Protector

  But there were bits and pieces of this he began to think were missing.

  “You could have postponed this and let us handle it.”

  “We had an invitation,” Jase said. “An excuse to have a look down here. To talk, as we’re doing. Tabini got caught by surprise once. Not twice, we think. But we don’t intend to end up with another situation as bad as Murini in charge down here.”

  “You had an invitation. I’ve asked you down here. Fishing, I said. If you think it’s all going to hell down here, you could have kept the kids and just sent us reinforcements!”

  “We have our reasons, Bren. Internal reasons, which really don’t affect the situation Algini was talking about. The kids are here because it suits our purposes. I’m here to show the Reunioners we care about those kids, enough to put one of the four captains at risk . . . should there be a risk.” A tilt of Jase’s head. “Seriously, Bren, I’m here to assess the situation. We have communications methods that don’t need to go through Mogari-nai. If you really need Geigi to drop one of his relay stations onto the Kadagidi’s doorstep, he’s prepared to do it.”

  And scare hell out of the general population. My God. “That’s a joke.”

  A faint smile. “Of course it’s a joke. But not the fact we’re serious about your survival. If we sent a force down here—Geigi didn’t have to tell me it would upset things. Upset a lot of people. Kids, however. Not so threatening. A ship-captain? Of course I have a bodyguard.”

  It made a sort of sense. It apparently made sense enough that even Tatiseigi hadn’t been that upset.

  It didn’t reassure him, however, about the underlying situation.

  “I don’t know if you caught all of what Algini just advised me. He hints that she may be pulling the strings on this whole business. If that’s true—she’s using this the same way you are. She’s positioning assets. She won’t want to upset the boy’s birthday. But she’s preparing something. If it can stay quiet, we get through this and get all the kids back where they belong with no problem. If it doesn’t—you understand this matter is reaching inside the Guild itself.”

  “I’m right with you.”

  The hindbrain was working, assembling pieces. Now he began to get a grasp of why Tatiseigi had so amazingly volunteered to take in a flock of human children. Tatiseigi probably didn’t know exactly why he’d been asked to fling himself into the breach—Ilisidi’s last recourse to him had entailed the whole last year repairing Tirnamardi—but he’d bet anything that the old man had gotten a flattering, urgent, and desperate appeal from Ilisidi to do it for Cajeiri, on whom Tatiseigi doted above all things.

  “All right,” he said. “These kids. Geigi said there were problems.”

  “I have a dossier on each of them.”

  He wasn’t entirely surprised. “So.”

  “Basically good kids,” Jase said, shot a look to the rear of the car, then said. “Irene’s our problem. Not the kid. Her mother. She was very upset about Irene’s association with Cajeiri. I won’t say what she said, but it got to the net. Then the Reunioners figured out who Cajeiri was. That changed things. Fast. Some of the people we trust least have become good friends of this woman. When the invitation came, Irene’s mother said yes with not one question about the conditions, the safety, anything. The kid was scared of the trip. Scared of the landing. Scared of her mother is my guess. Artur’s parents asked every question they could think of. Sabin talked to them, and they were still reluctant, but the boy wanted it. This is the boy that wrote a letter every week. Of course the letters weren’t getting through. But he said he was always sure Cajeiri would answer when he could.”

  “And Gene?”

  Jase let go a slow breath. “Gene—Gene’s mother’s another story. Gene got swept up by security. Guess where? The atevi section. Turned out he’d been missing three days prior and his mother hadn’t reported it. When the invitation came, he reported himself to admin, real scared that that detention record was going to stop him. A kid, solo, going up into admin. His mother had to sign. That’s all she did. The other parents turned up to see their kids board. If you want my guess, Gene had four, five people for one year of his life who actually cared where he was. We reached port. The group broke up. That was it. He’s waited for this. Probably more than any of them.”

  “Confirms my instinct,” Bren said. If there was one kid of the three that—just from what he’d heard from Cajeiri—might well be the human associate Cajeiri needed, he thought it wouldn’t be the compliant, pleasant Artur. Irene? She might or might not adapt. But Gene, the troublemaker, Gene, the kid who had showed them the tunnels, was the one Cajeiri always mentioned first.

