Protector

“Do you promise?” She reached out and he steadied himself, not to flinch. He had a stray wisp of hair that never grew long enough to go back. She smoothed it back even if it did no good. “I hope your sister’s hair grows to an even length.”

“I put a little goo on it.”

A laugh. Actually a laugh. “I know you do. I am glad you have two servants now.”

He wanted to say, One is very sorry about yours, but he did not want to get his mother off onto that topic. A little silence hung in the air, uncomfortably so.

“So,” she said. “Your great-grandmother will house these foreign children. That should be interesting, amid her antiques. And herstaff will plan the events.”

He saw where this was going. Right then. The piece of hair had fallen down again. He felt it. And his mother reached a second time and put it in order.

“What did you do on your last felicitous year, son of mine? How did you celebrate, aboard the ship?”

“I do not remember that I did at all,” he said, and that was the truth. “Time on the ship gets confused.”

“Your great-grandmother forgot your birthday?”

“Sometimes the ship does strange things. And you lose days. Day is only when the clock says, anyway.”

“So you have had no festivity since your fifth. Do you remember that one?”

“No, honored Mother.”

“We had a very nice party. Flowers. Toys. Very many toys.”

He shook his head. He had a good memory, but sometimes he thought his life had begun with the ship. The memories from years before it were patchy, tied to places he had never been. They told him about his riding a mecheita across wet concrete at Uncle Tatiseigi’s place. And he almost could remember that. At least he had pictures in his head about it, but he could not remember much about the house the way it had been then—only the house when they had all been there, with shells falling on the meadow around it. Most of his memories were like that. They were things that had happened, but he had no recollection of where and nothing to pin them to. It seemed they had been on the train once. He remembered the train. He remembered woods that might have been Taiben on a different trip than when he had met Antaro and Jegari. But he had no idea.

“What would you like for your birthday?” his mother asked him. “Is there any gift you would like?”

He was beyond toys, really. Most of what he liked were books. And he wished he could get the human archive back. Therewere his memories, of horses, and dinosaurs, and humans, all of which would appall his mother.

So he thought of something that would not come in a box. But he did want it. “I want you and Father to be there.”

“Son of mine.” His mother sat looking at him, and did not finish that.

“I wish you and Great-grandmother would not fight.”

“Try wishing that of her.”

He knew nothing to say, to that, because mani was mani and that would never change.

“Well,” his mother said, “you shall have your party here, in the Bujavid. In our sitting room. Your great-grandmother may come. I shall invite her. And the paidhi-aiji. Are there others?”

“My tutor.”

“Not the Calrunaidi girl.”

“My cousin. She would not know anyone. Everybody will mostly be adults. And she could not talk to my guests. And besides, I really do not know her.”

She nodded, not disapproving that information. “Well. A very modest request.”

“I have everything I need. I have my aishid. I have a good tutor. I have my own rooms. I have Boji.”

“That reprehensible creature. Will you take himto visit your great-grandmother?”

“May I?” He was really worried about Boji if he had to leave him. Eisi was a little afraid of him, since he had gotten his finger nipped. “And I know Great-grandmother has servants, but might I take Eisi and Lieidi with me?”

His mother smiled that secret smile she had when something amused her. “Son of mine, this is your household. You may deal with it as you wish. I see I have nothing to do. I leave everything up to your great-grandmother.”

That was down a track he wished she would not take. And there were, regarding her and his grandmother, things he wanted to know.

“What did you talk about?” he asked. “When you walked with Great-grandmother at the party, whatdid you talk about?”

His mother’s face went suddenly very serious. “Things,” she said. “Things that truly are not that interesting.”

“Iwould be interested, honored Mother.”

“Ask her. And when you do ask her, perhaps you will do me a favor.”

“What favor, honored Mother?”

“She offered me staff. And a bodyguard. If you will do me the particular favor, son of mine, tell her a skilled hairdresser who has also had a child would gain my deep gratitude at this point.”

“A hairdresser, honored Mother.”