as the documentary reporter with a microphone turned up at Jase’s shoulder.

“Nand’ paidhi,” the reporter said, “an exciting moment.”

“I think dangerous,” Jase answered quite correctly, and Bren reached him, seized his arm, and propelled him back out of the spotlight, as lord Tatiseigi also escaped the cameras. “He wishes to convey his apology, nand’ Tatiseigi, and his profound concern.” He didn’t mention that the fall had happened partly because Tatiseigi had shown no reluctance to trample others underfoot reaching the door; and Jase had, indeed, tried to carry an adult ateva to the floor to protect him.

“Certainly it might have been more serious,” Tabini said. In the tail of Bren’s eye, Tabini came walking cheefully in among those who had hit the floor, including a wryly amused Ilisidi, whom Cenedi was helping to her feet. “Grandmother-ji?”

“Certainly an exciting party,” Ilisidi said, and the cameras were still going in the doorway. “What for dessert, nandi?”

There was general laughter. And Tabini, never slower than his grandmother, as the camera’s glaring eye carried it across the continent: “nand’ Tatiseigi! Good, good and fast! Our first line of defense, and damned well restrained, I say, of the lord of the Atageini, or there’d beno cameramen standing. My father used to call you the best shot in the valley, did he not, nandi?” Tabini waved his hand at the cameraman in the doorway. “Out, out, nadiin! You and your exploding lights! Take them out, out! You’ve seen the lilies! You’ve leaned over our shoulders long enough, you! Let us enjoy our evening!”

That was the aiji’s word. The aiji’s security intervened more directly, and the lights on which the cameras relied went out, all at once; someone had gotten the fuse. Lights died, cameras retreated.

Bren realized he had a death grip on Jase’s arm and let go.

“It’s all right,” he said to Jase in Mosphei’.

But Jase retorted in Ragi, “I thought they were shopping.”

There was an immediate and embarrassed silence. Then laughter from those in earshot.

“Shooting,” Jase said, and went red. And fled out the door and hardly got out of sight before security bounced him back, angry and confused.

Lord Badissuni, disheveled and distraught, sat in a chair by a potted plant and looked overcome, possibly with premonition, or a recollection of gunfire.

“It’s all right, Jase,” Bren said. “You did all right.”

“Toward the Atageini,” someone near them had remarked. “Did you note that? Toward the Atageini, would you think so?”

Lord Tatiseigi himself was talking and joking, albeit shakily, with Ilisidi, and with Damiri. Tabini was talking with the Minister of Defense, in a very serious mode; and madam Saidin went over to the lord of the Atageini, as did others, to express their hopes that he was unhurt.

Likely the news service was embarrassed, too, and frightened. “Jago-ji,” Bren said, “one wishes the news services to mention the matter in a good light. Tell nand’ Saidin so.”

“One understands,” Jago said, and moved over to speak quietly with madam Saidin, who nodded, looked toward her lady’s human guests, and then took herself outside, where he trusted Atageini diplomacy was well up to the task of reassuring the reporters. Jago went there, too, and then Cenedi, and Naidiri, of Tabini’s personal guard.

Jase was very quiet. But Jago came back to say that the camera crew was greatly reassured. “We’re putting junior security in charge and offering the camera crew the formal dining room. Nand’ Saidin has ordered trays of food and drink and asked them not to cross the security perimeter. Nand’ Naidiri has assured them of the aiji’s good will and suggested an interview with the Atageini.”

The adrenaline that had been running began to settle down. The television coverage had been scheduled to go on only another half hour. It was a consequence of the evening that the lord of the Atageini had not gone on television inthe historic apartment, inhis planned interview regarding the lilies, but there might have been worse consequences, and noone could be at fault for a bad bulb and the reaction in a roomful of hair-triggered Guild.

Lesser lords and dignitaries began to come to speak to the paidhiin, and one, Parigi of some western township, asked the delicate, the almost unaskable question, “One did remark, nand’ paidhi, that the paidhiin moved to protect the house.”

He’d moved because he thought Jase didn’t know the danger; and Jase had dived for the Atageini probably because he’d had it dinned into him how important Tatiseigi was. Maybe it didsay something to atevi how Jase had thought instantly to protect the Atageini lord. But it didn’t say at all what atevi thought it did.

“He doesn’t speak fluently, nand’ Parigi, but I think it startled everyone. And Jase-paidhi knew lord Tatiseigi might be intended; remember we’re human and draw no conclusions about man’chi—we often startle ourselves with man’chi, isn’t that what they say in the machimi?”

“Certainly it startled me,” lord Parigi laughed. “And my daughter, who’s plagued me for a year to attend a court party, was quite sure we were ina machimi ourselves—perhaps a little more excitement than we country folk are used to.”

He could almost relax with such people. And with the good will offered. “Is this your daughter?” She was at the gawky stage, all the height, not enough weight yet: all elbows and knees. But excited, oh, very. “I’m very greatly honored. Nand’ Jase, this is the—eldest? Is it the eldest? Daughter of lord Parigi. Caneso, do I remember correctly? From—”

“Laigin, lord paidhi.” The young lady was delighted to be addressed by someone technically a lord, but not landed; and he chose not to notice the gaffe at all: refreshing that an ateva could mistake such a thing.

“And this is your first time in Shejidan?” Jase asked her.

If anything, spirits were higher, the alcohol went down faster, and when a (fortunately not historic) glass dropped and broke on the tiles, there was laughter. The teenager laughed when she saw others laughing, and her father found occasion to steer her away.

“For a party on this floor,” Ilisidi said, coasting by, “this is riotous and unrestrained. It will neverequal harvest dances in Malguri.—Ja-son-paidhi, Tatiseigi will survive the rescue.”

“Is the lord angry?” Jase managed to ask for himself, and remembered to add, “Nandi?”

“He will recover, I say.” One didn’t—ever—press Ilisidi on first acquaintance, even if one did limp through the language, and Ilisidi’s reply was curt and less delighted. “Come, Bren-paidhi, I will make you make amends for your importunate associate.” The latter as she caught Bren by the arm and drew him, perforce, with her.

“I should keep Jase in sight, nand’ dowager.”

“Oh, he’s there.” Ilisidi took him, to his dismay, to Tatiseigi himself. “Indulge his lordship, who wishes to ask you direct questions.”

“I do no such thing,” Tatiseigi muttered, and it might have been time to beat a retreat, or it might be the worst time to do so. Ilisidi did not play pranks on this scale. And Ilisidi, damn her, was off and escaped from the confrontation.

“Nandi,” Bren said, and bowed and searched the bottom of his resources for compliments. “Your quickness and your forbearance with a young and mistaken person were very apparent to everyone.”

“His foolishness was apparent, nand’ paidhi!”

“He cast himself between you and expected harm, knowing your great importance to the aiji. Unfortunately—he lacks the grace and the mass of the Guild.”

“Importance to the aiji, is it, nadi? With my niece in bedwith the upstart of Taiben! And the dowager no better—attaching herself to humans and astronomers.”

“I fear my regard in your eyes must be far less, then, since I regard the people you name with great respect and must defend them.”

“Humans! Makers of machines! Polluters of the good air! Defilers of the land! The ether of space itself isn’t safe from you!”

“Not defiled by mywork, nandi. Notby my work.” The lord of the Atageini had raised his voice to him. He came back in kind, which might be a misjudgment, but the dowager apparently got along with this man, and Ilisidi backed up for no one. “I hope for the good of atevi andhumans to come from the work I do, lord Tatiseigi. So does Jase, who wearsno bulletproof vest. Good evening, nandi.”

Tatiseigi went so far as to seize his sleeve. Unprecedented, and commanding his attention at a disadvantage of size and strength. Atevi eyes reflected, catching the light just so, and Tatiseigi’s shimmered gold.

“Defilers, I say.”

“No, lord of the Atageini. And still bearing good will to you despite your attacks.”

“Why? Are you a fool?”

“No, nandi. I do so because of the aiji-dowager, who has defended your interests to the aiji and to others and advised meto do so.”

“Oh, the aiji-dowager, is it? Do her tastes run so small!”

No ateva in a polite setting had ever delivered him an insult of that kind, not on a personal level.

“I am devastated,” he said with all the coldness he could muster. “She spoke well of you.”

“Impudence.”

“Nadi.” He had never envisioned addressing a lord of the Association in that style of hostile equals on the field, either. But he did. Nor had Tatiseigi once let go of his sleeve. “You will disappoint your niece.”

“How?”

“Because shealso has spoken well of you. I assure you the ship-paidhi thought only to rescue you. That the cameras caught it was either unfortunate oran opportunity. Ibeing a representative of governments advise you, nandi, to take your security, visit the reporters, and conduct the interview in the dining room. Such a report will air as often as the other, it will still be within these perimeters, it will often be rebroadcast because it will show yet another room of this historic residence. And, and, I advise you speak well of nand’ Jase in order to erase the memory of a mutual indignity before millions. Play the part instead of a lord protected by one of the paidhiin at risk of his life!”

There was utter silence. The music played. The conversation continued around them.

“Impudent, I say.”

“For the dowager’s sake, I give you my advice unasked.”

“For her sake I consider it and not the source.” Tatiseigi let him go and stared at him. He stared back, having to look up to do it.

Then he became aware, to his utter consternation, that Tabini was and had been behind him.

“I also counsel you do so, lord Tatiseigi,” Tabini said. “Your niece will stand beside you. So will the ship-paidhi.”

In support of her uncle. A thunderbolt. Perhaps made necessary by what Jase had done. But a solution, all the same.

He looked for Jase, who occupied the same corner beside the door as before, with his security, but with a small cluster of guests near him. He asked his leave, and went over to Jase and explained the situation.

Jase didn’t say much, except, in Mosphei’, “I thought he was in danger. What do they wantfrom me?”

“A good appearance,” he said. “The lord is willing.”

“I can’t do this,” Jase said in a tone of panic.

“Yes, you will,” Bren said. “You will, Jase. You have to.”

“No,” Jase said quietly, and at that moment Jagocaught his attention.

“Nand’ paidhi,” Jago said, attracting his attention, and he went aside, next to the porcelain lilies’ most extravagant display, the north wall, one of those sections that had remained largely untouched, and where a large potted plant afforded a buffer from the crowd and a quiet place for whispers. “Nand’ paidhi, I dislike to bring another matter to you, but the boy from Dur has come a second time into the subway.”

“Oh, damn!” He’d spoken in Mosphei’, having done it with Jase, and for a moment went blank.

“The boy,” Jago said, “is in very serious trouble with the Bu-javid guards. He was warned. He saw the news coverage, apparently from a hotel down the hill. He has checked into three.”

“What, hotels?”

“His behavior, nand’ paidhi, has been entirely suspicious. The boy has checked into three hotels to throw security off his track.”

“A boy that young—”

“I have not met him. He is not Guild. The moves he is making are provocative of very serious consequences.”

“How serious?”

“There was gunfire, nand’ paidhi. He did stop when ordered, for which one is very grateful. I understand he was hit by a masonry chip and that blood was drawn. Damage was done to the ceramics in the station and to a subway car, for which he will be held accountable. I haven’t been down there. But I have asked them not to charge him yet, knowing your involvement. What do you order us to do?”

“Am I qualified to judge? Have I causedthis boy’s reckless behavior, Jago-ji?”

“Nand’ paidhi, I think the fault is, as Banichi is wont to say, fartoo much television. The boy is ashamed to go home without the plane and without your release from feud. To him, at his age, this is great tragedy. To his father, this latest incident will be a disgrace that willindeed harm him in his dealings. The boy is coming to realize this and, being young, is now trulydesperate.”

“If I write the boy a card, with a ribbon, will he go home?”

“I hesitate to reward such foolishness but, if you will write it, nand’ paidhi, I will send it down with one of the juniors. I will not have this boy’s death attached to your name, nadi-ji, and some of the guards imagine him as Guild. Three hotels, paidhi-ji.”

