That had gotten a sharp, mistrustful look. “She has said so?”
“She has said everything that makes me believe it.”
“Then you do not know, and yet you present it as truth!”
“I would certainly wager my credibility on it. She is not your enemy, nor wishes to be. She finds no profit and a great deal of disadvantage.”
“She is a–!”
“And you likewise have an agenda regarding the dowager. Forgive me, daja‑ma, but I am not a fool. Here is the dowager’s position. It is specifically in her interest and in the interest of your husband that you and she not be enemies. For her to interfere in your custody of your daughter would assure that you would be. The situation that brought Cajeiri to her will not be repeated. The Guild action in the south is assuring that. So have no doubts. Nothing is being discussed that will separate you from your child.”
Damiri shot him a look that, were it a weapon, would have gone straight through him. Question. Doubt. Apprehension. The mask atevi wore over emotion was quite, quite gone. Are you threatening me? she might have asked. Or: What did my husband say to you? Those seemed to be the thoughts behind that look.
“You say that, with inside knowledge?”
“With no hesitation, daja‑ma. The dowager is not your enemy, nor in any wise wishes to be. If she could make alliance with you, it would well serve her–and you. And your husband and your son.”
The look was only marginally less intense. “You have taken a great deal on yourself, paidhi!”
“In concern for the house I serve, daja‑ma. Yes. I am concerned. Deeply so. I have no wish to see any harm to this household–including you, daja‑ma, and your daughter.”
A long, long stare followed that. He did not look away. He was aware Geigi had come close. And that Tabini had.
“One asks,” he said quietly, “the favor of your patience, daja‑ma, with a person who, however handicapped in understanding, wishes you to continue as consort. You have been an asset to your husband. You were with him through difficult times. You have fought for your position at risk of your life. And one would guess that there were times in those two years when you could have taken refuge in Ajuri, which was surviving Murini’s regime untouched and remote. You stayed with your husband. And were a great asset to him.”
Her eyes moved, flashed fire. “Do not flatter me.”
“I do not. Your husband values you. And approves your choice of colors.”
“Do not dare!”
“You asked me what he said. That was part of it.”
She drew a deep breath. “My son respects you.”
“One is honored by that, daja‑ma.”
“He has too great an attraction to humans.”
“I know that has been the case. I agree.”
“Yet you support him in calling down these foreigners to associate with him.”
“The forbidden becomes a stronger attraction. If you asked my opinion, daja‑ma, which you have not, I would say there is an equal chance that reacquaintance may dim that attraction. They will find him changed. He will find them changed. And then he will understand.”
She continued to frown. At last she said, “You will observe that interchange, paidhi. You will have an opinion. But I doubt it will favor separation.”
“I have yet to form my opinion, daja‑ma. My thought now is that they will have become strangers–who may reassociate; or not. His man’chi to his great‑grandmother–which you deplore, I know–is an absolute guarantee that he is atevi. And the human children will have to deal with that, at a depth he understands far better than they do. He understands man’chi. I assure you–they do not. You will not lose him. He belongs to this earth.”
She was disturbed. It was something positive that she momentarily let it show, a shared intimacy, gone in a flash. “You say so.”
“I know so, daja‑ma. He cannot get from them the affirmation that is so abundantly available to him on this earth.”
“You live among us. You claim you deal in man’chi.”
That was ever so slightly–painful. “I am an association of one,” Bren said quietly, and dropped his own impassivity. “My house is scattered, daja‑ma. My deepest feelings have no point of congruency with those I most regard. I have learned over the years, what I can expect, and what I cannot. The human children, immature as yet, do not remotely understand what your son is: but your son has had long exposure to me, and to my brother and his lady, and he has a certain understanding of what we are. His associates from the ship will likely be troubled at what they find, and if they can patch together a way of working together it will stand them all in good stead. But your son has set roots in the earth, now. He is a little afraid of complexities between his elders that he does not understand–but he is inclined toward you as he is toward his father. Do not turn him aside, daja‑ma, and he will not turn elsewhere. His connection with you is important.”
Damiri’s lips were a thin line. Then relaxed, a serene mask. “How can you know anything?”
“There is, for humans and for you, curiosity toward the foreign. And then there is instinct. Satisfying one–satisfies the mind. Satisfying the other–goes much deeper.”
Nostrils flared. Intake of breath. A sharp flash of dark gold eyes. “When will you be satisfied, paidhi?”
“When I finish my job, daja‑ma. When I see no more wars. No more dying.”
“Then you are in for a long, long wait, paidhi.”
“I know that,” he said.
“What do you get from it?”
He shrugged slightly. “Satisfaction of my instincts, daja‑ma. Deep satisfaction.”
“You find it enough.”
“It is enough, daja‑ma, that I have moments of satisfaction. I think that is all anyone gets.”
A brief silence. A stare. Then: “Keep my son safe, paidhi.”
“I am determined on that, daja‑ma.”
Tabini had moved closer. Bren saw him. And Tabini moved again, this time to intervene, all casualness, all smoothness and ease.
“Your aishid and Geigi’s are waiting, nand’ paidhi. Dami‑daja, we should let the paidhi‑aiji get his distinguished guest home. Lord Geigi has a flight tomorrow and a long train ride to get there. Nand’ Bren, we hope there will be some sleep for you both tonight. We have kept you so late.”
“We shall manage, aiji‑ma.” Bren speared Geigi with a glance and flung another toward the door, a signal. He bowed to Tabini, and to Damiri, and had to pass Ilisidi on his way–not without a sharp glance in return. He bowed. And he got a look back that made his skin prickle.
Well, he had tried. For good or for ill, he had stepped into that sticky relationship and tried to patch the wounds. It was family business, now. It was as much as he could do, and he was glad the boy was abed. One hoped he was sound asleep, because the dowager was still there and showing no sign of leaving.
He gathered up his aishid, Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini, in the foyer. Geigi collected Tema and his company, and they were very quickly out the door, escaped into the coolth and lower emotional pressure of the hall, a startling, ear‑numbing silence around their presence.
“Brave paidhi,” Geigi said.
“It had to be said,” Bren said as they walked together. It was only a short distance to Bren’s own front door–that being the first apartment after the aiji’s.