Inheritor

by C. J. Cherryh

  Another small silence.

  "You need to know, Jase. You'd better learn. I'm trying to help you, dammit."

  "I'm sorry," Jase said then. "I'm just —"

  Jase didn't finish it. Neither did he. He waited.

  "I am sorry," Jase repeated, in Ragi. "Nadi, I was overturned."

  "Upset," he said automatically and bit his lip. "Overturned, too, with reason. Jasi-ji. I know that. Can we recover our common sense?"

  "Nadi," Jase said, "I wish to see the ocean. Will it be possible?"

  "Nadi, you're very forward to keep asking me. If I were atevi I should be offended. Learn that."

  A small hesitation. A breath. "Nadi, I take your information, but you are not atevi and I wish very much to know and not be surprised."

  "I'll try to find out," Bren said. "There are things I don't understand." He hesitated to say so, but there were very quiet alarm bells ringing in the subconscious. "Observe a little caution. This is in excess of the conditions I expected. We are possibly in danger, nadi. One wonders if we have quite left behind the events in the city."

  "Is this part of the lesson?"

  Layers, upon layers, upon layers. "No," he said. "It isn't."

  "Are you lying to me right now?"

  "No," Bren said. "And of course, if I were, I would say I wasn't. But I'm not. I've turned us over to Tabini's grandmother, and I don't know what the truth is. The aiji thought us safe to be here. But I am, however mildly, concerned at the conditions. I can't say why I'm concerned. I just would expect — somewhat more comfort than we have here, more evidence that someone had some idea of the conditions here before the aiji-dowager took guests here." He wasn't sure Jase followed that. But there was something ticking over at the back of his brain now that he was no longer focusing on Jase's potential for explosion. That feeling of unease said that the dowager had security concerns, very reasonable security concerns, as did they. As did Mogari-nai, some distance away across the plain, which one would expect would be a very sensitive area; and they weren't seeing the security level at this place he had expected.

  "Can you ask Banichi?"

  "Within his man'chi, yes."

  "Qualified yes."

  "Always. It always is." It was the truth he gave Jase, and the answer was one that struck deep at what was human and what was atevi. He understood Banichi's priorities and took no offense at them. He wasn't in the mood to explain. He wasn't in the mood now to doubt his own security.

  Just the dowager's.

  Not a cheerful thought.

  "Can you ask them what the schedule is?" Jase persisted.

  "We were just told what the schedule is."

  "For tomorrow, I mean."

  He turned and fixed Jase with a glum stare. "I'll tell you a basic truth of atevi, nadi. If there were no real need for you to know that, yes, you could go, or I could go, and ask anyone around us. But because there is some question of good will here, and since that's why you need to know, no, it wouldn't be prudent to ask. Never make your hosts lie to you, Jasi-ji. Once that starts, you don't know what to believe."

  "They're not lying?" Clearly Jase was not convinced.

  "Not yet, I think. Not likely. But I haven't seen Cenedi. I haven't seen the dowager. I haven't seen anything but one servant, and our own security."

  "What does that tell you?"

  "Nadi, in response to your far too blunt question, it tells me either that people are busy because we've come here on short notice and quite clearly they've had to move even food up this hill to have anything on hand — or — there's something going on and they're too polite to offer us the possibility of a question."

  "Meaning what?"

  "Again too blunt, nadi." He was determined to push, in coldly correct, even kindly atevi fashion, to see whether Jase was capable of holding his temper. "But in response to your question, and in hopes your next question will be more moderate, they may avoid our presence rather than put themselves in the position of lying or us in the position of needing to be polite." He changed languages. "A new word for you: naigoch'lmi. It means feigned good will."

  "Naigoch'imi. Is that what we're dealing with?"

  "We? Now it's we? A moment ago you wanted to kill me."

  "I wanted the truth, dammit. And I still don't know if this includes you."

  "Is that the way they get the truth on the ship? With fists?"

  A silence. Several small breaths. "I won't apologize, Bren."

  "Fine."

  Back into the ship's language. "Friendship wouldn't have hurt, you know. From the beginning, friendship wouldn't have hurt."