“But you know definitively he isn’t.”

“Not in remotest possibility.”

“I’ll sign the card.” The lady’s office had the more traditional wax-jack. The security office had a highspeed device that didn’t require live flame. He started toward the door.

And missed Jase. Who was not where he’d been.

“Has Jase gone to the interview area?” he asked Jago, who talked to her pocket com.

“The lady’s office. He’s attempted to use the phone, nadi.”

He stopped cold, at a place where an ateva lady felt free to brush close and say, “nand’ paidhi, suchan interesting party, isn’t it? The paidhiin were verybrave.”

For a moment he couldn’t think, not where he was, not where he was going, in a room otherwise filled with people all towering head and shoulders above his head, through a doorway blocked by such people. He wanted air and a sane space for thought, and knew that Jago was following him. He found a gap and went through it and out the door.

“Be careful, nadi-ji,” Jago said, overtaking him in the quieter, cooler air of the hall; she had the pocket com in hand.

“Who is he talking to, Jago-ji?”

“To the station at Mogari-nai. To the ship. But the call didn’t go through. Our office stopped it.”

He was less alarmed. He could use the wax-jack in the little office. The device had a lighter. He could talk sense to Jase in private.

“He’s hung up,” Jago said before they reached the door.

And when they reached the door and walked in, there were blowing white curtains, past the tapestry and needlework side panels that curtained the balcony and the dark.

But no Jase.

Jago moved. He thrust out a hand and prevented her, knowing, he decided in the next heartbeat, that Jase was in a mood, and that atevi intervention might gain compliance, but not a lot of information,

“I’ll get him in,” he said to Jago, and approached the balcony carefully, as Jago would.

From that vantage he could see Jase, in the dark, hands on the balcony rim, gazing up at the sky. And he knewit wasn’t a situation into which Jago should venture. He said to her, “Nadi-ji, please find the card I need,” hoping that Jase would think their intrusion wasn’t directed at him. And he ventured into the dark, knowing Jago wasn’t liking his being near that window, or even near Jase.

Jase gave him only a scant glance, and looked again out over the city.

Jase, who hadn’t done well under the daytime sky. It was, as far as he knew, the first time Jase had stood under the sky since he’d arrived.

The balcony where the party was spilled light and music into the night.

“No stars,” Jase said after a moment of them standing there.

“City lights. It’s getting worse in Shejidan.”

“What is?”

“Haze of smoke. Lights burning at night. Neon lights. Light scatters in the atmosphere till it blots out the stars.”

“You can’t see them on the ship, either,” Jase said.

“I suppose that’s true.” He’d never really reckoned it. He was vaguely disappointed.

“I just—know my ship is up there. And I can’t see it.”

“I have. But it was in the country. No lights out there.”

“From the ocean can one see the stars?”

“I think one could.”

“I want to go there.”

“Come inside. You’re in danger. You knowyou’re in danger. Get inside, dammit.”

There was a long silence. He expected Jase to say he didn’t care, or some such emotional outburst. But Jase instead left the rail and walked with him back into the light of the office, where Jago had the wax-jack burning and the card ready.

“I have to make out a card,” Bren said, and sat down at the desk. He welcomed the chance to do something extraneous to the worst problem, namely Jase’s state of mind. He was glad to offer Jase and himself alike a chance to calm down before they did talk. He wrote, for the boy from Dur,

Please accept my assurances of good will toward you and your house, and my hopes that the paidhiin will enjoy yours. I will remember your earnest wishes for good relations to the aiji himself, with my recommendation for his consideration. From the hand of,

Bren Cameron, paidhi-aiji, under the seal of my office.

Cards were more commonly just the signature, the seal, the ribbon. This one, with a personal message, was calculated to be a face-saving note the boy could take to his father in lieu of the impounded airplane. He hinted that he might intercede, and that Tabini, who had the power to release the plane, might consider forgiveness for a parental request. He didn’t know what more he could do. He folded it and stamped it with his seal, and gave it to Jago to pass on.

“Now,” he said to Jase. “The interview.”

“May I speak with you, nadi.”

“Jago-ji, will you maintain position in the hall for a moment?”

“Yes,” Jago said, and went.

Which left the two of them, him seated, Jase standing. There was a chair by the corner of the desk and Jase sank into it, pale and tense.

“Bren,” he began, in Mosphei’, and Bren kept his mouth shut, figuring that confession was imminent. He waited, and Jase waited, and finally Jase took to hard breathing and helpless waves of the hand, wishing him to talk.

He didn’t. He sat there. He let Jase work through his wordless, helpless phase.

Finally Jase was down to wiping his eyes surreptitiously and shaking like a leaf.

“Going to foul up?” Bren asked with conscious bluntness.

“Yes!” Jase said fiercely, and not another word for another few moments of hard breathing.

“Going to panic?” Bren asked, wary of an unwarned punch and the fragile antiques around them. He nipped out the wick on the wax-jack with his bare fingers, ignoring the sting of fire and hot wax.

Jase didn’t answer him. He stood up, put the wax-jack in the cabinet where it belonged, and walked to the other side of the little space, psychologically to give Jase room.

“They worked quite a while to choose me,” Bren said finally. “I warned you. I was picked out of a large population, because I cantake it. Can’t find a word, can you? Totally mute? Can’t understand half I’m saying?”

Silence from Jase, desperate, helpless silence.

Jase had hit the immersion zero-point. Nocommunication. Total mental disorganization, for the first time, not for the last.

“I want you,” he said to Jase in Ragi, “to go to that interview, say, yes, lord Tatiseigi, no lord Tatiseigi, thank you lord Tatiseigi. That’s a very simple thing. Do you understand?”

A faint nod. The very earliest words were coming back into focus, yes, no, thank you. Do you understand?

“I want you to go to that room. I want you to be polite. Do you understand?”

A nod. A second, more certain nod. Fear. Stark fear.

“I,” Jase said very carefully. “Will. But—”

“But—”

For another moment Jase didn’t—couldn’t speak, just froze, wordless.

And thatwasn’t going to do the program, the aiji, or the interview any good. Jase had reached that point, that absolute white-out of communication students of the language tended to reach in which things didn’t make sense to him, in which the brain—he had no other explanation—was undergoing a massive data reorganization and stringing new cable in the mental basement, God only knew.

He reached for a bribe. The best he had.

“I want you,” he said, “to do this, and I swear I’ll get you to the ocean. Trust me. I asked that before. I’m asking it now.”

There was no answer. But it was more than a bribe. It was close to a necessity. He knewthe state Jase was in, and he was going to sweat until he’d gotten Jase off the air.

“Yes,” Jase said in a shuddery voice.

“Good.” He didn’t chatter. He didn’t offer Jase big words at the moment. He just gestured, got Jase on his feet and to the door and out into the hall.

“Are they set up down there?” he asked Jago.

“Yes,” Jago said, having her pocket com in evidence, and going with them. “As soon as they remove lord Badissuni. The man’s taken ill.”

He was startled. Dismayed. “ Ishe ill?” he asked.

“Quite honestly, nadi.” There were tones Jago took that told him it was the real and reliable truth. “It seems to be stress. They’re taking him to the hospital for the night.”

Amazing what bedfellows politics had made. It made a sensible man careful of making any rash statements about anyone, sharp-edged words being so hard to digest.

Tatiseigi stood in the lights, reporting the absolutely ridiculous and totally true fact of a security alert downstairs, which had turned out to be explained, and somehow never mentioning that the culprit was a young boy from the islands.

Then Tatiseigi wended his way into a report that security had been on edge, and that all threats had been dealt with.

Tabini, who had used the newfangled airwaves quite shamelessly to justify his positions, could take notes from this performance. Tatiseigi, who publicly decried the deleterious effects of the national obsession with television and machimi actors, by what the paidhi had heard, who had spoken against extending television into new licenses, certainly knew the value of it.

“I will tell you,” he began, traditional opening of a topic, and launched into the matter of his restorations, his programs, the history of the Atageini. It was an unprecedented chance for one of the houses. Tatiseigi went on into historic marriages, about the relations of the Atageini to the founders of the capital at Shejidan—and then, with Damiri standing beside him, as Jase also did, he talked about the Atageini “venturing into a future of great promise and adventurous prospect.”

My God, Bren thought, listening to it, looking at the picture it presented to a watching world. It was almost a declaration of support for the space program.

It was damned near a declaration forTabini and againstDireiso and the Kadigidi and all their plots.

Certainly, long and soporific as the history had been, it had snapped to a sharp and dangerous point, right there, in three carefully chosen words: future, adventurous, and prospect, meaning the hitherto changeless and conservative Atageini were shifting into motion; and the so-named prospectwas going to refer in some minds, with Damiri visible before them, to heirs and marriage and the final merger of two Padi Valley families of vast power, a merger that might firm up the political picture very suddenly.

Very frighteningly so for some interests, Direiso chief among them.

Not mentioning Ilisidi with her ties to the distant and often rebel East.

The old tyrant had intended this when he’d headed for that room and the lightbulb blew. He’d been wound up for the bitter necessity of peace with Tabini, consoled by the chance for public glory, and then embarrassed by a human.

Thank Godhe’d gotten this chance, this bit of theater. He could only imagine with what fervor the man hadn’twanted his niece andthe aforesaid human on stage with him.

Bet that a speech of this magnitude had been set in the man’s mind before he came up here and that the alternative was not to give it, and to keep balancing peace and war with Tabini and dancing a slow dance with Tabini’s enemies. He’d suggested a change from the infelicitous venue down at the small dining room, for this area, and no matter how irreverent an ateva grew, there was still that cultural and public reluctance to accept a place or a set-up for an event if that place had been tainted by ill fortune.

Hence this set-up in the state dining room, still within the apartment, proving that humanswere not the infelicitous item, with a human, emblematic of change, right there beside the conservative lord. And with Damiri, the tie to Tabini who might wish to supplant him, standing right there by him, the old man got to the fore of the rebellion in his own house and did it with style—on national television.

He didn’t know whether he’d helped at all or whether Tabini had come to rescue a rash human or to propose exactly the same things; but Tabini would at least be glad hehadn’t had to get into a verbal brawl with the old man.

Who might well wish the paidhi’s head on the ancestral battlements. Twopaidhiin, infelicitous two, might urge that as a solution.

He kept smiling. He kept smiling as he rescued Jase, who was practically wordless after the event, but who’d responded appropriately during it. He fed Jase a stiff shot of alcohol before putting him in the hands of his security, which gained himthe silence and the window of opportunity to reach Ilisidi.

“Aiji-ma,” he said with a deep bow to her and her chief of security, Cenedi, “aiji-ma, I have an urgent request, a very extravagant request, which I must make of you foremost of all; and also of your grandson. If I have anyfavors unclaimed, hear me at least. I know I am too extravagant. But I have no other resource—as your grandson, having no other resource, came to you under very similar circumstances.”

Ilisidi’s eyes were a record of years lived and intrigues survived. And her mouth quirked in amusement. “You’ve just murdered the lord of the Atageini in his own dining room and wish asylum?”

“Almost,” he said. “Very close, aiji-ma.”

15

Nand’ paidhi,” the Bu-javid operator said. “I can’t establish the connection. One fears—there is some reason beyond a failure of equipment.”

“Thank you, nadi. One believes the same.” He set the receiver back in the cradle and heard distantly in the house the noise of steps on the stone floors of the foyer. Their household was gathering for their departure, unaware of the phone call he couldn’t resist attempting and which he foreknew wouldn’t get through, no more than the rest had.

Baji-naji, chance and fortune, the devils in the design: symbolically they existed somewhere in every atevi building as they did in every design for action. The random numbers of creativity, serendipity or destruction lurked within the rigid system of numbers, and once a design gave them leeway to work, the building tumbled down, a situation acquired additional possibilities, or the world tumbled into a new order of things.

