Defender

“Yes,” Banichi said, and left them to the study and the brandy, the servants caring for the service and the numerology alike, quite deftly and silently. Brandies arrived, and chairs configured for three immediately found another fortunate configuration, ameliorated by a small table and a small porcelain vase empty of flowers.

“I have things for you,” Bren said, for starters, and to let the brandy and a necessary task take the edge off his resentment before they reached any discussion.

So with a glass of brandy beside him and the computer in his lap, he did that, a few seconds’ work, and handed her the file personally.

“This is a matter of trust,” he said, “nadi-ji.” It was the work of several moments to manage that intimate salutation, that particular tone.

She took it soberly and slipped it into a shirt pocket.

“I’ve given you the addresses of persons who will assist you, on the island,” he said further, in ship language, “and I’d advise you to use those cha

“I understand,” she said.

“You did surprise me,” he said then.

“Coming tonight?”

“Dealing with Ramirez.” He hit her with the question head-on, wondering what she would say for herself, whether her counter would be smug, justified satisfaction—in which case he meant to keep a good grip on his temper.

Smugness wasn’t her response. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell Jase. I couldn’t.”

On evidence of the tone and the expression—he might believe that, but belief still didn’t muster the personal feeling he wished he had for her. “Secrets are hell on a relationship, aren’t they?”

He wished he hadn’t said that. Instantly Yolanda’s lower lip compressed, eyes showed wounding. Deep hurt, quickly held in.

“No question,” she said in ship-speak. And she sat back and seemed to set the armor that covered all her soul, dealing with him, dealing with Jase.

He talked frankly to her after that, warnings, bits of advice about individuals and matters she did know to watch out for. Armor stayed. In a certain measure it made frankness easier. It always had.

Regarding Tabini himself: “I know you have a good relationship with him,” he said, on that delicate topic. “I know you do, or he wouldn’t deal with you. But take two warnings—infelicitous two. Don’t back down from his baiting you. If he thinks you fold rather than argue with him, you’ll be out of his confidence in a heartbeat.”

“I’ve learned that,” she said. “What’s the other?”

“Tell him the truth.” That she pursued the numbers—at least on a small scale—was encouraging. “Third point, fortunate three: listen carefully to what he advises. There’s no one on the planet more dangerous than Tabini. Or smarter. Witness he’s survived all the assassins aimed at him—partly by being so good and so steady in office that even his detractors find a use in his being there. That’shis real success. I learn tactics from him—constantly. I hope you will. Quite honestly—” He made another real try at mending the interface he’d messed up, much as the effort seemed a forlorn hope. “Quite honestly I’m jealous as hell of your being where you are, and a little upset—well, a lot upset—at not being advised of what you were doing.”

“His order,” she said in a low voice.

“Tabini’s? Or Ramirez’s?”

“Both.”

“But who initiated?” What she said tweaked something sensitive, something to which she might be oblivious. “Who contacted whom—first requiring your services?”

Maybe she’d hoped to get out of here without discussing that matter. Maybe it was something she’d been both stalking for an opening and dreading all along. But she answered seriously, meticulously. “I honestly don’t know who did. Ramirez called me in. I don’t know whether Tabini-aiji had called him directly or he’d called the aiji.”

“It would be very useful to know that. But notto remark on, understand. I mention it for your safety. Always know details like that.”

“There was no way to know.”

Her perpetual defensiveness set him off. And he refused to let it do that, this time. There wasn’t the leisure any longer to reform Yolanda. Only to use her services. “Some things it’s necessary to know. Some things it’s unexpectedly critical to know. I’m not faulting you, understand. I’m advising you to the best of my own experience in this situation. In the interest of everybody on the planet down there, I desperately want you to succeed. I want you to do better than I ever did at reading the aiji. I want you to so far eclipse me that you’ll never get caught unprepared. Which means you’ll never get anybody killed. And I’m not sure I can claim that.” Yolanda didn’t understand him or his motives any more than she understood the minds of Mospheiran shop owners… and far less than she understood Tabini, to his long-term observation. She was a spacefarer and if an event or an attitude hadn’t any precedent on the ship—Yolanda didn’t see it. She flatly didn’t see it.

“The aiji scares hell out of me,” she admitted then, the most encouraging statement he’d ever heard out of Yolanda Mercheson. “And I’m not you, and I can’t deal with him the way you do.”

“Be afraid of him. But don’t show it. Stand up to him, and show deference at the same time. Balance the two. And you have my good wishes.” God help us, he thought to himself. She didn’t show fear because she didn’t always know when she wasin danger. But she wasn’t the only one with blind spots. He’d come in that blind. He’d spent a night in Ilisidi’s basement learning that lesson. He’d had his arm broken, learning that lesson. “All right. That’s your province. You have to learn. You will learn. Turnabout, advise me—what am I up against on the ship? How do Imake headway?”

She hadn’t seen that question coming, either. She drew a deep, deep breath. “You mean with Sabin?”

“ Andthe crew.”

“Crew is easy. They know who you are. They approve. More than that, ‘Sidi-ji is their darling and you’re with her. Truth is, everybody detestsSabin. Granted they’re both cold as deep space rock, the dowager and Sabin both—‘Sidi-ji smiles at them. That makes all the difference.”

“You know that smile’s not necessarily a good sign.”

“I know, but they don’t know it, and they worship her. Besides, I think she likes it. Well, likeisn’t it, is it?”

“Like’s fine with things. Not people. There’s your difference. She likes their approval. She doesn’t likethem, because they’re not in her association. Think in Ragi when you think about atevi.”

“She favors their applause.”

“She drinks it like good brandy. If they’d only worship Sabin, Sabinwould warm up, don’t you think?”

He saw the body language, disengagement from the very concept. “Not likely. Not ever likely.—But Sabin gets the ship through. We don’t have to like her. If the ship itself’s in trouble, I’ll promise you, you want Sabin on deck.”

“Next question. Do you want her in negotiations?”

Another long breath and a deeply sober thought. “Only if you plan to nuke the other side.”

“Major question. Is she for us, or is she for the authority that sent you here? Does she likewhat we’re doing here? Or is she against it?”

That brought another moment’s thought. “Honestly, I don’t know for sure. I don’t think Ramirez knew… she doesn’t like atevi, she doesn’t like Mospheirans, and I’m not sure she likes the crew, for that matter. The best thing is, she won’t be here, making decisions. Don’t ever say I said that.”