  And Gene was the one Bren resonated with personally. This solo leave-taking from the station felt very familiar. The scene when he’d told his own mother he was headed to the mainland for a year at a time, that his assignment had come through? Her response hadn’t exactly been congratulatory.

  Long while since he’d thought of that. But he certainly hadn’t had the blessing of his family.

  “They didn’t do anything on the ship without Cajeiri,” he said. “Now they’re in a strange place. They’re likeliest to take his cues. Put Cajeiri in charge of them whenever you’re not there. He has his own bodyguard. And his great-grandmother is here. He minds her more than anyone.”

  Jase said: “We’ve got one more asset. Locators on the kids.”

  “Can they take them off?”

  “Not without going barefoot.”

  “Good,” he said. “Good!”

  He felt better about the situation, hearing that. He wasn’t mad at Ilisidi, or at Cenedi. She had her objectives. They were essentially atevi objectives, and for the good of the side he was on. A chance to fortify Tatiseigi, and do it by sleight of hand, so that it looked like the security that would attend the unprecedented grouping of herself and her grandson and a batch of foreign guests out at Tirnamardi? Of course she took it.

  But her movement to that place was as clandestine as they could make it, and that security wasn’t going away when they went back to the capital. It was going to stay right there, and any notions the Kadagidi had of reaching out to intimidate their neighbor or remove the dowager’s most valuable ally would meet that security head on.

  Sooner or later the Kadagidi were going to make that move. Sooner or later, the Kadagidi were going to realize that the sudden dearth of information from inside Tirnamardi was not a temporary condition, that the investment they’d made over centuries, getting persons of Kadagidi man’chi into positions in Atageini centers of town government, even into Tatiseigi’s household—was never going to pay off. Their entire operation was being dismantled, that at Tirnamardi first. Then the others. Kadagidi Guild would realize it. They would have to watch it happen—piece by piece—and eventually they would realize at least some of the information they had already gotten was false.

  That was the slow way things could evolve.

  In a way, that was what had just happened to Ajuri, on a smaller scale, when Tabini had tossed out Damiri’s Ajuri staff. Lord Komaji now found himself cut off, with no information, when his daughter was about to give birth, and when his grandson had started turning up on the news with Ilisidi and human children.

  Komaji’s move toward the Atageini made sense in that context. Komaji might well be trying to get more information, among the clans next to Atageini land—it was always a soft border, with the smaller clans dealing with one side and the other.

  That the dowager, who was supposed to be headed for Malguri, was actually going toward Tirnamardi at the same time was something Komaji might not know.

  There was a certain danger in that. Komaji had been a fool in the Bujavid. His reputation was in tatters. If, when he found out about Ilisidi and the children, he made a move down into Atageini land—

  That was the fast way the situation with the Kadagidi could evo
lve.

  But the Kadagidi would be fools to get involved with Komaji’s mistake.

  Total fools.

  • • •

  Linens arrived.

  Tableware. More fruit juice. Plates with sandwiches. And eggs.

  “What’s this?” Irene asked.

  “A pickled egg,” Cajeiri said, and popped one into his mouth. “It’s safe. Red eggs, don’t eat. The green are all safe. Enjoy it.”

  Irene tried it, tasting just the end, and screwed up her face. She put it down and carefully looked into the sandwich lying on her plate.

  “Don’t do that,” Gene said. “If you look, you’re just going to be worried about it. And you know what they said. Whatever it is, just eat it. They’ll be sure it’s safe for us.” He had eaten his egg in two mouthfuls, washed it down with fruit juice, and took a bite of the sandwich. “Pretty good actually, together.”

  “I hate spicy things,” Irene said in a thin voice.

  “You’re going to get real hungry in two weeks,” Artur said. “Better eat it, girl. You know what the captain said.”