  Now Jase wanted to talk. He'd had enough from his brother. And he wasn't in the mood for sentiment, dammit, he'd turned it off between him and Jase at the beginning.

  "Frankly," he said with coldness that amazed himself, "I don't know that you've ever offered any such thing. Not since we first spoke on the radio before you came down here. You were bright, interested, pleasant. But since you landed, since then —"

  "I tried!"

  "And I have a job to do, which means hammering words into your head, like it or not — no, I'm not always pleasant. I can't be! You were a teacher — I'm not. So I do the best I can, even in the intervals when you had the luxury to be annoyed at me."

  "So I've learned. I have learned."

  "So you've worked at it. Good for you. You've also gotten mad. But I didn't have the luxury to be mad, no matter what you said, no matter what you did. So I've taken it. I've taken anything you wanted to hand out, because I know my way around, I have the fluency, and I'm used to being the diplomat in touchy situations. — But friends, no. A friend would have met me halfway. A friend would have advanced some understanding that I'm crowding teaching you into the spaces where — never mind my leisure time — the spaces where I was getting sleep, nadi. Friendship wasn't in the requirements, I haven't asked it and I damn sure haven't gotten it!"

  "You don't give me a chance."

  "It was your choice, from the first day you landed. You weren't pleased with me or anyone else. You've made no secret of it. You never have trusted me. Why are we talking about it now? What do you want from me?"

  "I expected…" Jase stopped, a need for words, or just a shaky breath. "Things were not what you promised from the moment we landed!"

  (Hanks yelling, Don't trust them! The whole plain afire. Atevi armed to the teeth and clear evidence of an armed conflict.)

  "You had some reason to think that, I'll grant."

  "And they're not what you said here!" Jase flung a gesture about him, at the stones, the situation. "Every time I trust you! Every damned time I trust you, Bren, something blows up in my face! You're the one that keeps the peace between your people and the atevi — but your people aren't speaking to you, have you noticed that?"

  "You've trusted me once to come down," he said restrainedly, "and once to come here. At no other time have I asked you —"

  "Oh, it's believe me, trust me, I know what I'm doing, every time I draw a breath, Bren! I trusted you into that damn party. I trusted you into that interview. Well, where in hell is the ocean?"

  "You'll have to trust me again."

  "I believed you enough to come down here! Do you know how many parachutes, Bren? Did you notice how many parachutes? The first chute failed, Bren!"

  Jase outright ran out of breath. And seemed to want something in reply. He saw Jase's eyes fixed on him as they'd not steadied on anything in the chaos of the trip up.

  "I know," he said. "I saw that. I'm glad you made it. I'm personally glad you made it. If that needs to be said."

  "Personally glad."

  "I wouldn't have wanted you to die."

  "That's kind of you."

  "What do I need to do? Name it for me. What would satisfy you?"

  "An expression. Have an expression on your face. Tell me the truth for once."

  The remark about his lack of expression stung: it was probably true. But it clarified the source of objections, t
oo. "I've tried," he said with labored patience,

  "to teach you a language and a way of dealing with this world. And you ignore my lessons. Your repeated insistence on questions I've pointedly ignored is rude in atevi eyes, and on such points of misunderstanding with atevi we began a war that killed a great many people. Do you understand that?"

  "Then cure my misunderstanding. Why in hell are we on this hilltop, in this place?"

  "For a good time. Which we will have. Relax."

  "What are we down to? Trust me? Trust me, one more time?"

  "Yes!"

  "God." Jase ran a hand through his hair and walked to the window. Stark daylight painted him in white as he stood there staring out. And as he stood straight, as if he'd seen the devil. "There are mechieti out there!"

  Atevi riding animals. Jase had had that experience on his first hour on the planet.

  "Doing what, nadi?" he asked Jase.

  "Eating the grass. Inside the wall."

  "That's fine," Bren said. "They're the dowager's."

  "What does she need them for?"

  "Getting down to the sea, maybe."

  "I'm not riding!"

  "I think you'll do what she says," Bren said calmly. "Whatever it is. She's a lord far higher than I am. And this is, in all important senses, her land."

