Offspring by Steven Harper Page B

and rearranged your calendar. We’ll have to delay the workshop, too—the man who is supposed to train you is busy cleaning up.”
    “For what it’s worth,” Kendi said, “I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry won’t help Senator Reza.” Petrie took up an easy chair and crossed her legs at the ankle. Her skirt displayed athletic legs. “But your sentiment is noted. You have to change some behaviors, Father.”
    “If you’re going to bawl me out on a regular basis, I think you’d better call me Kendi.”
    “And I’m Wanda. I’m not entirely unsympathetic, understand, but my primary responsibility is to Senator Reza.” She cleared her throat. “I suppose I should have known better. Politics is a new arena for you.”
    “I’ve played monastery politics for years,” Kendi said. “They’re just different. National elections are a new game, a con game, really, and I have to learn the rules. Then I can break them.”
    Petrie looked pained, and Kendi flashed her a grin. “Joke,” he said.
    “It was not,” Harenn murmured.
    “I need to discuss another matter,” Petrie said. “With all that’s happened—and going to happen—I think it would be prudent for you and Mr. Rymar to take a security detail.”
    Kendi froze. Did Petrie know about Ben? But she couldn’t. Not unless she was the one who was threatening blackmail. Was she playing Kendi along? He gave himself a mental shake. He was getting paranoid.
    “What do you mean?” he asked instead.
    “Senator Reza is receiving more and more attention, even though she hasn’t officially announced her intention to run for governor. That will mean more attention for you and Mr. Rymar—and your eventual children. It would be a good idea to have someone who can...interfere for you.”
    “Guard us, you mean,” Kendi said. “We haven’t been bothered any more than usual lately. I’m getting the same number of weirdo messages and autograph hounds. Nothing’s changed.”
    “Not yet,” Petrie said. “You haven’t officially endorsed the Senator’s campaign. Once that happens, people will seek you out even more. I was able to walk right up to your house, Kendi. Who knows what strange person would do the same?”
    “Our address isn’t listed on any database,” Kendi said. “No one comes. The location of my office is public knowledge, but the monastery has pretty good security. Bodyguards would get in the way, especially since we don’t need them. Not yet.”
    “Nonetheless,” Petrie said with more heat, “I’ve seen this sort of thing before. People think they don’t need bodyguards until something happens. The best kind of bodyguards are the kind that don’t seem to be needed. They take care of a situation before it becomes a crisis—before you even know something is wrong.”
    “I don’t want someone in my house day and night,” Kendi said. “My privacy is invaded enough as it is.” And bodyguards might learn about the blackmail plot , he added silently.
    “Kendi—”
    “Drawbridges,” Harenn put in. As one, Kendi and Petrie turned to look at her. “This house is accessible by two walkways and two staircases. Convert them into drawbridges, and no one can get in unless they can scale a talltree. Doesn’t Senator Reza have such a system at her home?”
    “That would help home security,” Petrie said, “but not public situations.”
    “It’d be a good compromise,” Kendi said doubtfully. “But still a pain.”
    “I’ll call a carpenter immediately.” Petrie rose. “And do consider taking on security detail, Kendi. It would only be until the election was over.”
    “I’ll give it all appropriate consideration,” Kendi promised.
    Petrie gave a delicate, bird-like snort. “That is the sort of answer you should give to people who try to engage you in public debate. I’ll be in touch.”
    And she left.
    “That was informative,” Harenn said. “And fascinating. You have not received a proper dressing-down for a long time.”
    “I