Protector

“Not as tall as the bus,” Cajeiri said, which was the truth. They only came up to the windows. He was disappointed, but he whispered back, “If you’re scared—”

“No,” Gene said in Ragi. “I shall go.”

Artur looked doubtful, but he nodded.

That left Irene, who looked scared to death. She clenched her jaw and said, very faintly, “Yes.”

•   •   •

“Shall we be safe out there tomorrow?” Bren asked, once he and Banichi and Jago got back to their quarters, two brandies on, and got a very, very slight hesitation.

“We have some concern,” Banichi said. “But in this gift and this event, Cenedi says the dowager is particularly determined. She had planned this for after the party, in the Bujavid, and with no access to Lord Tatiseigi’s stables. But the opportunity is here, and given the attractions of the visitors, and the unhappy situation in the Bujavid, which may or may not be resolved by the time we return—Cenedi’s assessment: she would not be crossed in this.”

It was, one understood, Babsidi’sdaughter. And a gift the dowager had waited years to give. And the perfect moment—give or take the harassment from the Ajuri side of the blanket. Ilisidi didn’t make emotional decisions, or didn’t—that he had ever seen. But if there was one that just might reach that degree of determination, with her—this one, involving her great-grandson and a favorite of all her years, in her lifelong passion for riding and hunting—this occasion, they had to understand, yes, approached the level of an emotional decision.

“I shall try not to break anything tomorrow,” he said. “Most of all, we shall keep the youngsters safe.”

The riding really was safe, as Ilisidi proposed it. Jase was dubious, worried about himself, as well as the kids—but this was not a breakneck ride through hostile territory, on a beast with a snaking neck and a disposition to use its tusks for right of way to challenge its herd leader. Nokhada, his own Nokhada, was safely pastured at Malguri, and they would be putting the youngsters on the oldest, least ambitious members of the herd, the perpetual hindmost, who would resist any order from the rein, and simply keep up with the herd, using as little energy as possible. Stay in the saddle, tie the rein to the ring, since it was virtually useless, and watch the scenery—that was what they would have.

He actually couldride, which put him in danger of being given one of the herd-foremost, some young mecheita with ambition, but he truly hoped not.

And when he contemplated the idea, lying in the dark and listening to the thunder above the roof, he found himself looking forward to the ride. Actually looking forward to it.

•   •   •

“We’re going to go very slowly, nadiin-ji,” Cajeiri said, as they all knelt at the sitting room window. The curtains were back and the window open just a little, so they could hear the storm and the rain, which beat down hard at the moment. “Mecheiti go in order. And I shall be riding mine—” He could hardly wait. He truly could hardly wait. He knew Antaro and Jegari were looking forward to the ride as much as he was. Lucasi and Veijico were from a mountain clan, and had not been such habitual riders, but they would manage, he was sure. “But I shall hold her back, nadiin-ji. I shall be very careful.”

Lighting chained across the sky, whitening everything, the little stand of trees that ran beside the house, the stable roof, the pens. Thunder was instant. His guests jumped, and everybody laughed nervously.

“That is right over our heads,” he said, laughing with them, enjoying the window, and the safety, and the storm.

“But the roof protects us,” Irene said. He had established that with them.

“This is the safest place to be except the basement,” he said. “And in the morning, everything will be wet, but that will not stop us, either.”

“Your great-grandmother and your great-uncle are really going to ride?”

“Oh, they may ride the herd-leaders!” he said. “They are very good riders.” But, he thought, mani was so frail, now, this last year. “Except they will not be riding fast at all, with new riders in the group. You shall see. We shall get you up safely—that is the hardest; and then you just stay in the saddle. There are rings and straps to hold on to.” He made a ring with his hand. “Like that. Take-holds.” He remembered the word for the little recessed bars on the ship.

“Take-holds,” Artur said. “Good!” Artur seemed a lot happier with that idea.

Irene had not said much. She had agreed, but she was scared. She always was, of new things. But she was going to try.

She was not going to get hurt. He had his mind made up on that.

He just wished he could convince Irene, who probably was not going to get a lot of sleep tonight.

She had said, when they had walked back to the room, “The table was so pretty. Everything was so pretty.”

She had even eaten the pâté, and never complained, though after they had gotten back to the room, she had gone looking for the little medical kit in her baggage, saying her stomach hurt.