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

person who, however handicapped in understanding, wishes you to continue as consort. You have been an asset to your husband. You were with him through difficult times. You have fought for your position at risk of your life. And one would guess that there were times in those two years when you could have taken refuge in Ajuri, which was surviving Murini’s regime untouched and remote. You stayed with your husband. And were a great asset to him.”
    Her eyes moved, flashed fire. “Do not flatter me.”
    “I do not. Your husband values you. And approves your choice of colors.”
    “Do not dare!”
    “You asked me what he said. That was part of it.”
    She drew a deep breath. “My
son
respects you.”
    “One is honored by that, daja-ma.”
    “He has too great an attraction to humans.”
    “I know that has been the case. I agree.”
    “Yet you support him in calling down these foreigners to associate with him.”
    “The forbidden becomes a stronger attraction. If you asked my opinion, daja-ma, which you have not, I would say there is an equal chance that reacquaintance may dim that attraction. They will find him changed. He will find them changed. And then he will understand.”
    She continued to frown. At last she said, “You will observe that interchange, paidhi. You will have an opinion. But I doubt it will favor separation.”
    “I have yet to form my opinion, daja-ma. My thought now is that they will have become strangers—who may reassociate; or not. His man’chi to his great-grandmother—which you deplore, I know—is an absolute guarantee that he
is
atevi. And the human children will have to deal with that, at a depth he understands far better than they do. He understands man’chi. I assure you—they do not. You will not lose him. He belongs to this earth.”
    She was disturbed. It was something positive that she momentarily let it show, a shared intimacy, gone in a flash. “You say so.”
    “I know so, daja-ma. He cannot get from them the affirmation that is so abundantly available to him on this earth.”
    “You
live among us.
You
claim you deal in man’chi.”
    That was ever so slightly—painful. “I am an association of one,” Bren said quietly, and dropped his own impassivity. “My house is scattered, daja-ma. My deepest feelings have no point of congruency with those I most regard. I have learned over the years, what I can expect, and what I cannot. The human children, immature as yet, do not remotely understand what your son is: but your son has had long exposure to
me,
and to my brother and his lady, and he has a certain understanding of what we are. His associates from the ship will likely be troubled at what they find, and if they can patch together a way of working together it will stand them all in good stead. But your son has set roots in the earth, now. He is a little afraid of complexities between his elders that he does not understand—but he is inclined toward you as he is toward his father. Do not turn him aside, daja-ma, and he will not turn elsewhere. His connection with you is important.”
    Damiri’s lips were a thin line. Then relaxed, a serene mask. “How can you know
anything?”
    “There is, for humans and for you,
curiosity
toward the foreign. And then there is
instinct.
Satisfying one—satisfies the mind. Satisfying the other—goes much deeper.”
    Nostrils flared. Intake of breath. A sharp flash of dark gold eyes. “When will
you
be satisfied, paidhi?”
    “When I finish my job, daja-ma. When I see no more wars. No more dying.”
    “Then you are in for a long, long wait, paidhi.”
    “I know that,” he said.
    “What do you get from it?”
    He shrugged slightly. “Satisfaction of my instincts, daja-ma. Deep satisfaction.”
    “You find it enough.”
    “It is enough, daja-ma, that I have moments of satisfaction. I think that is all anyone gets.”
    A brief silence. A stare. Then: “Keep my
son
safe, paidhi.”
    “I am determined on that,