  "Bren —" Jase turned, became a shadow against the white light of outdoors. There was a moment of silence. Then: "All right. All right. Whatever you say."

  "We're here to enjoy ourselves. Make an effort at it. And get your wits about you. Complain to me in private if you must. Don't offend her. This is not a lesson. This is not an understatement. This is by no means a game."

  Prolonged silence from the shadow in front of the light.

  Then, coldly: "Oh, I don't take it for that, nadi."

  It was sunset outside. The hilltop felt the chill of evening. But the fireplace functioned, the long table had a white cloth and the benches had folded blankets to keep the splinters from ruining clothes. There was crystal, there were candles, there was the aiji's banner, red and black, and the banner of Malguri, red and green, within the candle and firelight, and there was a respectable, even a splendid dinner in front of them. Ilisidi sat in the endmost seat; Banichi and Jago and Cenedi were seated, privilege of rank; Tano and Algini were seated but on duty, even here, so Banichi said; and the paidhiin were seated, one on one side, one on the other.

  No one sat endmost to match Ilisidi. But then, no one ranked that high in the Association but the aiji himself.

  There was pastry, there was a vegetable course — immense quantities disappeared, which Bren helped, and Jase discovered a vegetable dish he favored, clearly, while it remained a wonder where Ilisidi put the quantities she tucked away; certainly it wasn't evident on her spare and (for an ateva) diminutive frame.

  It must go into sheer energy, Bren decided. For a while there was no discussion, only food, and then the main course arrived, the seasonal fare, which was fish, and a delightful tart berry sauce.

  "So," Ilisidi said, "did you settle your disagreement, you two?"

  The woman missed nothing.

  "Jas-on-paidhi?"

  "Nand' dowager, I am told not to talk except the children's language. I apologize for my inability in advance."

  "Oh, risk it. I'm not easily shocked."

  God, Bren thought. "Nand' dowager," he said. "Jase-paidhi is at a great disadvantage of vocabulary."

  "As the nation heard." Ilisidi tapped her glass and a servant poured. "Water. Pure spring water. Perfectly safe. — But, do you know, Jase-paidhi, I would have bet against your learning the language so quickly. Yolanda-paidhi, on the island, of course, had no such requirement."

  "No, nand' dowager."

  "And she's been turning over the precious secrets — at a greater rate of speed?"

  Pitfall, Bren thought and opened his mouth and didn't dare say a word.

  "Not so, I think, if you please, nand' dowager. Engineering diagrams are the same with both the island and Bren-paidhi."

  "One hears also of sad news from that quarter. One regrets your loss, Jas-on-paidhi."

  Jase ducked his head. "Thank you for your good will, nand' dowager."

  "And how is nand' Yolanda? Is she faring well? I get no news from my reprehensible grandson."

  "I believe she is well, nand' dowager."

  "You believe she is well."

  Jase looked toward him, disturbed, likely not sure he'd followed her around that corner or used the right word. He had.

  "He doesn't understand, nand' dowager," Bren said. And didn't add, thinking of those illicit radio transmissions, Nor do I.

  "Oh, well. How do you find the fish, Jas-on-paidhi?"

  "The fish is very good, nand' dowager."

  "Good. — Such an innocent. What's it like on the ship, Jase-paidhi? Tell me. Satisfy an old woman."

  "It's — a lot like being indoors."

  "Oh, well, boring, then. Give me the open air, I say. Do you like it there?"

  "I hope to go back there. When the ship flies, nand' dowager."

  "And when will that be?"

  "I'd say sooner rather than later, aiji-ma," Bren said, anxious to divert Ilisidi from her stalking and probing for reaction, one damned jab after another. She was not on her best behavior and she was enjoying every second of it.

  "Another damned machine roaring and polluting the fields," Ilisidi said, and had a bite of fish. "Now, one could make a ship to go beneath the sea and see the wonders there. Have you ever thought of that, nand' paidhi?"

  "It could be done," Bren said, and broke every law on the books.

  "You might persuade me to go on a ship like that. I'm less sure about this spaceship. What do you think, nand' Jase?"