He couldn’t raise the island, let alone get a call through to Toby or his mother’s house.

And that was no equipment failure. That was politics keepinghim from making that call, and like a fool he’d hung up on Toby in their last conversation. Toby had been able to call him, but he couldn’t get past the blockade in the other direction.

Or Toby couldn’t reach him, either.

He’d resorted to sleeping pills since the conversation with the dowager, medications from the island, carefully hoarded since the repair to his shoulder. There’d been, after his brief talk with Ilisidi, a flurry of phone calling and rescheduling legislative meetings, which consumed an entire day.

But, good part of the operation, Jase grew more cheerful—as if the promise he’d been able to keep had gotten him past the depression and the despair. Jase was going to the ocean. He would see the sea. They’d talked last night of fishing, not from Geigi’s port but from a more protected, governmentally owned site on the reserve across the same bay.

“Maybe we’ll have a chance at the yellowtail,” he’d said to Jase, although he was by no means certain the run of those fish would carry within the bay. Among the myriad other things he did keep up with, marine fish weren’t within his field. Toby would have known.

But he couldn’t ask the first question he’d had in years that Toby would have delighted in answering.

So with the appropriate baggage, just as a second dawn was breaking, they were gathering in the foyer for the promised trip—Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini.

And himself with Jase.

“The baggage has gone, Bren-ji,” Jago said. “The car is waiting.”

Subway car, that was. His security was in a good mood: it lifted his spirits—shifted the world back into perspective. It was an emergency at home, yes; but, dammit, Toby could handle it—Toby was in the city, Toby was at their mother’s apartment. Toby could deal with their mother and Toby didn’t have to call him up and rage at him, when it was the first damn time Tobyhad showed up to handle one of their mother’s crises, be it the divorce from their father, be it the lawsuit over the sale of the mountain cabin, be it aunt Gloria’s husband’s funeral, be it—God knew what. Thistime Toby was on duty and Toby could take care of their mother and the two of them could do the talking they should have done when Toby’d married to get away from the family and run off to live on the north shore having kids and making money hand over fist. Toby was the one she’d held up to him as the model son—well-married, stable, somebody to go visit.

Mother’d held Toby and Toby’s familial situation up to him as the way heought to be, but she’d damned sure phoned the University every time there was a crisis to get Brenacross town. That was understandable, since it was in the same city; but even after he’d gone into the field and the strait had separated them, she’d not phoned the north shore for Toby to disturb his family, come home, and hire a lawyer for her. No, Toby’d had a familyto consider, so she’d phoned the mainland and wanted Bren-dearto drop the governmental crisis and come home and fix things, which sometimes he could and sometimes he hadn’t been able to. For a string of years every time he’d come home on vacation she’d had a crisis specifically designed to get him involved the second he stepped off the plane, to the point where he’d begun to think of marriage to Barb as an insulation.

It had gotten so his nerves were strung tight every time he knew his mother needed something, because needhad gotten to be the relationship between them, and he’d already puzzled out that fact.

It had gotten to be the relationship between him and Barb, too, starting with hisincreasing need for her to meet that plane and shield him from his inability to say no. Someday he’d have married her so he’d have a wife to take precedence over what his mother needed. He’d puzzled that out, too.

Grim thought. Sobering thought. He could get aggravatedwith Barb, but the fact was that his cheerfulness once he’d arranged for Barb to meet the plane, the alternative being his mother arriving with a list of grievances and plans for his time, told him maybe—just maybe—his relationship to Barb breaking down in crisis wasn’t just a case of Barb rushing to Paul Saarinson’s soft life. Barb, being a healthy individual, had perhaps realized she wasn’t up to being a support for a man who got off the plane every few months needingto be reassured and needingto be made happy and not to have troubles poured into his ears during his vacation.

The paidhi’s home life and the paidhi’s love life were neither one damn good and never had been, was the truth. The I-need-youbusiness was no way for any two adults to have a relationship, not mother-son, not man-wife.

Not even brothers.

And it was about time their mother learned to call on Toby, because Toby was the one of her two sons she was going to have in reach; and it was about time Toby learned to define that relationship in a way he could live with. That was the plain truth. And they were all going to have to get used to it. She couldn’t get Bren-dear home again.

Maybe duty to his family said he should resign his professional life, come home and live with it and do all those familial, loyal things, including suffer through a marital relationship that wouldn’t work and a relationship with his mother that wasn’t going to improve, and maybe it would improve his moral character to do that.

But it wasn’t his job. It wasn’t what other, equally important individuals relied on him doing for reasons a lot more important to the world than his personal problems. And he rather thought, as much trouble as it might make for the family, he should tip Toby off to the need-youbusiness and the fact he was entitled to put his foot down and define his relationship with mama otherwise—early—before it ate Toby alive.

“Bren-ji?” Jago asked as he took his place in the elevator car.

“Tired,” he said. “Tired, Jago-ji.” He managed a cheerful face. “Time for a week on leave.”

Banichi pressed the button. The elevator carried them down, down to the cavernous tile and concrete of the restricted subway station beneath the Bu-javid.

It was a short walk to the subway car, in a larger space than Jase had been in since he’d come into the Bu-javid by this same route.

“All right?” he asked Jase, seeing that little hesitation, that intake of breath.

“Fine,” Jase said, and walked steadily beside him, Banichi and Jago in front, Tano and Algini behind, down past the train engine to the two cars which were waiting with the requisite House Guard and a Guild pair from the aiji’s staff—Bren’s eye picked them out.

“Nadi?” Banichi took up his post just inside, and they boarded, Tano and Algini going to the baggage car with junior security, Banichi and Jago staying with them.

“Rear seat’s the most comfortable,” he said to Jase—he recalled saying that the day he’d escorted Jase tothe hill, in the same car, on his way to the confinement in which Jase had lived. They took their seats. Jago, on pocket com, standing by the door, talked to someone, probably intermediate to the Bu-javid station that governed use of the tracks, clearing their departure.

The door shut and the car got underway.

Jase sat with nervous anticipation evident as the shuttered private subway car rumbled and thumped along its course down the hill and across a city Jase had never seen except from the windows of the Bu-javid and once from the air.

“Nervous, nadi?”

“No, nadi.” Jase was quick to say so. And sat, hands on knees, braced against the slightest movement of the car.

But a lot of strangeness, Bren could only guess, was surely impacting Jase’s senses right now, from the shaking of the car, the smells, the noise.

Evidently some of them were alarming sensations from a spaceman’s point of view, as were large open spaces: the echoes disoriented him, maybe. Maybe just the size did. Bren had no idea, but to reassure Jase he adopted an easy pose, legs extended, ankles crossed, and kept talk to a minimum while Jase’s eyes darted frantically to every different rattle of the wheels on the switching-points, the least change in sound as they exited the tunnel and went in open air.

“We’re on the surface again,” Bren explained. “We’ve been in a tunnel.”

Jase didn’t look reassured. And probably Jase knew he was overreacting, even suspected he looked foolish in his anxiety, but they had one more rule in effect, and Jase had agreed to it as Jase had agreed to every other condition: no matter what, Jase wasn’t to speak anything but Ragi on this trip. If the car wrecked, he’d made the point with Jase, screamin Ragi. He might not be able to hold to it throughout, but if that was the ideal, maybe, Bren thought, it would encourage Jase to shift his thoughts into the language totally, the way Jase had existed while he was gone on the tour. If it didn’t do everything he’d hoped, in terms of forcing Jase into Ragi, it might at least force Jase back into that mindset so that he had a chance of arguing with him.

Meanwhile the car thumped and rumbled its way toward the airport.

A happy family, on its way to the beach, Bren thought, surveying his complement of catatonic, well-dressed roommate and heavily armed security in black leather and silver studs, themselves in high spirits and having a good time.

“We were duea vacation,” Banichi remarked cheerfully. They were not quite so vacation-bound that he or any of his fellow Guild members took advantage of the stocked breakfast juice bar in the aiji’s own, red velvet-appointed subway car, but Banichi did sit down at his ease, stretch out his huge body and heave a sigh. And doubtless it wasfar better than a rooftop in the peninsula. “We’re due rain, of course, but it’s spring—what can one hope?”

“It should still be fine,” Jago said from her vantage by the door, one hand loosely on a hanging strap. “The sea, the sand—”

“The cold fogs.”

“Nadiin,” Bren said, and roused himself to the same level of enthusiasm as his security, “we are safe, we are away, lord Tatiseigi is visiting his ownapartment tonight, we are notthere, and I believe they have gotten the illicit television downstairs.”

“The Guard is guarding it, nand’ paidhi,” Banichi said, “with its usual zeal, of course.”

There were grins. Probably Jase didn’t follow the joke. But security was in a high good mood and the car rocked and thundered on, swayed around the turn that meant the airport station was coming up. Junior security, who had their baggage under close watch, would get it all aboard the vans.

The subway train stopped, security rose to take routine positions as the doors opened and security went out first.

Bren collected Jase, left the details to his staff, and sure enough the vans were waiting, with Bu-javid security in charge from beginning to end, in this very highly securitied spur of the regular public subway.

“Careful,” he said, fearing Jase’s balance problems, but Jase made a clean step out of the car and onto the concrete.

Jase had no difficulty there, and none in boarding the waiting van. He flung himself into the seat, however, as if relieved to sit down; his face was a little pale, his eye-blinks grown rapid as they did when he was fighting problems in perspective. Bren sat down more slowly beside him, with Banichi and Jago immediately after while others were loading the luggage into the second van under Tano’s supervision.

The van whisked them to the waiting plane and braked right by the ladder. Immediately, the second van was with them, bringing the luggage, which was not alone their clothes, but the clutter of weaponry and electronics that went with the paidhi wherever he and his security went.

It was Tabini’s jet. And it was needful now, Banichi out first and Jago next, and Bren third, for Jase to climb down from the van into the noise of the jet engines, and walk, on a flat surface and under a sky with a few gray-bottomed clouds, from the roofed van to the ladder and up the ladder into the plane. Jase made the step, didn’t look up (which he’d said especially bothered him), and crossed to the ladder, shaking off Jago’s offered hand.

“Wait,” Bren said to Banichi and Jago, because the metal ladder shook when that pair climbed it with their usual energy, and he didn’t figure that would help Jase at all, whose knuckles were white on the rail as he climbed doggedly toward the boarding platform, his eyes on the steps, never on his surroundings.

Jase went inside, to be met by the co-pilot. Bren went up next and Jago and Banichi followed him; Tano and Algini stayed below to stand watch over the luggage-loading.

The computer, alone of their luggage, went in the cabin with them; Jago had it, and tucked it into a storage area, while outside the luggage-loading went so fast that the hatch thumped down while Jase was settling into his seat in the table-chair grouping and while Bren was saying hello to the pilot and co-pilot.

“One hopes for a quieter flight, nand’ paidhi,” the pilot said.

He’d actually forgottenabout the boy from Dur during the last twenty hours, during which they’d accomplished the logistics and arrangements, and during which uncle Tatiseigi had lodged in Ilisidi’s hospitality.

They were away and clear. The boy from Dur had his ribboned card which might save him from parental wrath, the apartment was still intact after the state reception, and the television was out of the pantry, entertaining the House Guard for the duration of uncle Tatiseigi’s stay, which should about equal their days on the western shore near Saduri.

“I anticipate a quiet flight and a quiet ten days, nadi,” Bren said to the pilot and co-pilot, “and I hope you and your associate have ample time for a little fishing yourselves. I’ve expressed the wish the staff could lodge you at some place that would allow it for however long you have at leisure.”

“Nand’ paidhi, they have done so, and we thank you, nand’ Jase as well.” This with a nod toward the seating where Jase had belted in.

“Nadi,” Bren said in ending the conversation, and went back to sit beside Jase. He didfeel better now that things were underway. His blood was moving faster with their stirring about, and the slight headache was diminishing: possibly the sleeping pill had worn off.

