Free Betrayer: Foreigner #12 by C. J. Cherryh

relief. On the other—
    He couldn’t worry about it. He couldn’t let his mind go down that track.
    And a man like Machigi—
    Was damned hard to read. He’d gained some freedom: Machigi was undoubtedly watching him, wondering what he would do with it, and he couldn’t misstep.
    It was also likely Machigi would tweak the situation to see how he reacted. But hopefully whatever Machigi did wouldn’t involve the bus. The situation in the driveway couldn’t go on for days and days—food and water, among other things, were limited—and for Barb and Veijico—
    Barb was no asset in an emotional situation. Not with atevi involved. She’d just proved that. He had around him now only those who were assets . . . those he least wanted to endanger, but that was the choice he had. He’d given Banichi orders to get out if he couldn’t salvage the situation. It was the most he could do for his bodyguard.
    Except worry. And he couldn’t afford to give way to that, either.
    They had just dismissed the one member of their party most likely to create an inadvertent situation with armed guards—that was Barb—and the young hothead most likely to try to be a hero—a word difficult even to express in Ragi, but Veijico’s inexperience had gotten them into this situation in the first place.
    They’d also, in Veijico, dismissed their food taster.
    Well, but that bus would get them to safety.
    Which was a major load off his mind.
    Machigi had promised him maps. He could look at the east coast, figure the possible assets, and make proposals. He could make phone calls . . . one of which could let him know the bus had gotten to safety.
    He heaved a sigh, which encountered the solid restriction of the vest.
    And he quietly unbuttoned his coat and shed it into Tano’s hands, then reached under his arm to unfasten the vest.
    “Bren-ji,” Jago chided him.
    “Just for here,” he said. “Only here.”
    Jago helped him off with it, and Tano had gone to his room and come back with one of his ordinary coats, an informal one of plain blue cloth. He put that light garment on with a sigh of relief. It was cooler, it was lighter, it left him only the compression bandage, and that relief went a long way toward clearing his head. The painkiller still had him a little under its influence—God, he hadn’t wanted to deal with Machigi with that in his system, but without it—he wasn’t worth that much either.
    Had Algini come back in? He’d lost track. It stuck in his somewhat muzzy head that Algini hadn’t come back inside the suite.
    “Tea, Bren-ji?” Tano asked, and there was that chair by the fire and the little side table.
    “Yes,” he said. “For all of us. Thank you, Tano-ji.”
    Tano didn’t act as if anything was amiss. Maybe Algini had gone back to the rooms down the inside hall.
    He sat down, a little light-headed, and Jago fixed a pillow for his back. It was a situation of fair comfort, and Tano quietly made sufficient tea for the lot of them. The door opened without a knock, and Algini came back into the room, from the outside door. He spoke to Banichi, then left again.
    Maybe seeing to the bus’s departure. But nobody was saying anything. The business worried him—but there were listeners. He said nothing, just took the teacup when Tano brought it to him . . . and wished he knew what was going on.
    Maybe nothing. He let Tano and Banichi and Jago relax for a bit in the peace of a round of tea and contemplation. He tried to think peaceful thoughts. Tried to think about the maps he needed and whether to ask for them brought here, or whether he should request to go to the sunny map room or whatever library existed here—every stately home had a library.
    Algini stayed gone.
    He set his cup down. So did the others.
    “Since we are allowed phone contact,” he said, “if we can arrange a call to the dowager, nadiin-ji, that would probably be a good start. I also need maps of the region, of the west coast, and detailed maps of