Intruder

He also learned not to think over and over on things he could not fix. The fact that a baby that lay in a crib and cared nothing about windows was going to have the only view in the apartment made him mad. But he could not fix that. If he ordered his sitting room wall knocked down, all he would have was a view of the Bujavid hallway—which might be interesting, but it would upset Security. There was no question of that.

So he calmed his temper and sat there looking at his father, without a sigh or a protest, until his father grew a

“How are your lessons, son of mine?” his father asked, then—it was always the topic when his father had run out of topics. “One has had no complaints yet from this tutor. Or, what is more remarkable, abouthim.”

“He wished to teach me about the East, honored Father. But he has never been there. I told him I have. So he said he would make a list of questions and find out what I know. But if he tells me anything I do not think is right, I think it would be prudent of me to ask mani if that is true.”

His father frowned, maybe just a little a

“One will do so, then, honored Father.”

“Go,” his father said peevishly.

“Honored Father.” He stood up, bowed, and left, going back to his suite.

He had made himself a project. He had his sketchbook, and he had his little office, in which he sat and worked on his drawings and maps of Najida—he thought them rather good, and his aishid, all of whom were very good observers, could tell him details he had never noticed but that he remembered when they mentioned them.

He had something to do while he was shut in, the way he had learned what he had to do when he was cut off from his associates from the ship and when no one would let him go back to space. He was making his records. He would notforget the ship. He would not forget his associates aboard it. He would not forget the space station, little as he had gotten to see it.

And now he resolved not to forget the way Najida was. Nand’ Bren was changing it, adding another wing, and that would be very fine. But he wanted to remember it just the way it had been when he had arrived there. And then when he did get to visit again, he would compare things and make new sketches. He saved everything. He had a drawer in his office bureau exclusively for his sketches. And he had another for his maps, and the great map on the wall showed him the whole world. Except for Mospheira. He wanted a map of Mospheira, but he had not gotten one yet. And he wanted a map of the north pole and the south. And maps of the major isles. He wanted all of it. He had seen the world from space. And it was not just lines on paper. It had clouds. It turned. The moon had mountains. Mountains so high that they would have snow if they were on the earth. There was so much, so very much, that most people never even thought about. People had windows and never even looked out them. Of all things in the world he could not understand, he could not understand that.

His tutor came to meet him in his parents’ sitting room, bringing his list of questions about the East. He answered, and his tutor would check him about a detail, and check him on a detail within the detail, and on very boring things about the neighbors. He knew everything so well he quickly had his tutor nodding thoughtfully and saying he must have heard certain things from his great-grandmother.

“Nadi, one spent two years on the starship, and mani had nothing at all to do except to instruct us every day. One has learned genealogies, man’chi, ancestral obligation, protocols, history, geography, geology, animals, plants, herbs, and the traditions of the East. Also one has been instructed in security procedures and tactics by very high-up Guild. One has also recently learned the history, the geology, and the traditions of the West Coast, including the Edi people; and also of the middle lands. One was instructed by Lord Tatiseigi and by my great-grandmother in proper deportment, penmanship, and courteous address. The ship-aijiin instructed me in the history of the ship and in astronomy, besides emergency procedures in space. One has the acquaintance of the Astronomer Emeritus. One has heard about the ocean and navigation and ocean fishes from nand’ Toby of Port Jackson, and one has been on Mospheira, and one has flown twice in the space shuttle. One understands and writes ship-speak and one understands and writes Mosphei’, which is very little different. We have met aliens, and we can speak to them in their language, and nand’ Bren has explained their protocols so far as anybody in the world knows what they think.” He drew breath. He had worked himself into a temper, which he settled, because he had had far worse tutors. “And I have had an infelicitousnumber of tutors, one after the other, who have insisted on boringlessons about laws and protocols and writing letters. One understands that writing letters is important, nadi, but is there not somethingnew that will be more useful?”

“Perhaps,” Dasi-nadi said, looking a little taken aback, “you should tell me in the greatest possible detail what you do know, young gentleman, and how and from whom you learned it, just as you have. Start at the begi

That was at least a new approach. “At the verybegi

“One would be most interested to understand the things you do know, young gentleman. One would never ask that you mention anything classified, but one would be interested, and it is very possible you shall teach me things I do not myself know. You surely have had an uncommon background. I shall ask you questions, but they will only be for clarification, not as a challenge to your accuracy.”

He was astonished. Suspicious. “Where shall I start?”

“As early as you wish. You were born in the Bujavid.”

He nodded, jaw still set. “One does not rememberthat, nadi.”

“What isyour first memory, young gentleman?”

He thought. “The big stairway in Uncle Tatiseigi’s house.” A pause. Tutors pounced on such inexactitudes and carried on for an hour. “He is my great-uncle, but one has always called him uncle, the way I call my great-grandmother mani.”

“One certainly understands. One would do the same, in all courtesy. And your second memory, nandi?”

“The mechieta pen. The stables. I remember something earlier, but it was about the foyer with the lilies and uncle telling me not to go to the stables. And I was bored, so I did anyway. I was not a very obedient nephew. I watched. I climbed up on the fence to see—I was very short, then—and there was a mechieta waiting there, all saddled. And it looked so easy—he was very near the fence. I climbed on. He broke his rein and broke the gate latch and went right across uncle’s new driveway. It was new concrete. And they had to wash the mechieta’s feet and they had to break up the concrete that had set and pour new, because it was a mess.” He ought to be sorry about it, he was sure, but he really never had been. It had been exciting, and he was proud of himself for having stayed on.

Except that mani had been inconvenienced. That was never good.

“So what do you know about concrete?”

“It gets warm when it sets,” he said. And it takes days to do it.”

“Interesting,” Dasi-nadi said. “Do you know why it gets warm?”

“No, nadi. One has no idea.”

Dasi-nadi told him, and sketched on his slate, and it was interesting but short. So they went on, and he talked about coming back to the Bujavid and meeting his parents and not really remembering them. And the first time he remembered nand’ Bren.