Peacemaker

He was sure that was why his parents had said yes to the idea.

He had figured that out early, without any help from anybody, the night after he had heard from his father that his associates from the ship were really going to be allowed to come.

His mother, who was really not in favor of humans at all, really, really hoped he and they would not get along. His mother already accused him of getting his ideas from nand’ Bren, as if that was bad—his father asked nand’ Bren’s opinion on a lot of things, so was that wrong?

He thought it was not.

His father might not quite be pla

But he had thought entirely enough about politics for one day. He just wanted his guests to want to come back again.

“Are you scared?” he asked, the old question they had used to ask each other, when they had been about to do something dangerous in the ship tu

“Hell, no,” Gene laughed, the light-hearted old answer.

“Is it true, Gene-ji?” That was not the old question. “Are you scared? There was danger at Tirnamardi. There will be danger where I am, in Shejidan. Are you scared?”

“Are we stupid?” Gene asked with a little laugh. “We were scared when we got on the shuttle to come down here! Irene was so scared she threw up.”

“Don’t tell that!” Irene protested.

“But then she said,” Gene added, “‘It’s all right. I’m going!’ And here she is!”

“We’re all scared,” Artur said. “But Reunion Station was more scary. The kyo blew up half the station and we didn’t know when they were coming back to blow up the rest of it. We’ve got Captain Jase, we’ve got his guards with us, we’ve got your great-grandmother and nand’ Bren and Lord Tatiseigi, and all their bodyguards—not to mention your bodyguards. They’re scary, all on their own.”

Cajeiri had not quite thought of Antaro and Jegari, Lucasi and Veijico as scary, but he did think they looked impressive and official, now that they all wore black leather uniforms and carried sidearms.

“We don’t know that much about what’s going on,” Gene said, “but it doesn’t look like you’re scared. Are you?”

Cajeiri gave a little laugh, and measured a tiny little space with his fingers. Old joke, among them. “This much.”

They laughed out loud. All of a sudden, on this train full of trouble, they laughed the way they had used to laugh when things had gone wrong and then, for no good reason, gone right again.

It was the first time he had felt what he had been trying all along to feel about them, all the way through the visit to Great-uncle’s house.

They were his. They were together. They were all feeling what he felt.

He drew a deep breath and ducked his head a little, because mani and Lord Tatiseigi would not approve of an outburst of laughter from young fools. “Shh.” Most everybody was asleep, and no one used loud voices around his great-grandmother. Especially no one laughed when things were serious.

So they immediately tried to be quiet. Artur leaned his mouth against his fist and tried not to laugh. A breath escaped. Then a snort. Like a mecheita. Exactly like a mecheita. It was too much.

Cajeiri propped his elbows on their little table, joined his hands in front of his mouth and nose and tried not to make any sound at all approximating that snort. Gene and Irene were all but strangling.

They had not laughed like this since they had escaped the security sweep in the tu

He was sure one of the grown-up Guild was going to come back to them and want to know what was going on.

Which only set his eyes to watering and made breathing difficult.

He tried to bring it under control. They all did. It only made it worse.

They were that tired. Nobody had gotten any sleep last night. And they laughed in little wheezes until their eyes watered.

It was a kindness when nand’ Bren’s two valets brought them tea and crackers. They were finally able, with moments of fracture, to quiet down, in the reverent silence of tea service.

“Sorry,” Gene said, and that almost started it all over, but deep breaths and hot sweet tea restored calm, finally.

There was a small silence, the wheels thumping along the iron track, unchanging.

“I want to do everything there is to do,” Irene said. “I want to see everything, taste everything, touch everything. I get dizzy sometimes, looking at the sky. But vids don’t do it, Jeri-ji. You have to feel the wind. You have to smell the green. It’s like hydroponics, only it’s everywhere, just growing where it wants to.”

“It was great,” Gene said.

“It’s going to be great,” Artur said. “It all is. Irene’s got it right. God, when Boji came climbing up that wall . . .”

“The Taibeni riding through,” Gene said.

“The storm,” Irene said on a deep breath. “The lightning was amazing. That was just amazing!”

4

Bren poured himself another half cup of tea, timing it to the gentle rock of the rails. The clack and rumble, that sound that was bringing them closer and closer to the capital, should be soporific. His body-servants were dozing, like almost everybody else on the train. The tea, however, didn’t in the least help him toward sleep.

But sleep had thus far eluded him, and he wanted warmth against a slight i

They’d killed people, this morning.

He’d set up the attack. He, Bren Cameron, clearly no longer working for the Mospheiran State Department, no longer just the aiji’s translator—he’d presided over a scene of devastation.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a firefight. But never one that so unexpectedly shook the ground, still reverberated in his bones, so out of place, so alien, in a place that never ought to have seen violence at all.

Lord Bren of Najida, it was, now. Paidhi-aiji, the aiji’s mediator. Lord of the Najida Peninsula. Lord of the Heavens—Tabini had had only the vaguest idea what was above the atmosphere when he’d conferred that title, but he’d sent the paidhi-aiji up there to deal with humans and he’d wanted to make damned sure the paidhi had whatever power it took to put him in charge of whatever he could lay claim to—in Tabini’s name, of course.

In one sense the title only amounted to a name, a piece of starry black ribbon on the rare occasions he chose to wear it; but in another sense it was Tabini-aiji’s declaration that atevi were a permanent presence up there in space, that they meant to have a say in what went on up there, and that their representative was going to have all the respect and backing Tabini could throw behind him.

Three some years ago, that had turned out to mean Tabini’s presence was going to go with humans out to deep space and back and find out whether what humans had told them about their situation as refugees was true—or not.

It had been a two-year voyage, one year out, one year back—and in their return they had brought thousands of colonists forcibly removed from their station, to be relocated on the space station above the Earth of the atevi. That was one problem.

And during their absence from the world, his, the heir’s, and the aiji-dowager’s—they had immediately met a bigger one: the situation back home had completely gone to hell and the government had come into the hands of Tabini’s enemies.