Destroyer

“We taught him better ma

“You did, mani-ma. But we had to.”

“Had to,” Damiri said, and came and turned the boy about to face her, for a long, long look, a little touch at his cheek, which brushed away pale dust. “You had to.”

“Yes, mother.” A strange mix of regal contrition in that high, young voice. “Nand’ Bren was coming back. And we had sent reinforcements ahead of us.”

“Coming back,” Tabini said, “from where?”

“That takes some telling,” Ilisidi said, from her seat, her hands braced on her cane. “Some of which we are interested to hear, nandiin.”

“Might there be hot tea?” Cajeiri asked, and added: “For my bodyguard, too?”

“Oh, indeed, your bodyguard?” from his father.

A great deal to tell. A great deal yet to learn, on all sides. Bren held out his tea cup for a second service and drew a deep, long breath as he took the cup back into his hands, a warm and civilized act, no matter the dusty ruin outside.