He thought her notion toward him might be the same, that atevi fondness for well-worn places, comfortable associations, ancestral items, everything forever in place, hers, with every sense of permanency.
So now she had met her rival, and had heard the hierarchy of man’chi laid out in his own words.
So in her atevi universe, maybe—maybe it had reassured her and made her content. She looked to be. But what could he know? He was the translator, but certain things forever baffled him.
They talked about inconsequential things as the water rushed past the bow. They constantly meant something else. He wanted her, now that they had talked about their relationship—it had put him in mind of certain things and there was absolutely no place of privacy to be had, unless one counted the cabins below, which were exceedingly small for an ateva’s comfort, and everybody would know why they went below. He didn’t want to see his brother’s amused look. Or the dowager’s.
Or worst of all, Barb’s. And that realization almost made him inclined to do it anyway, but he would not embarrass Jago, not run the risk, however remote.
He contented himself with being next to her, with feeling her warmth in the chill wind.
In that state of affairs, Toby came up to them.
“I figure to put us into Naigi Shoals,” Toby said, “if that suits. The wind will hold fair long enough. It’s likely to come up a real blow by tomorrow, and I’d rather be away from the shore. That area is pretty deserted, except for fishermen. And I’d rather run by sail, conserving fuel.”
“He proposes a landing in the Naigi shallows,” Bren translated. “Near Cobo. And says the wind alone will carry us there.”
“One will propose it to the others,” Jago said.
“She says they’ll discuss it,” Bren said, and was not surprised when Jago left to do just that, Banichi and Cenedi alike being very familiar with all that coast, and Tano even more so.
“Damn, it’s good to see your face,” Toby said, for no reason, except they’d had only yesterday evening to talk, and so much to say, and no time, and topics—
God, so many topics they’d skirted round, that had to be said sometime.
“Good to see yours.—I wrote you a letter. It’s—it’s way too long to print out, unless you just happen to have a couple of reams of paper aboard. I’m not kidding. It’s about a thousand pages. But I have the file. I wrote you every day I was gone. You and Tabini, each a letter, just my thoughts, day to day, what I was doing, where I was, as much as I knew at the time… ”
“I’d like to have it.”
“I’ll give it to you before I leave. I imagine parts of it might better be classified. And I’ll leave it to you whether you want to take on that burden. If you want me to edit it and give it to you later, I will. But I’d like you to have the whole copy. So you understand.”
“I’d like the whole copy, too,” Toby said. “If there’s stuff to know—I want to know, if you can trust me with it. I’d rather know, and then maybe I can be some help.”
“I trust you. I just know what it can mean to your life to carry that kind of information. It could mean watching over your shoulder until everything in that letter ceases to be secret, and maybe after that, if you’ve gotten involved in my business. I’m not sure it’s worth it. I’m not sure it’s worth it for Barb, and don’t just drop it on her. She knows how to keep a secret.” The sinking thought came to him that he might, in giving Toby that letter, be driving an unintended wedge between them. “Use your own discretion, but if you tell her it exists, she’ll want to see it.”
“Do I want her to see it?”
“There’s nothing in there about her, nothing bad, nothing good, either. It’s about us. Where we were. And that’s plenty dangerous. When I wrote it, I didn’t know what they’d classify and what not, and now that this has blown up on the mainland—I don’t know. I think I’m going to blow it wide and see where the pieces fall. But I have to think about that. And if you don’t want it, if you don’t want the whole question, in consideration of Barb—I’ll understand. I should have given a copy to Shawn, for the information in it. I’d intended to clean the private stuff out and do that, and now there’s not going to be time.”
“I know what to edit.”
“And that means getting into it. And getting Barb into it. The more I think about it—hell, Toby, I’m risking your boat, I’m risking your neck and hers—I never meant to risk your peace of mind and your private life.”
Toby’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezed hard. “You worry too much.”
“I worry for a living. I have to think of these things. And they’re real considerations.”
“I know they are. So what’s the classified part?”
“Aliens.”
“That they’re a threat?”
“The ones we met, nothing imminent. Not to be trifled with, but probably manageable. But there’s more than the kyo out there. A much wider universe than we ever imagined existed. A new referent. A new way of thinking. Hazards we may already be involved in.”
“So what’s a letter between brothers more or less? Is the news out there that bad?”
“It may be good, or bad, or the usual scary mix of things. It’ll still touch off the crazies.”
“Oh, God, everything touches off the crazies. That’s why they’re crazy. Give me your letter, silly brother. I don’t have that much paper, but I’ve got a computer aboard, for my charts.”
He opened his coat and took out a disc from an inner pocket of his coat, where he carried that, and Tabini’s letter. He gave the right one to Toby. He was extremely careful about that transaction.
“This little thing,” Toby said. “Doesn’t look dangerous to me.”
“Don’t let anybody see it until you’ve read it end to end. That’s all I ask. You’ve had a rough enough time being related to me, brother. I really, really don’t want to make it worse.”
Toby pocketed the disk and patted the pocket. “I secretly enjoy it.”
“God, I don’t know how you could.”
“Oh, look at us, now. Good excuse for a fishing trip, good view of a forbidden coast, breaking the law with a naval escort off beyond that horizon… and knowing there’s something useful I can do about the current messed-up state of the world. What more could I ask?”
“A brother who shows up when it’s really important.”
Toby grabbed his arm, hauled him around, never mind the boatful of atevi that went from relaxed to high alert. “Don’t you ever say that, Bren.”
“A discussion of brothers, nadiin-ji,” Bren said over the rush of the water, and more quietly, to Toby, who had let him go. “I won’t say it, but I still think it. Don’t meddle with my load of guilt, Toby. It looks like hell, but I’ve got it pretty well balanced by now.”
“Don’t joke.”
“I’m not joking.”
“The hell. What happened with mum was what had to happen, sooner or later, the course of nature, happens to us all, and no, as happened, you couldn’t possibly have been there, or you couldn’t have gone and done whatever you’ve done out there. What happened between me and Jill was my doing, my business, our business—Jill undertook a warfare the same as mum, to have me disavow everybody but her own circle. I must have picked her out of my subconscious, a familiar style of dealing with people, something I understood by upbringing. God only knows. But she and mum were a real bad match.”