features.
But Great-grandmother had nipped that notion before Cajeiri had even laid his plans.
“Nand’ Bren will deal better with his neighbor without a distraction present. They have distressing matters to discuss.” Great-grandmother meant about Baiji-nadi being locked in the basement and them being shot at and almost killed. He could tell nand’ Geigi a thing or two about that, first-hand.
But probably that would be pert. That was his great-grandmother’s word for it, when he got beyond himself.
So his information was not welcome on the bus.
And there was nothing to do , at present, since they were all locked in the house, nothing that was really interesting, because he could not draw back the slingshota to its full stretch, not without risking ricochets that would hit nand’ Bren’s woodwork, which had already had enough damage from bullets.
So he grew bored with that, and even when he gave turns with the slingshota to his bodyguard, his aishid—they could get no real practice at it in such limited circumstances.
They all wanted to go out into the garden, where they could really let fly—but the doors were kept locked, even when there were village workmen repairing the portico out there (one could hear the hammering all morning.)
He so wanted to be on the bus. But he was forbidden even to meet the bus when it came back. Great-grandmother had thought of that, too, and had forbidden him before he could even think of it. “These two lords have serious business underway, almost certainly. You are not to meet the bus when it arrives. Dignitaries from the village will be arriving to meet Lord Geigi when he gets here and, mind, you are not to enter into an indecorous competition for attention on Lord Bren’s doorstep, young gentleman. You will make yourself politely invisible and do your homework.”
Gruesome. His current homework was court language verbs. Which was not too exciting.
But his father’s visit loomed large in recent memory and it was clear to him he was very lucky to be left here in nand’ Bren’s house, instead of being packed back to Shejidan and his tutor. Sitting in his father’s apartment while his Ajuri clan aunt was visiting and while his Atageini clan great-uncle was living just down the hall—that would be awful. Not to mention that his mother would be upset with him for the mischief he had been in, and if his Ajuri grandfather heard about the train and the boat, through his aunt, he would have his grandfather fussing about his supervision and demanding more guards, too, possibly even demanding to install some of Ajuri clan with him, which was just too grim to think about. Even if he thought he and his aishid could get the better of anybody Ajuri clan had, it was just too many guards, and more guards just got harder and harder to deal with.
He understood his situation. He understood the threat hanging over him. He had to behave here, and learn his court verbs beyond any mistake, or he would be back in the Bujavid with grown-up guards at every corner.
So after a little while he grew entirely bored with the slingshota and the circumstances they had, and took his aishid back to their suite to think about what they could do in the house. Lucasi and Veijico being still new to his service, they were getting used to things, though they really were Guild, unlike Antaro and Jegari. They were brother and sister like Antaro and Jegari, and everybody older said they were very good . . . but.
There was always that but . . . with Lucasi and Veijico.
The but that did not let them find out everything they wanted to from senior Guild.
But . . . that made Cenedi look grim when he talked about them.
But . . . that made Banichi and Jago sigh and talk together in very low voices.
If Lucasi and Veijico had been younger (they were felicitous nineteen and the year after) people would probably call them what they called him: precocious—which was a way of admiring somebody while calling him a
But Great-grandmother had nipped that notion before Cajeiri had even laid his plans.
“Nand’ Bren will deal better with his neighbor without a distraction present. They have distressing matters to discuss.” Great-grandmother meant about Baiji-nadi being locked in the basement and them being shot at and almost killed. He could tell nand’ Geigi a thing or two about that, first-hand.
But probably that would be pert. That was his great-grandmother’s word for it, when he got beyond himself.
So his information was not welcome on the bus.
And there was nothing to do , at present, since they were all locked in the house, nothing that was really interesting, because he could not draw back the slingshota to its full stretch, not without risking ricochets that would hit nand’ Bren’s woodwork, which had already had enough damage from bullets.
So he grew bored with that, and even when he gave turns with the slingshota to his bodyguard, his aishid—they could get no real practice at it in such limited circumstances.
They all wanted to go out into the garden, where they could really let fly—but the doors were kept locked, even when there were village workmen repairing the portico out there (one could hear the hammering all morning.)
He so wanted to be on the bus. But he was forbidden even to meet the bus when it came back. Great-grandmother had thought of that, too, and had forbidden him before he could even think of it. “These two lords have serious business underway, almost certainly. You are not to meet the bus when it arrives. Dignitaries from the village will be arriving to meet Lord Geigi when he gets here and, mind, you are not to enter into an indecorous competition for attention on Lord Bren’s doorstep, young gentleman. You will make yourself politely invisible and do your homework.”
Gruesome. His current homework was court language verbs. Which was not too exciting.
But his father’s visit loomed large in recent memory and it was clear to him he was very lucky to be left here in nand’ Bren’s house, instead of being packed back to Shejidan and his tutor. Sitting in his father’s apartment while his Ajuri clan aunt was visiting and while his Atageini clan great-uncle was living just down the hall—that would be awful. Not to mention that his mother would be upset with him for the mischief he had been in, and if his Ajuri grandfather heard about the train and the boat, through his aunt, he would have his grandfather fussing about his supervision and demanding more guards, too, possibly even demanding to install some of Ajuri clan with him, which was just too grim to think about. Even if he thought he and his aishid could get the better of anybody Ajuri clan had, it was just too many guards, and more guards just got harder and harder to deal with.
He understood his situation. He understood the threat hanging over him. He had to behave here, and learn his court verbs beyond any mistake, or he would be back in the Bujavid with grown-up guards at every corner.
So after a little while he grew entirely bored with the slingshota and the circumstances they had, and took his aishid back to their suite to think about what they could do in the house. Lucasi and Veijico being still new to his service, they were getting used to things, though they really were Guild, unlike Antaro and Jegari. They were brother and sister like Antaro and Jegari, and everybody older said they were very good . . . but.
There was always that but . . . with Lucasi and Veijico.
The but that did not let them find out everything they wanted to from senior Guild.
But . . . that made Cenedi look grim when he talked about them.
But . . . that made Banichi and Jago sigh and talk together in very low voices.
If Lucasi and Veijico had been younger (they were felicitous nineteen and the year after) people would probably call them what they called him: precocious—which was a way of admiring somebody while calling him a
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