Intruder

And great benefit to the aishidi’tat that agreement would be, once they could get that Edi treaty also ratified by the aishidi’tat, because if thathappened, the Edi were officially within the aishidi’tat, were officially committed to peace with the Taisigin Marid, and the Gan would follow.

And if there was peace with the Edi, then Machigi would be much, much happier with the situation he was walking into, and both sides would have recourse to the law and to the Guild for any breach of the peace. Which meant lawsuits instead of wars before assassinations.

That would be an improvement.

And in consequence of the committee meetings of the day, there had been, on Bren’s return to the apartment, a towering stack of reports waiting on the foyer table—the proceedings, requests, and comments of various Guilds and committees that had also met today, meetings that he had not been able to attend.

Plus, from his hardworking clerical office, there were reports for him to review: reports for Tabini, for Ilisidi, and for Lord Geigi, andfor the Guilds and committees—they were fortunately much of the same content, segments that could be broken out and sent to various subcommittee heads at need. He simply needed to look those over and send them.

There was a personal note from Geigi, arrived via the Messengers’ Guild, which confirmed what he had expected, that Geigi intended to be on the shuttle when it launched back to the station.

And—news—Geigi was coming back to the Bujavid and intended to be Ilisidi’s guest once Ilisidi got back from the East Coast. He would be here for a little time before he took that shuttle. And he would arrive on whatever day Ilisidi got back.

That arrangement would not work. And he was uncomfortable with the idea of his old ally Lord Geigi, who held an office equivalent to his, having to lodge downtown.

Inviting Geigi to guest under his roof, so to speak, risked awakening Tatiseigi’s general irritation that humans existed. And it might slightly ruffle Machigi, who had an ongoing issue with Lord Geigi. But it was an absolute necessity.

He and Geigi had business to discuss regarding the coastal estates, besides. So it did give them time to do that, in a crowded schedule.

And as he headed for his office, having instructed Supani and Koharu to move the masses of paper, Algini turned up from the security office.

“Machigi has just dispatched his representative, Bren-ji. Siodi-daja, of Jaimedi clan, is now in transit by train. She will arrive in Shejidan at sunset this evening. The Guild is prepared to assist her.”

Good on that score. Things were moving. Now everything would move. Fast.

“The shuttle is still on schedule?”

“On schedule, nandi. It will land within the same half hour as the lady arrives at the train station, so if you wish to meet one, the other is precluded. Weather is still good for a city landing.”

Generally the shuttle landings were further out, in respect to the city’s roof tiles; the space facility at the city airport had mostly plane traffic, moving personnel and freight out and back. But there was reason to land in the city on this one time, for security reasons involving its return flight.

“Notify Daisibi of the lady’s arrival, Gini-ji.”

So that the flowers would arrive fresh and have time to cope with whatever security the Guild had laid down.

And in this cascade of developments, and since the shuttle had chosen to come in at the old shuttle launch outside Shejidan, hehad the rare chance to meet the shuttle and welcome home Narani and Bindanda, whom he had not seen for a year, and to welcome the other members of his household who had been absent for two, going on three, years.

Tano and Algini would interface very efficiently with the Guild guarding the lady. He could send them to meet the lady as a courtesy. And with Koharu and Supani running the household here, he had no worries about dividing his bodyguard.

“If you, Gini-ji, with Tano, would be so gracious as to meet the lady at the trainc”

“Gladly, nandi,” Algini said. Algini was always anxious to be where the most interesting information originated. And that was with Lady Siodi, this evening, one was reasonably certain. One could lay bets that the Guild accompanying her would have a wealth of interesting things to say to the Guild establishment in the lady’s new quarters and to Algini that they would never tell to him.

“There will certainly be pizza left when you return,” he said. Their Najidi cook had very readily agreed to a dish this simple and festive for the dinner he was obliged to present to the redoubtable Bindanda, the master chef. The young man’s relief, when told that was the choice, had been extreme.

“We shall see the lady settled in good order,” Algini said. “And we shall get a report, Bren-ji.”

“One has every confidence,” he said.

So he saw the paper mountains sent into his office, and then he and Banichi and Jago went on to have their lunch, followed by a leisurely informal debriefing in the sitting room—Algini joined them there for an exchange of intelligence and a warning about the afternoon meetings. Tano came in with an account of reports sent to Tabini and messages received from him.

“The exhibit in the lower hall,” Jago said afterward, “is drawing attention not alone from the Merchants’ Guild. The public has seen the sign, and the news services have reported it. There is great public interest, and house security asks all households to be aware there will be tourist traffic in excess of the ordinary downstairs. At the museum’s request, the Guild is taking measures to provide a more extensive guard. The printing office, meanwhile, is doing special cards for the public.”

Keepsakes. Cards. Families kept such mementoes in albums, usually, along with their photographs, or hung very special ones on the wall, especially signed ones, and very especially ones with ribbons and seals of notable or memorable people.

And a card was being issued from the Bujavid Museum Office for the Marid porcelain?

God. That was going to bring out more than “crowds.” Mobs would be likely. A collectors’ item. A very high-value collectors’ item.

And, oh, the museum knew it. The museum would have the opportunity to collect beneficences for the eventcone was certain it would set up a contributions bowl beside the object. There would be lines at the front door. They would be putting visitors through in groups, guide-escorted and moved along at a set pace. All this while critical presession committee meetings were going on, while the Marid emissary was settling into her residence—and when the whole drama of the Marid alliance was about to go as public as any such event had been in years.

He should have seen it coming. He’d thought of a few rich collectors straying through. But—with the mix of recent upheaval in the south, the long-term public anxiety about the Marid, the distant news of a political shakeup, and now—now gifts from the new authority in the Marid, sent, for all the public knew, to the aishidi’tat itself—oh, yes, it made sense. At least in their minds, that gift was to the aiji. The news had twigged to the idea something was going on, and now there was an image they could broadcast that was becoming a focal point and a general public understanding that the agreement involved the whole aishidi’tat.

God,he’d dropped a stitch. No, he hadn’t avoided publicity. He’d intended to use it. He hadn’tplanned to be the lone representative of the powers that had been involved down in the south, with the business accelerating to the point of lunacy. Geigi wouldn’t be back until the dowager was; Machigi wouldn’t arrive until the dowager did. There was the Marid representative. There was himself. And what did he do with the pent-up potential?

He put up a damned art exhibit and thoughtlessly threw it open to the public almost as a matter of course. Allexhibits in the lower hall went public after their initial purpose was satisfied. They always had. Did now. He hadn’t ordered otherwise. God! He’d made a mistake.

“Does the aiji know it, nadiin-ji?”

“He does,” Banichi said. “He has talked directly with the Museum Director.”

“Who ordered the release of cards, nadiin-ji? The Director?”

“One assumes the Director, Bren-ji, but one can check.”

“Do, Jago-ji,” he said. “I fear I have involved Tabini-aiji. And I did not wish this.”

“One will inquire of the aiji’s office,” Jago said and left, probably to make a quiet call through channels.

He had wanted to make the porcelain, ergo the negotiations, appear in a popular light. Hehad wanted the piece displayed in a good light—literally—not hauled inelegantly out of a case and set on the conference table in front of the Merchants’ Guild. And after it had served its purpose, well, there was hardly anything to do with it but take it public, was there? He had expected the Director to put the piece in a quiet little case in the middle hall. If they were getting that kind of traffic, clearly it was not going to be in the middle hall. It was probably in the foremost display case in the foyer.

Printing cards.

He wondered if Tabini himself had quietly leaked the word to the public. He hopedc

But, God, Tatiseigi had no discretion in communications. If rumor had gotten out to some art expert, and then gotten from there to the porcelain fanciers, who were numerousc

“What have you learned?” he asked when Jago returned quietly. “Is the aiji greatly upset?”

“Bren-ji, it was the Guild that ordered it,” Jago said.

Bren blinked. And stared at Jago, who quietly poured herself a refill of tea and sat down.

The Guild had just intervened in a crowded printing schedule and had cards printed for a spur-of-the-moment art exhibit?

“One cannot ask,” Bren surmised.

“No,” Jago said, “one should not ask, and I cannot say more. But positive information on the agreement is being dispersed to many lordly households.”

God. The Guildwas backing the agreement. All-out backing it.

It made him nervous to have no check or objection whatsoever on what he was doing—nobody except Tatiseigi, who would cheerfully tell him his faults and flaws.

The notion that the Guild might be moving politics on its own again rather than supporting the aiji’s administrative authority—that gave him pause. Extreme pause.

In the light of what Tabini had told him—if Tabini had even told him all the truth—

God, what was happeningin the understructure of the aishidi’tat?

If the agreement helped pave the way for lasting peace, down the roadcgood. He thought so, at least. If they could get the state stable enough to rein in the Guild—he was associated with the very people who were capable of doing that and who were going to tell him the truth. He bet everything on that. And Jago, who’d just given him that information.

He just wished he were a little more confident that he was not setting something skidding into motion that had no damned brakes.

And he wished he were a little more confident in his judgment. The Guild was supposed to serve as a check on the aiji’s power. It was the law court. The bar. The regulation of societal stress and the court of ultimate appeal.

Had the recent bloodbath in the Marid and the prior battle, when Tabini had come back, and the one before that, when Murini had staged his coup—had those set-tos, in which far too many had died, been the tipping point toward a new theory of government?

Rule by the most clandestine of guilds was dangerous. No matter how good, how positive the intent, letting that go on was nota good thing. And of all people to have some of the major players in hishousehold—a human. The paidhi, who was supposed to be neutral in politics.

With Tabini-aiji’s bodyguard kept out of the loop because somebody lately playing politics at the top of the Guild had wanted to keep its operations secret and unstoppablecand didn’t trust Taibeni clan.

He didn’t approve. He very much didn’t approve.

“Nadiin-ji,” he said to them, “that may be good or bad. Let us hope it is good.” And he added, pointedly, “Keep Tabini-aiji aware. One asks.”

“We are watching,” Jago said. “We are watching all levels of this operation. Carefully. So are our partners.”

Algini and Tano.

“And we arereporting to Tabini-aiji, Bren-ji,” Banichi said. “So is Cenedi.”

Thatmade him feel better.

But not entirely. It meant that—should the Guild decide again that secrecy mattered more than law—it could decide to take measures against them.

Damn, he thought. Damn, he had to find out some things. He had to get uncertainty settled down, before things outright exploded.

The shuttle was on its way in, and meeting it required a train trip, a very pleasant trip in the closed quiet of the aiji’s red-upholstered private car, on loan again.

Meanwhile, the Guild reportedly had the Taisigi representative’s premises in ordercmeaning, of course, all the bugs were politely tucked in and well-concealed. Banichi and Jago professed themselves satisfied by the report they had from Tano and Algini, so one could take that arrival as going well. The clerical office had sent the flowers for the lady.

And for the rest, it was a smooth trip on rail out to the far side of the airport, until the train drew up to wait on a siding within view of the shuttle landing strip.

They had not long to wait. A call from ground operations advised them that the shuttle was now visible on approach.

One’s heart beat a little faster. Definitely. Even after a trip on a starship, these landings at the mercy of a planet’s unforgiving mass, involving so much support, involving weather, involving very high-velocity machinery, never became entirely routine. He got up and walked to the open side door to watch—he had on the bulletproof vest, as he had promised, a better-proportioned version and not so uncomfortable as the makeshift one. He stood in the light of a setting sun and spied the shimmering speck that was the shuttle. He watched it grow larger and more solid. He had landed on that very shuttle, and he knew everything going on in the passenger section, people taking last-moment account of any stray items. When the shuttle braked, it braked.

Wheels touched. The nose came down elegantly, and it slowed and braked, using up a scary lot of the runway.

Now it was simply a matter of waiting while the support vehicles moved in, while the exterior cooled a bit, and the safety crew had a go at the craft.

Inside, the passengers would be shifting about, gathering up their hand luggage, and the shuttle crew would be putting the shuttle into a safe condition for its two weeks or so of servicing and checks and refueling—the normal schedule for any shuttle on the ground.

Well, the show was over. Now it was all waiting. Bren returned to his seat as Banichi and Jago shut the door. They shared a little tea, it being close to suppertime, while Jago kept an ear to ground operations and Banichi kept track of events downtown in Shejidan.

“The Marid representative has reached her apartment, Bren-ji,” Banichi reported, “and Tano and Algini have met the lady, who expresses gratitude. She is quite pleased with the apartment and office and is particularly pleased to find an excellent and approved restaurant across the street, which is arranged to provide menus and deliver to her premises.”

“Excellent,” he said. He was entirely relieved. Two things were going well at once. Unprecedented.

He sat and sipped tea, while Jago followed post-flight operations. At last she advised them that the shuttle doors were opening and that a bus had been dispatched to convey the passengers and their baggage directly to the train, customs waiving an inspection on executive privilege.

Bren gave it a few minutes more, and when Jago reported that the bus was well on its way to the siding, he got up, set his own teacup in a safe enclosure at the back of the galley counter, and went back to the door with Banichi and Jago.

The modest spaceport bus came purring up alongside, next to a low ditch and blooming water flower. It stopped and opened its door, lowering its steps with a pneumatic hiss.

Out first came a young man: young Casichi, one of Narani’s many nephews, and then, white-haired and moving slowly with the young man’s help, Narani himself, who looked up with a wide grin.

Immediately after Narani came the portly and distinguished Bindanda. Then—was that Asicho, or Sabiso? Asicho, Bren decided, the excellent young woman who, with Sabiso, had attended Jago’s needs in their very male household aboard ship—the two were partners and cousins, as alike as sisters; Sabiso was right behind her.

And Jeladi! Jeladi, his sometime valet, who had been their man-of-all-work aboard ship, who now would assist Narani at the door and with the accounts.

Then came Kandara, and Palaidi, and Junaricall, all welcome and happy faces, men who had been on a grand adventure and now might have—finally—a chance to visit their homes in Najida village.

Bren descended a step. But Jago put a hand on his shoulder.

“Narani will need assistance, nadiin-ji,” he protested.

“Then you must stay here, nand’ paidhi,” Jago said firmly and primly, “freeing your bodyguard to do that service.”

Wherewith, she easily skipped to the ground as the senior company from the bus made their way toward the train. The younger members of the company had started offloading their bulkier stored baggage, a great deal of it, from the bus.

There would be gifts for family, all manner of mementoes of their service on the station—one could by no means handle such things roughly or without consideration. Banichi got down and headed for them to assist.

Narani reached the bus. And with these people, hang back as he must, Bren had no solemn formality at all. He offered Narani his hand for assistance up the last step, took a good grip on the door frame and assisted Bindanda—who had not lost any of his girth—and one after the other of the others. Banichi and Jago arrived hindmost, shepherding the baggage handling, and they and the younger folk heaved their loads up into the car in a happy and noisy chaos. Atevi on public occasions showed very little emotion, all stiff formality, but there was none of that reserve in this moment: everyone fairly beamed with happiness, even Bindanda, and most of all gentle Narani. Hugs were out of the question. There were simply deep bows, repeated deep bows, and very, very happy staff, while baggage was shifted and people found seats.

“Nandi,” Narani said more than once, “you do us very great honor. One by no means expected the paidhi-aiji to come in person.”

“I would have walked here barefoot to see you, Rani-ji, and you, Danda-ji, and all of you, and you know it! Welcome back! Welcome home! We have made our bestefforts to put things in order in the apartment, as best we could, with the help of some young folk from Najida, and a young cook, Danda-ji, who is terrified of meeting you and so much hopes to have your good opinion. And by no means shall any of you delay meeting family. If any of you— anyof you—have urgent need to visit your own houses for any reason, nadiin-ji, we shall make every effort to get you there and back again; and you all, in precedence of service, may have a week in Najida, at your pleasure and my expense. Nadiin-ji! One is so very, very gladto see your faces again!”

There were more bows. Protestations that none of them, not one! would leave until the household was in good order.

“You all resume your rank and your duties,” he said, “except, Jeladi—”

“Nandi!”

“You know your circumstances, that you will assist Narani-nadi!”

“Yes, nandi!”

“One has the greatest confidence, nadi! Sit, be at ease. We have every sort of beverage and fruit juice. But mind, mind, we shall have pizza on our return to the Bujavid, and you must arrive in good appetite!”

That roused a cheer. Fruit juice was the overwhelming favorite choice, and the youngest took over service. They had at least two rounds before the train began the careful climb up to the Bujavid train station.

From there it became a traveling celebration, a laughable effort trying to get all the baggage into the baggage office, and arranging to transport it themselves.

Upstairs, then, in more than one elevator load, their advance guard reached the front door—where Supani and Koharu met them. Koharu with some little ceremony turned over the keys to Narani right from the start. “An honor to do so, nadi,” Koharu said graciously, and with that, Narani resumed the post that was his.

Bindanda, now—Bindanda sniffed air redolent of fresh-baked pizza and said, with extraordinary charity and good humor, “The paidhi seems very ably served in the kitchen.”

