“Is this a conspiracy, young gentleman?”

“Only I have written very many letters and gotten no answer, and if my father is stopping them, sometimes he wants me to find things out. One does not at all ask you to go against my father, or to do anything at all risky, nandi, only to tell me the truth. And if he tells you not to tell me, of course you will not. You can read the letter yourself if you like. I have no seal. But if you canfigure out what happens to my letters and tell me, one would be very grateful.”

A very, very serious look. Geigi took the letter from him and laid it carefully on his desk. “A reasonable request, young lord. I shall ask him, and I shall inform you of his answer, unless instructed otherwise. Naturally—if I do not inform you—” A slow and wicked smile came to Geigi’s face. “You will naturally assume correctly.”

He flushed a little and bowed, caught out. “Thank you, nandi.”

“You are clearly your father’s son, young gentleman. One would not willingly stand in yourway.”

He was not sure what that meant. A compliment, he decided, and bowed a second time. “One will leave you to your work, then, nandi, with great thanks.”

“No, no, stay and have tea, young gentleman. Perhaps a teacake or two?”

His interest perked up. It was something to do, and it was even safe, to have tea with lord Geigi. Even Great-grandmother would approve.

“One would be delighted, nandi.”

“So.” Geigi signaled the servant, who had stood by. “Tea, nadi-ji.” With which, he got up from his desk and walked over to a sitting area, where he lowered his bulk into a sturdy chair and waved an invitation at another, less substantial.

“One understands you took a tour of my gardens at Kajiminda,” Geigi said for openers.

“One did, yes, nandi.”

“Tell me what you saw. Tell me everything. One understands it was a very clever escape.”

He did that. Geigi interrupted him with questions about what the staff had done, how they looked, how old the servants had been, and how things looked inside the house and in the orchard. Geigi was after information, was what, and with any other person, he would have been very much on his guard, but Geigi had a perfect right to ask, so he poured out everything he could think of, between the tea service and the cakes, which ran on to a second helping.

“I think we broke the surveillance machinery,” Cajeiri said at one point, “and I think the roof lost some tiles.”

“Cheap at the price, one is sure,” Geigi said cheerfully, “and roof tiles are replaceable. One congratulates you, young gentleman! You did very well!”

“Nandi.” He inclined his head politely, and popped a quarter of a last teacake into his mouth.

“And about this slingshota,” Geigi said.

“Oh.” He gulped tea down in a fashion Great-grandmother would never approve, wiped the crumbs from his fingers with the other hand and reached into his other coat pocket, holding up his treasure. “Nand’ Toby made it for me.” He got up and offered it to nand’ Geigi’s inspection. Nand’ Geigi put aside his own teacup, and he showed nand’ Geigi how to hold it and aim it.

And that was how they ended up out in the garden, under the shade of the portico, defying all the security precautions, with four of Geigi’s men sitting, two on the roof and the others where a tree overhung the old stone wall, and Antaro and Jegari helping them keep watch.

It was the best time he had had in days. They broke already-broken pots, and chased pot-chips across the garden flagstones. The Edi workmen who were repairing the portico began to lay bets, and some of the servants came out and watched.

He won the contest. “But I have used it longer, nandi!” he said. Great-grandmother had taught him always to salve feelings when he won.

“Pish,” Geigi said, which was Great-grandmother’s word. “You are indeed your father’s son. You have a talent for hunting. I, alas, have a talent simply for consuming good dinners aftersomeone has done the hunting.”

He laughed, seeing Lord Geigi was joking with him, and maybe saying something deeper: Geigi was that kind of man. This is a very, very smart man, he thought to himself, and then: Geigi sits and watches and just collects power when people give it to him. Besides my father and my great-grandmother and nand’ Bren, this is the most powerful man there is. And people want to give it to him, because Geigi has no ambitions for his own clan. He is disconnected from the Maschi.

The Maschi clan lord is a fool. Geigi does not want to be clan lord.

The grownups talked about the Maschi and the Marid, and how Geigi had a Marid wife until he got the idea she was plotting against him. And he made a fast move to my father’s side.

Geigi is not a stupid man. Whatever he does, puts more things in Geigi’s hands. And me being who I am, he is very glad to do me a favor. He is storing that away for when I am grown up. When Geigi does you a favor, Geigi will always be very smart how he uses it.

One has never met a man like Geigi. He is different. He moves slowly on his feet, but is way ahead in his mind. And he would put up with a lot before he would want to be the lord of the Maschi.

He runs Sarini Province. How does he do that, from orbit?

A lot of phone calls. And when the phones were all shut down during the Troubles, Sarini Province had no lord and things got in a real mess. The Marid moved right in. And the Edi stopped them. So the Marid got to Baiji.

“You are thinking, young lord,” Geigi said.

He was caught with his solemnity-face. He put a smile on it, the sociable face. And still kept his thoughts inside. He gave a polite bow. “Nand’ Bren says you are very smart, nandi. I think you are.”

He somewhat surprised Geigi. Or Geigi put that kind of face on, and gave a little nod of his own. “You flatter me, nandi.”

“You had rather not be clan lord, had you, nandi?”

That did surprise Geigi. He was fairly sure of it.

“Far from it, young lord.”

Cajeiri raised the slingshota, put a stone in it, and further pulverized a potsherd. He handed it to Geigi, who made a creditable shot himself, and handed it back.

“And you want to go back to the station, nandi,” Cajeiri said. “You like living there.”

Now it was a very sober face Geigi offered him. “The station is my domain, young lord. I have business there.”

“You really like it, however,” Cajeiri said.

A heavy sigh. And Geigi looked at him in a curious way. It was the way adults looked at adults. “The world has its pleasures,” Geigi said. “But I—quite honestly, young gentleman, I have a certain peace in my station post. A certain confidence in waking up in the morning. And a certain skill in getting atevi on the station to stop squabbling over clans and prerogatives and do their jobs in a sensible, civilized way. I derive a certain pleasure out of seeing Maschi and Edi, Taibeni and Atageini and all the rest sitting at my table and behaving themselves in a way they would notdo on the planet.”

He had seen it, in his time on the ship. He had seen it with his human associates. “Like myself, and Gene, and Artur. They are my associates, nandi! Nobody will say they should be, but they are, the same as Jegari and Antaro, who are Taibeni, and people think they belong back in Taiben, but they are myassociates, and Gene and Artur and Irene would get along with them very well. I know what you mean.”

Geigi smiled at him. “So you do, young lord, so you do.”

“One wishes one could just make everybody do that down here!”

The smile became a gentle laugh. “One does indeed. One only wishes one had fruit trees up there.”

He saw something else about Geigi. “I bet you could have one in a pot.”

Geigi laughed, and then looked thoughtful, and very thoughtful. “Young lord, that is a very interesting idea!”