C. J. Cherryh

Six months after a human starship returns to the skies above the world of the atevi, the balance of power on the planet is dangerously upset, and Bren is put at the center of a firestorm that could consume them all. Reprint.

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Pranebella

He looked where he was going and found a towering pair of shadows between himself and the distant foyer light, one very broad-shouldered and not the willowy silhouette of one of his staff.

He spun and ran for his lighted bedroom and slammed his door. And shot the bolt. And kept himself from standing in front of the door in doing so. He had a gun. He had it in the bureau drawer. He wasn't supposed to have it.

Surely staff had heard the disturbance. If they were alive.

Came a footstep on the carpet outside. A gentle tap.

A deep and resonant voice. A familiar voice.

"One is impressed with all your actions, Bren-ji. If you have the gun in hand, kindly put it back in the drawer."

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