will find much comfort there.”
“We equally doubt that Reunion has entertaining sights to see. We have extensively
seen
a station.”
Be brave, she was telling him. Steady on course. Be calm.
“I fear we could never promise the aiji-dowager grand entertainments there.”
“Ah, well.” The dowager adjusted her laprobe. “We have seen very curious things on our voyage, all the same. Whatever the outcome, we have learned the names of two hundred stars and seen one eat another—Grigiji will be envious.”
“That he will, aiji-ma.” The Astronomer Emeritus would have given his aged life to be on this voyage—but health and duties and the pleas of his students had, the dowager had said, dissuaded him.
“Do you suppose Sabin-aiji plots revenge on this household?”
Back to the Sabin matter. Back to questions of reliability of human authority in charge of this ship—a logical question, since she’d served Sabin poison at her dinner-party, letting Sabin choose it, to be sure: baji-naji. And in that chaotic revolution, she’d made sure that Sabin would
not
dictate to atevi where they spent the voyage, and
not
restrict atevi movements or communications on a ship on which her grandson might have designs of ownership—if atevi had one species-wide bad habit, it was that tendency to take for themselves anything they could lay hands on, if there was no preventative civilized agreement . . . and ship-humans had never quite established their willingness to defend their own ship.
Now the dowager asked, having been informed about Sabin’s ignoring his request for information—has Sabin a lingering intention of revenge?
And he had to say, with far too little information—“One doubts it would be related to that, aiji-ma. She seems to take the matter of the dinner as a known hazard in dealing with foreigners.”
“And her opinion of the situation?”
“By her history, she might decide to favor the Pilots’ Guild for certain reasons, in some attempt against Ogun’s authority, on our return to our world. But as regards the incident of the dinner—with this one particular woman, I believe a decision to act against atevi would be a policy decision, no personal vendetta.
Humans
find this woman difficult to predict. It is a trap to find some of her actions atevi-like and reasonable.”
It was wry humor. Ilisidi was wryly amused. But took the information behind those lively eyes and stored it.
“A grudge is not efficient,” Bren added. “And very few of Sabin’s acts carry inefficient ornament.”
“One finds it very tempting to think one understands this woman.”
“A trap, very certainly a trap. I remind myself daily not to view her as, say, a miniature Tatiseigi.”
That did amuse Ilisidi. The aiji’s wife’s uncle, Cajeiri’s former guardian, possibly Ilisidi’s lover, was anotorious stickler for tradition, often offended in this era of fast food and faster transport—and a notorious participant in various schemes.
“Ah,” Ilisidi said, “but Tatiseigi would have invited us all to dinner.”
True. And made them sweat every minute of it, likely doing nothing at all.
He was amused in turn.
“And do you think she may yet invite us?” Ilisidi asked.
“Her customs are by no means atevi, aiji-ma. But this is how I read her. Ramirez deceived the crew in his pursuing alien contact. He kept that secret from his Guild. And from the moment he saw the station in ruins, he knew he had to persuade his crew to leave the ruined station behind, or embroil himself in the rebuilding and defense of the station, which would, I believe, have been a mistake—binding the ship to a hazardous location, and not using the assets he had—notably Jase and Yolanda. He lied quickly and efficiently. One suspects he grieved not at all for the Guild—but he had to refuel, and he lied to Guild authority, telling them that he was going to our world to find out if there were useful resources there. Perhaps he even
“We equally doubt that Reunion has entertaining sights to see. We have extensively
seen
a station.”
Be brave, she was telling him. Steady on course. Be calm.
“I fear we could never promise the aiji-dowager grand entertainments there.”
“Ah, well.” The dowager adjusted her laprobe. “We have seen very curious things on our voyage, all the same. Whatever the outcome, we have learned the names of two hundred stars and seen one eat another—Grigiji will be envious.”
“That he will, aiji-ma.” The Astronomer Emeritus would have given his aged life to be on this voyage—but health and duties and the pleas of his students had, the dowager had said, dissuaded him.
“Do you suppose Sabin-aiji plots revenge on this household?”
Back to the Sabin matter. Back to questions of reliability of human authority in charge of this ship—a logical question, since she’d served Sabin poison at her dinner-party, letting Sabin choose it, to be sure: baji-naji. And in that chaotic revolution, she’d made sure that Sabin would
not
dictate to atevi where they spent the voyage, and
not
restrict atevi movements or communications on a ship on which her grandson might have designs of ownership—if atevi had one species-wide bad habit, it was that tendency to take for themselves anything they could lay hands on, if there was no preventative civilized agreement . . . and ship-humans had never quite established their willingness to defend their own ship.
Now the dowager asked, having been informed about Sabin’s ignoring his request for information—has Sabin a lingering intention of revenge?
And he had to say, with far too little information—“One doubts it would be related to that, aiji-ma. She seems to take the matter of the dinner as a known hazard in dealing with foreigners.”
“And her opinion of the situation?”
“By her history, she might decide to favor the Pilots’ Guild for certain reasons, in some attempt against Ogun’s authority, on our return to our world. But as regards the incident of the dinner—with this one particular woman, I believe a decision to act against atevi would be a policy decision, no personal vendetta.
Humans
find this woman difficult to predict. It is a trap to find some of her actions atevi-like and reasonable.”
It was wry humor. Ilisidi was wryly amused. But took the information behind those lively eyes and stored it.
“A grudge is not efficient,” Bren added. “And very few of Sabin’s acts carry inefficient ornament.”
“One finds it very tempting to think one understands this woman.”
“A trap, very certainly a trap. I remind myself daily not to view her as, say, a miniature Tatiseigi.”
That did amuse Ilisidi. The aiji’s wife’s uncle, Cajeiri’s former guardian, possibly Ilisidi’s lover, was anotorious stickler for tradition, often offended in this era of fast food and faster transport—and a notorious participant in various schemes.
“Ah,” Ilisidi said, “but Tatiseigi would have invited us all to dinner.”
True. And made them sweat every minute of it, likely doing nothing at all.
He was amused in turn.
“And do you think she may yet invite us?” Ilisidi asked.
“Her customs are by no means atevi, aiji-ma. But this is how I read her. Ramirez deceived the crew in his pursuing alien contact. He kept that secret from his Guild. And from the moment he saw the station in ruins, he knew he had to persuade his crew to leave the ruined station behind, or embroil himself in the rebuilding and defense of the station, which would, I believe, have been a mistake—binding the ship to a hazardous location, and not using the assets he had—notably Jase and Yolanda. He lied quickly and efficiently. One suspects he grieved not at all for the Guild—but he had to refuel, and he lied to Guild authority, telling them that he was going to our world to find out if there were useful resources there. Perhaps he even
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