Which was not to say Bindanda did not immediately head down the hall to the kitchen in his shirt sleeves, having handed off his outdoor coat and not even having changed to kitchen whites, bent on inspecting the kitchen operation.

Tano and Algini had made it back to the apartment not long before them. “Go rescue Pai-nadi, nadiin-ji,” Bren said to them under his breath, for fear their young cook would simply wilt at the sight of Bindanda, and those two headed toward that venue on a mission of mercy, right on Bindanda’s heels.

Supani and Koharu having gotten back to their own assignment, however, the hated vest could now come off, and Bren slipped on a light coat for house wear, while the staff settled into their rooms backstairs. It was suddenly a completely staffed household, a lively household and a happy one, even in the kitchen.

And within the half hour, pizza began to pour from the kitchen to the dining room in an extremely informal service. It was the atevi recipe—green, laced with alkaloid, all except one special one. It was a dish that newly established custom declared proper to eat standing, with drink in hand, even while touring the premises on a festive occasion. Even Narani put away three pieces and Jeladi certainly more than that—not to mention Bindanda, who must have accounted for one entire pizza himself, to Pai’s great delight.

Then staff, having toured the revisions to the apartment, settled on available chairs in the sitting room—and long past supper and an offering of brandy, they all traded stories, stories of life on the station during the Troubles and stories from the Najida folk of how they had stolen the paidhi’s furniture from the Bujavid—details that Bren had not himself heard, and he had to laugh at Koharu’s account of getting a room-sized carpet past two guards.

It was a splendid evening. Everybody got along famously, and everyone drank a bit more wine and brandy than proper; there was laughter, and good humor, and in due time—bed and quiet.

“Such a day,” Bren said into Jago’s ear when they were both abed. “Such a good day.”

“In every respect,” Jago said, and sighed.

10

Morning. And in Father’s household, unlike mani’s, they all almost never had breakfast together. Or lunch. Sometimes they had supper. Every few days they had supper.

But it was a surprise to be asked to breakfast with Father and Mother. At first one feared one’s parents had found out about Boji.

Cajeiri scrubbed and dressed and turned out in his best, all the while asking himself what other bad thing could happen or how he would handle it if his worst fears came true.

But once he entered into the dining room, he was perfectly cheerful. He had learned from Great-grandmother never to let worry show on his face, because then there would surely be questions about one’s bad mood, and then one would be obliged to tell much more than one wished and end up defending oneself before ever being challenged.

If the two servants he had tending to his apartment had taken a report about Boji to his father, he was going to be more than put out.

But again, one dared not let worry show. One just appreciated the breakfast, which was very traditional and actually quite good, and thanked the cook. And tried to be smart.

Since nothing came up after service was done, he decided it could even be one of those times when his parents had decided to notice him and have breakfast with their son the way other families did.

If that was the case, that was nice. Or it would have been nice if he had anything entertaining to say. Mother and Father had talked about the legislative session and the Communications Guild, while he tried to keep a pleasant expression throughout that dull stuff, and when after-breakfast talk was done, he decided he might be able to just slip out quietly and go about his own business.

“Son of mine,” his father said, stopping him halfway to rising.

He settled. “Honored Father.”

“Come to my office.”

This was not good. Not at all good. It could be about lessons. But he and his tutor had gotten along.

Maybe that was all Father wanted to ask him: how the tutor was doing. He would say, I want this tutor, and his father would say that was fine and let him go.

His father and mother went their separate ways in the hall; his mother remarked on his coat and cautioned him not to wear it except on special occasions.

“One thought this wasa special occasion this morning, honored Mother,” he said, which brought a little frown to his mother’s face.

“Well, we shall have to do it far more often,” she said, which was not what he wanted to hear. And she patted his shoulder and then went her way to her suite, while his father had already walked on into the main hall with two of his bodyguard in tow.

Cajeiri had not brought his own guard to stand duty at breakfast, it being inside the apartment. But when he got to the office, his father’s guard took up their posts outside, and one opened the door for them, and shut it when they were inside. It gave the visit an uncomfortably formal feeling, as if he were some kind of offender being brought to court.

“Well,” Father said, settling into his chair at his desk, with stacks of papers and books everywhere about that were mostly classified, and with the important business of the whole world spread about them. “You do look very fine this morning, son of mine.”

“Thank you, honored Father.” It called for a bow. He made it, hoping hard that this really was only about the tutor and his lessons.

“You are still content with your tutor.”

“Very muchso, honored Father.”

“A wonder. One has also a good report from him.”

“One is gratified, honored Father.”

His father turned to his desk and took up a small, fat envelope. It was a curious envelope. It had that glassy kind of look that did not belong on earth. It was so transparent one could see writing on it. His father laid it in the midst of his other papers. He wished he could read what it said at this distance, but it was impossible.

“The shuttle has landed,” his father said, “and brought with it a letter.”

His heart had already picked up its beats. Now it beat faster still, but he was not sure whether he was in trouble or not.

“A letter, honored Father.”

“You sent a message, this time by Lord Geigi.”

Faster and faster, and with suddenly far less hope of possessing that letter. He was definitely in trouble, maybe Lord Geigi was, thanks to him, and quibbling would not help matters. “Yes, honored Father.”

“You are determined, are you not, to keep up relations with your associates on the ship.”

“These are valuable associates, honored Father.”

“You think so. They are not the sons and daughters of aijiin. They have no connections.”

He had never heard that objection to his associations. He had never even considered that objection. And he pounced on the only logic he could think of.

“The ship-aijiin have no children, honored Father.”

“You know that, do you?”

“None my age, at least, honored Father. But—”

“Continue your thought. One wishes to hear your reasoning.”

He had never reasoned any logic for his choice of companions, except that they were accessible. There had been more kids, but a handful—a handful were the best ones.

“They have good qualities,” he said. His head had gone spinning off into ship-speak, and it was hard to find words in Ragi to describe these associates. “And they are valuable.” A thought struck him. “Nand’ Bren is not the son of an aiji, is he, honored Father?”

“He is not,” his father said. “Humans form their associations differently. Yet one might suggest that you are a more valuable associate for them than they to you.”

That envelope was aboutGene and Artur and Irene and Bjorn. It could be fromthem. But if he asked for it, his father would probably say no, and that would be the end of the discussion for years. So he fought to think straight, and not to panic, and not to lose his words. (Lose your words, his great-grandmother would say, after thwacking him on the ear, and you lose your argument. Lose your argument, and you lose what you dearly want. Think, boy! Whatare your words?)

“Humans form their associations differently.” He answered his father with his father’s own words. “They do not have to be the sons and daughters of aijiin. I makethem important.”

His father blinked, at least a sign that he was impressed. “And they have good qualities, you say. What are these qualities?”

“They are clever. They are forward. They know things.”

“And their man’chi?”

He saw that trap and stepped right across it. “Their man’chi is like nand’ Bren’s.”

“One doubts it is that extraordinary,” Father said. “But it has impressed you.”

“They are strong,” he said. “They are quick. They have protected me.”

“Protected you.”

“They have taken the blame for me, honored Father, when I was stupid.”

“An impressive gift. So.” Father was quiet for a moment. “And you were ordered, strictly, to forego this association.”

“I was ordered. But I have learned it would be improper for me, honored Father, to disrespect their man’chi.”

“That is how you read them, in particular. All of them.”

Another trap. It was a test.

“Gene, and Artur, and Irene, honored Father. And Bjorn. Bjorn is a year older. One does not believe the rest have such man’chi, but these four. These four.”

“A fortunate number for an aishid. Was that your thought?”

“I have an aishid, honored Father, and they shall be. But Gene, and Artur, and Irene—they are the three I would most rely on. Bjorn I would rely on to help me and to fight for me. But Gene, and Artur, and Irene, honored Father, these three would be with me through anything. Bjorn has man’chi to them most. But to me, too. I am older, now, and much wiser.”

Father nodded. “And you think it unjust that we have severed you from these persons.”

He could get angry if he let himself. Anger, mani would say, is your enemy’s servant.

“I know why you have ordered it, honored Father. I need to be with atevi. I shall live here and not in space. I shall need to know things I could not learn in space. I need to know atevi and not to be confused about what I am. I need to learn man’chi. I need to learn from atevi.” It was a recital, of things all the adults around him had said, over and over. “Now I know what everybody was telling me about grown-up feelings. Now I know what you and mani wanted to teach me about that. Now I am ready.”

His father leaned back in his chair, as he would do when he was taking a view of something, and ending a conversation. “You are almost fortunate nine. And extraordinarily precocious.”

“One hopes to be respectful.” He had learned to say that under the threat of a thwack on the ear. “Honored Father.”

“Are you? Respectful?”

His heart ticked up. “One wishes always to be respectful, honored Father.”

“Yet you send secret messages by a lord who may in the future wish your favor.”

“Nand’ Bren says Lord Geigi is honest and I should rely on him. But nand’ Bren has man’chi to you, and so does Lord Geigi. So I know he would have told you. But I suppose he might have forgotten to tell you. Things were very confused at Najida.”

“Oh, do not be elusive, son of mine. It hardly becomes an aiji. Speak your mind.”

“Then you should not be angry at Lord Geigi for sending my message. I am the one. I was not proper to him, to ask him to carry a message you would not approve. I did not expect him to send it. He may not have known you disapproved.”

His father’s face was quite grim. “He is no fool. Do you think he is?”

“Not at all. But he may be busy.”

“It was quite clever. He did come to me. I told him to send the message. And all the rest.”

“All my other letters?”

“I saved them.”

He drew a deep, slow breath. Bowed, which was always a good idea when the conversation was getting tense.

“Honored Father.”

“So here is your answer,” Father said, nudging the glassy envelope closer. “A letter carried down on the shuttle. One inquired of Jase-aiji as to the propriety of the exchange.”

“Jase-aiji.” Jase-aiji was one of nand’ Bren’s associates. Jase-aiji had been good to him, on the ship.

“I asked him, through the ship-paidhi, how your association with these persons stands. He responded that they often ask about you and often wish their good will sent to you. You are right. The association has not broken, though strongly encouraged to break.”

A second deep breath. A second bow. He did not trust his voice. His heart was beating for all he was worth.

“These three,” his father said, “and the fourth, are an inconvenient symmetry in ages. There will be comment on that, among the ’counters. And much as we belittle the ’counters for folly, there is reason in this. There is something missing. One does not think it is this Bjorn person, who wrote only briefly and formally and has entered technical preparation on the ship. He will not come.”

“One—has no idea, honored Father.”

“There will be someone,” his father said. “A fourth. Everyone will say so. But you are approaching your ninth and felicitous year, and one has asked oneself what sort of celebration there should be. Your grandfather and your great-uncle will of course have their plans, andtheir regional ambitions, about which you know something.”

“I know, honored Father. But—”

“Do not interrupt me.”

“Forgive me.”

“I am having a generous moment. I am having an extremely generous moment—and perhaps a moment of far less charity toward these pestilential regional ambitions. I shall not have a civil war breaking out between your grandfather and your great-uncle, or between your mother and me, or between me and my grandmother. Each will deplore the other’s influence. Half will deplore the association with nand’ Bren, half will support it. And it is in my mind to give everyone something else to deplore, if I can prevail upon Jase-aiji to move the parents of these three young people to permit them to attend you on your birthday—down and back up to the station again on the same shuttle cycle. Would that please you, son of mine?”

“Honored Father.” He found himself all but speechless. “Indeed.” He remembered to bow. “One would be extremely pleased.”

“One had little doubt of that. Your mother is anxious. I am not. One will expect extraordinarily good behavior before, during, and after this event. You understand the word ‘incident,’ do you not?”

“Yes, honored Father. One does understand it.”

“Do you understand my desire not to have one surrounding this event?”

“One understands very, very well, honored Father. One will be on absolutely the best behavior. And likewise my associates.”

“This entails the consent of their parents. Jase-aiji can strongly suggest they give it. He cannot order them to permit this, nor is it certain that your young associates will wish to come here. But you may invite them, and Jase-aiji will support your request, as will I. As will your mother.”

He bowed, and bowed again for good measure. “One would be ever so grateful, ever so well-behaved, ever so polite—”

His father lifted a hand for silence.

“Go,” his father said. “Go begin behaving well, today. Let us have another good report from your tutor.”

“You shall have, honored Father! Thank you!”

“Out.”

He left. He left with a look back at the doorway to see whether his father was still serious. He was. He ducked out and shut the door and went straight down the hall to his own door, and inside.

“Nadiin-ji!” he said when he had come in, and he scared Boji, who hopped from perch to perch in his cage and chattered at him.

But he had such good news, such absolutely unexpectedly wonderful news he could hardly hold it.

He had to start reading and writing in ship-speak again. He would teach his aishid. They needed to know it, being his bodyguards.

The whole heavens had opened up.

And when all his bodyguards appeared in the doorway, Antaro in only her underwear, he hardly even noticed that, he was so excited.

“I have news,” he said. “Nadiin-ji, I am going to have the best birthday there could ever be! My ship-associates are coming!”

“Indeed?” Antaro asked.

“For my birthday! Father sent the message, and I have letters!”

It was very little time until his birthday happened and until he could see his shipboard-associates, and they could meet his aishid, and they would all get together and talk until all hours.

Oh, and then he could show themhow clever he had taught Boji to be. They would never have seen a parid’ja, or a mechieta, or anything of the kind. That would be wonderful to them.

He would show them the Bujavid and mecheiti. He would take them on the train, and they could go to Uncle Tatiseigi’s estate, and he would show them all how to ride.

And he would have Boji travel with them, because by then he would have trained Boji. Boji would amaze them. They all told stories about dogs and cats and horses, and he had seen them in the human archive, but he was sure nobody alive had ever seen one. And hehad Boji, who would do wonderful things by then, and everybody would have a grand time, and maybehe could get permission to take his associates from the ship out to nand’ Bren’s estate at Najida, too, and they could see the ocean from right on the boat dock, and maybe even sail on nand’ Bren’s boat. Even if nand’ Bren could not be there, there were people who knew how to sail the boat, and with nand’ Bren’s permission, they could do it.

There would be so many wonderful things. So incredibly many things to do.

He had the envelope in his hand. Wordsfrom them. Shipspeaka.He had drawn his pictures to remember the ship and remember the words. And he had taught a few of the words and the alphabet to his aishid, but now it was urgent, and they were all going to learn and practice every single day.

Oh, it was so good!

Bindanda insisted he needed no day off to recuperate, and the result was a splendid and elaborate breakfast, the junior cook having had the foresight to have made a very large and extended food order, not just the staples for feeding twice the number as before, but the full array of ingredients, as the junior cook put it, that a master chef might expect to find in the best of kitchens.

Bren had signed off on the order, and the market had sent it up. And doubtless their junior cook had made a brilliant move, since Bindanda was clearly in a good mood.

Narani had the running of the household now, that venerable old man, and a dust particle would not dare linger. Narani had ordered flowers and started an arrangement of spring blossoms for the front hall, while staff scurried about on routine tasks, and Jeladi was supervising an inventory and assignment of staff to particular maintenance and supplycit was, in short, becoming a very well-run household this morning, one in which Bren found no fault at all.

Anticipating that he would have a household in reorganization and that his approval might be needed to set up certain accounts, he had not scheduled any committee meetings, not a one. He had foreseen also just the shade of a hangover after last night, but he had wisely avoided one and felt—surprisingly—extraordinary.

He blazed through the policy statement he had promised his clerical staff. Aliens might arrive in the heavens, as foretold, but they would not likely descend. The kyo were not the sort that coped well with strangeness, and that disposition at least seemed part of their makeup, not just a mutable cultural condition.

They are, however, very respectful of elders, and they were fascinated by the aiji’s son, who very favorably impressed them, as did the aiji-dowager, as an elder of great rank. We have a very good grasp of the basics of the language and are confident that the paidhiin on the station and the paidhi’s office in Shejidan will be able to translate adequately to enable a productive and well-conducted meeting. They have conceived of the atevi-human association as a good model for their own situation with their neighbors, and they wish to observe it in operation, which is their reason for contemplating a visit. They expect only to see how we live and to adapt it for their own circumstances.

One omitted the fact that the kyo had had no idea what to do about strangers and had gone to war with whatever strangers they met—though it was a little debatable who had shot first. Their troubles with their own neighbors was a problem one earnestly hoped never arrived on their planetary doorstep.

The world had, however, no choice about a kyo visit. The kyo either would come, as they had indicated they would, or they would argue themselves out of the notion and try to ignore the existence of a different model than the one they had. Politics must operate among the kyo. It did seem likely.

Rest assured they are very, very remote from us in space, and it will never be a frequent association, but a good one, out on the fringes of what we know of the universe. They have already given us better numbers and better information than we have ever had on the space beyond.

Please God that was allthat happened regarding space beyond.

