“Who is it?” Bren asked Jase first-off.
“I’m not sure. The description is dark-skinned, not as dark as atevi, dark hair—speaks Ragi, won’t respond to questions.”
Smart. Presented a quandary that required a command decision—
“They called up to command,” Jase said. “I ordered the kid escorted to the atevi side. Ogun—the man’s getting no sleep—first intervened to object, then cleared it. He wants an answer.”
Other lifts had opened around them, discharged a few humans, who looked sharply toward a gathering of atevi Guild, a ship’s captain, and two atevi lords, and avoided their vicinity.
Then a lift opened right next to them, disgorging ship security, and a smaller figure in atevi riding clothes. Hair dark, close-clipped as no ateva would wear it . . .
That hair had been gold. Abundant and glorious, on a brown-skinned child.
Now it was black, slicked down tight.
That dress, that dignity and a fluency in Ragi, could pose an enigma to ship-folk who’d never seen an atevi youngster close-up. Irene had the bearing of an atevi lord.
She saw them and started walking. “Wait!” one of the escort said, and Irene never flinched, never reacted as if she understood, clever girl. She just walked toward them, and the man who’d made to stop her—didn’t touch her.
She stopped at a proper distance. Bowed quite solemnly and properly.
Bren bowed. Geigi did.
“Irene-nadi,” Bren said quietly in Ragi. “Come. You may come with us now.”
She bowed slightly, perfect manners. She came forward. Banichi and Jago let her through. Then Guild in general closed ranks, so that no passersby could see.
“Dismissed,” he heard Jase say to the escort. “Go on back. We’re fine, here. Good job.”
“Sir,” the answer was, smartly. And that was that.
“Irene,” Bren said, and in ship-speak: “You’re all right now. We’ve got you.”
There’d been no crack in her demeanor. None. Now Irene sucked in a deep breath and hugged her arms about her as if chilled to the bone.
An atevi lord didn’t hug a person in front of witnesses. But he could hold a wounded one. He flung an arm about her, hugged her thin frame. What colored her hair was a hazard to a good coat, but he had no care for it. “Good girl. Where are the others?”
“I don’t know,” she said. She held to his arm, shivering. “I was so scared. I was so scared.”
“Let’s go to the atevi section,” Jase said. “Get her entirely out of Mospheiran reach.” He changed to Ragi. “Let us go to the residency, Geigi-ji. Never mind crossing the interface. We shall take a car from here.”
“Gin Kroger is in voice contact with Mospheiran Central, Geigi-ji,” Bren said. “Harris-nadi is in charge in Central.”
“Harris-nadi is sensible,” Geigi said, “and most control still rests in my boards. I trust my lieutenant. Let us all go to the residency. Introduce me to this pretty child.”
“This is Lord Geigi,” Bren said, as Jase went to use his override on a lift call.
“Nandi,” Irene said, half out of breath. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
“One is gratified,” Lord Geigi said. “But one believes you have done very well for yourself, nadi.”
A lift arrived, the door opened, and Guild escorted them safely inside, as Geigi’s escort keyed in numbers.
Then the door shut and the car immediately began to move. “Now we are officially in atevi territory,” Lord Geigi said, “and under the aiji-dowager’s authority. You are entirely safe, Reni-nadi.”
“Nandi,” Irene said, and started to shiver as she pushed away from Bren. “Your coat,” she said in ship-speak. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It’s all right. Where are the boys?”
“I don’t know. Bjorn. Bjorn’s father came. He said Bjorn was at classes when the tunnels shut. He didn’t get home. His father wanted to ask me and I wanted to help. But my mother sent him away and I couldn’t talk to him. Bjorn’s father’s com wasn’t working. He said nothing is working. I’m scared. I’m scared for them.”
“Could he have tried to come back in the tunnels?”
“He could have. They all could have gone there when things went crazy. Cajeiri said—he said, if anything ever goes wrong, get to Lord Geigi or Captain Jase. They might have tried to go. They might have tried— Damned hiccups. I always do that. Sir. Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” He set a hand on her shoulder, felt her shoulder heave. “Do you ever go in the tunnels?”
“No, sir. I can’t. I couldn’t.” She swallowed hard, fighting hiccups. Stammered, “Mr. Braddock’s there.”
“Where?”
“My mother’s apartment. They’re—”
“It’s all right. He’s in your mother’s apartment?”
A nod. A grimace, fighting her reactions. “My mother. Was with this Bocas. Braddock’s lieutenant. But since the doors shut—Braddock. Braddock showed up. With this woman. They moved out the people next door. Braddock and this woman moved in. And they asked me—they came over to our apartment. They asked me. Asked me where Gene was, first off. I didn’t know. They asked about Gene. That was all.” A tremor shook her voice. “They didn’t ask about Artur. Or Bjorn.”
Which could mean they already knew where Artur and Bjorn were. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. “Braddock’s living next door to your mother.”
Nod. “But he sleeps. In our apartment.”
The lift slowed, changed directions, sideways. Jase had been keeping up a quiet, running translation of the details for the company.
“Didn’t ask about Artur and Bjorn,” Irene repeated, teeth chattering, and swallowed hard, trying to get the hiccups under control. “Didn’t have to ask—about me—either, did he? They knew where I was.”
Smart kid. Very smart kid.
“We’ll do what we can.”
“In the tunnels,” she said, teeth chattering. “They could freeze. I’m so scared. I’m so scared.”
“There’s emergency kits, emergency shelters,” Jase said grimly. “But how kept, in the old tunnels? I don’t know.”
Damn. Damn it all.
He pressed Irene’s shoulder carefully, gently. “We’ll do what we can. We’ll try. Think of all the information you can. We need addresses, accesses, any information you can think of.”
She reached into her coat, pulled out folded paper. “My notes,” she said, and handed it to him, a wad of information, everything she had.
A charge. A trust. A responsibility handed to him he didn’t have time for, with the kyo situation advancing and the human situation poised on a knife’s edge of old history and suspicion. They didn’t have a way to extricate the kids, even given the addresses, without the possibility of stirring up problems that might threaten the kids and put them in the center of a riot. And they couldn’t bet on any schedule of operations: they were utterly dependent on what the kyo decided to do.
And to stir something up that might not be finished by the time the kyo ship decided to dock . . .
But what in hell was Braddock doing moving in on Irene’s mother? They didn’t ask about Artur and Bjorn, but they asked about Gene?
And They knew where I was . . .
Braddock didn’t want Irene’s mother, he strongly suspected. He wanted those kids, and if they took action, they were going to force Braddock’s hand. Otherwise Braddock would pick his own time to stir up a problem, to gain leverage, involving—what was Tillington’s phrase? Those kids being Reunioner royalty?