“It’s excellent weather for flying. A smooth flight, nadi. Sun shining. Calm air.”

“Yes,” Jase said. It was a word. It was a response. Then: “Too close to the planet,” Jase muttered, then grinned; and Bren obligingly laughed, in the understanding both that it was an uneasy joke and that Jase had, finally, just been able to get a few words assembled into an almost-sentence of Ragi this morning. After twenty-odd hours of intermittent wordless moments and frustration, losing all confidence in his ability to speak the Ragi language, Jase was showing signs of pulling out of it—phase two of his mental break, a tendency to suspect all his word choices and to blow his grammar—which, coupled with fears of insulting the atevi staff, wasn’t improving his confidence. But it was textbook psychological reaction. Jase had been vastly embarrassed, humiliated, terrified of very real diplomatic consequences at the same moment he was put on national television—at his worst moment of personal crisis. It wasn’t just the illusion of helplessness language students went through, it had been real helplessness, and real danger, and thank God, Bren thought, they’d had the dowager there, and an understanding security, and Damiri. Also thank God, Tatiseigi was no fool.

And meanwhile Jase, being around staff who’d forgive him his mistakes, was trying again, understanding again, and regaining a little shaky confidence in himself.

“ Please belt in, nadiin,” the co-pilot said over the intercom. The engines roared into action.

And as the plane began to taxi toward the runway, with security taking their seats and belting in around them, Jase’s knuckles were white on the armrests.

Couldn’t fault that reaction. He’d explained to Jase andYolanda the physics by which planes stayed in the air during their initial flight to Shejidan, but there was so much new then and since that he wasn’t sure how much had stayed with him. They’d come from a rough landing on the Taiben preserve, an overnight at Taiben only sufficient to catch their breaths, then a rail trip ending in a hasty boarding of the aiji’s plane to fly them all to the international airport at Shejidan.

After they’d landed at Shejidan, there’d been no hesitation: the aiji’s guards had packed Yolanda and Deana Hanks both onto a second, atevi-piloted commercial plane bound for Mospheira, and hastened him and Jase onto the van and then into the subway station on a fast trip to the Bu-javid, to enter the aiji’s very careful security arrangements, all to assure—in a world seething with change and disturbance at that moment—that nothing befell the two paidhiin.

It hadn’t afforded Jase much time to learn about the world. And Jase had been disoriented and more focused on the fact that he and Yolanda weren’t going to find communication free or easy. Possibly they hadn’t known it would be that way.

Possibly Deana Hanks, sitting near them on the plane, saying that he’d be a prisoner in Shejidan and that they’d deceive him, had set Jase up for far too much suspicion. He’d toldJase that Deana was a liar. But Jase might not have believed him that day.

And as he explained the full extent of what Deana had done and why, Jase’s comment had been, Neither one of us will have it easy, either, will we?

Half a year ago.

Just about half a year ago. Yolanda had gone away in a van along with Deana, bound for a plane nearby; Jase had gone with him and Banichi and Jago in another one, bound for the subway, and that had been it, last contact, except the phone calls.

Jase had been so scared in those first days, so very scared—of the staff, of security, of the devices that guarded the doorway. Of the simple fact they found it necessary to lock the doors of the apartment.

Of the simpler fact of thunder crashing above the roof. He remembered.

The plane rushed down the runway, lifted, and a moment later Jase was trying to improve the plane’s angle by leaning as it banked for the west.

Bren kept himself deadpan and didn’t say a word about what was probably an instinctive reaction. One would think a man from weightless space would have overcome such tendencies. But Jase said his ship made itself gravity the same way the station did, so Bren supposed Jase wasn’t used to being without it.

The plane retracted the trailing edge flaps. Jase was still white-knuckled and had looked askance thus far at every noise of the hydraulics working, from the wheels coming up to the slats coming back. This was the man who’d boarded a capsule and let a crew shove him into space in free fall toward a parachute drop into the planetary atmosphere.

On the other hand… Jase said very little about that trip down. Jase had waked now and again with nightmares, startling the staff, and he had once remarked that the parachute drop had perturbed him. He hoped the trip back into space once they had the ship, Jase had said to him very early on, would be a good deal more like the airplane ride to Shejidan.

“You know,” he remarked to Jase, who, after ten minutes at least and almost up to cruising altitude, hadn’t let go the seat arm, “planes don’t often fall out of the sky. They tend to stay up. Airfoil. Remember?”

Jase took several deep breaths. “I’m fine,” he said, in the manner of someone who’d just survived hell. “I’m fine.”

Jase stared straight ahead. There was a lovely view of clouds out the window, but he didn’t look, evidently not trusting the plane would stay level without his encouragement. Jase didn’t look at him, either, and didn’t seem inclined to think about anything but the plane.

Well, there was work he could do while Jase was helping the pilot.

He could unpack the computer. Or he could sit and worry about the situation on Mospheira with the State Department and its windows.

Or the situation in the capital, where shockwaves of the peninsular affair and Tatiseigi’s apparent realignment were still ringing through the court and lords marginally aligned with Direiso were reconsidering their positions—disturbing thought, to have a continent-spanning war going on, and thus far the casualties amounting to one man, a lightbulb, a piece of glassware, and Badissuni of the Hagrani in the hospital for a stomach condition—so that one wondered wasit stress that had sent him there, or had Jago been near his drink?

The ship and probably the man beside him were completely unaware of the struggle except insofar as Jase had had to deal with Tatiseigi.

Well, the island wouldbecome aware of it. With the illegal radio traffic going on, bet that Deana Hanks would become aware of it.

If she could translate assassinationwithout mistaking it for pregnant calendar.

Banichi and Jago were meanwhile taking great care to have him apprised of what was going on, after, presumably, some shaking at high levels had gone on in the Messengers’ Guild. The information delivered with their supper last evening had been an intercepted radio message on the north coast, up by Wiigin, where they were notgoing, a message which—laughably under less grim circumstances—purported to be between atevi, when clearly only one side was atevi even by the timbre of the voice, let alone the vocabulary and syntax errors.

The fluent side of the transmission had discussed at great length the situation with the assassination of lord Saigimi. It had claimed lord Tatiseigi had made the television interview under extreme threat and it claimed that only fear that the Atageini would be taken over by the aiji had weakened Tatiseigi’s former—the message called it— strong stand for traditional values.

He knew why Tabini hadlet that radio traffic, ostensibly between small aircraft flying near the Association-Mospheiran boundary and a tower controller on the atevi mainland, go on without protest: it was deliberate provocation on someone’s part on the mainland to be doing what they were doing, bold as brass on the airwaves. That they continued had nothing to do with rights of expression as they defined free speech on Mospheira. By the Treaty no Mospheiran had the right to use a radio to communicate across the strait. By allowing those radio messages to continue, Tabini was simply, in human parlance, giving the perpetrators enough rope to hang themselves and draw in others before he cracked down, definitely on Direiso, possibly on the perpetrators of the messages, and diplomatically on Hanks.

But the area where that was going on was (he had checked) well north of the area where they were going.

And, while he would be involved in the crisis those messages were bound to engender when the crackdown came, it wasn’t his problem now. His job right now was simply making sure that Jase got his chance to relax and reach some sort of internal peace with the land and the people. He had great faith that a little exposure to problems more basic and more natural than living pent up in the pressured Bu-javid environment would help Jase immensely. And he, himself—

He needed to rest. He finally admitted that. He’d reached the stage when there just wasn’t any more reserve. No more nerves, no more sense, no more flexibility of wit.

He’d had his last real leave—oh, much too long ago.

He’d stood on a ski slope, on Mt. Allen Thomas, in the very heart of the island, getting sunburn on his nose, coated in snow from a header. (He’d gotten a little slower, a little more cautious in his breakneck skiing.)

But, oh, the view from up there was glorious, when the sun turned the snow gold and the evergreens black in the evenings.

When the mists came up off the blue shadows and the wind whispered across the frozen surface in the morning—then he was alive.

It would have terrified Jase.

Ah, well, he said to himself, and propped one ankle on the other and asked junior security for a fruit juice.

“Would you care for one, Jasi-ji?”

“Yes, nadi, please,” Jase said.

Definitely better.

The fruit juice arrived. “Pretty clouds,” Bren remarked, and Jase looked and agreed with relative calm that they were that.

Vacation would do them all good, he said to himself.

Because… he had a sip of fruit juice and stared at the empty seat across from him, the one Jago usually occupied… he was definitely reaching the fracture point himself, and seeing conspiracy under every porcelain lily petal.

Conspiracy that linked the various shattered major pieces of the last several days, from whatever had necessitated the assassination of Saigimi, to whatever Hanks had pursued, to Direiso, to a couple of radio operators up by Wiigin, and even to the paint flung at his mother’s apartment building.

He just wished he hadn’t hung up on Toby. Their mother’s surgery was this week. And he wouldn’t hear. He just wouldn’t hear. He’d resigned himself to that.

Hard on the relatives, the job he’d taken, the job Jase had volunteered for, never having been out of the reach of family and familiarity in his life.

He sipped his fruit juice. Jase eventually remembered to drink his.

The plane took a turn toward the west. Jase braced himself and looked at the window as if he expected to see something.

“It’s all right.”

Jase took a deep breath. “Can you see the water as we come in, nadi?”

“We’re starting descent. You should be able to see it. You should have a good view.”

He didn’t know why Jase had taken the ocean as his ambition. He was only glad that Jase had taken something that easy for his goal, something hecould deliver.

He got up briefly and spoke to Banichi.

On the paidhi’s request and the local tower’s willingness, the plane made a very unusual approach, swinging low and slow over the water’s edge, then flew out over the sea and the large resort island of Onondisi, which sat in the bay, affording the ship-paidhi a view. Bren stood up to see, with his hand on a safety-grip, mindful of island pilots, standing and looking over Jase’s shoulder at a pleasant rock-centered island with bluffs to the north and sandy beach to the south, where the resorts clustered.

“Melted water,” Jase said in a tone of awe. “All that melted water.”

Now and again Jase could utterly surprise him.

“Melted it is.”

“Is it warm?”

“About the temperature of a cold water tap.” He reached past Jase to point at the hotels that clustered among trees on the heights of the island. “Vacation places. Hotels. You stay there and go down to the beaches.”

“Ordinary people go there?” Jase asked.

“And lords, nadi. And whoever wants to. The ordinary consideration is security, for the lords, so usually the high lords stay on the south shore of the bay. A lot of private beaches over there, but not as fine as these.”

“Other people, they don’t have to worry?”

“No.—Except if they’ve made somebody very, very angry. And even then they know whether they have to worry.”

“Are they scared with this assassination going on?”

“The Guild won’t touch a common man without a Filing of Intent. Even then the Guild has to be convinced there’s a strong and real grievance, so,” he said, with an eye to all the tiny figures on the beaches, wading the surf, “unless someone’s done something really outrageous enough to get a Filing approved—they’re safe, down there.”

“But not lords?”

“Lords have Guild in their households,” Jago said, standing close. “And the Guild doesn’t necessarily have to approve a greater lord moving against a lesser if right can be demonstrated later.”

“And a lesser against a greater?” Jase asked.

“It must approve that. And with common folk, it must. And often,” Jago said as an afterthought, “we mediate between common folk. Many times, a feud among folk like that doesn’t draw blood. We see many, many situations that common folk think extraordinary. We can bring perspective to a matter.”

One suspected (Tano had hinted as much, and he’d observed it on the daily news) a commoner-feud usually went quite slowly indeed if the Guild suspected mediation would result. Sometimes, the paidhi strongly suspected, the Guild did absolutely nothing for a few months, expecting its phone to ring with an offer to the opposing side, once the targeted party grew anxious.

Jago didn’t volunteer such information, however; and the plane swept on over water, this time with the view of Mospheira a distant blue haze past the rolling hills.

