“I always try!”
Father nodded. “I know you try. But understand what I have just told you. Your great-grandmother calls you clever. Find a way, son of mine. Your mother knows what I did and why I did it. She has had a very difficult several years since. Today I have had to tell her you are leaving us again. At least—try to talk to her.”
“Yes,” he said. He did not want to. In some ways his mother had been behaving strangely since the new baby had come. Her coming to his room—having tea—
That had just been uncomfortable. Though they both had tried, it had been uncomfortable. Threatening, in a way. Challenging him.
And now this happened.
Maybe he should have gone directly to have tea in his mother’s room and not invited her to take tea with him, as if he were aiji. Maybe that was what she had wanted him to do.
Except it was his sister’s bedroom and his sister was always sleeping, always not to be disturbed.
“You know what your mother went through having your sister,” Father said. “You saw the pain and inconvenience of bringing a child into being. Always remember she did the same for you. And then lost you. She forgives me for it. Or tries to. But I ask you bear a little discomfort yourself, son of mine. Try. Even if she will not hear it. That you tried will matter sooner or later.”
He understood. He understood scary things, some of which mani had told him, some of which he had guessed. But he also knew his mother was going to be furious with him about going—for leaving in the first place, which was not his fault; and for leaving with mani, which was not his fault, either. And angry for everything that had happened in the past. There was current trouble, too: grandfather had been assassinated, Ajuri clan had no lord, and Father would not let Mother take the lordship, and certainly would not let him take it—so Ajuri was not in good favor right now. And there might not ever be a new lord, which would break Ajuri apart and make it dependent on two or three other clans for everything administrative.
His mother was mad about that, among other things.
But Mother could also give orders that would make trouble for Boji while he was gone, and he knew his father would protect Boji for him, but he just did not want to create that situation or get his father into an argument with his mother on that, when there was so much else wrong.
His father wanted him to go in there. His father said now was better than later—when his mind wanted to argue he could deal with the kyo and come back with everybody’s man’chi and then his mother would see he was right and not be as angry.
But that was building a house from the roof down, that was what Lord Geigi said. That was starting from after. They already had more after than they could deal with.
So, leaving his father’s office, he paused with his aishid outside his father’s door and drew a deep, deep breath, still not having the least idea how he was going to do what his father asked. “The kyo have come, nadiin-ji, and I have to go up to the station, and it is all secret from the rest of the staff. I am going to talk to my mother now. Wait for me.”
They heard it, they listened. And it was nothing they could possibly save him from. He walked on down the hall with his throat gone tight, and knocked at his mother’s door.
Mother’s chief maid answered, and without a word, let him into the first room, that with the beautiful windows, all in white filmy curtains.
The most beautiful room in all the apartment was Seimiro’s nursery. And Seimiro spent her time asleep in her crib, oblivious to the weather outside, which he supposed was typical of babies. He walked over and stood looking down at her small frowning face.
Her mouth twitched. Maybe she was having a dream. He had no idea.
But she was improving. From nobody—before she was born—she was becoming a small mystery. He wondered what she thought, if she thought—whether she noticed things or enjoyed things.
Like the wonderful windows he so wanted.
His mother came in, a frowning, ominous presence—frowning, he instantly thought, because he was standing over his sister.
He moved back and gave a deeper than needed bow. “Honored Mother. I know Father has told you—”
“Yes,” she said coldly, not acknowledging his bow in the least.
“One is obliged to go up to the station, honored Mother,” he said. “One has no choice.”
Mother said nothing at all. And he simply said the next thing in his head:
“It is dangerous. The kyo blew up the station at Reunion. But we can talk to them. Nand’ Bren can. And I can. Myself. I know one of them and he was very polite to me and he will remember me. So I have to be there to help nand’ Bren.”
“Who was the person who thought a child should be brought near one of these people in the first place?”
“Honored Mother, we were all near these people. Their weapons could blow up the whole station. So we were all in danger of being blown up, wherever we were. We are all in danger, this time, even here on Earth. You. Father. My sister. The whole world could be in danger from these people if we make them our enemies. So we have to do this.”
“And who put my son in charge?”
“I happened to meet this one kyo, honored Mother, and we got along. And I know he will want to see me.”
“You know.”
“I do know, honored Mother. I am not afraid of him. And I know how to speak to him.”
“Oh, certainly! You should reason with these people!”
“Nand’ Bren will talk to them. We will manage, Mother. Nand’ Bren will talk to them, and we will make an agreement and then we shall come home, honored Mother. This will not be a long time!”
A small silence. “You will have your aishid with you.”
“Yes, honored Mother.”
His aishid would be absolutely no help to him if the kyo blew up the station, but it did not seem helpful to say that.
“Well, good that someone will have your welfare foremost. Clearly you must do as your father thinks best. I do not approve, little good it does.”
“I have to be there, honored Mother.”
“Because humans went out where nobody should go and went pressing and pressing until they ran into these people, and now here they are, threatening everybody, as if it were our fault!”
That was more or less true. “They have not threatened anybody. We promised them when we left, that if they came we would meet them. And now we have to do that. Nand’ Bren will make an association with them. They really live very far away, so they probably will not come here—”
“It certainly seems as if they have no trouble coming here!”
“—but not at all often, honored Mother. Not at all often, at least.”
“Is this the paidhi’s estimation?”
It was impossible to argue with his mother. He started to say, “I have—”—met them and you have not was the next part, but it was not smart to say, so he kept it quiet.
“Bren-paidhi and your great-grandmother have gotten us into this ill-advised meeting, which was originally only the humans’ business, and now here we are, afraid the world is to be blown up, for no fault of ours!”