Protector

Trust? He had always had that for Antaro and Jegari, from the day they had met. Lucasi and Veijico were much newer in the house, and they had made a bad start, when they had thought they were above belonging to a child. But after they had acted out and gotten people hurt, and after Great-grandmother’s and nand’ Bren’s bodyguards had had their say, Lucasi and Veijico had come back with a deeply changed attitude and begged to stay.

And he’d known, then, that they meant it. Just . . . known, somehow, at the bottom of his stomach. From that time on, trust had happened, which was very important. Best of all, they were reallygood, and they knew interesting things, and they were perfectly accepting of Antaro and Jegari now, saying that they were no fools, that their skills had been very high to start with, and that after a few years, being five years older or younger would not be that much, anyway.

“We have yet to get our briefing from your father’s guard,” Veijico said.

“Go,” he said, “And then tell me what you find out, nadiin-ji! No one ever tells me anything. There was a party last night, and a big Guild meeting about something. I think my grandfather is making trouble, and I want to know. It is importantthat I know. I have things also to tell you!”

They had set down their baggage by the door of his suite. It was black leather bags, the same sort that all Guild carried and not for anyone else to touch. “We shall take this to our rooms,” Antaro said, and they did.

Then they went out again, on their grown-up business.

He was too excited now to go back to his homework—not knowing quite what to do with himself until they got back, and hoping more than anything that their having passed the tests might let him go places again—like to the library to pick out his own books, and maybe to visit mani and nand’ Bren.

His birthday was coming; his guests were going to come; and now that his entire bodyguard had qualified to carry weapons, at least no one could turn up at the last moment saying he did not have professional guards.

“When we all come back,”Veijico had said to him privately, the day they had gone to the Guild, “when we come back, Jeri-ji, we will be a whole aishid. We will be a weapon in your hands—a real one. You will have to be very careful what you ask us to do, because wewill do what you ask us to.”

That was the scariest thing anybody had ever said to him—scarier even than anything mani had said. He thought of that, standing alone in his sitting room, with heavy weapons probably in those bags. He could tell them to kill somebody.

And they would.

And maybe get shot doing it.

Maybe die.

Boji chittered at him from his cage, diverting him into the real moment. Boji rattled the cage door, and reached fingers through the convolute metal flowers of the cage.

He felt a lot like Boji. Locked in. Kept.

And all of a sudden he felt that he was getting a lot more cautious than he had used to be. A lot smarter. A lot more aware what could happen in the world. He was not sure he liked the changes the year was making in him. He was not sure he liked it at all.

I could not steal away downstairs today and catch the train, could I? I did that when it was just Jegari and Antaro and me—we three could do that.

But now Lucasi and Veijico would get in trouble. Now everyone is Guild, and we cannot go back, can we? We cannot sneak out and catch the train, we cannot even sneak down to the library—not because I would get in trouble, but becausethey would get in trouble.

And they would do it, if I asked.

But I cannot ask them. Can I?

Damn it.

He was caught. He did not want to grow up. Not yet. He wanted to be a boy. He wanted to slip away the way they had on the starship, and go places where he could still play games.

But there were no places like that on this floor. And any otherfloor of the Bujavid was not safe.

The world had gotten serious and stayed that way. His guests were going to say, “Come on, Jeri, let’s go . . .”

And he’d have to say no, it probably wasn’t safe . . .

Because his stupid grandfather had made things worse just when they could have really gotten better.

Maybe,he thought, I can think of something.

And: I can still get my way. I just have to be smarter about it.