Then there was the statement he needed to write for the Transportation Committee, comprised of members of the hasdrawad and the tashrid. The Transportation Committee was the interface between the legislature and the Transportation Guild. Theywanted to know whether to send the full text of materials the paidhi had provided to them on to the relevant Guild, which managed rail and air transport.

No, damn it, he did not want the full text of the Machigi documents going to that Guild—yet. Not yet. He had already said so, in no uncertain terms. This was the second query. One hardly knew what one needed say to make it clear.

Kindly await the paidhi’s office in consultation with higher authorities regarding this matter. We have not yet concluded an agreement, the seal on the matter is not yet firm, and we are far from contemplating specific routes, although if there are any of merit being suggested on the basis of rumor, we should appreciate those suggestions being referred back to the paidhi’s office for consideration by the parties to the agreement. Meanwhile, please advise the Transportation Guild to exercise patience. Once information begins to be released, the paidhi assures them they will be in the very first tier of that release.

That should keep the committee busy long enough. He already damned well knewwhere the expanded rail line had to go, the only route that had ever been available to it because of simple geology: it had to pass through Ilisidi’s lands, up from the coastal region where her name carried far more weight than any of her neighbors could claim. The fact that geology delivered Ilisidi the only route might not please certain of her neighbors, but no degree of debate would ever deliver a different route. Perfect example of endless circular argument, at which that committee excelled lately. One burst of brilliant leadership in the development of the space initiative, and then—the current chair took over, and nothing had changed since.

Afternoon tea, and it was so very pleasant to have Jeladi bring him only a scant amount of mail.

And most of it in ornate message cylinders from within the Bujavid.

One of those was white lilies on green. Tatiseigi.

Thatwas potential trouble.

Bren Lord of Najidac

Well. That was interesting. It was the second time Tatiseigi hailed him not as paidhi-aiji, as he always had, but as a fellow lordcthough using the lesser of his two titles, that of a minor country estate, instead of the admittedly grandiose Lord of the Heavens. Twice now, seemed to be a social advancement. Lord Tatiseigi went on:

One is in receipt of an inquiry from Lord Brosan regarding matters before the Transportation Committee, expressing concern about the security of rail crews working in the Marid. If you would be so good as to reassure Lord Brosan and other members of the committeec

Et cetera.

God. The Transportation Committee. Again.

One hardly blamed the workers in this case. But their safety was already being assured by the Assassins’ Guild, making it very unlikely there would be trouble. What else could the paidhi-aiji do?—take up a rifle and stand guard over the work crews?—with far less skill than the Assassins’ Guild, one was quite sure.

He wrote, in reply:

Tatiseigi Lord of the Atageini,

From Bren Lord of Najida

Esteemed Lord Tatiseigi, one certainly understands the anxiousness of the Committee and will undertake to assure the gentleman Chair that the Assassins’ Guild isc

A knock at the office door. Jeladi returned, bringing the basket back, this time with only one message-cylinder, one of the polished steel sort used by the Messengers’ Guild for items relayed electronically.

“Thank you, Ladi-ji.” He took the offered cylinder and opened it, hoping it was not from Machigi, with a disaster.

Ilisidi.

With good news.

I shall expect you at supper this evening, nandi, following our arrival. We have likewise invited Lord Geigi and Lord Tatiseigi, and I hope to see my grandson, if he can arrange matters on so short notice. As anticipated, we have important matters to discuss. We understand that Lord Machigi’s representative has now arrived. Would you do us the favor of calling on her and assessing her situation and intent?

Supper this evening. And Geigiwas coming in, having been in direct contact with Ilisidi. Doubtless planes were already in the air. Something was up with those two.

Meanwhile he was going to have to make a delicate social call on extremely short notice, and thank God he hadn’t been caught with a schedule full of committee meetings.

He got up from his desk, went out to the foyer and found Narani at his flower-arranging.

“Rani-ji. Lord Geigi must be picked up at the airport this afternoon, one believes, and he may choose to guest in my premises for a few days. He must be urged to do so, on grounds of security, if you will see that message conveyed to him. I have just received word from the aiji-dowager that I am expected, with Lord Geigi, at formal dinner this evening. This afternoon, a mission on her behalf—I need to go down to the city to visit the Taisigi representative at her offices; one estimates about an hour for that meeting, excluding transit, but arrangements must be made that let me get back to the dinner in good order, ideally with time to consult with Lord Geigi beforehand.”

“Nandi,” the old man said, and one could at that point trust that every single detail of that arrangement would come off in the best possible order. One could do Narani the greatest possible favor by getting out of his way and letting him do his job, which was not going to involve flower-arranging for a good half hour: that it would entail advising Bindanda and Jeladi of the likelihood of a guest; having Banichi contact Geigi’s bodyguard and find out if Ilisidi had included an invitation for lodgings, or if Geigi could be persuaded to accept the paidhi’s; having Koharu and Supani have the paidhi’s best court dayclothing ready for an afternoon outing; having his best eveningclothing ready for the evening; and being sure that the social and meetings calendar for tomorrow morning was cleared of any other obligations in the most courteous possible way in case the dinner ran late—a good guess—or that there might be need for office work in the morning—another good guess.

One could meanwhile heave a sigh of moderate relief and think about the next thing, which was to advise Koharu and Supani he needed to bathe and change.

He had visited the foot of the Bujavid hill very seldom in his career. It was a train trip down to a small station that had a secure transfer point to transport. Legislators used it, committee witnesses might use it; court officials and secretaries used it; and servants of Bujavid households traveling on passes used it.

It rarely had the aiji’s own train pulling into the station at the bottom of the hill. But that was how the paidhi-aiji traveled, when he traveled. He had his bodyguard about him. He had his briefcase. He had the cooperation of a Guild special attachment, who were in contact, besides the ordinary security that surrounded this little substation. The van, specially protected and held for him, with a Guild-approved driver, would transfer him a short distance through the hotel district, and another Guild detachment would meet them at the curb of the Taisigi mission.

Time to move. He got up, moved briskly to the exit, debarked with a quiet assist from Jago, and the four of them went quickly down the four steps to the street level, where the van waited, all very nearly handled. He boarded. They all did, Banichi hindmost, settling for the short drive through the streets, in a van with comfortable padding, but no windows.

It wasn’t as if he got to seethe hotel district.

He sat with his briefcase at his feet and his bodyguard a comfortable presence around him.

Far different than the early days, before so much neon had blossomed at the foot of the Bujavid hill. There was a new public tram, he knew, an improvement on the old uphill funicular, a conveyance for those for some reason unable to make the ancient long stairs of the Bujavid. The tram, which essentially ran forward and back, up and down the hill, would have had him on the street in front of the main hotel in ten minutes.

But no. A secure van. No windows.

They turned corners, several of them. Old Shejidan was a maze of red-tiled roofs, twisting streets, neighborhoods defined by man’chi, by association, from antiquity, and the heart of Old Shejidan was right here, clustered around the Bujavid and beyond the thin shell of neon. Far more people wantedto live in Shejidan than couldlive in ShejidancThere had been talk about emulating Port Jackson and building massive apartments over on the eastern hill, but, thank God, the traditionalists had won on that one. So increasingly there were suburbs and a busy rail traffic to the main train station.

Tabini had come down hard on wealthy influence-seekers buying up the maze of little shops and red-tiled houses that made up the heart of the city to turn them into office and lodging space. There was a Preservation Association, and Tabini had given it teeth, unfortunately just after the explosion of neon light around the two chief hotels. By the covenant, a shopkeeper could sell his shop only to another similar shopkeeper, and a house could not take in boarders without approval, no matter how legislators’ aides cried out for rental space. There were some islands of modernity farther out in the city—the neon in the hotel district was the greatest unfortunate exception—but those had not spread, thanks to that measure. The little shops prospered more than ever in the influx of visitors who wanted to see that antiquity and quaintness, and the householders continued to pass down their greatly envied old houses to their descendants.

So the heart of the largest city on the continent was going through a phase, as residents began to suspect that preservation was a good thing, not a vile plot to deny current residents a great deal of money.

In Murini’s brief tenure, however, there hadbeen renewed pressure to sell in those red-tiled neighborhoods—to some of Murini’s supporters. Some owners had signed, and then regretted it, which was why there was now one modern office block stalled under construction next to the hotel.

But at least that one half-built construction was all Murini had gotten away with. The residents of the Old City, as they called themselves, had stuck together, and mysterious roof tiles had fallen very near speculators in the neighborhood, even in those scary days. There was talk, now, of tearing the half-finished building down, or allowing one more hotel, or refinishing it as a set of shops more in tune with the neighborhood. There was even a proposal to rebuild what had been there, but that was mired in controversy about authenticity.

He approved of the struggle to preserve the central city. And he leaned forward, elbows on knees, to get the best view of its winding streets through the front window, once they passed the busy commercial area. The way ahead was gray and brown, old buildings, those traditional red-tiled roofs, and there was a logic to the street layout that stemmed not from geometry, or convenience, or even topography—but from interfamilial associations that had lived and operated there for centuries.

The Guild had lodged Siodi-daja in a little aosi, that was to say a property without heirs, which happened now and again, a status always met by a frenzy of offers to buy. In this case, the Guild had used its influence, and the aiji’s funds, and had bought the property after the decease of the last of the family, one understood, some seventy-eight years ago.

A residence and an office this close to the Bujavid, when there were important lords like Geigi who did not have a residency inside the Bujavid—was amazing; and if ever the Guild released the property in which they had installed Siodi-daja, there would be another furious bidding war.

It somewhat answered the question what in hell they were going to do with Machigi when hearrived, not so long from now. Move Siodi out and Machigi in, maybe, except that the chief lord of a whole district could not lodge outside the Bujavid without some inconvenience, not to mention loss of dignity, unless in his own premises.

Machigi’s arrangement was going to be a headache from the outset; and hope to God the promised aosi was large enough to decently accommodate Siodi-daja andLord Machigi in sufficient propriety. If not—

If not, there had to be some sort of arrangement for Machigi aside from that.

The van pulled up on bumpy old brick cobbles at the front of an ordinary looking house of the district, in a lane only scarcely wide enough to admit one such vehicle—ordinary-looking, except that uniformed Guild instantly came down the steps to the curb, and Tano and Algini got out and exchanged signs with the guards, looking up and down the block.

Banichi and Jago got out, and he did, with dispatch. Their driver would wait in the van, and any other vehicle that needed to come down the street was simply out of luck. The restaurant catty-angled across the street would get a fair amount of foot traffic in another couple of hourscbut distinguishing an alley from a thoroughfare in the Old City was sometimes difficult, and most deliveries came by hand truck. So they would just have to walk the extra block, that was all, cursing the while, perhaps, but there that van would sit.

The local guard led the way. He and his aishid climbed a modest flight of stairs, up to a modest old-fashioned hallway with elaborately carved doors and two Guildsmen standing waiting for them.

Up two more steps to the main hall. A young woman in civilian dress waited to open the first side door, and within the room, with two more bodyguards, the Maridi lady was evident by her seniority and her manner. One immediately thought: this is a respectable lady, old enough to be Lord Machigi’s mother. Machigi could guest here without scandal. That solved one important matter.

“Siodi-daja,” Bren said, pleased, and bowed. She bowed in turn.

“Nand’ paidhi. One is astonished to receive so distinguished a personal visit.”

“One again represents the aiji-dowager, Siodi-daja. One trusts you have found the premises acceptable. It is beyond difficult to find lodging in Shejidan in any season, but in the spring—”

“Very fine,” she said and added, with a little wry humor, “and we find it extremely safe.”

He rather liked the woman, for that little spark. At the invitation, he appointed himself a seat in the obvious place, in a little sitting group with a little low table and a dry arrangement, aside from her desk.

The windows on this second story were all old-style, with white lace curtains, and admitting an uncertain light. The furnishings had seen at least a century and had come with the house. The lady’s coat sparkled with silver thread in the light of two dim lamps—antique, and quiet, like the rest of the lighting. It might have been gloomy, but it seemed genteel and pleasantly old-fashioned instead.

Quickly then, there was tea, as they faced each other in a house mostly occupied by the Assassins’ Guild and poised on a hair trigger against any threat. One imagined a basement full of armament and surveillance gear; and one began to get the entire picture, that this house, with all its other rooms, was as safe as a bank. Machigi could truly lodge here in safety, give or take the exposure of a van ride to the train.

“And how is Lord Machigi?” That much business could politely be discussed over tea.

“Very well,” Siodi-daja said. “And the aiji-dowager?”

“Well, and on her way to Shejidan at this hour. As is Lord Geigi.”

“And my lord is likewise ready to proceed, at the dowager’s invitation and as her guest.”

“Which will come, indeed, and quite soon. One trusts he will stay here in comfort, and his conveyance to the Bujavid will be with guards you appoint.”

A nod. “Excellent, nandi. One is glad.”

“You have received the final form of the documents, I trust?”

“To our knowledge, the final form. They have been couriered to Tanaja, to my lord’s hand.”

“Excellent. I can then report everything in order. Is there any other thing the dowager may wish to know in advance?”

“I have had no information.”

“Indeed. We hope to have everything covered. —And how doyou find the city?”

“Very large,” Siodi said with a pleasant, grandmotherly laugh. “Very land-bound. I have never been out of sight of the sea before.”

“We are very much in the heart of the West,” he said. “One does recommend the Bujavid Museum if you have leisure, your guard permitting, and if you extend your stay, which of course we hope you will do. It is a public area of the Bujavid and generally has excellent personal security and excellent exhibits. No one will trouble you or they will answer to the very proper Director, one assures you. There is also a textile museum somewhat across town and a beautiful public garden, the Kosa Madi. All of these places you may find enjoyable.”

The talk ran on pleasantly through a second cup of tea, quite, quite easy and free and increasingly cheerful. The lady was charming. And no fool. When they were past the opening courtesies, the lady said, “And are we to meet with the various Guilds in this place, nand’ paidhi?”

“You are indeed, nandi. I know the Merchants’ Guild is quite ready to meet with you, most likely in the Bujavid committee rooms, if you are so kind, and it has abundant questions and a generally positive outlook. Transportation and the Messengers have been deluging me with queries, and those two Guilds are likely to request meetings in their offices within the Bujavid—those two will be full of questions, a far harder set of questions than the Merchants’ Guild will ask, but the paidhi’s office and, I am sure, the aiji-dowager’s staff will support you with research and communications. The Merchants are quite impressed with the porcelain, which is on exhibit, let me add, in the foyer of the Bujavid, under the auspices of the museum director.”

“My lord will be pleased to hear it.”

“Indeed.” A nod. “It would ultimately be politic for you to meet with all the Guilds, usually in their premises. The Bujavid will offer facilities for larger gatherings, and will offer services for any social gathering you may choose to host here. Hosting all the Guilds in a social evening would be politic, let me say. They rather expect it, in due course, particularly as you open your offices to do business.”

That was one topic which the lady accepted with a clear understanding of the social intricacies—one saw the flicker of sharp intelligence in those gold eyes, the ability to estimate a situation. Machigi would not have sent a fool into this situation—by no means a fool, this lady, and likely her staff would be no fools, either.

“If my staff may assist yours in protocols in that regard,” he said, “they are certainly willing to do so. If you have any questions, staff may talk to staff.”

“One is gratified.”

“Let me be frank,” he said, with some confidence in the lady. “We wish to have the agreement signing beforethe legislature session begins, within the next few days. We are aware of the difficulties involved, and Lord Machigi has expressed reservations about his personal safety, comfort, and dignity. You are here to smooth the path, one is quite certain, to gather information and to look the situation over. We are determined that Lord Machigi should not experience any uneasiness, not regarding the commitment of the aiji-dowager to exactly the course we have laid out, and not regarding the commitment of the East to further that agreement by specific actions. Lord Machigi will notbe put in any uncomfortable position regarding relationships with the Guilds or on any other issue other than that we have already discussed. Your discussions may range into these territories, to your lord’s benefit, but they are not necessary to the agreement of association with the aiji-dowager. The agreement of association stands separate from all other issues. I am here officially to report to you that the aiji-dowager is on her way to Shejidan—I have done that—and unofficially that she wishes to meet with Lord Machigi and accomplish the signing before there can be any campaign organized against it. Within your establishment here, we are prepared to assure your lord’s safety and convenience. The dowager will, however, for publicity reasons, wish to have the signing in the Ivory Hall of the Bujavid lower floor.”

“I shall relay that information to my lord,” Siodi said with a little nod. “One is very gratified to hear it from your mouth, nand’ paidhi. In you, my lord has confidence. One begs you to maintain that confidence.”

“I have come to have a personal attachment to your lord. I would regard treacherous harm to him as a great and personal affront. I am personally committed to the prosperity of the Taisigin Marid. I believe general prosperity will come. I believe it is just. I believe it is right. I believe it is fair.”