  "About what, nand' dowager? I'm not sure I follow."

  "Do you think I'm too old to fly on your ship?"

  "No, nand' dowager. You ride. I'm sure you could fly."

  "Wise lad. Flattery is the essence of politics. One wondered whether ship-folk are as wise as Mospheirans. Possibly they are."

  "They can learn," Bren said, before Jase could think of words. "Don't you say yourself, aiji-ma, that he's quick?"

  "Oh, not so quick as you, nand' paidhi."

  "One tries, aiji-ma." It was a fencing match from start to finish. "So what do you have in store for us?"

  "A brisk ride, a little outing. — More fish, nand' paidhi? I'll assure you simpler fare tomorrow."

  He recalled Ilisidi's brisk rides and hoped Jase didn't break his neck. And had the other helping, taking that for a warning.

  Jase, fortunately, said nothing. But seemed not to have as great an appetite.

  "Well, well," Ilisidi began.

  And of a sudden Banichi, Cenedi, and Jago were simultaneously leaving the benches in a fast maneuver, and Tano and Algini, rising, had guns visible in their hands. So did two of the servants. Something was beeping.

  "Perimeter alarm," Cenedi said, with a slight sketch of a bow toward Ilisidi. And started giving orders to persons unseen in the room.

  "Piffle," Ilisidi said, and rose slowly from the only chair. "What a pest!"

  As a gunshot popped somewhere in the distance.

  And Cenedi said, after recourse to his pocket com, "One individual. They have him."

  "Him, is it?"

  Oh, God, Bren thought with a sinking feeling.

  "They haven't killed him, have they?" Bren asked, and held his breath until Banichi had asked and received an answer.

  "No. He flung himself to the ground and surrendered. Quite wisely so, nadi."

  Bren sat down again and had another sip of his drink.

  The island of Dur was, he recalled from the map, off the northern coast of the promontory — down a great steep bluff that one would take for a barrier to sensible people. But it was there.

  And after witnessing an ungodly persistence in a culture where a young man knew he was risking his life, he had a sinking feeling of a persistence that, measure
d against a minor air traffic incident, no longer made sense.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 17

  « ^ »

  They were, Banichi said, over the dessert course, I questioning the young man, and would have a report soon.

  Jase looked entirely unhappy, and concentrated on the cream pastry with mintlike icing.

  Pastries disappeared by twos and threes off atevi plates, and Bren poked at his with occasional glances at Jago, who returned not a look in his direction. Ilisidi had said nothing further; Cenedi wouldn't. Banichi wasn't communicating beyond what he'd said.

  "The boy is a fool," Ilisidi said, out of no prior question, and added, "Do you know, lord Geigi invited us fishing, and offered to meet us with his boat on the southern reach by the airport. But I think this silliness may divert us to the north."

  That brought a glance up from Jase, and Bren suffered a turn of the stomach. Nothing at this moment was chance, not Ilisidi's remark, not the boy's intrusion into a government reserve, not the mention of lord Geigi, and Bren recalled all too well the radio traffic to the north, which was to the north — of the island of Dur.

  Which was not beyond reach of Mogari-nai and the earth station. Which was not beyond reach of the town of Saduri. Which was not beyond reach of the fortress where they were having holiday with a mostly invisible security with pipe and board scaffolding and an excess of dust in the shadows yonder.

  Deana Hanks and her damned radio talk.

  And her connections to Direiso and her ambitions to move against Tabini?

  Direiso and her cat's-paw Saigimi, who was now dead, thanks to Tabini?

  Direiso, who wished to be aiji in Shejidan, and who was a neighbor to Taiben?

  Taiben was not only Tabini's habitual retreat and ancestral holding, but also the wintering-place for Tabini's aged and eastern-born grandmother who herself had twice nearly been aiji, but for the legislatures concluding her ascendancy would mean bloody retributions for past wrongs.

  Their Ilisidi, their host tonight, sitting demolishing a third cream pastry.

  The situation had so many angles one wanted tongs to handle it.

  "So," Jase said, where angels and fools alike feared to tread. "Nand' dowager, but we are going fishing?"