Conspirator

“Better make up something.”

“Hell, Bren!”

“Fu

“Hell, Bren!”

“Well, Jago would shoot her. That, in Jago’s way of thinking, would solve all the problem.”

“Are you joking or not?”

“I actually don’t know,” he said, and added, dryly, “but I’m certainly not going to ask Jago.”

Toby actually laughed, however briefly, and shook his head, resigning the argument.

“So—are you and Barb going fishing with us after this? Can we share a boat? Or is there too much freight aboard?”

“Sure,” Toby said. “Sure. I honestly look forward to it.”

“Good,” he said, and because the atmosphere in the study was too heavy, too charged: “Want to have a look at the garden? Not much out there, but I can give you the idea. I actually know what’s usually planted there.”

“Sure,” Toby said, so they went out and talked about vegetables.

He went in after a while, and left Toby in the garden, where Toby said he preferred to sit. Barb was still shopping—that was rarely a quick event. The youngsters were settling in. He had— at least an hour to attend his notes. He went to his study then, and wrote an actual three paragraphs of his argument against wireless phones.

Crack.

Possibly the staff doing some maintenance in the formal garden, he thought, and wrote another paragraph.

No, it was notgood for the social fabric for wireless phones to be in every pocket, the ordinary tenor of formal visitation should not be supplanted—

Crack!

Skip and rattle.

That was a peculiar sound. A disturbing question began to nag at him—exactly where the aiji’s son and his companions might be at the moment.

He put away his computer, got up and went out to the hall.

There was no staff. That was unusual. He went down the hall to the youngsters’ room, and found no one there.

That was downright disturbing.

So was the scarcity of staff.

He went to the i

All the staff.

And Banichi. And Toby, and the Taibeni youngsters, all facing the same direction, into the garden.

Crack. Pottery broke.

A smaller figure, one on Toby’s scale, took a step backward, dismayed, with a very human: “Oops.”

Oops, indeed. Bren walked through the melting crowd of servants, saw Ramaso, saw Cajeiri and Toby, saw Banichi on the left. Then he looked right, at the bottom of the garden, and saw a shattered clay pot, with dirt scattered atop the wall and onto the flagstones.

“One will fetch a broom, nandi,” a servant said in a low voice.

“Nandi,” Ramaso said, turning.

Cajeiri looked at him and hid something, hands behind his back, while Toby just shrugged.

“Sorry about that.” Toby gave a little atevi-style bow, showing proper respect for the master of the house.

Bren was a little puzzled. Just a little. He looked at the broken pot, looked at Cajeiri.

“One did aim away from the great window, nandi!” Cajeiri said with a little bow. And added, diffidently, “It was the ricochet that hit it.”

“The ricochet?” he asked, and Cajeiri brought forth to view a curiously familiar object—if they had been on the Island: a forked branch, a length of tubing, probably from the garden shed, and a little patch of leather.

“A slingshota!” Cajeiri a

There had been several tries, one bouncing, probably off the arbor support pillar, into the stained glass window.

“Well,” he said, looking at his brother. “Well, there’sa little cultural transfer for you.”

Toby looked a little doubtful then. “I—just—figured the boy could have missed things, with two formative years up in space.”

Bren pursed his lips. As cultural items went, it was i

“Showed the kids how,” Toby said in a quiet voice. “Mistake?”

“Slingshota,” Bren said, and gave a sigh. “New word for the dictionary. Just never happened to develop on this side of the water, that I know of. Banichi, have you ever seen one?”

“Not in that form,” Banichi said with an amused look. “Not with the stick. Which is quite clever. And the young gentleman has a powerful gripc for his age.”

Witness the demolished potc a rather stout pot at that.

“Well, well,” he said, “use a cheaper target than that, young gentleman, if you please. Set a rock atop the garden wall.”

“I am sorry,” Toby said, coming near him, so seriously contrite that Bren had to laugh and clap him on the shoulder, never mind the witnesses present.

“If the young gentleman takes out the historic ceramics in the Bujavid,” he said, “I may be looking for a home on the island. But no, no damage is done. Just a common pot. I’m sure some entrepreneur will make an industry of this import.” Or the Guild will find use for them, he thought, but didn’t say it. Banichi clearly was taking notes. “Just supervise, will you?”

“No problem,” Toby said, and Bren laughed and patted his shoulder and walked away, Banichi in attendance, to have a word with Ramaso. “Let them have a few empty cans from the kitchen, nadi-ji. That will be a much preferable target.”

“Yes, nandi,” the old man said, and went to shoo the servants back inside.

“Interesting device,” Banichi said. “Not nand’ Toby’s invention.”

“No. Old. Quite old.”

“We have used the spun shot,” Banichi said, “an ancient weapon.”

“Very similar principle,” Bren said. “Except the stick.”

“One does apologize for the pot,” Banichi said.

“Just so it isn’t the dowager’s porcelains, once he gets home.”

“One will have a sobering word with him, Bren-ji.”

“Quietly, ’Nichi-ji. The boy has had a great deal of school and very little amusement since the ship. Perhaps one may put in a word with his father, to find him space in the garden to use his toy.”

The boy had used to have racing cars—almost the last real toy he had ever owned, except what his human companions brought for his amusement. The last of the cars had come to a violent end—blown up, with explosives, in very fact. Banichi had done that—in a moment of need and improvisation. Toys since—no, there just had been very few.

“He will learn weapons,” Banichi said. “And hunting.”

Guns. And the other items of mayhem in the Guild’s repertoire. The boy already knew about detonators and wires. Knew about bombs and had seen things no eight-year-old ought to have seen.

“Not too soon,” he said sadly. “Not too soon, Banichi. His aishid is going to have to go off to train. That will be a hard time for him, when Antaro and Jegari go to the Guild.”

As they were already begi

“Will those two do all right in that, do you think?” he asked, on the opportunity. “Do you think them apt, after this escapade with the train?”

“They have excellent background,” Banichi said, and, as they reached the study door: “We have had a serious talk,” Banichi said. “If you will, we can take them in hand—and not neglect the paidhi’s security. They are trustworthy, to let within the perimeter. Jago concurs. So do Tano and Algini. We think there are possibilities in these two.”

Of very, very few individuals would his security say that, he was sure.

“Would working with them take you away?” he asked, when he had opened the door and brought them into his study.

“No, Bren-ji. It would let the youngsters stay closer to the Bujavid, closer to the paidhi-aiji, as it happens. With the boy. We may be able to persuade his father.”