A deeper nod. “One will most gladly convey that good sentiment, nand’ paidhi. My lord had warned me that the bright lights of Shejidan might alter a man’s thinking.”

“It does not alter mine, nandi, not in this matter.”

“Nor does proximity to Tabini-aiji?”

“Tabini-aiji is quietly watching the progress of this effort. He has some reservations, but he sees this in a favorable light, on its merits, and on his respect for his grandmother’s good efforts. He wishes your lord’s success in his venture with the aiji-dowager. He agrees that there were unfortunate choices made in the past. He shares many of the same concerns about the economy of the Marid as a past and future cause of war, and welcomes your lord’s agreement with his grandmother. He will lend his support to her ventures, and if your lord is the aiji-dowager’s associate, he will support your lord’s ventures in the process.”

That was a very carefully crafted paragraph, and he had not dropped a stitch of it. He was gratified to see it delivered to a woman who would not drop a stitch of it, either, in relaying it back to Machigi. Her face demonstrated just ever so slight relaxation, and she nodded a third time.

“Thank you, nandi. One is glad to hear so.”

“Please relay my respects to Lord Machigi and tell him that time is short to have this accomplished in good order and with a minimum of debate. Other communication will flow through the Guild, but the aiji-dowager wished me to pay this courtesy directly and to express her opinions as you have heard them.”

“Which is much appreciated, nand’ paidhi.”

It was not a long meeting. There was no second round of tea. Their relative ranks did not encourage it. But Bren emerged with an unexpected gift for the aiji-dowager: a thick portfolio, done up in courtly style, with seals and ribbons of varying houses, which represented the concurrence of various of Machigi’s lords, including, one was glad to see, the seals of the Isles and the southeast coast of the Marid.

There were notably no ribbons representing the Senji and the Dojisigi, not yet, nor could they be expected. Those two districts were being firmly sat upon by the Guild, who were not welcome guests, and neither one had its succession in orderctheir lords’ funerals had been quiet, underattended, so the report said, and there was as yet no mad scramble of various claimants to the aijinates involved. It was assumed Tiajo would become the figurehead for her father over the Dojisigi, but as yet Senji clan could not even find a claimant willing to stand in the target zone, and the Dojisigi, who ordinarily would have immediately advanced an opinion as to which Senji clansman should hold that seat, had been conspicuously silent.

Fear. A salutary fear prevailed in those districts.

All the North could ask was that neither clan should move to assassinate Machigi. And the Guild prevented that.

Possibly, too, which the representative had not said, but one suspected—possibly Machigi had taken his hint on how to use the Guild’s offices and was making quiet approaches to certain minor lords to the north, in Senji.

That was what the paidhi-aiji would suggest if he were standing at Machigi’s elbow. The paidhi-aiji had interfered in the Shadow Guild mop-up once, to plead that the child-aiji, Tiajo, not be a target. And he had asked himself more than once since, now that a spoiled child sat in authority over the other most powerful clan in the Marid, whether human sentiment had made a very, very serious mistake in that request.

He was thinking about that, all the drive back to the train station.

“Are you,” Jago asked him, once they were in the red train car, and completely secure from eavesdropping, “are you worried about the representative, Bren-ji?”

“Not about her. Not about Machigi,” he said, and shook off the doubts. “Your opinion, nadiin-ji?”

“The representative,” Banichi said, “seems quick to grasp things and is suitably reserved. She is anxious. But not fearful. She distrusts the Guild on a general level but is coming to terms with those immediately around her. This opinion we have from her bodyguard.”

“One has one’s own reservations. Nadiin, I have heard”—A moment for thought. “One has heard disturbing things from Tabini-aiji—which you know, regarding unease in the North. Before setting all this irrevocably in motion—before engaging the dowager with Lord Machigi in an agreement—is there anything I should know? Am I doing something wise—or otherwise?”

The train started into motion, a slow, slow movement, a vibration underfoot.

“One has inquired,” Algini said slowly. A pause. It was very quiet in the car. “If for some reason Tano and I are someday absent without explanation—”

Algini did not finish. He was, unheard of for Algini, visibly upset at that question.

“Gini-ji. Is there anything I can do?”

“If this should happen, Bren-ji,” Tano took up the statement, “rest assured our partners will advise you. Andprotect you.”

Now he wasupset. Extremely. “Nadiin-ji. One is not willing to accept this. One is not willing to be protected when those persons I highly value, nadiin-ji, are put at risk! Is there anything you can tell me? Are you attempting to stand between me and a Guild action, nadiin-ji? Have I crossed a line, somewhere?”

Tano looked at Algini.

Algini said, “The Guild has been trusted for two hundred years. I have had representations made to me that, if they are carried through, will satisfy me. One begs pardon, Banichi.”

Banichi wore a very solemn expression. So did Jago.

“This visit to the representative, then,” Banichi said, “was a risk.”

“The guards near Machigi are not the problem,” Algini said.

“The guards near the aiji-dowager are not the problem,” Bren ventured to say. Unthinkable to him that there should be any breach of security under Cenedi’swatch. “Nor the aiji’s, one hopes.”

“No,” Algini said. “Specificallyc” Algini got to his feet, walked a few paces across to the galley bar and used his communications for a moment, saying something Bren did not hear, but the others might have. Jago put out her arm a half second before the train began to slow.

It stopped. They sat dead still, with their train obstructing one of the two parallel tracks that ran up to the Bujavid’s most secure station.

And in that relative silence, with only the idling engine sound, but nothing from the wheels, Algini turned to look at all of them.

“Specifically, nandi, it is the Kadagidi.”

Murini’s clan, a Padi Valley clan, next-door neighbors to Lord Tatiseigi and longtime collaborators with problem lords in the northern Marid—including Murini. It made a sudden, thoroughly unwelcome sense that if there was going to be a problem involving the Guild, the Marid, and a prospective peace—the Kadagidi, as old and as influential a clan as Tatiseigi’s Atageini, were very likely to have their fingers on it, no matter that the Kadagidi had distanced themselves from their own clansman, Murini, disowned him, repudiated his actsc

Would one not repudiate a failure?

“As—infiltrated, Gini-ji? Or infiltrating?”

Algini said, solemnly, “Bren-ji, if one were surer of that matter, or exactly how one relates to the other, one would have more confidence in a good many things. This—this, Bren-ji, is my opinion—that the last Kadagidi lord to have anyauthority in Kadagidi clan was Murini. And that after him, much as Lord Aseida claims to have opposed Murini inside Kadagidi clan, he is a liar, and he has been a liar from before Murini overthrew Tabini-aiji. This man argued with Murini on trifles. Oh, yes, he withstood Murini. He distanced himself. He did all these things. He is served by an aishid led by one Haikuti, who has never yet misstepped in terms of Guild regulations, who came to Aseida from the Guild hierarchy, as I came to you, but I am not sure who sent him.”

“Can you be clearer, Gini-ji?”

“Haikuti is, in fact, one of the Guild that I personally would not have trusted. He is now, in this matter in the Marid, at odds with his lord, with Aseida, in supporting Guild action and arguing forsupporting Machigi; but one has observed that Haikuti also argued with Lord Aseida in his initial support of Murini and later supported Aseida in backing the return of the old Guildmaster.”

“You think it is a show?”

“One believes, Bren-ji, that we have been witness to the longest, most elaborate machimi play that ever took the stage, and I do not think the players are yet wearing their true colors.”

There was silence still. Then Banichi said, “This is news to us as well, Bren-ji. You mean Haikuti is giving the orders.”

Algini said, “I mean exactly that, nadi-ji. I think there are so many layers to this that one could peel it to the core before one ever got to a single truth—and then it might prove poisonous.”

“Haikuti should be taken out,” Tano said. “But if we remove him, we scatter the problem. We do not know all his subordinatescand we are not utterly sure he has no superior.”

A very cold feeling crept over the little gathering in the car. From far, far away in the tunnel system came sounds of machinery, and from closer, metal clicking as it cooled. They sat, an island of red velvet in the dank dark of the tunnels, and said things unsayable in other places.

Questions occurred to him. Of Tano and Algini—when did you learn this? And of Banichi and Jago: What should I do?

But the one he asked was: “Gini-ji. How informed are others? Does Tabini-aiji know this? Do his bodyguard? What of the aiji-dowager and Lord Geigi? Or Lord Tatiseigi?”

“As of this moment,” Algini said, “no one of those persons knows. Not even Cenedi. Only you, Bren-ji.”

Next question, in terrible, terrible silence. “Will you tell any of them?”

Algini took his time about the answer. Finally: “This is my suspicion. My search. My conclusion, which Tano shares. If I am wrong, I have made a correct deduction but misassigned the fault.”

“You are sure, however, about the situation.”

“I am verysure, nandi. And—” A little nod of respect toward Banichi. “By Banichi’s good grace—and with his cooperation—we should inform Cenedi and consult with him about informing the aiji’s bodyguard. As for Lord Geigi’s bodyguard, they are good men, but in my opinion, too little informed on too much on this earth to bring in this at this stage. We should inform them the night before the shuttle leaves. They may know, in the heavens, and there they will keep their secrets. As for Lord Tatiseigi, being the neighbor to this situation, and Lord Keimi of Taiben, likewise—Tatiseigi’s bodyguard is not up to this; Lord Keimi’s bodyguard is, and should be brought current before Tabini-aiji or his bodyguard oryoung Cajeiri’s Taibeni bodyguards next visit that territory. This is a danger difficult to make any map. But controlling absolutely the flow of information is one of the few means we have to judge suspicious behavior. The web of triplines we have set, in that sense, is very scant, but it encompasses all of us here present. If we move against Haikuti—one hardly knows what it will set off. Right now, with information absolutely restricted, there is absolutely no reason Haikuti would move against you,Bren-ji; in fact, though Aseida would wish to, he will not, because Haikuti will wish not to call attention to himself. From the Kadagidi, you are as safe as you could possibly be. But once the information about my suspicions spreads into one mistaken channel—it becomes very likely he would move against you very quickly if he thought it would discommode me and give me and Tano divided concerns. One regrets to put it in those terms. But I believe I am right. Because of me, because of Tano, youwill become a target of operatives far, far more adept than ordinary. Any one of your associates becomes someone whose demise might draw you, and therefore your bodyguard, into range. Everyone you know is under dire threat. Well that nand’ Toby is back on Mospheira at this juncture. There he is safely inconvenient.”

“What do you advise us to do, Gini-ji?”

“If Tano and I disappear, it might worry them, but they will not necessarily know it for a time. Tano and I often run internal operations and do not appear. Doing so puts an extraordinary burden on Banichi and Jago, especially in this season, when the public has access to the Bujavid, when the legislature is meeting, when you are on your way to meetings the schedule for which may be read on any bulletin board in the servants’ hallways and every committee. If we disappear, we have a staff of very young, occasionally silly persons, country folk who do not remotely construe the danger, who might tell their mothers, their associates back homecthey are not trained in security, they do not always think, and they are an extreme danger in this situation. One hardly knows whether to tell them, or what to tell them, that will not then become news to tell their families in Najida.”

He well understood that. “We can tell them, for starters, the average truth, that there is a crazy person who is trying to get information on my schedule, who wishes to assassinate me because he blames me for television or the train schedule. One hardly knows if it is exactly true at this precise moment, but you know it is likely to be true once the news reports my change of mind on the cell phone bill.”

Algini laughed silentlyclaughed, which was rare enough for him. “Bren-ji, yes—amid such a tangle, a simple small falsehood. One will advise Narani and Bindanda of the truth. Not the others.”

Those two were senior Guild. And if Algini trusted them, they were reliable. The rest—even Jeladi and Asicho—did not necessarily need the information, and the fewer that did know, the easier to keep it contained.

“We should get moving,” Tano said, checking the time.

“Yes,” Algini said, and made a quiet call. In a moment the engine started moving again, climbing toward the station.

Five minutes. Five minutes, and the world revised itself one more time. He had not had a chance to ask: If you disappear, what will you be doing? But he might not want to know that. If anyone would know, it might be Banichi and Jago.

And he didn’t think Algini had known all this when they’d been under Machigi’s roof.

He did mark that Algini had not often come into the front rooms of the apartment since they had been back. Tano had. But not Algini.

He,the interloper, the human, the outsider, had just gained a window into the Guild that he was willing to bet no other lord of the aishidi’tat had—excepting maybe Tabini-aiji, excepting maybe the aiji-dowager.

Those two, likely. And it was damned scary to be in that small circle—the one lord with no troublesome clan connections to run under compromised doors. Even Tabini’s wife couldn’t say that. Definitely Damiri-daja could not say that.

God, what a mess!

That something serious was going on in the Guild was evident. Those who thought they knew what it was thought it was mostly going on in the Marid, where the Guild was mopping up its own problems.

But by what Algini said, the war in the Guild wasn’t over. The worse danger to the aishidi’tat was far closer at hand, and deeply embedded, and Algini rated himself and Tano damned near alone in intent to take it out.

Given Murini had never been never the brightest light to rule in Shejidan. And given that Murini’s personal bodyguard hadn’t been that good—good, but not that good—maybe everybody should have asked questions earlier as to how he had landed in power. But fools and bullies had assassinated their way into power by surprise before this.

Just—in this case—there werethe Kadagidi, that they’d always assumed to be the power behind Murini. Unhappily, they were Lord Tatiseigi’s next-door neighbors, the subject of one of the world’s oldest off-again, on-again feuds. One generally expected the lord of the Kadagidi to be a pain in the rear. The Kadagidi had been that to most everyone from the foundation of the aishidi’tat.

But one also expected the Guild to be honest, and serving the aishidi’tat, not the interests of personal power. And if one suspected the Kadagidi, one expected the lord of a clan to be in charge of the clan and the decisions he made to be carried out by Guild under his orders.

Evidently, when Murini had taken over the Kadagidi, supplanting his own lord on his way to the aijinate, something elsehad happened.

The Guild had apparently suffered an internal coup. Given. They now knew that.

When Murini’s regime had collapsed in a popular uprising, the perpetrators had all run for the south. They thoughtthey’d known that. Flight southward had made logical sense. It had made little immediate difference in relations with the Marid, which had been on the outs with the north and which had been supporting Murini on general principles.

But the fight and the flight had distracted their thinking, had it not, from another possibility, when they already suspected Murini was a figurehead. They had believed the wellspring of the poison had relocated down in the Marid, where it usually was and where the Guild had taken wide action to deal with it. That action was over, and everybody had breathed a sigh of relief as if it were all, all overcmaybe with pockets yet to mop up.

But if the basic problem had notmoved, if the problem was much, much closer to Shejidancit was, by what Algini said, nested in the heart of one of the oldest clans in the aishidi’tat, in the Padi Valley, which was the heart of the Ragi atevi, the very heart of the aishidi’tat. Hehad been worrying about a young girl succeeding to the lordship of the Dojisigi, as if thatwere the worst thing that could happen to the situation.

Well. Damn. Damn the Kadagidi for the bastards they were.

Not that he was shocked. The Kadagidi had been flirting with the Marid for decades. But they had been so quiet since the Restoration. They had been so well behaved.

It seemed the Guild was in the midst of a silent war that was due to get still more dangerouscand that Murini’s coup hadn’t come from disgruntled lords. Murini himself had been of the Kadagidi family. But it now seemed his major and initial backing had not come initially from the executive or from the legislature, but out of the least expected and most secretive aspect of the government, from what humans would call the judicial—from inside the Guild.

Built-up opposition to Tabini had crept up within the shadows, starting many years before the paidhi-aiji had stirred up the conservatives. To this very hour, the Guild had not talked much about the movement that had sprung an attack on Tabini—except what he had just heard from Algini. It was generally accepted that the attackers had misfired—and killed Tabini’s innocent staff instead. In other circles it was suspected that the Guild around Tabini, before they died, had made moves to save Tabini’s lifecknowing they were outnumbered, hopelessly outmaneuvered, and had no choice but get Tabini and his consort out of the region, fast.

Who had suggested Tabini take a holiday in Taiben, the one clan the conspirators could not crack?

Tabini’s staff had been wiped out. Tabini and Damiri had survived.

But who had driven the conspiracy? How could a mere lord order Assassins who could get the better of Assassins in the employ of the highest office in the land?

There were, in the majority in the Guild, Assassins with personal man’chi to the great houses, serving in all the clans that composed the aishidi’tat. Banichi and Jago were that sort of Guild members. So, one was relatively certain, was Cenedi.

But he had recently learned there was a second culture inside the Guild, one with man’chi only to the Guild itselfcand that—

That culture had produced Algini. And maybe Tano.

One could see it, applying a little critical thought that the paidhi ought, perhaps, to have used long before now. One well knew that when Tabini’s administration had brought massive change to the world, and that change had upset people. Not only some lords, but no few of the guilds had found themselves arguing with Tabini-aiji—not recently, not all at the same time, but often enough to keep politics in ferment.