“That’s the island, nadi. Theisland. Mospheira.”

The wing tipped up, hiding it, as they were obliged to veer off along the invisible boundary.

“I didn’t see it,” Jase said.

“It’s just hazy out there. It wasthe haze.”

“I didn’t see it, all the same.” Jase sounded disappointed.

“Well, I’ll point it out to you when we’re on the ground. I’m sure we’ll be able to see it.—The hills closer to us, that was the height of Mogari-nai.”

Behind them now lay the rocky coastal bluffs that photographers loved, along with those of Elijiri which were near Geigi’s estate, further inland. Mogari-nai was set, one understood, on the aiji’s land, well back from the scenic areas, in a zone dedicated once to firing cannon balls intended to fall on hostile wooden ships approaching the port at Saduri Township.

Now Mogari-nai faced a periodic barrage of electronic interference launched from Mospheira, and that opposing shore was lined with radar installations.

Ask about that interference in a protest to the Mospheiran government, and naturally the problem immediately spread to the phone lines.

“ Will one wish another pass, nandiin?” That was the co-pilot. “ We have the sky to ourselves.”

“No, thank him, nadi,” Bren said, and Tano, standing near the intercom, relayed that information.

“ We will land, then, nandiin. Please seat yourselves comfortably and safely.”

Bren sat down and belted in. Jase fastened the belt and drew a long breath.

“Routine landing,” Bren said, and talked Jase a second time through the process of landing, and whyplanes stayed in the air and how they got onto the ground.

Jase seemed very much more relaxed, just three deep breaths as they were approaching touch-down, and a grin as they did so exactly when Bren predicted.

“A lot better than parachutes, nadi,” Jase said. They’d begun with a scared, withdrawn passenger and ended with one smiling and joking—one who’d been able to look out his window even during a steep bank, only occasionally clinging to the seats.

This was a good idea, Bren thought, this trip was a very good idea.

The plane taxied to the terminal of what was, for defense and seasonal tourist reasons, a fair-sized airport. The transport vans were waiting.

“We’re here, nadiin-ji!” Bren said cheerfully, and was not quite first on his feet, but close.

Vacation, he was thinking. It wasn’t quite the hoped-for chase after yellowtail, but Banichi was right: Geigi’s estate, just on the south shore of Onondisi Bay, was peninsular, and going there at this precise moment might send some unwanted signal and interfere with the aiji’s politics with that region.

Taiben, the aiji’s summer retreat, the other possibility—that was in the Padi Valley, and that was, again, politically sensitive right now, as well as dangerous, being in lady Direiso’s own front yard.

There’d been Malguri, which he’d most wished, but that was three hours by air into a set of provinces seething with intrigue.

So the aiji’s lands, meaning the public defense zone near Mogari-nai and the Historic Site near Saduri Township, that became the fallback. They couldn’t use the public resorts. The good one got out of being an atevi lord was mostly limited to a lot of ancestral knick-knacks you didn’t own, by his own observation; and the bad one got was that the more politically active you were and the more resolutely you did your job for the people you represented, the more true it became that you couldn’t ride regular airlines or go into pretty public resorts like Onondisi or go into the tourist restaurants he’d dearly love to go to—if he weren’t the paidhi-aiji, and a human to boot.

But, well, rank had other privileges. Supper tonight with Ilisidi could make up for the restaurants.

They didn’t have to gather up baggage. That was another good part of being lords. They let their security handle it and the moment the ladder was in place and the moment Banichi had been down to make direct contact with Ilisidi’s people, who were in charge of ground security, they could go.

“I’m fine!” Jase announced as they went out into the brisk, sea-charged wind. Bren went down first, to meet Banichi at the bottom and to catch Jase if he tripped. But he felt the ladder shake and looked back to find Jase had seized the safety rail in his accustomed death grip and watched Jase enthusiastically and adventurously come after him without waiting for the ladder to stop rocking.

Not to push the point by lingering in the open air, Bren went to the nearest van of the three as the driver, who was not commercial hire, but one of Ilisidi’s ‘young men,’ as she called them, opened the door. Bren ushered Jase in, got in ahead of Banichi, and Jago brought up the rear and shut the door as she hit the seat.

The van started up immediately and whipped around a tire-squealing one-eighty turn toward the gate.

Like a van ride he’d taken once before to visit the dowager. He started to protest the driver’s recklessness, but—they were in Ilisidi’s territory now, and it was what he’d bargained for. The driver wouldn’t kill them; he knew that now—having been through far worse; and Jase looked startled and apprehensive, but looked at him, too, for reassurance. So he grinned and Jase tried to mirror the expression.

Roads across the countryside weren’t approved tech, except on a local basis. There was definitely rail service to Saduri Township, he’d checked that out, but it didn’t serve the old fortress, as such service didn’t serve, specifically, twoof the aiji’s estates, he’d learned; one of those two was Malguri, and the other was Saduri. No rail went up to the big dish at Mogari-nai; and it didn’t go to the Saduri Historical Site, either.

So he’d understood there’d be a drive to get there; and he could have expected the driver would do what this driver was doing.

The van left the maintenance road and whipped off on a gravel spur that led around a grassy hill, and around another, and generally up, at a ferocious pace.

Jase looked less reassured at the sound of gravel under the wheels and at the feel of the van skidding slightly on the turns. He grabbed at the handles and the window-frame.

“Is this dangerous?” Jase asked. “Is someone after us?”

“Oh—” Bren began to say lightly, and settled for the truth with Jase. “This driver is having a good time. Relax.”

Banichi grinned broadly. “He’s not lost a van this spring.”

Jase did know when he was being made fun of. He gave a sickly grin to that challenge to his composure and clung white-fingered to the handholds.

“I’d have thought someone from up there,” Bren finally said over the noise of the van, “would be used to motion.”

“I am!” Jase retorted. And freed a hand to gesture an erratic crooked course. “Not—this motion.”

It did make sense. Jase’s body didn’t know what to expect and Jase’s stomach kept trying to prepare for it, to no avail.

It was for the same reason, he supposed, that the subway made him anxious. And that the plane did. He watched Jase’s facial reactions, the twitch as a swing of the road brought light onto his face and immediately after as a stand of young trees brought a ripple of shadow and a series of flinches and blinks, all exaggerated.

So what wouldit be like, Bren asked himself, to live in a building all his life, and have all the light controlled, the flow of air controlled, the temperature controlled, the humidity controlled, every person you metcontrolled; and the whole day scheduled, the horizons curving up and movement entirely imperceptible? He had as much to learn about Jase as Jase did about the world; Jase was the book he had to read to gain knowledge about the ship—which he needed to know, and his professional instincts had turned on in that regard, to such an extent he told himself he should abandon curiosity and track on his other job, to reassure Jase.

But Jase had reacted uncertainly to change in the apartment; he added up that maddening insistence on rising at exactly the same moment, on breakfast at the same time every morning, and reckoned that change, as an event, was notsomething Jase was used to meeting. He’d dealt with Jase and Yolanda both on their last exposure to the world when they were still in a state of shock from landing and when their passage under open sky to the safety of Taiben lodge had been brief, ending in the safe confines of the Bu-javid—at least Jase’s had ended there.

And now, right before his eyes, that twitchiness was back: that extreme reaction to stimuli of all sorts, even when Jase was trying to joke about it. Randomness of light and sound had become a battering series of events to senses completely unused to interpreting the nuances.

He rated himself tolerably good at figuring out what went on in atevi, and he could make a guess, that the way a baby overreacted once it had started being startled, it must seem to Jase as if there wereno order and no recognizable logic in the sensations that came at him. Jase had that look in his eyes and that grip on the edge of his seat that said here was a man waiting now for the whole world to dissolve under his feet.

But the logic inside the man said it wouldn’t, so Jase clung to his seat and kept his eyes wide open and tried with an adult and reasoning brain to make sense of it.

And an infant’s brain, not yet reasoning, might have an advantage in programming. A grown man who from infancy had never had light flashed in his face, never had a floor go bump, never been slung about from one side to the other—what was he to do? Jase came from a steady, scheduled world, one without large spaces. If he’d lived in the equivalent of a set of small rooms, God, even texturesmust be new.

What had Jase said to him? The tastes, the smells, were all overwhelming to him?

It was possible he’d never seen bright color or different pattern. The ship Jase had come from began to seem a frighteningly samekind of place.

The beach, the waves, the rocks and hills, these things should, if Jase could meet them, be a very good cure for what ailed him. And if he could tolerate the environment, get a look at the natural processes that underlay the randomness of storm and weather that reached the capital at Shejidan, he would have far fewer fears. Jase was scared of thunder, and knew better than most now what it was, but still jumped when it thundered, and was embarrassed when the servants laughed. Theythought it made him like them. He thought it made him foolish.

Let Jase see the historic origins of the atevi, let him experience the same sort of things that had opened the atevi world to hisimagination. Thatwas the plan.

It was, though he hadn’t thought so then, the best thing that had ever happened to him in terms of his understanding of the world he lived in, a textured, full of smells and colors world that could fill up his senses and appeal to him on such a basic level that something in his human heart responded to this atevi place and taught him what the species had in common.

On the other hand, watching Jase flinch from sunlight and shadow, it might not happen to Jase. It at best might be a bit much to meet all in one day. Their spaceman was brave, but growing vastly disoriented just in the sounds and level of perceived threat constantly coming at him; fast-witted, but lost in the dataflow that had begun to wipe out the linkages in his brain and rearrange the priorities.

It wasn’t just the language now that had overwhelmed Jase with its choices. It wasn’tjust the same linguistic shift that overwhelmed every student that came close to fluency—it was the whole physical, natural world that came down on Jase, stripping away all his means not only of expressing himself—that was the language part—but also of interpreting the sensations that came at him. Jase was hanging on to that part of his perceptions with his fingernails.

And that disorientation, coupled with what he guessed Ilisidi might provoke him to, would make it a very good idea to limit the breakable objects in Jase’s reach.

He began to have misgivings. Jase wasn’tplanet-born. There might not be that common ground he hoped to have Jase find with atevi. For the first time he began to fear he’d made a mistake in bringing Jase out here and asking this of him.

It was a lot of input.

But it was fractal, soothing input if Jase’s brain could just figure out it did repeat, and loop, and that it didn’t threaten.

Ilisidi, however, didn’tgive you an inch.

And you had to go farther into atevi territory to meet Ilisidi than she was going to come onto human ground to meet you: that was a given.

“Pretty view,” he said desperately as they rounded a turn, and it was, a glorious view into the distance of the plain. “Taiben is that way—a fair distance, though.”

Jase faced that direction. He gave no indication his eyes even knew where to focus two seconds running or what was pretty or what he was supposed to look at.

Bren thought of asking the driver to stop and let Jase get out and have a steady, stable look and catch his breath; but he thought then that they weren’t within a security perimeter, and that they were going to such a perimeter, within which they could stand and have such a view, presumably. And Jase could calm down.

It was a risk. Their whole lives were a risk. But you limited them where you could. It was different from the catwalk at Dalaigi.

There was no crowd watching them.

The trip went a good distance up and up, among rolling hills of greening grass spangled with wild-flowers in yellow and purple and white, with no structures, no building in sight until, just around a steep turn in the rolling hills, they passed through a gate in a low stone wall and then, in the next turn, caught a brief view of a stone building.

That view steadied in the forward windows after the second turn, a pile of the local rocks with a number of high, solid walls, one slightly tumbled one, and a staff posed crazily on the battlement of a two, in places three and four floored fortification with a bright banner flying, on a staff slightly atilt, from the front arch.

Red and black, the aiji’s colors.

The van pulled up to the door, under a sweep-edged roof, as the door opened and poured out the aiji-dowager’s men, who opened the door of the van.

Jago was first out. Bren climbed down.

Jase stayed seated. Blocking Banichi’s path to the door was never a good idea. Jase, however, was not doing so in panic. Jase was frowning darkly.

