Inheritor

“I—” Jase said. “I found it very strange to handle the descent pod. To walk in the station corridors. It was—a very lonely place. Very old.”

“Atevi feel the same about such places as this. Only add a thousand years to the account. On Mospheira, when you walk into the old earth base command center, and you see all the clocks stopped, on the minute the power went—in the War—Mospheirans feel something like that. So don’t call it ‘old places.’ They’re more than that. And you know more than that. Clearly you do.”

There was a long silence. Just a living presence in the dark.

“We anticipated—a great deal—” Jase said in a quiet voice, in the human language, “getting here. We didn’t know what we’d find. We imagined there’d be changes. But when the station didn’t answer our hail, we feared everyone had died.”

He tried to imagine that. “It must have been a frightening moment.”

“Frightening for a long time, while we were moving in. The systems wouldn’t respond. Shut down, on conserve, was what we found. But we didn’t know. We were really glad when we found there were human beings alive down here.”

“And when you knew atevi had advanced so far?” It was amazing that they hadn’t had this conversation already, but they hadn’t. “How did you feel?”

“Hopeful,” Jase said. “Really hopeful. We were gladof it, Bren, I swear to you.”

“I think I believe that.” He did. “Unfortunately it’s not a hundred percent that way on Mospheira.”

“The resources,” Jase said, “are on thisside of the strait.”

“There are powers on both sides,” Bren said, “that want something besides atevi in space.” He took a chance. “What does the ship want?”

A little silence there, just a little silence. “The ship wants somebodyup there that can repair what’s broken.”

“Wasn’t that why the colonists and the crew went separate ways at the begi

“It’s not like that,” Jase said. “It won’t belike that.”

“Damn right,” Bren said, “it won’t belike that.”

But they meant, he was sure, different things.

There was silence, then. Maybe Jase thought the topic was getting too dangerous. Maybe, and it was his own notion, there was just nothing they could say to each other until that ship flew, and until they had options.

His mother might have had surgery by now, he thought. He didn’t know. He thought, hell, he was within driving distance of the biggest communications post in the world, and he couldn’t get a damn telephone? The communications his security had was instant and co

He had the whole weight of the atevi government if he wanted to try to extract information, but the whole weight of the atevi government had to be used for atevi purposes and affairs of state, not, dammit, news from his family.

He stared at the dark above him and asked himself what kind of an impression he’d made on Jago, bolting from the room the way he’d done.

He’d have been warmer, distracted from his other problems, at least.

But Banichi would have come in for the night.

He didn’t know what he’d have done, or said, or what he’d have explained. Likely Jago and Banichi both would have been amused. He wasn’t sure he was capable of laughing at the joke. Not tonight, not now, not as things were.

He heard a quiet snoring beside him. Jase at least was tired enough to sleep. He thought of elbowing Jase in the ribs so hecould rest; but he decided it wasn’t that likely he would for a while.

Rest, however, just lying on his back on a surface that didn’t move, piled high with blankets in a bed that was getting warm in air that was almost cold enough for frost…

He heard an engine.

Distant, but clearly an engine where none belonged.

No reason to be alarmed. There was a perimeter set.

His security was not going to allow anything to slip up on them. Neither was Ilisidi’s.

But what in hell? he wondered.

He heard it come closer, and closer, and finally saw the faintest hint of light touch the wall and vanish.

More engines—than lights.

Vehicles were moving about inside the perimeter.

The snoring had stopped.

“What’s that?” Jase asked. In Ragi.

“I don’t know.” He flung the blankets aside and got up, barefoot, in his underwear, and felt his way around the end of the bed. He went to the window, in the cold draft, as Jase got up on his side of the bed and joined him in looking out.

“Security, maybe?” Jase asked.

“I don’t know. Nothing Jago made me aware of.”

“You suppose everything’s all right?”

It was on a side of the building not exposed to their view. The back side, he thought. As the vehicles had come up from that side.

There was a time he’d have run to Jago a couple of doors down and asked for explanation. But this time the conspiracy was of his arranging, and he still didn’t know the extent of it.

He had a sinking feeling if he asked Jago she wouldn’t know, either. And that if anything were wrong he’d hear about it from Jago and from Banichi.

Hell, he hadn’tsurvived this long by leaving assumptions lie.

“Stay here,” he said to Jase and, numb beyond feeling, snatched a blanket for decency and went out into the hall.

It was dark, excepting the candles.

And one of Ilisidi’s young men, who stood in the shadows, whose eyes cast back the light.

“What is it?” he asked the man.

“Supplies and such,” the man said. “Sleep peacefully, nand’ paidhi.”

“Banichi,” he called out, worried that the mere opening of his door hadn’t brought his security out of the soundest sleep. “Jago?”

“One believes they’re helping below, nand’ paidhi.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he said. “You have communications.”

“Yes, nand’ paidhi.” The man drew the pocket com out and flicked the switch. “Nandi. The paidhi would wish to speak to his security.”

There was a reply he couldn’t hear: the man had it against his ear. But he gave it to Bren.

“Banichi-ji?” he asked.

“ Bren-ji?” It was Banichi, he had no doubt of that voice. “ Is there a problem?”

“Is there reason for us to get dressed and come down?”

“ No, nadi. Go to sleep. Everything is fine. We’ll be early to rise.”

“Well enough, then. Good night. Take care, nadi-ji.” He handed the com back to its owner, feeling foolish on the one hand, himself with frozen feet and one frozen shoulder, and gave a courteous sketch of a bow, having doubted the man’s authority, before going back to the room.

Jase had lit a candle. It was something Jase had seen servants do. From him, it was a piece of ingenuity. Jase stood there holding it, in his underwear, shielding the light from the gust produced by the door and the window.

“What’s happening?” Jase whispered.

“It’s all right.” He didn’t whisper. He whisked the blanket off and put it back on the bed. Tucked the foot of it in.

And got in. Jase said, “I hurt my leg getting the matches.”

Jase had. He could see the ski

“Sorry. Want a bandage? I’m sure the man outside can get one.”

“No,” Jase said, brought the candle to bed and then went back after something, probably the matches. It wasn’t natural to think of both. Not in Jase’s world.

Jase blew the light out and, Bren guessed, set the candle and the matches on the floor beside the bed and got in, half frozen, Bren was sure. He felt Jase’s silence as a reproach. He’d deceived Jase too often, too long, and now Jase took for granted that was the final answer: it wasn’t just Jase’s rules-following soul.

“I’m a little worried,” he said to Jase.

There was no answer. Jase wasmad; and shivering beside him, which might be the cold sheets; and might be the situation.