Yet amid all the furor of objections from the Messengers, and Transportation, and Commerce, and Industry, there had been utter silence from one guild.

The Assassins’ Guild, typically, had never said a word in opposition to the aiji. The whole world was accustomed to believe that that one guild, serving all houses, serving all interests, had no political bent and no opinion. It simply supported the aiji so long as he had a majority of lords on his side.

Wrong, apparently.

Apparently something hadbeen building within the Guild. Maneuvering, as leadership aged and newer people moved into office.

Since the coup, since very recent events in the Marid, one began to understand that certain things had run exactlythe way they would run in human society—or close enough that the paidhi should have paid closer attention to that circumscribed area of no-information. Whoever ran the Guild currently was a shadow, but he or she hadan opinion. Whoever backed that Guild leader had opinions.

Algini himself had an opinion—and had finally declared man’chi for the paidhi-aiji only recently. Watching and waiting for years, Algini had finally declared a point of view and a loyalty.

Did it indicate that the paidhi had moved much closer to the Guild’s position?

Had the Guild’s new or renewed leadership now moved closer to him?

Or—third possibility—had the Guild now determined to act on him directly, to be surehe moved in the Guild’s direction?

He had seen the folly in the cell phone bill, for one major instance. He had already firmly put the brakes on the advent of war machines landed from orbit. Geigi, working with the space station during the coup, had started dropping what amounted to robotic communications centers and war machines about the continent and had unilaterally supplied Mospheira with cell phones and communications that had already changed the Island profoundly. Technology that had seemed in balance between humans on earth and the atevi now seemed sorely out of balance. At least atevi had come out of the event feeling that such might be the case, and they were worried about their future. What until recently had seemed like a stable and predictable future had started looking otherwise.

There was so, so much of the set of circumstances that had perched on his doorstep, in the Guild’s view of things. Could one doubt whythe Guild had moved heaven and earth to get an agent into his household?

And now Algini was talking to him, warning him, advising him directly, and making suggestions. Did one take that onlyfor Algini’s personal opinion? He wasn’t sure he did.

And there was one question he had to ask, that he dreaded asking, and he asked it when they got back to the apartment. He gave Jago a look that said, I want to talk to you,and the two of them went to the hall outside the guest quarters.

He knew a very few Guild signals, the ones that didn’t change with every mission. And he used just one, quietly, where only she could see.

Trust?The rest of the gesture went toward the rear of the apartment, where Tano and Algini happened to be at the moment.

She took in a breath, and simply nodded, adding the sign that meant, Aishid.

So she and Banichi had no misgivings about their partners. And therefore he should have none.

That was worth its weight in gold. To him, it was.

It didn’t answer the question what a human was doing, blind and deaf to man’chi, wandering in the mix of atevi motivations and loyaltiesc

Well, yes, it did. It did answer it, from the time a batch of humans had planted themselves in atevi territory, messed up the contact, and somebodyhad to be assigned to make the situation work.

It was gratifying that atevi at very high levels thought he had common sense enough to be warned about the ground he was treading. Maybe the Assassins’ Guild was the guild most apt to understand existence in that peculiar outland, between two loyalties.

And how damned scary it was to make decisions in that territory, trying to save both sides.

11

“He mustbe here,” Antaro said, out of breath. “The door has not been open.”

Cajeiri had looked absolutely everywhere and had Eisi and Liedi bring lunch in; and anyone going in or out was careful with the door, and was watched, carefully, and guarded at every step.

Boji had been missing from before lunch, and they had looked and looked and looked.

Antaro and Jegari knew Boji’s habits and where a little creature might take refuge, which was in small places. “He will come out for food and water,” they said, which made sense, so one of them sat guard over the cage, where food and water was, but far enough away not to frighten Boji.

Veijico and Lucasi had looked, and they were real Guild, who were good at finding hidden little things.

But bugs, they said, did not move when about to be discovered, and so one of them looked at one angle of the underside of a table, and the other watched the other side. They searched absolutely every piece of furniture and even behind the mattress, where it was up against the headboard, which was not easy to do, and behind every drawer of the bureau, which was not easy either.

The first thought was that Boji would not be far from food or water. The offer of water had not turned him up. The second thought was that a fresh egg or two might bring him, since he had not had an egg today.

It did not.

And one began to think over every trip they had made outside the doors last night and began to wonder uneasily if Boji had gotten out earlier, or if—worst of all—he had gotten to the front door or the servants’ doors and just slipped out far, far beyond their search, maybe down into the lower halls, in which case he could be anywhere. Anywhere. Even down to the train station, for all they knew.

Cajeiri feared so. He very greatly feared so, and told Eisi, one of the servants who had collaborated with them, bringing food and taking out soiled sand. “Be on the alert to any sign, anywhere in the premises. One believes he could even have gotten out into the servants’ halls, nadi-ji. Please look for him! Search little places! But ask no one! Do not tell anyone!”

It was a disaster. If Boji got out into the Bujavid halls, he would embarrass his father and his father’s security and the whole thing would be notorious, worse even than the mechieta and Uncle’s new driveway, which already was told about him far more often than he would like. His parents would wishthey would have a new baby who caused less trouble. They would send him off to learn responsibility.

Maybe they would send him to mani.

Mani would not be very patient with him losing Boji in her household, but at least she would just thwack his ear and forget it in an hour or so. His father and mother never forgot anything, and every time he did something in the least wrong the whole history came up again.

It was just wretched.

And he did not want to think of poor scared Boji getting out in the halls. Boji could find his way clear out of the Bujavid, out on the hill, down to the streets. He would be in the middle of Shejidan, where he could get into more trouble, and where he would find no food. He imagined the outside of the hill, where, as best he knew, there was no water, just rocks, and trees, and shrubbery. There were probably creepers, so there might be eggs, but only very little ones.

And all the traffic of the hotels racketed about below the hill: streetcars, and shops, and the people coming and goingcBoji could get into really, really bad trouble if he had gotten out. He could be killed.

Or he could be living down in the tunnels and passages of the Bujavid, which was even worse—there might be water, but there would be no eggs at all, and it was dark and scary, and Boji liked sleeping in little secure places, like the little bag they had hung in his cage, which he slipped into very happily, with just his tail sticking up out of the bagc

Where in the apartment was like that little bag?

His aishid was still searching. They were all in the girls’ room now, taking apart the beds and searching in little spaces.

He started looking for places they might not think of. He started thinking of things like a bag. He started thinking about cloth-covered, dark places, and he looked at the hangings, and he looked even inside a big vase. And then he got down and looked under a table in a dark corner and sawc

The underside of the chair next to the table was cloth. Cloth chairs with cloth bottoms. He went from room to room looking under chairs. He looked behind the tapestry. And then he looked behind the doors, and even tipped over the very tall brass vase, just in case.

Boji was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. His aishid had by then put the girls’ beds together again and put all the drawers back in.

Soc

He looked under hisbed. In case. And under the ornate chair in the corner.

There was, under its bottom, a dark spot that looked odd. He investigated with his fingers and there was a hole.

Thatwas not the sort of thing the gentleman in charge of furnishings would like or would ever have let out unrepaired. And theyhad not put a hole in it in searching. It was just Boji’s size, and Boji had those very clever fingers.

He sat back on his heels and thought about it. If they made a big fuss and scared Boji, then the next time he got out, Boji would pick someplace harder to find. He could figure that. And he knew about this hole.

So he quietly got up, figuring to go get one of the eggs they had for bait. And on his way he put his head into the boys’ room, where they were starting to take apart Lucasi’s bed.

“One believes one may have found him. Be very quiet, nadiin-

ji! And stay here and do not make any noise!”

He ran and got an egg. And a writing pen.

And he went and sat down on the floor by the chair and used the metal pen nib to punch a hole in the end of the egg.

He sat very still with his back turned to the chair. Eggs had a smell. Boji always knew when one was offered.

Suddenly he heard movement, the sound of claws on fabric. A startling weight landed on his shoulder and headed straight down his arm to the egg.

Boji was back. He let Boji eat the egg but not take it from his hand, and with his other hand he got a grip on Boji’s harness.

Just then someone knocked at the front door, and Boji exploded, flinging egg every which way. Boji might have bitten him in his twisting and fighting to get free, except his hold on the harness was in the middle of Boji’s back, and Boji just fought and spat and yowled as he got up.

Eisi and Lieidi knew not to knock, but someone came into the sitting room, probably one of the other servants, who were notpermitted, and Cajeiri was prepared to tell them so—if he had not his arms full. He gathered himself up to his feet, shoved Boji into the hollow of his other arm and tried to calm Boji’s struggles and chittering, soothing that had some effect, at least enough that Boji stopped fighting.

Antaro had gone down the inner hall to reach the sitting roomche saw her pass the door; both doors to the bedroom were open, the sitting room door and the inner corridor door, so he had no trouble hearing.

“Aiji-ma,”he heard Antaro say, and Cajeiri’s stomach sank.

“Tell my son I shall see him,” was the answer.

Boji’s cage was in that room with the door open. Cajeiri headed for the other, inner door, for Lucasi and Jegari’s room, with the intention of handing Boji to them, but Boji suddenly set up a yowl.

“What was that?” he heard his father ask, and Antaro said, out in the sitting room, with admirable presence of mind, “One will ask, aiji-ma.”

But there was nothing for it. His hands, his face, and his good clothes were spattered with egg yolk, Boji was chattering and spitting in fright, ripping the threads of his coat in frantic attempts to escape, and his father was not going to be in a better humor at being lied to by a trainee Guildswoman under his orders.

He took a deep breath, kept a firm grip on Boji, who was clawing frantically all the while, and went out into the sitting room. His father was standing there alone, Antaro having headed for the back of the suite. He met in Antaro the doorway and caught her eyes in passing, on his way into the sitting room. He dared not say a thing but just kept going.

“Honored father,” he said, and bowed, which made Boji grab his coat with both hands, for safety.

“Son of mine,” his father said in that deep, ominous voice. “ Whatis that?”

“A pariid’ja, honored Father.”

“One can detect that basic fact. Let us amend the question. Whyis it here?”

It was not a good thing to dodge Father’s questions. He had rehearsed what he would say when he had to tell his parents about Boji. He had rehearsed it every night. But all of that was useless. “One requested him, honored Father. One had gotten the cage, and one thought—”

“Thought. One is very glad that thoughtentered somewhere into the transaction.”

“One is confined to this apartment, honored Father, and one has no chance to go out to the country, and one misses it, honored Father. On the ship at least there was the garden.”

“One sees you have fairly well started one here.”

The plants. The many plants.

“One admires plants. And one so admired the cage, which is brass,nand’ Father, and not at all breakable! One in all points remembered the rule, that I might have brass, and it is very solid. I cannot possibly damage it! And one is very happy with the apartment, nand’ Father! One is very happy with the cage, and the plants, and since it is out of the question, one is very sure, to bring a mechieta to the BujavidcOne is sure there is no stablec”

“Not for a hundred years,” his father said dryly.

So there had been a stable, once. He was almost distracted off his carefully memorized track.

He wondered where it had been.

But he faced his father, desperately shoved the existence of mechieti out of his mind, and said, calmly, refusing even to entertain the possibility that his father could take back his birthday party, “One has had him for days,honored Father. One wished to demonstrate first that he is no problem and that he does not smell at all, because we keep him very clean, and he does not eat much, and he does not make a mess on the carpetscwe have sand for him, and we have been very good about taking it out.”

His father began to laugh, slightly at first, and then really to laugh.

He was very keenly aware there wasa mess, and it was him. Egg was all over his coat, all over his hands and face. He hoped the staff could save his clothes, but the coat was a bit clawed, too, and probably ruined, and he really did not want his father to know that at the moment.

“They bite,” Father said. “They climb. They nest in strange places. They do not do well in a house.”

“But I have all the plants,” he said. “He is happy here!”

“This is a forest hunter,” Father said.

“Have you ever had one, nand’ Father?”

“I have hunted with them, yes.”

“At Taiben?”

“At Taiben,” Father said, and a glance raked him up and down. “One takes it the creature is not well trained.”

“He is only a baby.”

“He is three-quarters grown and had best learn to come to a whistle, soon, or you will not be able to control him.”

“ MayI keep him?”

A small silence. “If you can train him. Ifyou can train him. I had a good report from your tutor this morning.”

“He is an excellent tutor, honored Father. And one is trying very hard. And one will train Boji. One will! He is very quick.”

A second silence. “You understand that your mother will have concerns about the baby’s safety with this creature in the apartment. He must not bite, he must not steal, he must not escape this room, and he must, above all, learn to come to you when called.”

“ Yes,honored Father! I shall teach him! He will not be a problem! He will be clean, he will be absolutely clean! And he will not bite the baby!”

His father looked at him and laughed, outright laughed, as his father rarely did.

At his expense. But it probably wasfunny. At his expense. His father laughed and laughed.

“Of all things,” his father said, then: “Take a bath. And one trusts no egg got on the carpet.”

“Honored Father.” He felt heat flowing to his face. “One regrets to report honestly there is egg on the carpet. One will have to call the servants to clean it—and they will. I have the promise of two excellent servants!”

“Have you?”

He had stepped into trouble. And trying to dodge around reasons with his father was just not a good idea.

“Someone had to carry out the sand and the eggshells, honored Father. But one has learned his bad tricks now, and it will not happen again.”

“One is certain something of the like can certainly happen again,” his father said, “and one doubts you have yet seen all his bad tricks.”

“Yes, honored Father.”

“So be smarter than he is. That seems a minimum requirement. Mind, he is here by my permission, which is hourly subject to change.”

“Honored Father.”

“One came here to tell you a bit of news.”

“Honored Father?”

“Your great-grandmother is back in the capital. Her plane just landed. She invites us all to dinner. Your mother and I have business this evening, with a charitable society, and that is an excuse. The plain fact is, considering the business afoot, it would not be politic for us to meet with your great-grandmother socially until the business with the Marid is settled. But you will politely represent us at your great-grandmother’s table. We have told her you will be there.”

“Yes,honored Father!” He bowed. He understood, he actually understood about the Marid. And he was gladto go to dinner at Great-grandmother’s table. If he were not standing there trying to restrain Boji from pulling free and ruining everything, he would have had all his mind on it and been entirely happy.

“You are to behave impeccably,” his father said sharply. “There will be politics at the table, even if no one mentions it, and lives rest on this agreement. Be wise. Be quiet. Be invisible.”

He bowed as his father left. And Boji squirmed, as he had been doing, trying to get free, or to bite him, or just because he was bored with being still.

“ Quiet,you!” He took a careful grip with his left hand on Boji’s harness and resisted the urge to be angry with Boji, who understood nothing about carpets or his father’s power or that he had nearly gotten banished back to the market to be sold again. He found a grip that quieted Boji, and carefully smoothed his fur.

Boji looked up at him with big golden eyes.

“You have to behave,” he found himself saying. Hewas saying such a thing to somebody else. The world was upside down.

And to be sure nothing else went wrong, he went to the cage and retrieved Boji’s lead, clipped it on and let him go.

Boji immediately tested the limit of it, bounding to the nearest chair, to the floor, all around him, winding the leash around his legs, and making him look ridiculous. He was passing the lead from one hand to the other to prevent being tripped, about the time his bodyguard showed up in the other doorway, all quiet and sober and wondering what had happened.

Boji chattered at them in reproach and climbed his leg and his coat, wanting to go all the way to his shoulder, as if he were a tree.

He stopped Boji at the crook of his arm, holding the lead very short, and Boji took a grip on his fist, peering over it, staring at his bodyguard and chattering defiantly at them.

“It seems to have found man’chi,” Antaro said.

If it was true, it was a very good thing. But he was standing there covered in egg-spatter, and having been laughed at by his fathercand warned to be invisible, and smarter than Boji.

But his father had, however, let him keep Boji. And tonight instead of being reprimanded, he had to go represent his father and mother at mani’s table.

He worked his hand in Boji’s fur, which Boji liked. And Boji chattered, but a very quiet chatter, sounding happier, at least.

“He is probably quite hungry,” he said. “He broke his egg. Find him another, nadiin-ji, and tell the servants we need the rug and the chair cleaned, and I shall have a bath. We have formal dinner with mani tonight. Be warned it will be adults.”

He did not recall really seeing his father laugh like that, except now and again with nand’ Bren, and nand’ Bren would laugh, too, about things he had never understood. So maybe it was not such a bad thing that his father laughed this time.

And if he looked in a mirror he might find he really deserved it.

There was a mirror in his bedroom. He went back and stood in front of it, and there he was, a little spattered, not too bad, and his coat not too bad. He had certainly looked a lot worse. It was by no means as bad as the concrete driveway. He had Boji in the crook of his arm, the leash in his hand, and Boji had curled up into a fairly compact ball, quite content for the while, and not looking too silly.

He really did not look the fool. Just a little messy. He decided his father had not been laughing at him. Rather, his father had been amused about the plot and maybe not even unhappy with him, since he had gotten along with the new tutor. His father was not always easy to figure out.