“Where’s the beach?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s here,” Bren said. “Come on, Jase.”

Jase stayed put. And belted in. His arms were folded. From that position, he spared a fast, angry gesture around him. “Grass. Rock. High rock. You promised me the beach, nadi.”

Not trusting this, Bren thought. From overload to a final realization they were on a mountain. “Jasi-ji,” he said reasonably, “you’re preventing Banichi getting up.” Not true, if Banichi weren’t being polite. “There is a beach down the hill, where water tends to be and remain, as physics may tell you, and I promise you ample chance to see the ocean. One just doesn’t build these kind of big houses down there. Too many people. And it’s old. And it’s the aiji’s property. It’s all right, Jasi-ji. Get down, if you please, before Banichi moves you.”

Jase moved then, carefully, ducking his head, and stepped down into the shadow of a building, clinging to the van and evading the offered help of the servants. He stood there a moment, then sighted on the door and started walking.

Bren walked with him, looking at the open, iron-bound doors; at the dim interior ahead of them and around them as they walked in.

Malguri was the oldest fortress still functioning, he knew that. This place had a dusty, deserted look as if it hadn’t quite been maintained on the same level as Malguri. Like Mogari-nai, it was supposedly from the Age of Exploration, younger than Malguri: it had supported the fort at Mogari-nai, when atevi had started trading around the Southern Rim, when East and West had made contact, when they’d gotten out on the seas in wooden ships and rival associations had shot at each other with cannon.

But by what he was seeing he understood in a new light what Ilisidi had said to him when she proposed it, that Saduri wasn’t on the regular tour circuit, and was not legally permitted to hikers—a security advantage, she said, which Malguri hadn’t had.

This fortress might not be as old as Malguri, but he wouldn’t lay odds on the plumbing. That banner on the roof, too, said something about the way things were put together. No regular bracket for the staff. No regular provision for such a thing—he could imagine one of the dowager’s ‘young men’ climbing up there to do it, out of the reckless enthusiasm and the loyalty they showed for Ilisidi.

And for the sheer hell of it.

Malguri’s hall had been lively and full of interesting banners. This one—

—had one of the ceiling beams lying crashed onto the floor at the rear of the hall. Workmen’s scaffolding occupied that end, which, with no interior lighting and with only the light from the door, was brown with dust.

Even Banichi and Jago stopped in some dismay.

Where is the beach, indeed? Bren asked himself.

What have I let us in for?

“Nadi Bren.” One of the dowager’s servants came from a side hall, and said, with the usual calm of the dowager’s servants, “Nadiin. One will guide you to your rooms.”

16

Down a long hall to the side, dust everywhere—but the dust on the stone floor showed a clear track of feet having passed this way recently. Like bread crumbs in the wilderness, Bren thought to himself as he and Jase, behind Ilisidi’s man, climbed a short flight of stairs where Banichi, following them, surely had to duck his head.

Jago had stayed behind in the downstairs, having something to do with Tano and Algini and the baggage in the second van, Bren thought.

The stone of the stair treads was bowed, worn by the use of atevi feet—old. Older than the use of cannon, perhaps. He wasn’t sure how long it took to wear away stone. The floor above was stone, which he had learned from Malguri meant a barrel vault beneath, in this age predating structural steel.

The hall above had no windows, no light but what came from a lamp at the side of the stairs and what filtered up from the open door below. It was increasingly shadowy at the top of the stairs, pitch black down the hall, and the servant—if such he was: he looked very fit—opened the second door of a small row of doors, and showed them into a hole of a room, into which the thin stream of white daylight from a glassless window-slit showed the outlines of a bed and a table. The draft from that window was cool spring air. It moved languidly past them, doubtless to find the door downstairs.

The servant struck a match and light flared in a golden glow on an atevi face, atevi hands, a candle on a rough (but recently dusted) table. A small vase stood next the candle with three prickly-looking flowers that looked to be from the hillside. The wick took fire, and illumined a rubble stone wall, a deeply shadowed but smallish room, bare timbers helping the masonry hold up a doubtless weary roof.

“There are more candles,” the servant said, and indicated a small wicker basket at the end of the same table. “And matches, nandiin. The dowager requests one have a caution of fire.” The man presented him a small bundle of matches, neatly tied with ribbon. “One regrets that the inner halls are under restoration and not pleasant. Ordinarily, guests would be lodged there, but there are plenty of blankets. The accommodation is at the end of the hall and it does function. Please follow me.”

The paidhi sensed intense unhappiness in Jase’s silence and chose not to touch it off with a question. “Down the hall, then,” he said, as cheerfully as he could. Banichi was waiting in the doorway, and one wondered whether hehad had any warning.

Possibly Banichi was thinking, You fool, Bren-ji. But Banichi gave no hint at all in his mildly pleasant expression. It might be more comfortable than a rooftop in the much warmer peninsula. Might be. Marginally.

And thiswas the vacation spot he’d chosen.

The putative servant took several candles from the basket and lit the first from the lighted candle on the table, then carried it outside and lit another, which, as they all stood watching, doubtless with separate thoughts of the situation, the servant set in a wall-sconce.

“Nand’ Banichi, your room, and nand’ Jago’s,” the servant said, lit a candle and set it by thatdoor to relieve the darkness of this tunnel; and so they went; the room for Tano and Algini was next.

On the other side of this hall, although there were doors, as best the paidhi could judge the geometry of the building he’d seen from outside there were no windows: the rooms they were not using must be little more than stone coffins with no source of light but the candle, rooms dependent on mortar imperfections or God knew what for ventilation. He supposed, since he had challenged Ilisidi to challenge Jase, they were lucky not to be lodged on that side of the hall.

And the euphemistically named accommodation? The servant opened the door on a room with cold spring daylight showing through a hole in the stone floor. With the stack of towels. And a dipper and bucket.

The servant explained, for Jase’s benefit. The paidhi well understood. He wasn’t sure Jase quite believed it was the toilet.

The one at Malguri had had indoor heat. This didn’t. It had an updraft.

Malguri had had glass windows. Fireplaces in palatial suites, however old the plumbing. The distinction between Historical Site and Oldest Continuously Occupied Site began to come through to him with a great deal more clarity.

Jase hadn’t said a word. He was probably in shock, and walked along tamely as they all retraced their steps, the supposed servant in the lead, back down the candlelit hall toward their room—their—singular room.

Their—singular—room, which to his memory had one—singular—and not very wide—bed.

It was not polite for a guest to complain of accommodations. It was just not done. One assumed one’s host knew exactly what her guests were being put into, and one smiled and made no complaint.

He’d said trustingly to Ilisidi, in a private meeting in her luxurious study, in the Bu-javid apartment she maintained, “Aiji-ma, Jase doesn’t understand atevi. You taught me. And I daren’t go so far from the capital as Malguri. Might I impose on you, aiji-ma, to linger a little at Taiben this season? Perhaps to go over to the seashore and show Jase-paidhi the land as it was? I’ve promised him the sea. I’ve undertaken to provide him that—and your help would be best of all, aiji-ma.”

There’d been one of those silences.

“What happened to ’Sidi-ji?’ ” Ilisidi had asked with a quirk of her age-seamed lips and a lift of a brow, meaning why didn’t he use that familiar, intimate address he’d a number of times dared with her.

“I think,” he’d said, knowing he was fencing with a very dangerous opponent, at a very unsettled time in the aiji’s court, “I thought I should show some decency of address in such an outrageous request of your time, nand’ dowager.”

And Ilisidi had said, after an apparent moment of thought, one thin knuckle under a still-firm though wrinkled chin: “I think—I think that if you want the seashore, nadi, why, we should goto the seashore. Why not Saduri?”

He hadn’t thoughtit was a site open to the public. He’d foolishly said so.

And: “ Weare not the public,” Ilisidi had said, in that aristocratic mode that could move mountains.

So here they were. Tano, Jago, and Algini, with a number of putative servants, came up the steps at the end of the hall with a fairly light load of baggage.

“The rest of the baggage is going to be stored downstairs,” Jago said cheerfully.

Bren didn’t feelcheerful. Tano looked bewildered, and Bren didn’t dare look at Jase, just depressed the iron latch on his door to let their personal luggage in.

“Is there a key for this door, nadi?” he asked Ilisidi’s servant.

“No, nand’ paidhi. That room has no lock. But one assures you, the entire perimeter of this site is very closely guarded, so one may be confident all the same.”

Bren rather expected Banichi or Jago to say something caustic about that situation. But by that example, and their silence, he wondered whether theirrooms had locks.

One servant took his and Jase’s baggage in. Jago handed him his computer, which was notgoing to find a recharge socket in this building, but which he on no account allowed to remain outside his immediate guard, especially in a premises occupied by uncle Tatiseigi. That servant left. He walked in, Jase walked in, and he shut the door, leaving them in the white daylight from the window and the golden glow from the candle, which had by a whisper of a flame survived that gust from the closing door.

“Nadi,” Jase began with, he thought, remarkable restraint, “what are they doing? Why are we here?”

“Well,” he said, and tried to think of words Jase knew.

“I,” Jase began again, this time in his own language. He was clearly now fighting for breath—and probably falling down that interlinguistic interface again.

Bren said sharply, “I’m sorry.”

“Where is the ocean, nadi?”

“Clearly not here. Let me explain.”

“In my language! Please!”

He’d said that in Ragi. Which said Jase was at least getting the reflexes under control.

“Five fast minutes, then, inMosphei’. You remember how dangerous I said Tatiseigi was?—Well, the aiji-dowager is the focusof every anti-Tabini dissident in the country. Shehas the legitimacy Tatiseigi doesn’t. Except for the legislature voting the other way after her husband died, she could have been aiji. Except for them voting for her grandson after her son died, she could have been aiji. She could step in tomorrow without the country falling apart, and she’s the onlyone who’d avoid an unthinkable bloodbath, but she’s also—” One was neversure a room lacked bugs. And was always playing for an audience. “She’s also fair and honorable. She’s been exceedingly moral in all her dealings with the welfare of the Association. It would have been a loteasier for her to have raised a civil war against her grandson. But she didn’t, and I’m alive to say so. So keep objections to a minimum. And for God’s sake don’t make any objections to her. I asked her to show you atevi life as it was before humans came!”

“This is it, then, this falling-down ruin?”

“You listen to me, Jase.”

Jase shoved him, hard, and he grabbed Jase’s coat to prevent a swing at him.

“I’ve beenlistening to you,” Jase said, trying to free himself, and shoved again.

“You’re being stupid, stupidis what you’re being! Stand still!”

Jase clawed at his hand and he let go. And they stood and stared at each other, Jase panting for breath, himself very much on the verge of hitting him, someone, anyone.

“All right,” Jase said. “All right, I’ll go along with this. I’ll play your rules, your game, let’s just keep smiling.”

“Let me explain, before we switch languages again. If you insult this woman, you could have a war. If you insult this woman you could be killed. I am not exaggerating. We are dealing with cultural differences here. We are dealing with people who don’t owe anything to whatever code of ethics lies in our mutual past. So whatever happens, you get a grip on that temper, Mr. Graham. You get a grip on it or I’ll suggest to our staff they feed you some tea that’ll have you throwing up your guts for three days and ship you back to the apartment before you say something to kill several million people! Do I make myself clear?”

“No guts yourself?”

“No brains, Mr. Graham? If I hit you, and I’m tempted, God! I’m tempted; they’ll see the bruises—which I’d rather not, for your reputation and future—”

Jase swung. Bren didn’t even think about doing it—he hit Jase hard. Jase grabbed his coat, Bren blocked a punch with one arm, hit Jase in the gut, and had to block another punch.

They hit the table together, holding on to each other. The candle fell, they both overbalanced and went down, and Bren writhed his way to his knees, blind, angry, and being hit by an idiot he wanted to kill. Before he got a grip on Jase, Jase got a grip on him, and they knelt there on the floor like two total fools, each with a deathgrip on the other’s coat, sleeve, arm, shoulder, whatever.

