Resurgence by C. J. Cherryh

Author:C. J. Cherryh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2020-01-06T16:00:00+00:00

14

Cajeiri had thought he might sleep better, having had Father’s reassurance about mani and nand’ Bren. That had not been the case. He kept thinking about danger and waking with nightmares. And well before his usual time, and still without much sleep, he became too restless, slid out of bed and moved about trying to dress quietly without disturbing his staff. He put on his dressing robe and slippers and went out to his small desk in the sitting room, his little office just seeming too lonely with the door shut. He settled quietly—almost; Boji began to move about his cage. Boji decided it was breakfast—but then, Boji was sure breakfast was coming the moment anyone stirred. Fortunately Eisi had set a bowl with two raw eggs on the table nearest.

“Here,” Cajeiri said, and gave the rascal one, which would keep him quiet for a while.

He had far rather be on the train right now. He so wanted to know what mani was up to.

But that could not be. At the same time Father had agreed to have his human associates come down to live, Father had made him heir.

And with that—he found himself fairly well locked in and locked down. He had to be responsible. He had to prove he was responsible, so when he did ask for things—such as his associates visiting Najida—Father would be sure he was not sending a fool out to nand’ Bren’s estate.

Father had not sent a fool when he had sent nand’ Bren with mani, either. He told himself they would both certainly manage without him. They had managed before he was born, had they not?

Lord Topari was a fool not worth worrying about, or at least acted like one. Machigi, on the other hand—

He could not help worrying.

But Nomari was no fool, either.

And if mani really was going after Tiajo, it was to everybody’s good. Machigi was no ally of Tiajo’s, that much was very certain. So if there was a cause that would get everybody together—Tiajo might be it.

It was just not his to do. Not his matter to solve. What he did have under his control—was a parid’ja that needed a home and a staff that had suddenly gotten older, and larger. And in an hour or so there would be more hammering and sawing in the servants’ passage trying to make room, the consequence of all the changes in his life. Poor Boji hated it, and bounded around rattling his cage in complaint—

But there was no helping it. Even if the laundry was late and the servants’ hall became a dusty mess, they had to do it.

He sat at his desk, looking through his notebooks and his studies, and his little stack of correspondence. And to console himself till breakfast, he took up a pen and began to write.

I was very glad to get your letters. I am back in the Bujavid now.

He could not say what mani and nand’ Bren were doing. That was deeply secret. He could

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