Boji untucked and ran out on his arm as if it were the limb of a tree, staring at the mirror, and bristling up and chattering at it in no welcoming way.

“Silly creature,” he said, and gathered Boji back to him, Boji still protesting, crawling over his shoulder and trying to see the other parid’ja.

Boji then decided to try to clean the spots of egg off the side of his face, licking it off with a little black tongue. It was rough and efficient, but Boji forgot about that when Lucasi brought another egg from their hiding place. He was all attentive, and when Cajeiri gave it to him, he held onto it very nicely and made a neat little hole in it and began eating it while sitting on Cajeiri’s arm, pausing to lick his lips.

Boji had gotten much quieter, then, when Eisi and Lieidi came in to find out the damage.

Boji held onto his egg and tucked tight into the crook of Cajeiri’s arm. Cajeiri found himself still being Boji’s tree—now a safe nook in a branch—but Antaro was right: Instead of running away, Boji was clinging close to him, holding onto his coat with strong little hands.

It was different than a mechieta, which was certainly not going to tuck into the crook of one’s arm, but some few of which, so he had heard, might take to following one about.

He had, from being the heir of the aishidi’tat, become Boji’s tree, that was what.

And mani was back on the ground in Shejidan.

And his father let him keep Boji andhis birthday party. And his father, seeming in a good humor, knew about parid’ji, and knew what kind of creatures they were, and thought it funny, perhaps, that he was going to have that experience, which was probably not going to be easy.

It was all right, then, that his father had laughed.

He remembered how he had looked in the mirror and decided he really had looked somewhat funny.

He just preferred not to look funny when he showed up at mani’s apartment tonight.

12

Lord Geigi made it into the Bujavid half an hour after Ilisidi made it upstairs with her two elevator-loads of staff.

And, somewhat out of breath, Lord Geigi turned up at Bren’s apartment door, with only his bodyguard and a small set of baggage beside the wardrobe crate—particularly greeting the staff as well as Bren, who came from his office to meet him there. “Narani-nadi, Jeladi-nadi, such an additional pleasure! Thank you, thank you, nandi, for putting up with me! One will miss so your company, and one will miss your hospitality, Rani-ji, my neighbor on the station. Nand’ Bren, your staff on station has been so solicitous of me and so closely associated to my staff—they have been my associates, too, my consolation and advice, on whom I have not hesitated to rely in the darkest of times. One was so glad to be invited here, for an opportunity to bid them a proper farewell—so, so delighted to see all of you and to have another of Bindanda’s dinners—what an unanticipated treat! I shall personally mourn your departure from the station. Nand’ Bren, my esteemed associate, you must send others of your staff up to the station, and where my staff is of any avail in special training, we will be beside ourselves with delight.”

“One has grandnephews,” Narani volunteered, “at Najida, growing far too idle, one supposes—as they never shall here in the Bujavid.”

“One would rejoice,” Bren said, “to send more staff up, if you are willing to recommend, Rani-ji. Knowing they would have a contribution to make to Lord Geigi’s staff, one would not hesitate to restaff the premises. Nor would I take it amiss if any Najida youngsters felt man’chi drawing them toward my esteemed neighbor—what are we, if not two eggs in the same shell, nand’ Geigi at Kajiminda and myself at Najida? I would support them without hesitation. But warn them to guard their feelings and be advised—he is the most attractive of lords, but his service is not for those with ties to the earth.”

“You are so good, neighbor of mine! Ah, I had looked forward to a stay in a hotel, an outlying one at best, and this is beyond expectation.”

“You come with so little baggage, Geigi-ji! One recalls you had far more!”

“Destined for the spaceport,” Geigi said. “One has given it over to the baggage office, and they will send it over to the space agency, to be gone through and packed. It is such a relief, Bren-ji. I have left my valets at Kajiminda, to come on a later shuttle. I am destitute of assistance, besides the loyalty of my aishid. One had no wish to impose on your gracious hospitality, and one has absolutely no need of too many things, if one may rely on your staff for wardrobe care.”

“Of course they will be pleased to do it! Avail yourself of all we have, Geigi-ji. There is, you are well aware, dinner at the formal hour, and likely the dowager’s staff has been working since yesterday.”

“I shall be ready within the hour,” Lord Geigi said.

“Please. Join me for a cocktail in the sitting room, and then we shall go together.”

“Honored,” Geigi said, bowed, and went off to take possession of the guest quarters, a most auspicious first guest in the premises, while Bren hurried to use the bath in time to let staff have it pristine again for Lord Geigic

The bath, the dress—the most formal of court clothes. There was, fortunately, ample time for Geigi to dress for dinner, and most of an hour left to sit for a preliminary cocktail in the sitting room, going over the latest news from Kajiminda—construction on the Edi center had started, at least as far as staking out the site, pending approval in the legislature.

The rebuilding at Najida had gotten as far as the roof, which had to be the most urgent matter—getting the difficult part done before another torrential rain; and, Geigi relayed from Ramoso, Bren’s major d’ at Najida, the news that the architect would send plans based on Bren’s sketch of what he wanted.

“One will be very anxious to see them,” Bren said. He had engaged the best in the district, and had an Edi foreman in charge of the clean-up crew, men who knew carpentry and masonry and who would, one very much hoped, get the work advanced by fall—it was approaching the summer runs of fish, and the Edi were chafing to work on their own new building.

Once all the legislative agreements went forward to give the Edi their new status—please God they went forward—there would be frustrating days of no progress on Najida Estate, during the height of the fishing season, and days when everybody was engaged on the Edi’s own building, but that was as it had to be. As it should be. He was absolutely determined to hire local folk, even if they had to have the roof of Najida estate under plastic sheeting until fall. It was a district that needed the money.

“And I shall be back on the station for it all,” Geigi said, “but one would delight to see the plans and also have views of the work going forward, if only for my curiosity. One has come dangerously close to being attached to the land again. Alas, my orchard.”

“Your staff can surely recover it. And now they will have help from Targai, surely, Geigi-ji.”

“Some trees are doomed. But indeed, that is the agreement with the new lord.” A sip of juice and vodka. “And once my nephew’s wife is pregnant, shewill take residency there. Sidi-ji assures me she is a plain and practical young woman who understands rural districts very well, and who loves an orchard.”

The girl in question was the one Ilisidi had just married to Geigi’s fool of a nephew. Baiji would not set foot in the west again, but she, an Easterner, would produce a Maschi-clan heir to replace Baiji, and until the heir reached his or her majority, she would rule over Kajiminda district. Geigi might have been lord of Maschi clan himself, had he wanted the post; but he had appointed a subclan house-head to take that honor and had permanently relinquished his own residence at Kajiminda, breaking all ties with the earth. It was not something he had done lightly.

“One certainly hopes you will not utterly abandon the district, however,” Bren said. “One is certain the young lady is an excellent person, and one will be neighborly, but I shall miss you beyond measure, Geigi-ji! Know that you are always welcome under any roof I manage.”

“And you, wherever I am,” Geigi said. “I look to you, Bren-ji, to guide this girl and my heir, as a good neighbor. I have the greatest confidence in you. And should they misbehave in any fashion, I rely on you to tell me without hesitation!”

“So I shall, Geigi-ji. I shall keep a close eye on the situation, for their welfare, and I shall not, again, leave Najida unwatched.”

“Nor that eastern border,” Geigi said, meaning the border with the Taisigin Marid and the Senjin Marid. “One is greatly encouraged by your reports from Tanaja. But one begs you not to take personal chances.”

“One has every intention of being careful,” Bren said, “but between us, Geigi-ji, and with all due reservations regarding the district history, I have a certain sense, be it only a human one, that we have in Machigi—a very tangled relationship, but a workable one. I have a document from him, which he asked me to show to select individuals at my discretion. You are one I would include. In that very small circle, besides you, are Ilisidi, Tabini-aiji, and my aishid. It confesses to some things; it denies others. One of these things he mentions is extremely delicate, and one hesitates even to name it, but having that clear before tonight’s meetingc”

“Regarding my sister’s death?” The look from Geigi was suddenly flat, stark, direct.

“Regarding that, yes.”

“Tell me, Bren-ji. I shall not budge from our plan, no matter what you tell me. But be direct.”

“In essence, Machigi has not publicly attempted to claim innocence of her murder. He is a stiff, unyielding sort and has never, in fact, denied any charge against him. In this letter, however, he claims two things: first that the entire letter in which he contains his statement is a mix of truth and untruth, and second that he was courting your sister in hopes of gaining some favor with you should you attack Murini and claim the aijinate. That his enemies were the agents of the poisoning, and it was not his planning nor his wish.”

The stare continued flat, protected, emotionless for a long while. Then Geigi nodded slowly. “Credible,” he said in that same chill voice. “But you say, Bren-ji, that he was playing games with this letter. I shall be patient for the sake of the aishidi’tat, for the sake of lives at risk. But he will not do well to play word games with me.”

“It is his manner, I fear. It is a risky, self-destructive mode of address engendered, possibly, by pride. There is a possibility of truth in his claim.”

“There is also the possibility that the first circumstance is true and that, at her refusal of his suit, he killed her.”

“I have had very limited experience of his manner, Geigi-ji, but in several intense discussions with him, I have detected a high-mindedness—I can only call it high-mindedness. Pride that does not accord well with such an act. But I have also detected an arrogance that equally well supports a deception. I cannot judge. I am compelled to leave it to atevi judgment—or proof. I am extremely uncomfortable having even to mention it. But I would not have you put in a position of supporting this agreement without knowledge of that letter. And therefore I must warn you. I offer it, if you will wish to read it.”

There was a lengthy silence, and Geigi composed his face to absolute calm.

“I shall read it,” Geigi said, then.

Bren reached into his inner coat pocket and carefully withdrew a copy of the document; leaned forward and laid it on the little table at Geigi’s elbow, beside his glass.

Geigi took the paper and opened it, and in a lengthy silence, read it. A muscle jumped in his jaw at a certain point, and ceased. And at last he folded the letter. “Am I to have this copy?” he asked. “I would like to have it.”

“As you wish,” Bren said. “Please do.”

Geigi carefully put it into his own coat pocket, then said: “As you say, Bren-ji, he is arrogant. But the logic he presents is reasonable. The circumstances are reasonable. Kajiminda was undefended. My sister had no protection but the Edi. And they were leaving. I do see the man you describe in this letter.”

“I am bewildered by him, quite frankly, Geigi-ji. And this also I will say: The Guild entrenchment in his district is thorough and getting deeper. The Guild has its own motive in this action, promoting him as lord of the Taisigi. More I cannot say. But be advised. I think he is quite pent in.”

“Then I understand more of this letter,” Geigi said on a deep breath. “One appreciates the extreme delicacy of the task Sidi-ji set you. One has appreciated that much from the outset. And I shall examine that small possibility that he is too arrogant to plead his case with me, an enemy. I shall hold onto that possibility very carefully, with tongs.”

“One wishes one had answers.”

Geigi touched his chest, where the letter now resided. “It deserves several readings, the final one in the remoteness of the station, in the perspective of great, cold distance from local affairs. The earth brings me memories, not all of which are as pleasant as I have regarding my nearest and favorite neighbor. My sister was unwise in most choices, and my nephew will live and die a fool. Rest assured, Bren-ji, I greatly appreciate your frankness in this matter of her relations with Machigi. And from believing that Machigi killed my sister for his simple convenience to suspecting he killed her as a danger to him brings him a small step upward in my regard, but to sympathize with him as too proud to plead his utter innocence, well, I shall assess his qualities when I meet him. The agreement with the lord of the Marid stands to benefit everyone, while opposing it would benefit my enemies in two other districts of the Marid. So. I thank you, Bren-ji, for giving this to me in advance. You have never disappointed me in your sensitivity and your perception. And if you believe Machigi—there is hope he is telling the truth.”

“Geigi-ji.” He gave a deep bow of his head.

“Shall we not go to Sidi-ji’s dinner now? One understands Lord Tatiseigi will be present. I have now gathered up my resolve, I have fortified myself with good drink, I shall have the company of yourself and Sidi-ji, and I have nerved myself to remain absolutely serene this evening, knowing I have your household ready to soothe my nerves once this is done.”

Ilisidi’s formal table was, as always, traditional and elaborate, with service both wooden and silver, china and bone ivory, on a plain table runner itself at least a century old, not to mention the plates and glassware. A considerately low centerpiece of stones and Malguri spring flowers ran down the center, and the service was set for fivecthe fifth conspicuously lacking the wine glass, so Bren would have guessed had not young Cajeiri just turned up, fortunate fifth, without his parents, exceedingly happy to see Lord Geigi and him, bright and full of questions—was Lord Geigi here to take the shuttle? And brimming with declarations and announcements: he was very grateful to Lord Geigi for conveying a message and for interceding with his father, and his father was going to invite his associates on the station for his birthday, and he was looking forward to it and only wished Lord Geigi could come, too, and nand’ Bren hadto come, and could they use his boat?

That came mostly in one breath. Cajeiri was very happy, and one was, frankly, astonished that Tabini had permitted the visit from space without consulting his human advisor.

Or maybe he hadconsulted.

Yolanda, up on the station, had been Tabini’s contact for the two years while the paidhi-aiji had been absent from the scene; and while one tended to forget Yolanda, who truly did not enjoy being on the planet and no longer exercised her office, she was a good one to consult on the temper of human relations aloft, a good, studious paidhi with about as much soul as Wilson, in Bren’s estimate.

One hoped to God she got it right.

Or was thatcjust a little professional jealousy?

Damn, he tried to be better than that. He was thinking so when the final guest arrived, with his bodyguard. Lord Tatiseigi—speaking of jealousy—came to sit in the same room as his grandnephew and his chief annoyance when it came to philosophy, political affiliation, and Ilisidi’s andCajieiri’s favor: Geigi.

“Nandi.” Bren gave the little duck of the head courtesy demanded. Then two voices at once, one lighter than the rest and full of enthusiasm, the rascal:

“Great-uncle! One is so glad!”

“Well, well. A pleasant surprise, Grandnephew!”

The kid was acquiring the sly skills of a diplomat: happily diverting off a topic with Geigi that would send great-uncle into an apoplexy, to a cheery, apparently sincere how-do-you-do that elicited an astonished reciprocation out of Tatiseigi. Eight, and going on nine, for God’s sake, and absorbing his grandmother’s tactics like a sponge.

They were all seated—or almost seated—Tatiseigi the last, being a little stiff in the joints, as Cenedi and Nawari came in, preceding Ilisidi herself, so it was back up to their feet to give a courteous bow to their hostess, who arrived in splendid black lace with small ruby accents, and who bowed slightly in her turn, offering a serene smile and her ordinary manner. Her cane went to Cenedi, who set it against the buffet—she often kept it, but she exuded relaxation and good cheer tonight.

So they were all together, finally, in about as secure a place as existed in the Bujavid. And he was particularly glad to have Ilisidi safely back within Bujavid upper stories, where she was far safer than off in the East dealing with the neighbors.

They were five at table, a felicitous number, though containing a chancy two—and one knew exactly which were the Infelicitous Twosome: Tatiseigi and Geigi. One flattered oneself that the paidhi-aiji with the aiji’s son and the aiji-dowager posed the felicity in the arrangement, and thank God and thank Cajeiri’s clever start to the conversation, everybody was on good behavior all the way through dinner. In the course of dinner conversation, Lord Geigi avowed himself completely cheerful at the prospect of seeing his on-planet business neatly handled so he could go back to the station, and Lord Tatiseigi was rather caught up in hearing from Ilisidi the details of Baiji’s wedding—somewhat inconsiderate, had Geigi chosen to be take offense at having the scandal in Lord Geigi’s house aired, but Geigi remained in good humor and asked details himself, what his nephew had worn, and how Baiji, no great scholar, had gotten through his pledges without stumbling.

And both gentlemen quite enthusiastically, genealogy being a particular interest of Lord Tatiseigi, heard Ilisidi’s reckoning of the lineages and ancient associations involved in the marriage she had arranged.

“It is a veryfelicitous match, and you must understand, Tati-ji,” Ilisidi said, paying the old man personal attention—if she were human she would have patted him confidentially on the hand. She was not, and she simply nodded in his direction. “We have married that scoundrel Baiji to a lady of great good sense, not to mention her antecedents; the ancient connection of Lord Drusi with your own third-great-uncle, Tati-ji, might be argued to connect Atageini relatives as well. One has not forgotten nand’ Drusi’s Eastern wife, out of which the current lordship of the Atageini rises.”

“Now that is the most tenuous of connections!” Lord Tatiseigi said, and went on to trace exactly how the relationship ran, while Geigi added his own remote ancestry.

