Conspirator

“I gather,” nand’ Bren said, “that you attempted to go out to the boat.”

“We did, nandi. And one thought one could sail back, but every time we tried, we went further out.”

“First, sailing against the wind is not an easy skill. It can be done. But when the moon pulls on the water, young gentleman, it and everything sitting on it move out to sea—in the case of bays along this coast, quite rapidly so.”

“Is that what happened?” He was amazed. He knew about tides. But he had gotten caught, all the same, and never realized what was happening to them. “Nandi, we meant only to go out and see the boat.”

“No excuses, young gentleman. You should have sailed straight across the harbor when you realized you were in trouble. You would have reached land before the tide pulled you out.”

“We were trying to go faster, nandi, and use the speed to go against the wind.”

“That will never work. Given time, and if you do not drown yourself, young gentleman, one will be pleased to show you how to sail against the wind. It is a case of patience and subtlety. One recommends both.”

“One offers no excuses for our behavior, nandi,” he said very meekly. “One accepts all responsibility. My companions urged us not to do it.”

“Nandi,” Jegari said, “you are not obliged to say so. It is our responsibility.”

“It ismy fault,” Cajeiri said, angry, and upset. “And we choose to take the responsibility.”

“One dares say you will. Antaro.”

“Nandi?”

“There is a dry life vest in that bench over against the wall. Go get it and put it on.”

“Are we going to sink, nandi?” Cajeiri asked.

“You will notice wewear them in these seas.”

That was so.

“Put it on,” nand’ Bren said. “And next time you steal a boat, young gentleman, be sure you have oars and enough life preservers.”

“Yes, nandi.”

He knew he had to hear very stern rebukes from his father, his mother, Great-grandmother, and eventually Great-uncle Tatiseigi. It made it worse that he had, this time, richly deserved it.

But it was, after all, interesting that they had gotten caught by the tides, which was a mysterious thing, and not something he had ever been specifically warned againstc

“Hot tea?” Tano suggested, and, indeed, from further back in the cabin, Tano brought a big tray of mugs. Algini was nursing a sore hand—the swelling looked very nasty, and Banichi was soaked and grim, and very gladly took a cup. So did nand’ Bren, and they three did.

Hot tea helped. It warmed all the way down. Cajeiri drank half the mug and sat contemplating the scope of the disaster around him. And then curiosity about what Bren kept looking at on the table propelled him to his feet, though everybody else had sat down. He staggered a little on the heaving deck, but he came close, and saw it was a chart on a lighted table.

“Where are we?” he asked nand’ Bren, and Bren pointed to a place just off Najida Peninsula.

“We have to go wide into the bay,” nand’ Bren said, “because those are rocks. They lie beneath the water at high tide, and have taken the bottom out of boats.”

It was all more complicated than he had thought. He had known the starship—well, not how to run it, but how to run most everything he met, and to open most any door, and he had always known where things were kept.

The planet was just big and full of surprises. And tides. Surprises got you even when you already knew about them, if you failed to use your head. And when you needed something, it might be clear back in Shejidan.

“One is very sorry about the boat,” he said. “Nand’ Bren, we tried to row back, but we lost the oars.”

“It can easily happen, young lord,” nand’ Bren said. He was less busy now. He managed the wheel with one hand and held his tea mug with the other. “Did you know how to secure them through the oarlocks?”

“No, nandi,” he said, since, whatever that was, he had not secured the oars at all.

“Well, young gentleman, I shall also show you how to row a boat, if the aiji-dowager permits the time.”

“One would be most grateful, nandi.” He was thoroughly miserable. And he squished when he moved, even if the raincoat made him much warmer. He looked down at his feet, and saw he was still adding to the puddle that was wandering back and forth across the deck. “We shall never, ever take a boat that is not ours again.”

“That would be wise, young lord,” nand’ Bren said calmly. Nand’ Bren was always calm, no matter what. He wished he could be as calm. And nand’ Bren said: “Not taking anythingthat is not yours, except, of course, should there should be an emergency, would be a very good policy, young gentleman.”

“One hopes never to do such a thing again, nandi.”

“My household accepts the sentiment,” nand’ Bren said, and Cajeiri found he hurt in very many places. He would hurt in more places than that once mani laid hands on him, he feared.

This time he was very glad to have only lost a boat, and not his companions. For a while out there it had been very, very serious, and they had all thought about drowning, and that would certainly have been a sorry end to all he wanted to do and to all the questions he wanted to ask.

He was so exhausted he went back to sit down, and Tano poured him another mug of tea. He rested and drank his tea, and found all the energy flowing right out of him.

He had yet to answer to mani, who was going to be very upset with him. He decided not to mention buying nand’ Bren a new boat immediately. But it might be easier to ask mani than to ask his father.

He was going to have to think how to explain it all to his father.

It was a far faster trip back than the trip they had made out, searching all the shoreline. The young rascals slept the rest of the way, all of them folded over together, three dark heads bowed, three young bodies making one sodden bundle.

Bren sent his bodyguard below to change to dry clothes, one after another. He was the only one aboard who didn’t leave a puddle where he stood, and he managed the wheel easily, downing more than one cup of hot tea. He had turned on the ru

They hadn’t heard a word, for instance, from Tabini—but bet that there were forces landed.

And Tabini was likely going to be damned mad—he’d let the elusive young rascal get loose, Bren said to himself. He did notdeserve credit for a rescue when his caretaking had let the boy steal a boat and go floating off unattended, except by two central district kids who couldn’t swim and had never seen a major body of water.

The only harm done, thank God, were scratches to Jeishan’shull, and the loss of an aged little sailboat, very minor damage, on the cosmic scale.

The young rascals were still sleeping off their adventure, when he carefully put Jeishaninto her berth at the dock and turned the controls over to Saidaro, one of his own staff, who waited on the dock in a driving rain, beneath the sole and lonely light, and who caught their mooring line.

“How are we to manage this?” Bren asked him when he had come into the cabin—at the waft of cold stormy air from the door, the youngsters began to stir and blink and realize they were at dock. “There’s no room for Brighter Daysbehind us.”

“We have help, nandi. One will anchor in harbor, and one of the fishing boats will get me back to dock, after nand’ Toby comes in.”

Wonderfully managed. He would owe the fishing boat captain, as well as Saidaro. He found himself exhausted, and glad to gather up the youngsters and herd them back onto the deck. He was done in—and the exhaustion of his long-suffering bodyguard was apparent. Estate staff came aboard to see to things— he had been pumping out all the way from the mouth of the bay, considering all the slosh and the rain that had poured into the well, but he left the shutdown to Saidaro, who tended Jeishanin ordinary times. He simply joined his bodyguard in getting the young rascals safely off the deck and onto the steady, very welcome dockside.