Protector: Foreigner #14 by C.J. Cherryh Page B

well-publicized moves in this last year. He and Geigi were both high-value targets, and the business Jago had handed him last night . . .
    That was more than a little worrisome, but it was one not apt to become acute overnight. Their enemies had taken a hammering down in the Marid, they were still being hunted out of holes down there, and it would take them time to reorganize and replot. They
might
even reform, depending on how the local man’chi sorted out.
    Dealing with atevi was not dealing with humans. The sense of attachment, man’chi, that one could call loyalty, but which was so much more fundamental to the atevi instinct—was the emotion that held clans and associations together. Man’chi was as intense as human love and just as subject to twists and turns, but man’chi was a network of attachments, not a simple one-on-one. Sometimes, when the configuration of alliances changed, people changed. One could always hope a reconfiguration of possibilities and objectives could allow some who had been enemies to reinvent themselves—and have it stick.
    It did happen. It was why atevi had feuds, but didn’t often nurse grudges, and had
no
trouble shifting politics when situations changed.
    The problems Geigi had handed him out on the peninsula . . . problems involving Geigi’s estate . . . those he could certainly deal with. He had a good major domo at Najida, Ramaso, who had connections to the tribal people of the area, and he trusted he had established a very good relationship in that district, with his handling of recent events. Geigi, sitting across from him on the red velvet seat, sipping a little fruit-flavored tea, was heading back to space—from a world much better than the world he had landed on—and Geigi remained their ally in the sky, a powerful deterrent to complete idiocy on earth. That situation too, and the knowledge certain people had earned Geigi’s wrath, might reconfigure a few alliances.
    There was morning tea and there were breakfast sandwiches, courtesy of the staff—a few of whom might not have been to bed at all last night. The staff party in the apartment had broken up to get Lord Geigi’s last personal baggage and their breakfast down to the train in a secure condition—and not
just
Lord Geigi’s own belongings, but baggage and breakfast for Lord Geigi’s bodyguard, his several accompanying servants,
and
four more new staffers chosen from among the Edi people. That little group had arrived from the peninsula last night.
    So their company numbered him and his four bodyguards; Geigi and Geigi’s bodyguard, another set of five, and twelve of Geigi’s staff. They were, uncharacteristically for Bren’s train trips, a full and excitedly noisy car this morning, with most of them and all of the baggage heading into orbit in a few hours. The new staffers from the Edi people were facing their first flight of any kind, having come in last night by train—and they were moderately terrified, being reassured by everyone that it would be a grand experience.
    It might be—for everyone but portly Geigi, who did not take to cramped shuttle seating and the necessary ground-waits in the spaceport lounge, and who dreaded the climb to orbit only as a prolonged misery.
    They were down to tea, now, absolutely stuffed, in Bren’s case. Satisfying Lord Geigi’s appetite took a bit more, but even Geigi swore he could not down another sandwich or pickled egg, and swearing that he was always spacesick in free fall.
    It did not prevent him taking another sip of tea and a little sweet cake.
    “This has been quite a trip, Bren-ji. And outside of the difficulties and the gunfire, a very profitable trip. My estate saved, my nephew married—and lastingly out of my view. Which is, one hesitates not at all to admit, a very good thing.”
    Bren laughed. “Favor us more often, and without the gunfire, please. You will
have
to come down to see the new wing on Najida. Not to mention seeing the Edi estate