Cajeiri listened remarkably politely, though with his eyes occasionally glazing over, and a mere human attempted to connect the dots in a set of political and genetic relationships running back fifteen hundred years—long before humans had exited their own motherworldc

Arcane stuff. But it mattered to the traditionalists. It mattered because it contained history and subtext. That Lord Tatiseigi, traditionalist to the hilt, and Geigi, a Rational Determinist and a modernist, sat there comparing ancestors was amazing. Just amazing. The time had been when those two had been bitter, bitter opponents on the grounds of the very ancestors they now compared.

And thenc

Then there came into question, not quite a case of business at dinner, the matter of the Marid and the porcelains and the ravages to Lord Geigi’s personal collections. Geigi and Tatiseigi had the passion for porcelains in common as well, and, starting from the ancestor who had started Tatiseigi’s collection, the dinner dwindled down to last courses in the completely esoteric discussion of green glazes, which was somuch better than might have been. There was not a whisper yet about Lord Machigi.

But in conclusion of the meal, Ilisidi of course offered brandy in the sitting room, which would be the venue for serious, even disagreeable discussion, and Bren braced himself.

“One would very much wish to attend the after-dinner sitting, mani,” Cajeiri said quietly. “One will not say a thing, even if one should wish to.”

It was Ilisidi the lad addressed. Lord Tatiseigi looked a little put out at the idea, and he probably wanted to say the boy belonged home in bed at this hour.

But the things at issue were matters Cajeiri knew intimately—quite intimately, the boy having seen far too much of the warfare on the peninsula. Ilisidi had not withheld information of that sort from the boy. Ever.

“You will remember your promise,” Ilisidi said, “Great-grandson.”

“One assuredly will, Great-grandmother.”

“So, well,” Ilisidi said, and gathered up her cane, which her bodyguard Cenedi slipped conveniently under her hand in the same moment he moved her chair back. Ilisidi gathered herself to her feet, they all got up and filed out of the room, bodyguards arranging themselves as they went—Cajeiri’s youngsters adding a little confusion and inexperience to the process, but Cenedi sorted it out quietly behind them.

So they settled in the sitting-room, with brandy and one iced fruit juice—and faced one another for what was not going to be such a nice conversation.

“One does not wish, aiji-ma,” Tatiseigi said, “to offend young ears. But one must speak.”

“You will not offend him,” Ilisidi. “Nor, one hopes, Tati-ji, will our efforts to have peace in the south displease you. You know how very long we have desired a settlement, we do know that you hold opposing views in the interest of your region, and, fortunate third, we do hope to satisfy all your objections, because we have had them particularly in mind while arranging the agreements. You have been our instructor and our constant thought while we were working these things out. Do kindly hear us out before you frame an opinion.”

Neatlymanaged, Bren thought. A magnificent segue, delivered almost while the old man was drawing breath to object.

“Well, well,” Tatiseigi said, frowning, “but understand—” He used the all-inclusive plural. “—our objections reside in our concern for the aishidi’tat, which is an irreplaceable structure.”

“To that we heartily agree, nandi,” Geigi said. “And, speaking as one who has sometimes been at odds, but no longer, one hopes—we greatly appreciate your position. The aiji-dowager has often cited your opinions, and one now greatly appreciates the wisdom of your position, nandi. When one was young, one was far more reckless, but time and events are persuasive. Your objections are wisely made, and must be respected.”

Tatiseigi blinked. Twice, parsing that for traps, and Bren parsed it a second time himself, in some little admiration. God, Geigi had grown in office. Ilisidi looked on that with her usual calm demeanor and smiled a sweet little smile.

“So we do,” she said, “always consult with Lord Tatiseigi.”

The paidhi-aiji could hardly top that opening statement. He sat there sipping his brandy very cautiously, saying only, “One absolutely concurs, aiji-ma. Nandiin.”

“Well, well, well,” Tatiseigi said, a little flustered, and took a sip of his own glass. “Let me then advise you of my concern that anyimproved rail link will immediately become a conduit for spies and mayhem. That anyincreased trade with the South will upset the economy by competing against northern industry.”

“On the latter, we rely on your excellent knowledge of the northern economy to advise us,” Ilisidi said. “It will be extremely easy at this stage to make provisions to protect these northern enterprises, whether by making them more competitive or by managing import from the south. Not forgetting there will be export from the north, which may offer profit.”

“Export. These bare-elbowed folk in the south can hardly afford our goods.”

“Indeed,” Geigi said, “but an improved economy in the south will mean they can, and will want them, in increasing numbers. This is a major new market once it has elevated its standard of living.”

“They are a lazy, contentious lot,” Tatiseigi said, “who had rather waste their substance in war than improve their own living. The black market dominates their economy.”

“This has not been their choice,” Bren felt obliged to say. “Nandiin, they have maintained leaders whose warlike nature has made them feel safer—not that it has made them safe, but the reputation for violence has in fact defended them from the other clans in the Marid. Thatis the sort of choice the aiji-dowager has undertaken to change. She has identified one warlord with a vision exceeding his predecessors, and in consequence of his talent, he has become a target of his neighbors—with a good result for the aishidi’tat, because it has necessitated his accepting the guilds into the Marid to a degree that will profoundly change the politics of the district. But the guilds cannot effect a beneficial change without direction applied from the north and the east.”

“Setting up a massive clan structure in that district to rival the Ragi,” Tatiseigi muttered, “is dangerous. Destabilizing to the entire aishdi’tat.”

“For all his days, Tati-ji,” Ilisidi said, “Lord Machigi will be engaged in building up his merchants and his shippers and enriching the people of the Marid. He will have no time for adventures of a political nature, and once he has wealthy merchants under his roof, he will have the same constraints as does my grandson. Wealthy merchants, save those selling munitions, do not like war in their own region of operation, and we shall have the Marid trading in porcelains and textiles, wood products, foodstuffs—anything butmunitions.”

“For now, Sidi-ji. But the next leader—”

“Should any future leader of the Marid step out of those bounds, the Guilds will be quite sure he does not step farcjust as the Guilds constrain us in Shejidan. That is the profound difference in this agreement, Tati-ji. Machigi has taken the Guilds to bed, and now he is wed to them. So will his successors be.”

Tatiseigi was quiet for a moment, head tilted to one side. “And these foreigners in the heavens the paidhi-aiji warns us of? What when they appear? What when they play one region against the other? Or incite the humans against us? We cannot be divided.”

“Precisely,” Ilisidi said, “we cannot be divided. Nor shall we be. The Guild will see to that.”

The Guild, Bren thought, was not the argument he would have picked—given what he had learned from Tabini.

But Tatiseigi sat still, the brandy in his hand, and then he emptied it at a gulp and held out his glass for another.

Servants moved. No one else did, except Cajeiri was swinging his feet. And stopped in the general hush.

Tatiseigi took another sip. “You believe this as fact.”

“We believe it,” Ilisidi said, and for a dizzy, strange moment, Bren thought, Couldshe be behind what’s been going on in the Guild? At leastcthe current upheaval?

“You believe you have the means to restrain this wild southerner, Sidi-ji.”

“We have the means to remove this wild southerner, should he prove unwise. And he knows it.”

“One will concede to you,Sidi-ji.”

Feet swung. Abruptly stopped. Cajeiri piped up: “My father will back Great-grandmother. One is quite sure.”

There was a moment of surprise, a little shock, that Cajeiri had an opinion.

“The renegades shot at us,” Cajeiri continued doggedly. “They blew up a truck. They attacked everybody and tried to get them to fight. But we stoppedthem. They wanted to set Lord Machigi’s enemy in Dojisigi and assassinate Lord Machigi, so Lord Machigi has hadto ally with mani. And she will not let him go.” Feet swung again, and stopped. “My father is keeping quiet because of politics. But we think he backs mani.”

“So do we back your great-grandmother, nandi,” Geigi said. “So does the entire West, and that is another district that has been, until now, too unsettled to unify. If we take this course, Lord of the Atageini, with the solidity of your great prestige, the whole West agrees to fight our legal battles in the legislature and in court and accept the resultscand this agreement now includes those peoples now called tribal districts. We have also gained the Lord of Dur in agreement, bringing in his region. We have Maschi clan agreed, and, for once, the whole Marid is under one authority, who sees nothing more profitable for him than agreement. Should Machigi break this alliance, we here will maintain our association and deal with it, but more, for the first time the Guildwill be in place to deal with it. So Machigi will no longer be able to think that he is out of reach of consequences. He is now as vulnerable to the Guild as any other lord. It is a new situation, nandi. I put by all quarrels in the interests of having this agreement work.”

“Even abandoning the matter of your sister,” Tatiseigi said bluntly.

“If I do, she will have died to some higher purpose, nandi, than the usual regional dispute. She will have died for something worth dying for. In order for us to deliver the conditions in which the agreement of Machigi and Sidi-ji can work, the tribal districts have to be at peace, and to put them at peace, the legislature has to approve their admission to the aishidi’tat and remove them from dependency on my clan. I back that proposal. One hopes, nandi, one extravagantly hopes for your vote in support.”

“One asks,” Ilisidi said, “Tati-ji. Tryour way. We have ample recourse if it fails. We have built in precautions such as your objections have suggested, notably Guild action. We need you, Tati-ji.”

There was a moment of stark silence. Then a nod from Tatiseigi. “We shall agree,” Tatiseigi said, jaw clamped as if he were forcing the words. “You know, Sidi-ji, the political cost of this will be heavy.”

“You will gain, Tati-ji, and you may suffer the jealousy of your neighbors for that. We know the risk—and we know some of your neighbors, as do you. We ask you not visit Tirnamardi at any time in the coming weeks. We offer personnel to secure and protect Tirnamardi.”

“They will notbe Taibeni, Sidi-ji!”

“They will not be Taibeni.”

God—inserting more bodyguards onto Tatiseigi’s staff? Maybesomebody who could wade in, replace several antiquated and overly expensive security systems, and get decisions made. That was his first thought: Tatiseigi assassinated and his vital succession over Atageini Clan coming down to Cajeiri would be monumental.

Second thought: Under ordinary circumstances, Tatiseigi would have set his feet and demanded favors or outright refused; but the old man was not stupid. By backing the agreement, he had great reason to worry about his next-door neighbors and strongest rivals, the Kadagidi, who were trying to regain their political power and would use it for capitalcbut by opposing Ilisidi, he set himself aside as useless, because he assuredly would never back the Kadagidi.

Cajeiri’s feet swung. He stopped them, but his eyes moved from Geigi to Tatiseigi. The boy understood. He’d been there when Tatiseigi’s antiquated systems had nearly gotten them all killed. Cajeiri knew everyone’s opinions. Hehad his opinions on his great-uncle’s feelings about the Taibeni. He knew all about his great-grandmother’s plan and the situation on the coast. And one hoped to God he knew he shouldn’t say a thing at the moment. Not a thing.

Lips went taut with restraint.

In a very long silence.

“I have avoided war all my life,” Tatisiegi said. “This is consistency on my part.” A nod, then. “The Atageini accept the proposal. We will back this program, specifically on your recommendation, Sidi-ji.”

They’d doneit, Bren thought.

And he asked himself how much of Lord Tatiseigi’s movement in their direction had to do with the ongoing situation Tabini had warned him about, the situation with Lady Damiri’s other relatives, who were fighting to remove Tatiseigi’s influence from the ruling house in Shejidan and bring in their own to stand near Tabini-aiji.

Not to mention the situation within the Guild—the recent situation, and the prior situation, and the fact they were not likely to have eliminated every vestige of the shadow Guild. If there was a place the shadow Guild was supposedto have been eliminated—it was from the house of the Kadigidi, Murini’s clan, Lord Tatisiegi’s neighbor to the east. Tatiseigi had forever the Taibeni on one side and the Kadagidi on the other, and he had the most uncertain security on the continent.

So now Tatiseigi found a way to accept Ilisidi’s offer, at one stroke getting past the Kadagidi.

He found a way to accept a gift porcelain and had the paidhi-aiji advancing him as an expert in the collector trade.

He even found a way to agree with Lord Geigi, however indirectly, and patch up a quarrel that had ceased to be of any social or political benefit.

Damned right, Tatiseigi was aware of a danger to him and to his clan.

There was an interesting letter among Baiji’s little stash of blackmail material, one half line of which suggested the Kadagidiwould favor Baiji’s proposed alliance with the Dojisigin Marid.

The interesting bit was the date, which was afterMurini’s fall from power, afterMurini had allegedly become anathema among the Kadagidi and the Kadagidi had become innocent as the driven snow. The associations in that letter nailed the Kadagidi as possibly complicit in the assassination of Geigi’s sister—and as backing a shadow Guild power grab as recently as current history.

If push came to shove, Tatiseigi might well know what to do with that letter.

Ilisidi had her own copy of that little store of documents, and when it came to interclan gossip, Ilisidi knew things. She collected things. Remembered things.

And delivered little tidbits of information when they most suited her.

Had that letter gone to Tatiseigi—along with the supper invitation?

One wondered. One did indeed.

Following Lord Tatiseigi’s agreement—and an unprecedented exchange of bows and courtesies of reconciliation with Lord Geigi—there was perhaps just a bit more brandy than was judicious. But it was an occasion, and the mood was optimistic, at least for the hour. Cajeiri, as a minor, went home earliest with his young aishid, without having committed a single indiscretion—exemplary behavior, and one the dowager noted with a deeper than usual nod in parting. They all left at once, Lord Tatiseigi down the hall to his residence, and Bren and Lord Geigi off to Bren’s apartment, on Cajeiri’s track.

They were not that late getting in, except for the brandy, and one thought even of one more glass, which was entirely foolish. He and Geigi were both tired. They needed to go straight to bed and have their wits about them in the morning.

Bren said his goodnight to Geigi—“A success, a very great success, Geigi-ji,” and received a reciprocal courtesy, the both of them happy with the evening. Valets were waiting to put them to bed; bodyguards were headed for their own well-earned late suppers in the apartment kitchen, after their own very long evening.

And Bren delayed for one compulsive, foolish look at the message cylinders waiting in the basket.

The design of the cylinders said they came from several departments of the government and Machigi’s representative, one surmised the fifth one to be. For the morning, he said to himself, resolutely.

But Tano and Algini turned up again from the inner hall, and Tano pulled a very thick envelope out of the front of his uniform jacket.

“This is from the dowager, Bren-ji. Cenedi’s company provided an extensive briefing.”

A slight cold chill went through him. Tano and Algini, as usual, had been door detail, Banichi and Jago standing duty in the dining room and the sitting room. It was always the door detail who talked with the resident Guild.

And learned the unofficial scuttlebutt.

“The nature of these, Tano-ji? Should one be alarmed?”

“These are in main the dowager’s final drafts of the agreement, Bren-ji. And also Cenedi’s intelligence report regarding the East. There is controversy rising regarding development on the coast, regarding the proposed rail service, regarding road building. Cenedi says these are routine matters, which can be handled with accurate information and negotiation.”

“We had a very interesting conference,” Algini said, “with the collective security details—we dodged Tatiseigi’s aishid to some minor extent, but we were very careful to give them every impression of full disclosure and full inclusion. That the two of the young lord’s bodyguard are Guild was convenient. We were able to include them, to warn them for the sake of their principal, but as juniors, with certain restrictions of information. Maneuvering around them covered our more focused talk with Cenedi. We have filled him in regarding the business already discussed. We are confident of his position. We have also passed nand’ Geigi’s guard a document not to be opened until they are on the station, and we have their undertaking to respect that.”

“However,” Algini said, and proffered another envelope, “this should be kept guarded and given to the aiji directly.”

One was not going to sleep well on that account.

The envelope was sealed without a signet seal. And Algini himself might not know its contents. One would bet it came either from Cenedi or directly from the Guild and was another bypass of Tabini’s bodyguard, who might—or might not—have been given it directly had Tabini attended the dinner.

Giving it to Cajeiri’s earnest young guard—no. This envelope was not that sort of message.

13

Bren opened his eyes, a little muzzy from sleep, and made space for Jago on the convenient side of the bed. She was shadow, all shadow, and settled quietly under the coverscand he suddenly became aware that it was late in the night.

That his bodyguard had been up verylate.

“One wished not to disturb you,” she said quietly.

“Is something amiss, Jago-ji?”

“Not amiss, Bren-ji,” she said. “Algini and Tano went down to the town to meet with Guild from Lady Siodi’s establishment and from elsewhere. Nawari also.”

Cenedi’s right-hand man. Bren wiped his hand across his face, rising on an elbow and thinking—the place was almost certainly bugged by Tabini’s establishment. There were midnight consultations going on between his bodyguard, Ilisidi’s, Guild leadership—and those Guild the Guild itself had attached to Machigi and his representative. He hadn’t had time yet to get the personal envelope to Tabini.

But something must already be moving in the situation in the south.

And thatrealization drove the last residue of sleep right out of his head.

“Are there things I should know, Jago-ji?”

“There is progress on several fronts, since sundown, nandi. There is now an establishment in Sungeni and in Dausigi protecting those two lords.”

