Where had he lost that sense of connection?

And what had he traded it for?

What was he losing, back there with Jase? The one human being on whom he’d focused all his remnant of humanity, in a desperate attempt to put together official policy for the aiji, trying to understand the ship-humans’ mind-set?

He boarded the train, rode in absentminded silence, recalling a dozen and one trips over the years, the first launch… spiraling back in time, the first trip to Malguri, the return… going out to Taiben, once and twice, all jumbled together, Jase and before-Jase. Down to Geigi’s estate, for one reason and another… those were the good times. Fishing.

What in hellwas Tabini thinking?

“Do you know anything about this?” he asked his bodyguard, when they were alone, rocking along the rails.

Tabini’s rail car—he’d used it more often than Tabini had, this specially secured compartment, armored against all eventualities.

“No, nadi-ji,” Banichi said. “We, like you, wonder.”

He leaned back on the comfortable velvet bench seat, red velvet, red carpet, a fresh bouquet in the vase on the counter, blooms of the season, the first in the lowlands. They shed a thick, sweet perfume.

A wake might have been more cheerful.

“I need to meet with the aiji,” Bren said quietly.

“One will forward that request,” Jago said.

“The dowager is in residence,” Banichi added.

A new alarm began to go off, deep in his gut.

“Did she come to see Jason?” Bren asked. “What in hell’s going on?”

“She invited him to tea” Jago said, “and they discussed the weather.”

Well, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable; she did come to Shejidan for visits. It was probably coincidence; she’d arrived, and heard he was leaving.

“He’ll have no weather where he’s going,” Bren said, trying to settle himself to the possibility. “He’ll have to get as used to being without it as he did being with it.”

“He will,” Jago agreed.

“So it was one of those conversations?” The aiji-dowager, whom he’d thought safely and remotely at Malguri, was staunchly, provocatively conservative, a promoter of causes, a keen wit.

A good heart.

And a talk on the weather with Ilisidi, Tabini’s grandmother. Lords of the Western Association would give a great deal for a social conversation with her.

But did she do anything… anything… by chance?

“Did she know he was leaving?” he asked his security. It was a three-hour flight from Malguri, for an arthritic woman who didn’t like long sitting. He was prepared to be touched by that effort, if she’d heard and made the trip only for Jason.

“One has no idea,” Jago said, “nandi.”

My lord?Nandi? So formal? What signal was that?

Jason had said not a word about his visit with the dowager. But she was, though silently, a head of a potentially restive association, within the information flow. Tabini would have sent the dowager word of a favored associate’s departure… or else. If Ilisidicouldn’t press Tabini to resist this sudden request from the station, his own chances dimmed.

Jase hadn’t mentioned the meeting… but what could he say? He and Jason hadn’t talked much about the court, had talked instead about the first things they’d done, the things out in the countryside, then sounding each other out a last time, getting their positions on issues fine-tuned, for those who might ask.

It was their job to do that.

But that Ilisidi came to bid Jason farewell meant far, far more than a social discussion… nothing Ilisidi did could go without notice. By meeting with Jason alone, she had declared not only her past association with Jason-paidhi, but a current, live, and potent one.

She had just announced that, in a meeting sure to make the news.

She’d just announced it to her grandson, the aiji. She had an interest in Jason, in his people, in the space program and in the business the ship-humans had with atevi… she, the ecological conservative, the arbiter of taste and society.

He’d been walking about stunned since he’d gotten the news; now he began to wake up.

Much as he relied on the dowager’s goodwill, it was never, ever to be taken for granted. If one lived among atevi, one asked oneself questions, like: was there any enemy or associate Ilisidi wished to slap in the face by making such a trip? He could think of several enemies.

He could even think of the dowager’s grandson, Tabini-aiji, who had advanced Jason’s trip to the space center by a full day, damned well knowing he was coming back with the expectation of a decent farewell… and why had Tabini sent him out there as he had?

Protective of Jason?

A reproof of the dowager for that invitation… disquiet, apprehension of what the dowager might have said or asked?

Why had the Mospheirans gotten their request faster than they’d wanted or expected?

He had to get his wits in order, or endanger the whole damned Western Association, not to mention himself and his bodyguard.

Wake up, paidhi-ji; that was very likely the thought in his bodyguards’ minds, too. They were all but telegraphing signals at him. Realize there might be danger. Defend us. Use your wits.

There was some advantage in having Jason debriefing early, having a man they knew for certain was well-disposed to atevi go up there to counter any negatives Mercheson might have given in her report. Atevi didn’t know Mercheson nearly as well, and didn’t have that much confidence in her, not as they had in Jase-paidhi.

No atevi mission above the technical level had yet reached the station. Pilots and technicians had gone, in the shuttle tests. Those were canny, intelligent individuals under strict instruction how to react and what to do; but no one below could know how those contacts might have gone, off the set script. Tabini wasn’t comfortable with Mercheson’s recall; Tabini knew all the unpleasant history of the Pilots’ Guild, being a student of history other than his own.

That was a hellish load of responsibility under which he served. The Mospheiran government trusted him. The delegates from Mospheira had made gestures toward trusting him. Tabini trusted him. Jason trusted him and wanted to stay down here. He was overburdened with trust and vastly undersupplied with information.

“One does wonder what she wants,” he said mildly, a question utterly without offense to ask in the context of his own bodyguard. He invited response.

“One does wonder,” Banichi said, denying he knew anything worth saying, and Jago, with the equivalent of a shrug:

“She does regard him as within her influence.”

Regarded Jase as an associate, in other words… one who couldn’t be taken from her without dealing with her in some fashion: that was true; it was why Tabini would have called her with that information, probably personally, though the dowager disdained telephones.

“Interesting,” he murmured to Jago’s remark, and noted that Banichi didn’t in the least disagree with his partner’s assessment. Thatrang alarm bells. Jago, the junior in that set, speculated beyond Banichi’s answer: not ordinary in a sober moment. He could conclude both of them thought so, then, but had no solid knowledge of Ilisidi’s motives, and therefore Jago, juniormost, advanced what they could say… once they nudged him into question, dropping their small bombshell of information between them: She’s here, and, She’s involved.

“So what else is going on?” he asked his security. “Who cleared the visas for the Mospheirans?”

“They are cleared,” was all Banichi could say. It was, then, all Banichi knew.

“The Atageini matter is resolved,” Jago said.

“The staff has sent the requisite letters,” Banichi informed him. “The contract is canceled.”

That was a relief. The lord of the Atageini had complained of encroachments on associated territory… the minor squabbles were the bread and butter of court intrigue, rarely accidental, usually a maneuver for position. The land was in contention, and likely the subassociation resident on the land had set up the conflict; assassinations had seemed likely.