“Get up,” he said. “We’ve put the damn candle out. Are you trying to burn the building down?”

“Damn you.”

He shook at Jase. Jase was braced. They were that way for several more breaths.

“Are they going to walk in and find us like this?” he asked Jase. “Get up!”

“Let go.”

“No way in hell.”

“Truce. Let go.”

He didn’t let go. He started to get up, Jase started to get up, and they got up leaning on each other, still holding on to each other, managing a slow, mistrustful disengagement.

Fool, he said to himself. He wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t happy, either, as he trusted Jase’s common sense enough to pick up the candles, the extinguished one in the holder and the entire basket of them that had been overset.

He took a match, relit the candle. They’d delivered body blows, at least of those that had landed; and hadn’t done each other visible damage, give or take dust on their clothes. The candle and the wan light from the window showed him Jase with hair flying loose, collar rumpled, a sullen look. He figured it had as well be a mirror of himself at the moment.

“We have to go to dinner tonight.”

“In this wreckage?”

“ Thisis a Historic Monument, Jasi-ji, and I suggest if she declares it’s a palace on the moon you bow and agree that it’s very fine and you’re delighted to be here.”

There was a long silence from the other side.

“Yes, sir,” Jase said.

“I’m not sir.”

“Oh, but I thought you’d taken that back. You are siror you aren’tin this business, so make up your mind!”

“Damn that talk. This is not your ship. You’re supposed to be doing a job, you’re not doing it, you damn near created a rift in the government and I brought you here to patch the holes, the gapingholes, in your knowledge of these people, theircustoms, theirlanguage, and yoursensitivity to a vast, unmapped world of experience to which you’re blind, Mr. Graham. I suggest you say thank you, put yourself back to rights, and don’t expect atevito do the job you volunteered for. They weren’t born to understand you, they’re on theirplanet, enjoying theirlives quite nicely without your input, and I suggest if you approach atevi officials who owe theirprecious scant time to their own people, you do so politely, appreciate their efforts to understand you, they choose to make such efforts, or I’ll see you out of here.”

“Thank you,” Jase said coldly.

“Thank you for waiting to blow up.”

“Don’t push me. Don’tpush me. You need my good will.”

“Do I? You could have an accident. They’d send me another.”

There was a small, shocked silence. Then: “You’re an atevi official. Is that the way you think of yourself?”

“You don’t question me, mister. When it comes to relations withthe atevi, I amsir, to you, and you do as you’re told. You and your rules-following. This is the time for it, this is the time in your whole life you’d betterfollow the damn rules, and nowyou want to do things your own way! What do I need to diagram for you? Where did you get the notion youknow what in hell’s going on? Or did I miss a revelation from God?”

A long, long silence, this time. Jase didn’t look him in the eye. He stared at the floor, or at dust on his clothing, which he brushed off, at the light from the window, at anything in the world but him.

“I think we should go back to Shejidan,” Jase said to the window. “This isn’t going to help.”

“Well, it’s not quite convenient at the moment to go back. You asked for this, and you’ve got it. So be grateful.”

“The hell! You’ve lied to me.”

“In what particular?”

A silence. A silence that went on and on while Jase stared off into nowhere and fought for composure.

There was a small rap at the door.

“Nadi?” Bren asked, wishing the interruption had had better timing, to prevent the incident in the first place. He shouldn’t have hit Jase. It hadn’t helped. The man had lost his father. He was on a hair-trigger as it was. He’d chosen this particular time to bear down on the language, probably becauseof his father’s death; and now he didn’t know where he was: he was temporarily outside rational expression.

The door opened.

“Is there a difficulty, nadiin?” Banichi asked—Banichi, who was lodged next door, and, if there was anyone besides Ilisidi’s chief of security, Cenedi, who was likely to have heard the entire episode, he’d about bet Banichi had the equipment in his baggage and would use it.

“No,” he said. “Thank you, Banichi-ji. Is everyone settled? What’s our schedule?”

“A light dinner at sunset. An early start, at sunrise.”

“We’ll be ready. Thank you, Banichi-ji.”

“Nadi.” The door closed.

“He heard us,” Bren said quietly.

“I thought they took orders from you,” Jase said in a surly tone.

“No. They don’t. One of a great many things you don’t know, isn’t it?”

Another small silence.

“You needto know, Jase. You’d better learn. I’m trying to help you, dammit.”

“I’m sorry,” Jase said then. “I’m just—”

Jase didn’t finish it. Neither did he. He waited.

“I am sorry,” Jase repeated, in Ragi. “Nadi, I was overturned.”

“Upset,” he said automatically and bit his lip. “Overturned, too, with reason. Jasi-ji. I know that. Can we recover our common sense?”

“Nadi,” Jase said, “I wish to see the ocean. Will it be possible?”

“Nadi, you’re very forward to keep asking me. If I were atevi I should be offended. Learn that.”

A small hesitation. A breath. “Nadi, I take your information, but you are not atevi and I wish very much to know and not be surprised.”

“I’ll try to find out,” Bren said. “There are things I don’t understand.” He hesitated to say so, but there were very quiet alarm bells ringing in the subconscious. “Observe a little caution. This is in excess of the conditions I expected. We arepossibly in danger, nadi. One wonders if we have quite left behind the events in the city.”

“Is this part of the lesson?”

Layers, upon layers, upon layers. “No,” he said. “It isn’t.”

“Are you lying to me right now?”

“No,” Bren said. “And of course, if I were, I would say I wasn’t. But I’m not. I’ve turned us over to Tabini’s grandmother, and I don’t know what the truth is. The aiji thought us safe to be here. But I am, however mildly, concerned at the conditions. I can’t say why I’m concerned. I just would expect—somewhat more comfort than we have here, more evidence that someone had some idea of the conditions here beforethe aiji-dowager took guests here.” He wasn’t sure Jase followed that. But there was something ticking over at the back of his brain now that he was no longer focusing on Jase’s potential for explosion. That feeling of unease said that the dowager had security concerns, very reasonable security concerns, as did they. As did Mogari-nai, some distance away across the plain, which one would expect would be a very sensitive area; and they weren’t seeing the security level at this place he had expected.

“Can you ask Banichi?”

“Within his man’chi, yes.”

“Qualified yes.”

“Always. It always is.” It was the truth he gave Jase, and the answer was one that struck deep at what was human and what was atevi. He understood Banichi’s priorities and took no offense at them. He wasn’t in the mood to explain. He wasn’t in the mood now to doubt his own security.

Just the dowager’s.

Not a cheerful thought.

“Can you ask them what the schedule is?” Jase persisted.

“We were just told what the schedule is.”

“For tomorrow, I mean.”

He turned and fixed Jase with a glum stare. “I’ll tell you a basic truth of atevi, nadi. If there were no real need for you to know that, yes, you could go, or I could go, and ask anyone around us. But because there issome question of good will here, and since that’s why you need to know, no, it wouldn’t be prudent to ask. Never make your hosts lie to you, Jasi-ji. Once that starts, you don’t know what to believe.”

“They’re not lying?” Clearly Jase was not convinced.

“Not yet, I think. Not likely. But I haven’t seen Cenedi. I haven’t seen the dowager. I haven’t seen anything but one servant, and our own security.”

“What does that tell you?”

“Nadi, in response to your far too blunt question, it tells me either that people are busy because we’ve come here on short notice and quite clearly they’ve had to move even food up this hill to have anything on hand—or—there’s something going on and they’re too polite to offer us the possibility of a question.”

“Meaning what?”

“Again too blunt, nadi.” He was determined to push, in coldly correct, even kindly atevi fashion, to see whether Jase was capable of holding his temper. “But in response to your question, and in hopes your next question will be more moderate, they may avoid our presence rather than put themselves in the position of lying or us in the position of needing to be polite.” He changed languages. “A new word for you: naigoch’imi. It means feigned good will.”

“ Naigoch’imi. Is that what we’re dealing with?”

“We? Now it’s we? A moment ago you wanted to kill me.”

“I wanted the truth, dammit. And I still don’t know if this includes you.”

“Is that the way they get the truth on the ship? With fists?”

A silence. Several small breaths. “I won’t apologize, Bren.”

“Fine.”

Back into the ship’s language. “Friendship wouldn’t have hurt, you know. From the beginning, friendship wouldn’t have hurt.”

NowJase wanted to talk. He’d had enough from his brother. And he wasn’t in the mood for sentiment, dammit, he’d turned it off between him and Jase at the beginning.

“Frankly,” he said with coldness that amazed himself, “I don’t know that you’ve ever offered any such thing. Not since we first spoke on the radio before you came down here. You were bright, interested, pleasant. But since you landed, since then—”

“I tried!”

“And I have a job to do, which means hammering words into your head, like it or not—no, I’m not always pleasant. I can’t be! Youwere a teacher—I’m not. So I do the best I can, even in the intervals when you had the luxury to be annoyed at me.”

“So I’ve learned. I have learned.”

“So you’ve worked at it. Good for you. You’ve also gotten mad. But I didn’t have the luxury to be mad, no matter what you said, no matter what you did. So I’ve taken it. I’ve taken anything you wanted to hand out, because I know my way around, I have the fluency, and I’m used to being the diplomat in touchy situations.—But friends, no. A friendwould have met me halfway. A friendwould have advanced some understanding that I’m crowding teaching you into the spaces where—never mind my leisure time—the spaces where I was getting sleep, nadi. Friendship wasn’t in the requirements, I haven’t asked it and I damn sure haven’t gotten it!”

“You don’t give me a chance.”

“It was your choice, from the first day you landed. You weren’t pleased with me or anyone else. You’ve made no secret of it. You never have trusted me. Why are we talking about it now? What do you want from me?”

“I expected…” Jase stopped, a need for words, or just a shaky breath. “Things were not what you promised from the moment we landed!”

(Hanks yelling, Don’t trust them! The whole plain afire. Atevi armed to the teeth and clear evidence of an armed conflict.)

“You had some reason to think that, I’ll grant.”

“And they’re not what you said here!” Jase flung a gesture about him, at the stones, the situation. “Every time I trust you! Every damned timeI trust you, Bren, something blows up in my face! You’re the one that keeps the peace between your people and the atevi—but your people aren’t speaking to you, have you noticed that?”

“You’ve trusted me once to come down,” he said restrainedly, “and once to come here. At no other time have I asked you—”

“Oh, it’s believeme, trustme, I know what I’m doing, every time I draw a breath, Bren! I trusted you into that damn party. I trusted you into that interview. Well, where in hell is the ocean?”

“You’ll have to trust me again.”

“I believed you enough to come down here! Do you know how many parachutes, Bren? Did you notice how many parachutes? The first chute failed, Bren!”

Jase outright ran out of breath. And seemed to want something in reply. He saw Jase’s eyes fixed on him as they’d not steadied on anything in the chaos of the trip up.

“I know,” he said. “I sawthat. I’m glad you made it. I’m personally glad you made it. If that needs to be said.”

“Personally glad.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to die.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“What do I need to do? Name it for me. What would satisfy you?”

“An expression. Have an expression on your face. Tell me the truth for once.”

The remark about his lack of expression stung: it was probably true. But it clarified the source of objections, too. “I’ve tried,” he said with labored patience, “to teach you a language and a way of dealing with this world. And you ignore my lessons. Your repeated insistence on questions I’ve pointedly ignored is rude in atevi eyes, and on such points of misunderstanding with atevi we began a war that killed a great many people. Doyou understand that?”

“Then cure my misunderstanding. Why in hell are we on this hilltop, in this place?”

“For a good time. Which we will have. Relax.”

“What are we down to? Trustme? Trustme, one more time?”

“Yes!”