  Irene did, squeezing her eyes tight shut. She ate it like Gene, in two big bites, washed it down with sweet orangelle, which was, truthfully, not the best combination, but that was the drink she had wanted. She shivered all over. “It’s sour!”

  “Won’t kill you,” Gene said. “Got to do it. Or in two weeks you’re going to be a lot skinnier.”

  “Long time ’til supper,” Artur said.

  “Try the teacake, Rene-ji,” Cajeiri said. Everybody liked cakes.

  She was upset. Irene got upset when they teased her. But after a little bite of that, her face brightened. “Oh, that’s good!”

  “Dessert,” Gene said. “It’ll be a good last bite.”

  “Come on, Reny,” Artur said. “Dare you. You can do it. You’re not going to back out now.”

  She had another bite of sandwich.

  The lunches all disappeared—in Irene’s case, in large bites, quickly swallowed, washed down with the fruit drink. It was, Cajeiri thought, fairly brave of her, especially the egg, which, to be honest, he had used to dislike. He gave her his own teacake, and she looked at him.

  And very reluctantly pushed it back, as his.

  “I can get more,” he said, which was almost always true. If they were there for dessert, there would be a supply for tea. “Do you want more?”

  They did. He asked mani’s guards if there were extra cakes, and indeed, they each had one more, to finish their lunch, and then black tea, which Irene also found a challenge, but she drank it.

  “Ugh,” she said after a big mouthful, but after a moment she took another one. And another.

  He had used to bring food from mani’s table to the passages of the ship, so it was not their first sample of atevi cooking, but it was a lot more elaborate. He had been afraid what he brought would poison them, before, so he had mostly stolen sweet dried things they thought were candy.

  Now they had to face slimy pickled eggs. But they liked the cakes, and they had eaten all of a whole regular meal, and nobody was sick.

  That was very good.

  After they had cleared away lunch, they sat at their table and talked and talked—about living on the station, and where they lived now, and what they had been doing for the last year—Irene and Artur had lessons, mostly, a lot of math and science. Their parents were strict about it. “We couldn’t get out much,” Irene said. “The station’s big.” She used several words he could not get, saying something about Mospheirans that sounded unhappy.

  “The atevi section you can’t get into,” Gene said. “I tried. I just wanted to see, you know. Security is pretty tight. That was a big mistake.”

  His face wasn’t happy when he talked about that. The others looked uncomfortable. Everything they said about the station sounded unhappy, but he could only get the little words, not the big ones.

  He tried to think of something else in the awkward silence, something that would make them happy. Something they could talk about. Then he thought about his slingshota. He took it out of his pocket, and took out the three stones and laid them on the table.

  “What’s that?” Gene asked.

  “One of my good things.”

  “That’s weird,” Irene said, and reached out carefully and fingered the handle very carefully. Tapped it. “Is that plastic?”

  He didn’t couldn’t remember their word for wood. “Tree,” he said. “Tree stuff.”

  “You’re kidding,” Gene said. “Wood?” He touched it carefully. “I’ve never felt it.”

  Artur picked up one of the stones, and said a new word. Irene said it again and added: “What planets and moons are made of.”

  “Rock,” Cajeiri said in Ragi. “That’s a rock.”

  “Rock,” Artur said. “Rock, yes. I guess it is. But I’ve never had my hands on one.”

  “You’re kidding,” Cajeiri said, and then he remembered they had never been outside the ship or the station. And he could not think of anywhere on the station that was rock, or stone.

  “It’s smooth,” Artur said, then, and he rolled it around between his fingers. “Is it made?”

  “Water,” Cajeiri said. “Water made it smooth.”

  “How,” Gene asked, “do you make it do that?”

  That was an odd question. But then he realized he had no ship-speak word for river. Or stream. There was ocean. But no word for waves or beach. What they had talked about on the ship was the ship, usually. Occasionally stories they remembered.

  He had come prepared. He had a little notebook, and a pen. He started drawing the seacoast, and the peninsula. “Najida. This. Nand’ Bren’s.” He started describing things in Ragi, slowly, and Irene wanted paper, and borrowed the pen to write the words her way on her paper. So they started giving each other words, using the rocks and the slingshota and the juice sloshing in the cup. Waves. Beach. Rocks. Pebbles. Sand. Tides.

