And that would be attractive: Taiben lodge was bigger, and he would have much more room; and there was the woods; and there was riding mecheiti and running about with Antaro and Jegari, who would be absolutely afire to show him thingsc that would be good.

Maybe his tutor would stay in the capital. That would be even better.

But he had ever so much rather be left here in Shejidan, in the Bujavid, and live in mani’s apartment, and be with her, the way he’d grown up—well, several years of his growing up, but the best years, the years that really, truly mattered: his time in the country, his little sojourn at mani’s estate of Malguri, his stays with Uncle Tatiseigi when mani was in charge of himc not to mention his two years in space, with just mani and nand’ Brenc and his human companions, Gene, Artur, and Irene and all—those had been the good times, the very best times. Everything had gone absolutely his way for two wonderful years—

And then they’d come home to a mess in the capital, and in the Bujavid, and his parents had demanded to have him back and would not let him have access to nand’ Bren or Banichi anymore. His father being the aiji, his father got what he wanted, and got him back, just as simply as that, and put him under one and the other tutor and told everybody in his whole association except Jegari and Antaro to get entirely away from him and leave him solely with his parents.

Which was why nand’ Bren had to avoid talking to him, even if he lived almost next door.

And why mani had gone away to Tirnamardi with Uncle, leaving her own apartment and her comforts and her staff behind.

It was why there was absolutely no chance at all his father was going to send up to the ship-aijiin and request Gene and Artur to come down to visit him. The space shuttles were flying again, and Gene and Artur didn’t mass much, compared to all the loads of food and electronics they were flying up there to the station. But no. He didn’t even get messages from Gene and Artur, just one, when he wrote to tell them he was safe, and about all his adventures. Gene and Artur and Irene had each written him a letter admiring his adventures and asking questions, and he had written back, but there had been no answers since then; and he knew his letters were either never sent, or their answers had never gotten to him; and Gene and Artur and Irene would take his silence as hopeless, and give up tryingc forever.

He was a prisoner, was what. A prisoner. He’d tunneled out when his father’s enemies had tried to keep him. But there was no lock on his door in his father’s residence—just guards, just his tutor, just ten thousand eyes that were going to report it if he stepped sideways.

And then where would he go if he did get out? He could hardly get aboard the shuttle in secret, and they would only send him back when they caught him. If he went anywhere in the whole wide world, they would send him back to his father.

He treasured those three letters, as his most precious things in the whole world.

Soc with mani-ma in residencec maybe he would have no better luck with letters, though he would certainly tell her he suspected connivance against him! But one of two fairly good things could happen with mani: mani-ma could settle in to stay with them and perhaps coddle him a littlec or his father and mother could take a vacation at Taiben, and even if they took him away with them, he would have that. Neither was too bad.

So, foreseeing the need for a good appearance, he became a model of good behavior. He dressed, with Jegari’s help, in his finest, with lace at cuffs and collar. Jegari braided his queue and tied on the red-and-black ribbons of the aiji’s house, and he waited, pacing, until Jegari and his sister Antaro had gotten each other into their best—very little lace, since they were Taibeni, foresters, but very fine leather coats and immaculate brown twill for the rest: mani could not possibly find fault with them.

“I want to talk to mani before she goes into the dining room, nadiin-ji,” Cajeiri said. “We need to put her in a good mood toward us.”

“Yes,” Antaro said, and, “Yes,” Jegari said. So they left the room, not escaping the attendance of his assigned grown-up bodyguard—and headed down the hall toward the drawing room.

He saw Cenedi, silver-haired Cenedi, mani’s bodyguard and chief of staff, resplendent in his formal uniform, and immediately next to him he saw mani herself, small, erect, and absolutely impeccable, walking with her cane, tap, tap, tap, toward the dining room.

He lengthened his stride to intercept mani and Cenedi, and met them with a little bow, exactly proper.

“Mani-ma! Welcome! One is very glad!”

“Well, well.” The aiji-dowager—Ilisidi was her name—rested both hands on the formidable cane and looked him up and down, making him wonder if somehow his collar was askew or he had gotten a spot on his coat. His heart beat high. No. He was sure he had no fault. Mani looked at everybody that way, dissecting them as she went. “We see some improvement.”

Another bow. “One is gratified, mani-ma. One has studied ever so hard.”

And a reciprocal scrutiny. “My great-grandson is availing himself of my library.”

“Indeed, mani-ma. I am reading, especially the machimi.”

“Well, well, an improvement there, as well.”

“You will teach me now! You know so much more than the tutors!”

“Flattery, flattery.”

“Truth, mani!”

“Well, but we will not be at hand to tutor you, Great-grandson. We are here only for the night, then back to Malguri.”

His heart sank. Malguri was mani’s own district, clear across the continent, a mountain fortress. He had been there.

And it was an alternative—if he could go there. There were mecheiti to ride. Rocks to climb. “I could come there, mani. Take me with you! I learn far less with the tutor than with you andCenedi!”

Did she soften, ever so little? She hesitated a few heartbeats: he saw it in her eyes. Then: “Impossible. You are here to become acquainted with your father. You are here to learn the arts of governance.”

“But I have!” He lapsed into the children’s language, realized it, and amended himself, in proper Ragi. “Mani, one has improved entirely.” He saw his grand chances slipping away from him and snatched after something more reasonable. “A few weeks, mani. One would wish to visit you in Malguri for only a few weeks, and then go back to lessons. Surely you could persuade my father.”

“No,” mani said regretfully. “No, boy. We have had our time, in two years on the ship. Now you have to learn from your father.”

“Then stay here, please! This is a big apartment!”

“Not big enough,” Ilisidi said. “Not large enough for your father’s staff and mine, not large enough to keep us from arguments, and your father has enough to do in the upcoming legislature.”

“And he will be busy, and have no time for me!”

“Language, boy.”

“He will be busy, mani, and I shall be obliged to stay to my tutor. Even nand’ Bren has gone away to his estate. I shall have no supervision and you know I should have!”

“Your great-uncle will be here.”

That was the grimmest prospect of all, but he kept that behind his teeth and simply bowed acknowledgment of the fact. “But one will miss your society, mani. One could learn so muchc of manners, and protocols, and historyc”

“Well, well, but not at Malguri, I regret to say, where I must be, and you must be here, boy, you simply must. Come, let us go to dinner; and then we will say our good-byes tonight. Weather is moving in from the west, and we shall be leaving before dawn tomorrow, at an hour much before a young boy will find it convenient, quite certainly.”

“One will get up to say good-bye, all the same.”

“Oh, by no means,” Great-grandmother said, and tapped the cane on the floor, rap-tap, a punctuation to the conversation, as she started walking again, and so did Cenedi, and he was obliged to keep pace. “You will get your proper sleep and apply yourself profitably to your lessons. We shall be taking off before first light. We know, we know your situation. You must bear it.”