“God.” Jase ran a hand through his hair and walked to the window. Stark daylight painted him in white as he stood there staring out. And as he stood straight, as if he’d seen the devil. “There are mechieti out there!”

Atevi riding animals. Jase had had that experience on his first hour on the planet.

“Doing what, nadi?” he asked Jase.

“Eating the grass. Inside the wall.”

“That’s fine,” Bren said. “They’re the dowager’s.”

“What does she need them for?”

“Getting down to the sea, maybe.”

“I’m not riding!”

“I think you’ll do what she says,” Bren said calmly. “Whatever it is. She’s a lord far higher than I am. And this is, in all important senses, her land.”

“Bren—” Jase turned, became a shadow against the white light of outdoors. There was a moment of silence. Then: “All right. All right. Whatever you say.”

“We’re here to enjoy ourselves. Make an effort at it. And get your wits about you. Complain to me in private if you must. Don’toffend her. This is not a lesson. This is not an understatement. This is by nomeans a game.”

Prolonged silence from the shadow in front of the light.

Then, coldly: “Oh, I don’t take it for that, nadi.”

It was sunset outside. The hilltop felt the chill of evening. But the fireplace functioned, the long table had a white cloth and the benches had folded blankets to keep the splinters from ruining clothes. There was crystal, there were candles, there was the aiji’s banner, red and black, and the banner of Malguri, red and green, within the candle and firelight, and there was a respectable, even a splendid dinner in front of them. Ilisidi sat in the endmost seat; Banichi and Jago and Cenedi were seated, privilege of rank; Tano and Algini were seated but on duty, even here, so Banichi said; and the paidhiin were seated, one on one side, one on the other.

No one sat endmost to match Ilisidi. But then, no one ranked that high in the Association but the aiji himself.

There was pastry, there was a vegetable course—immense quantities disappeared, which Bren helped, and Jase discovered a vegetable dish he favored, clearly, while it remained a wonder where Ilisidi put the quantities she tucked away; certainly it wasn’t evident on her spare and (for an ateva) diminutive frame.

It must go into sheer energy, Bren decided. For a while there was no discussion, only food, and then the main course arrived, the seasonal fare, which was fish, and a delightful tart berry sauce.

“So,” Ilisidi said, “did you settle your disagreement, you two?”

The woman missed nothing.

“Jas-on-paidhi?”

“Nand’ dowager, I am told not to talk except the children’s language. I apologize for my inability in advance.”

“Oh, risk it. I’m not easily shocked.”

God, Bren thought. “nand’ dowager,” he said. “Jase-paidhi is at a great disadvantage of vocabulary.”

“As the nation heard.” Ilisidi tapped her glass and a servant poured. “Water. Pure spring water. Perfectly safe.—But, do you know, Jase-paidhi, I would have bet against your learning the language so quickly. Yolanda-paidhi, on the island, of course, had no such requirement.”

“No, nand’ dowager.”

“And she’s been turning over the precious secrets—at a greater rate of speed?”

Pitfall, Bren thought and opened his mouth and didn’t dare say a word.

“Not so, I think, if you please, nand’ dowager. Engineering diagrams are the same with both the island and Bren-paidhi.”

“One hears also of sad news from that quarter. One regrets your loss, Jas-on-paidhi.”

Jase ducked his head. “Thank you for your good will, nand’ dowager.”

“And how isnand’ Yolanda? Is she faring well? I get nonews from my reprehensible grandson.”

“I believe she is well, nand’ dowager.”

“You believe she is well.”

Jase looked toward him, disturbed, likely not sure he’d followed her around that corner or used the right word. He had.

“He doesn’t understand, nand’ dowager,” Bren said. And didn’t add, thinking of those illicit radio transmissions, Nor do I.

“Oh, well. How do you find the fish, Jas-on-paidhi?”

“The fish is very good, nand’ dowager.”

“Good.—Such an innocent. What’s it like on the ship, Jase-paidhi? Tell me. Satisfy an old woman.”

“It’s—a lot like being indoors.”

“Oh, well, boring, then. Give me the open air, I say. Do you like it there?”

“I hope to go back there. When the ship flies, nand’ dowager.”

“And when will that be?”

“I’d say sooner rather than later, aiji-ma,” Bren said, anxious to divert Ilisidi from her stalking and probing for reaction, one damned jab after another. She was noton her best behavior and she was enjoying every second of it.

“Another damned machine roaring and polluting the fields,” Ilisidi said, and had a bite of fish. “Now, one could make a ship to go beneath the sea and see the wonders there. Have you ever thought of that, nand’ paidhi?”

“It could be done,” Bren said, and broke every law on the books.

“You might persuade me to go on a ship like that. I’m less sure about this spaceship. What do you think, nand’ Jase?”

“About what, nand’ dowager? I’m not sure I follow.”

“Do you think I’m too old to fly on your ship?”

“No, nand’ dowager. You ride. I’m sure you could fly.”

“Wise lad. Flattery is the essence of politics. One wondered whether ship-folk are as wise as Mospheirans. Possibly they are.”

“They can learn,” Bren said, before Jase could think of words. “Don’t you say yourself, aiji-ma, that he’s quick?”

“Oh, not so quick as you, nand’ paidhi.”

“One tries, aiji-ma.” It was a fencing match from start to finish. “So what do you have in store for us?”

“A brisk ride, a little outing.—More fish, nand’ paidhi? I’ll assure you simpler fare tomorrow.”

He recalled Ilisidi’s brisk rides and hoped Jase didn’t break his neck. And had the other helping, taking that for a warning.

Jase, fortunately, said nothing. But seemed not to have as great an appetite.

“Well, well,” Ilisidi began.

And of a sudden Banichi, Cenedi, and Jago were simultaneously leaving the benches in a fast maneuver, and Tano and Algini, rising, had guns visible in their hands. So did two of the servants. Something was beeping.

“Perimeter alarm,” Cenedi said, with a slight sketch of a bow toward Ilisidi. And started giving orders to persons unseen in the room.

“Piffle,” Ilisidi said, and rose slowly from the only chair. “What a pest!”

As a gunshot popped somewhere in the distance.

And Cenedi said, after recourse to his pocket com, “One individual. They have him.”

“Him, is it?”

Oh, God, Bren thought with a sinking feeling.

“They haven’t killed him, have they?” Bren asked, and held his breath until Banichi had asked and received an answer.

“No. He flung himself to the ground and surrendered. Quite wisely so, nadi.”

Bren sat down again and had another sip of his drink.

The island of Dur was, he recalled from the map, off the northern coast of the promontory—down a great steep bluff that one would take for a barrier to sensible people. But it was there.

And after witnessing an ungodly persistence in a culture where a young man knew he was risking his life, he had a sinking feeling of a persistence that, measured against a minor air traffic incident, no longer made sense.

17

They were, Banichi said, over the dessert course, questioningthe young man, and would have a report soon.

Jase looked entirely unhappy, and concentrated on the cream pastry with mintlike icing.

Pastries disappeared by twos and threes off atevi plates, and Bren poked at his with occasional glances at Jago, who returned not a look in his direction. Ilisidi had said nothing further; Cenedi wouldn’t. Banichi wasn’t communicating beyond what he’d said.

“The boy is a fool,” Ilisidi said, out of no prior question, and added, “Do you know, lord Geigi invited us fishing, and offered to meet us with his boat on the southern reach by the airport. But I think this silliness may divert us to the north.”

That brought a glance up from Jase, and Bren suffered a turn of the stomach. Nothing at this moment was chance, not Ilisidi’s remark, not the boy’s intrusion into a government reserve, not the mention of lord Geigi, and Bren recalled all too well the radio traffic to the north, which was to the north—of the island of Dur.

Which was not beyond reach of Mogari-nai and the earth station. Which was not beyond reach of the town of Saduri. Which was not beyond reach of the fortress where they were having holiday with a mostly invisible security with pipe and board scaffolding and an excess of dust in the shadows yonder.

Deana Hanks and her damned radio talk.

And her connections to Direiso and her ambitions to move against Tabini?

Direiso and her cat’s-paw Saigimi, who was now dead, thanks to Tabini?

Direiso, who wished to be aiji in Shejidan, and who was a neighbor to Taiben?

Taiben was not only Tabini’s habitual retreat and ancestral holding, but also the wintering-place for Tabini’s aged and eastern-born grandmother who herself had twice nearly been aiji, but for the legislatures concluding her ascendancy would mean bloody retributions for past wrongs.

Their Ilisidi, their host tonight, sitting demolishing a third cream pastry.

The situation had so many angles one wanted tongs to handle it.

“So,” Jase said, where angels and fools alike feared to tread. “nand’ dowager, but we aregoing fishing?”

Going fishing, Bren thought in disbelief. Going fishing? They had a young man under interrogation for invasion of a perimeter only slightly less touchy than that around Tabini himself, Ilisidi talking about lord Geigi joining them, and Deana Hanks talking to two atevi on radio who were probably Direiso’s agents, and Jase asked were they going fishing?

His roommate, however, was neither clairvoyant nor briefed on matters, and the last statement he’d heard uttered regarded lord Geigi and a boat.

Ilisidi never batted an eye as she looked in Jase’s direction and said, “Perhaps.”

Oh, God, Bren thought, feeling that the conversation was going down by the stern. He tried to catch Jago’s eye, or Banichi’s, and got nothing but a stare from Cenedi as uninformative and sealed as Ilisidi’s was. He looked the other direction down the table, at Algini, and Tano, and a cluster of the dowager’s young men, as she called them, all Guild, all dangerous, all doubtless better informed than he was.

“I would like the Onondisi bay, nand’ dowager,” Jase said. “I’ve heard a great deal about the island. I saw it from the air.”

Ilisidi quirked that brow that could, were the Guild under such instructions, doom a man to die, and smiled at Jase.

“We may, I say, go north, nadi.”

Bren dropped his knife onto the stone floor, necessitating a scramble by servants to retrieve it.

“Foolish of me,” Bren said with a deep bow of his head, and allowed its replacement with a clean one without comment. “Perhaps it’s the drink, nand’ dowager. May I suggest my associate go to bed now.”

“Early start tomorrow,” Ilisidi said. “These young folk. Cenedi-ji, were we ever so easily exhausted?”

“I think not, aiji-ma,” Cenedi said quietly.

“This modern reliance on machines.” Ilisidi made a wave of her hand. “Go, go! No one should leave the table before he’s done, but get to bed in good season, else I assure you you’ll pay for it tomorrow!”

Jase at least comprehended it was a dismissal and, Tano and Algini clearing the bench for him, he was able to extricate himself. Bren worked his way out, having been similarly freed by two of Ilisidi’s security. The two further benches rose in courtesy to the departing paidhiin.

“Go, go,” Ilisidi said to the offered bows, and gave another wave. “In the morning, gather at the front steps.”

“Nand’ dowager,” Jase said with a further bow, and not a thing else. Bren escorted him from the hall, up the steps, to their room, and inside, into the candle-lit dark and chill of an unheated room.

Jase turned. Bren shut the door.

Jase said, humanwise: “Trust you, is it?”

“What’s the matter with you? Were you tryingto foul things up or was it your lucky night?”

At least Jase shut up, whether in temper or the mild realization that things might be more complicated than he thought.

“Do me a great favor, if you please, nadi. Go to bed.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I assure you. Take whichever side you wish, nadi, and I will gladly take the other.”

“Where are yougoing?”

“To try to patch up the dowager’s good regard and find out what the boy from Dur is doing here, at the real risk of his life.”

He might have been mistaken by candlelight; but there was a little reckoning of that latter statement on Jase’s part, and maybe a prudent decision not to ask a question he had in mind.

“Will they tell you that?” Jase asked.

“They’d have told youif you hadn’t set the evening on its ear. You do notquestion the dowager and you do notquestion her arrangements! Jase, what in hell’s the matter with you? This is your associate here, me! This is the person with an equal interest in seeing that ship fly! What are we fighting about?”