  It was the old game, the way they had used to be, and he began to feel increasingly at ease. He showed them how the slingshota worked, and that got the attention of mani’s bodyguards—but he did not fire a stone, no. He just showed them.

  “That’s really wicked!” Gene said, admiring it.

  “Neat,” Artur said.

  They were impressed. And everything was perfect.

  • • •

  The young group back there, Jago reported, and Kaplan also observed, was entertaining themselves very happily, and being remarkably quiet about it. Bren and Jase sat and talked, and Ilisidi and Tatiseigi conversed at length, before Ilisidi invited them to sit together and do small talk regarding the ship, the persons Ilisidi dealt with—notably Captain Sabin.

  “We are trying to persuade Lord Tatiseigi to pay a visit to the station,” Ilisidi said lightly. “Perhaps you can prevail.”

  “One would realize the extreme honor of such an invitation,” Tatiseigi said with a forbidding gesture. “But I would decline. Flying does not agree with me.”

  “There is no such sensation on the space station,” Ilisidi said.

  “One has no desire to be sealed into a tube and flung into the heavens. With all courtesy, nandi,” Lord Tatiseigi added, with a little nod toward Jase, “toward the elegance I am told exists in the heavens. I am certain it exceeds imagination. But simply to move between Shejidan and Tirnamardi is such an untidy business. One can only imagine the difficulties of a household lifted to the station. Yet—yet I am aware both you and nand’ Bren do maintain such arrangements.”

  “We have very capable staff, nandi. Extraordinary people.”

  “Ah. There is the grade,” Tatiseigi said relative to the train’s motion. It was slowed a bit, then gathered speed again. “That will be a quarter of an hour to our destination, nandiin. Not so rapid as your shuttle. But one is accustomed to it.”
/>
  Guild around them were getting up from seats, putting away service items.

  “Nandiin,” Ilisidi said purposefully, then, in a tone that had nothing of banter about it. “We shall enjoy the hospitality of our esteemed Tatiseigi. We shall see nothing untoward comes near these children.”

  “Let me assure the ship-aiji,” Tatiseigi said, “that he is welcome under my roof. We have ample room. Ample room.”

  “Nand’ Tatiseigi.” Jase gave a very courteous bow, with no hint of bemusement—though he was amazed, Bren was sure. The old man had been pleasant the entire trip. Happy in the event? Bren wondered.

  The old man was going to get off the train and run into Taibeni, who were coming in, arranged by Tatiseigi’s own staff. He thought a warning might be in order. He decided on it.

  “There will be, one is advised, nandi, Taibeni at the station. An assistance. They are reliable.”

  A brow quirked, just a little. The iron good will stayed in place. “Our allies,” he said, as if the words tasted entirely strange. “Yes. That is good to know, nand’ paidhi.”

  12

  The train pulled to a stop. The door opened. The dowager’s men went out first onto the platform. The word came back, clearly, and more went out, and the baggage cars next door opened up, distant thumps.

  Bren got up. Jase did, then Lord Tatiseigi, and, last, Ilisidi, as the aisle had mostly cleared and unloading was proceeding outside. The youngsters stayed where they were—courtesy of the youngest Guild present. Kaplan and Polano, who had generally tried not to block the aisle, and who had found the far side of the galley the easiest for their bulky stance, put their helmets on, as Jase slipped a communications earpiece into his ear and from that moment on was in communication with them.

  “Let Cajeiri’s aishid move the kids,” Bren said. Maneuvering was too tight for Kaplan and Polano, and Cajeiri’s aishid was getting instructions. “Bren-ji,” Banichi said, his own signal, and he joined Banichi and Jago, going quickly down the aisle, in a fast sequence. Jase and his guard would be behind them. Tano and Algini were near the door. Guild moved their own baggage. Personal baggage stayed—it would get there, but not on the bus.