Lords loyal to Machigi— not necessarily loyal to him out of deep passion, but due to the economic and political realities of the Marid. Two small, financially weak clans had long found alliance with the powerful Taisigi their only means of survival—fearing they could be swallowed up by Dojisigi.

The two clans in question mighthave taken exception to Machigi’s sudden acceptance of the northern Assassins’ Guild. Their reaction had been a great worry in the whole arrangement with Machigi. But now the Guild had moved in on them,and the last of the Marid clans without a strong Guild presencecnow had one.

“Do we know Machigi’s view on this?” he asked delicately, not to tread too closely on things on which Jago might have to preserve secrecy.

“He wrote a very helpful letter,” Jago said, “introducing the Guild delegates. The first was accepted among the Sungeni at sunset and by the Dausigi an hour later.” She turned onto her side, facing him, a darkness in the dark. “Machigi has also written a letter to Tiajo-daja, suggesting that acceptance of the Guild’s close guidance would secure her life and her father’s. And that rejection would not be a healthful decision. The Guild has provided a younger bodyguard, with close senior supervision, for the young lady,” Jago said. “Unhappily, the young lady is quarrelsome. She has already tried to enlist her new bodyguard to assassinate a list of enemies. The Guild naturally refused, and the young lady actually threw and damaged a number of atiendi itemsc” That was to say, artworks and antiquities belonging to the clan. It was shocking, uncivilized behavior. Shocking as a murder of sorts.

“One is dismayed.” What could he say? Hehad argued to safeguard Tiajo, which necessarily meant she would assume power. Such a childish act did not recommend her self-restraint.

“The Guild has made this act known in other houses where it has taken up guard. We have notified persons who were on the young lady’s list of intended targets; and we have consequently taken up guard and an advisory presence in those housescso it has all flown back in the young lady’s face with a vengeance.”

“I intervened, Jago-ji. One begins to understand this was not my best idea.”

Jago shrugged. “She is having a difficult adolescence, and if she does not improve within the month, one doubts she will remain in any influence, if she remains alive. In fact, one of the persons she finds most objectionable has just proven quite sensible regarding Guild presence, and consultation is flowing back and forth, with very valuable information forthcoming from that source, which we can pass to certain other houses at a time of our choosing. Tiajo and her father have both been warned that if this person, her third cousin, Adil, does File Intent against her, the Guild may well withdraw her bodyguard and her father’s rather than continue to defend them.”

“Did she listen?”

“She immediately flew into a temper. Her father is now considering his position in some depth and attempting, far too late, to exert his paternal influence over the young lady.” Jago shifted up on an elbow and propped her head. “We are trying to preserve her, Bren-ji, and to amend her upbringing. But it is difficult. The next step is to remove her from power and send her off with her bodyguard for the next number of years and teach her more things her education hitherto has never mentioned. She will be the better for it.”

“I was wrong, Jago-ji, and I fear I may yet be wrong at the cost of lives.”

“The Guild can always remedy a mistake of leniency, Bren-ji, and the Guild will preserve other lives, should the time come. But the team assigned to her will try their best to bring her to reason. Further sacrifice will not be asked of them: They will simply be pulled out of the way if she cannot be redeemed.”

“I cannot conceive of it. One cannot conceive it, Jago-ji. One wonders if we could just pull the child up to the space station and put her under Lord Geigi’s carec”

“Lord Geigi would not thank you for that!”

“One doubts he would.” God. A child,a damned spoiled child, who grown old enough to be corrupt without ever growing up. And he had put himself in the middle of it.

“You are exactly right,” she said, with no doubt at all. “Banichi and I and Tano and Algini all agree. To reform her in place is the best thing, because the environment she understands is the easiest, and we can contain her. One will suggest the space station as an alternative. We all agree the child is immature. Her father and her father’s supporters have put her in a position for which she is entirely unfit. One is not sure of her intellectual capacity. That might be to the good, if she can be diverted to minor pursuits and let advisors rule.”

He fell back. “One only hopes for it. And Tano and Algini may have told you I need to speak to Tabini-aiji in the morning. They gave me a sealed message for him of some urgency.”

“It regards some of these very matters, Bren-ji. And you do indeed have a breakfast appointment with Tabini-aiji in the morning. All that is arranged. Meanwhile, it has been useful to have Siodi-daja in the city—particularly useful to have an arm of the Taisigi Guild accessible to central authority. Messages are passing very efficiently, and as we have reported an agreement here in Shejidan, Siodi-daja has reported herself satisfied with the security arrangement available to her lord and has sent that word to Tanaja. Things need to move quickly at this point. The dowager will be informed so in the morning. Preliminary copies of the agreement are being hand delivered to Machigi before sunrise.”

Night courier. Someone going down by train or plane.

“That fast, Jago-ji.”

“Definitely, Bren-ji.”

He had the envelope. He had within it, he now suspected, the Guild outline for its intended operations in the South; and he had the breakfast appointment—the message advising Tabini going directly, not even using something as safe as a message cylinder delivered between households. His fingerprints were to be on this one, only his fingerprints. There would be no vague report making its way from house to house among servants that a message had gone between the dowager’s household and Tabini. There was to be secure contact every step of the way. And spies who wanted to report would report that the paidhi, after supper with the aiji-dowager, had had breakfast with the aiji.

From the Guild to Cenedi to Algini to him to Tabini.

So people would, psychologically, be able to say exactly when and how information had passed, and it would be officially the paidhi-aiji’s fault, whatever happened as a result.

It was his job to get some sleep before he had to think.

It was his job to go next door and give Tabini-aiji a chance to stop what they were doing or to urge it forward, maintaining perfect deniability until it was a fait accompli.

He did not feel communicative in the morning, pre-tea, and pre-breakfast. He stood staring at the painted woodwork while Supani and Koharu fussed with his shirt and coat. The envelope he had put in the dresser drawer last night went back into the coat pocket without comment. Supani and Koharu had that very useful quality in valets—a good sense of when conversation might be welcome and when not.

This morning it was not.

This morning, while, across the hall Lord Geigi was still sleeping the sleep of a weary late night reveler, Bren was in his best morning coat, and he arrived in the foyer at the precise time his bodyguard and his staff and Tabini’s bodyguard had agreed upon. His bodyguard, in spit-and-polish, escorted him fifty feet down the hall to Tabini’s door, with all due ceremony.

After that it was up to Tabini’s staff to get him quietly to the small breakfast room, with only Tabini and his bodyguard in attendance; there was to be no Cajeiri and no Damiri, he strongly suspected.

A light breakfast. That would suit. He felt himself incapable of anything elaborate.

And when it was done, Bren simply took the envelope from his pocket and slid it quietly across the little table.

“Do you know the contents of this document?” Tabini asked him bluntly.

“No, aiji-ma, I do not. Cenedi passed it to my bodyguard under seal.”

“And the tenor of the meeting last night, paidhi-ji?”

“Have you—have you spoken with your son, aiji-ma?”

“I have not spoken to my son yet, no. Nor will I, on this matter.”

“He requested to stay for the after-dinner sitting, aiji-ma. During that session he did state that you supported his great-grandmother.”

“Go on.”

“The statement was timely and appropriate in context, it was taken well by his great-uncle and by Lord Geigi, and it had a favorable impact on the discussion, aiji-ma. His tone was respectful.”

Tabini regarded him at length with those cold, pale eyes. “My son often takes a great deal on himself.”

Dismaying. “It had, at least, a moderating effect on his great-uncle, aiji-ma.”’

“He has, for his age, a precocious self-confidence. It used to impel him into the servant passages. Now it impels him into delicate negotiations.”

“Aiji-ma. One apologizes.”

“One is certain you have no need, paidi-ji. His great-grandmother allowed him into the room.”

“Yet, aiji-ma, after that statement, Lord Tatiseigi and Lord Geigi were able to resolve their disagreements. They both agree to support your grandmother’s proposal.”

“Do they?” Tabini said flatly. “And now Cenedi sends us this document. Do you know the content of it?”

One could not swear the bedroom was not bugged. “Aiji-ma. I received a copy of the agreement. One expects that to be there. One knows the Guild is concerned about these matters and active in the south. One rather suspects the message is the Guild’s, routed through Cenedi, but one only guesses as to that.”

“And the shape of this agreement of association? Is it still what we were presented?”

“To a cursory reading it has not changed, aiji-ma. Trade between the Taisigin Marid and the Eastern ports. A side agreement with the Edi and the Gan, who have agreed to stop certain activities if admitted to the aishidi’tat. The dowager has also, one understands, negotiated with her immediate neighbors and with town officials on the coast—”

“The disturbance now reaches to the East,” Tabini said. “A consortium of ten minor lords who, backing her trade agreement, are now signatory to a development on the East Coast withGuild participation. She was verybusy at Baiji’s wedding.”

Bren drew in a slow, careful breath. There was still that envelope, unopened, on the table between them. And if Tabini’s agents had reported all the goings-on in the East—that still left the business with the Marid.

“I should perhaps take my leave at this point, aiji-ma.”

“Do not,” Tabini said sharply, and took up the envelope and opened it. Bren sat still, watching the pages in Tabini’s hands. The missive bore no visible crest. It had multiple pages, no surprise; it was fine printed, not handwritten, no surprise, either. Its size and nature were characteristic of messages that arrived in envelopes—reports, generally, not personal letters. This one was extensive, more than five pages.

Tabini finished it. Flipped back a page, reread, then threw the document onto the table and got up and walked across the little room to his Taibeni bodyguard, exchanged a look with his aishid-senior, and then looked across the room at Banichi and Jago.

Damn, Bren thought. Not good news. Not at all good news in that envelope.

It was a moment before Tabini returned to stand at the table. He gathered up the document, folded it, put it into its envelope, and slipped it into his own inner pocket. “Tea,” he said, and his senior bodyguard moved to the sideboard to make a new pot, no servants involved.

Whatever it was, one was obliged to wait for Tabini to speak. Tabini sat down and waited, and the senior bodyguard, Jaidiri, quietly poured the light tea.

They drank. They said absolutely nothing; and Bren’s brain raced with anxiety and spun on noinformation, while Tabini clearly had far too much information at the moment and was trying to sort it.

Tabini finished his tea with a last, large swallow and set his cup aside. Bren didn’t try to empty his cup, just set it down.

Tabini said, quietly, “My grandmother has gone to war with the Ajuri. Figuratively.”

Lady Damiri’s father. Dursai Province.

He had absolutely no business commenting on a family matter. He had no nerves to warn him of the flow of man’chi or the lack of it. But Tabini looked at him, awaiting a reply.

“One hardly knows what to say, aiji-ma.”

“This, for once, is not regarding my son’s actions. Cenedi went to the East with my grandmother. One of his staff did not. You and your bodyguard, paidhi, are about to hear things which must notcome to my son.”

“Aiji-ma. One will respect the sensitivity of it. So will my bodyguard.”

“I am sure your bodyguard, and Cenedi, will do whatever their man’chi compels them to do. And your bodyguard and mine need to know. There is an old rivalry regarding my son.”

“One understands.”

Tabini drew a deep breath. “You should understand more. Ajuri and the Atageini were allies—a hundred years ago, going up to my father’s time. That association ended finally when Tatiseigi, as clan head, did not at first approve the contract marriage that united his niece with Ajuri clan. That, however, is an old issue, and over time, Lord Tatiseigi warmed to their child Damiri as his grandniece. When we married her, of course, his opinion changed vastly, and she became his favorite niece. So for a time after our marriage, Ajuri and the Atageini were quite—socially close. But this harmony was doomed. The old reasons which had held the clans together had changed over time. When our son was born, it became a war for his upbringing, Atageini on one side, Ajuri on the other. And in the intensity of it all, Damiri had a falling-out with her father. She was then for a time in great favor with Lord Tatiseigi, a period which falls within your tenure.”

“One recalls the situation, yes, aiji-ma.”

“Then—we began the space program. We had its controversy. The entire aishidi’tat entered a period of upheaval that made it increasingly dangerous to have my son in close company with us at public functions. My grandmother’s conservatism is unquestioned. Tatiseigi’s is. Placing my son in her care quieted the conservatives, pleased Tatiseigi, and gave us time we greatly needed to politick our way through the unrest. That maneuver is also within your memory.”

“It is, aiji-ma.”

“Sending Cajeiri to the Atageini, however, infuriated the Ajuri. You may imagine. So. Let us leap to last night. In a very quick turn, the Atageini lord has suddenly agreed with you and made his peace with my grandmother’s move to settle the Marid. Why would he do that? Several reasons occur to me—not all of them the gracious presence of my grandmother or his fondness for your gift. First, my son has made childish but astonishingly firm regional alliances which, to a wise man like Tatiseigi, may suggest a different constellation of regional power in the future than has ever existed, one in which he can be of great influence. Second, the Ajuri have bent every effort toward reconciliation with Damiri and have insisted on providing staff. Her cousins and aunts have made much over the birth to come. So has her father—who has newly acceded to the lordship and now steers things.”

“Aiji-ma.”

“Note, paidhi-ji, that Ajuri andthe Atageini survived the Troubles, intact. The Atageini survived because Lord Tatiseigi is politically important, as head of the conservatives—and because his house is such a sieve for secrets no one ever took him seriously as a threat to Murini. Assassinating Tatiseigi would have roused a stir in Murini’s own conservative backing, which he did not want—at that time.

“Ajuri clan, however, had a far more potent protective asset: a position of leverage within the Guild administration. And now we enter a different, difficult territory, paidhi, and certain conversations within the secrecy of the Guild have now met up with certain documents confiscated in the Marid action—to my personal distress.

“After the coup, certain houses took in fugitive servants from households in distress. These servants necessarily brought all sorts of information on various fallen powers—and the Ajuri acquired your old servants Moni and Taigi.”

Bren blinked, jolted down a new track of causality. Moni and Taigi, who had tried to get back into his service—and been stopped at the door by his aishid. “Aiji-ma.”

“They served in Ajuri for a time. Then they went back to you and applied for reinstatement. Your aishid wisely had them arrested. They claim utter innocence of motive. But their behavior makes them highly suspect. They have not gone back to Ajuri. They are doing small jobs in a suburb of the city, working for a restaurant.”

“One had not heard it, aiji-ma.”

“Do not attempt to assist them. I know your soft heart. They are very possibly stillsupplying information to the renegades.”

“To the Shadow Guild, aiji-ma!”

“I have told you that Damiri-daja and I have had our difficulties. And what has come to light now—does not favor her relatives.” Tabini tapped his chest, where he had the new document. The letter. “Ajuri is possibly involved with the shadow Guild.”

“Aiji-ma.” He was beyond appalled. Alarmed.

“We have given many clans and individuals ample understanding for things they may have done to save their lives and property during Murini’s administration. Had all our people died for us—we could never have returned. That Ajuri has connections within the Assassins’ Guild forged during Murini’s administration—this, we have never taken amiss. But the lords of Ajuri, the prior one andthe current one, were not just surviving. They profited. One has always asked—Why did the attack so efficiently take out my staff? My aishid. Everyone I relied on. And yet missed me.”

It had been a massacre in this very apartment. And to kill a whole household staff, including servants—had been one brutal act among manycone terrible deed buried among the rest. The staff, even retired Guild, should have been off-limits once it was clear that Tabini was not present.

The Guild had struck at Tabini here, and simultaneously struck where he really was, at Taiben—proving they indeed knew where he was and was not.

They knew.That came sharply into focus, not for the first time.

And Tabini suffered, in that memory. He said nothing for a long time, and there was neither movement nor sound in the room.

At length Tabini said: “I cannot forgive my wife if she knew. But I do not think she did.”

“What is one to understand, aiji-ma?”

“Tatiseigi,” Tabini said, “survived because his influence among the conservatives was valuable. And Ajuri survived its relationship to us because it had influence within the Guild at highest levels. But now one wonders if it was not at higher levels than we estimated.”

To this hour Algini professed disturbance about the goings-on in the Guild.

To this hour, the Guild refused to give Tabini’s Taibeni bodyguard the highest-level information. Here hewas, delivering a letter, in secret, that had come through Algini and Cenedi.

“What is one to understand, aiji-ma? Damiri-daja was also a target of assassination—was she not?”

“And they were not quite in charge of the Guild at that point. No. One does not believe they were behind the assassination attempt. But they did not diminish in influence during the Troubles. They grew in power, and their enemies met with misfortune. Tatiseigi, who would have been their target, was defended by a small body of loyal Guild, a wider band than he knew. And defended by me.”

One had no idea. It was possible that Tatiseigi had no inkling what had gone on, to this hour. But Tabini had indeed shown up quite rapidly when, returning from space, their little party had reached Tatiseigi’s doorstep.

“Ajuri is a small clan in territory, small in numbers, lacking subclans—lacking geographical position to make alliances as an equal among great clans. Tatiseigi was once their very best connection. But within the Guilds, especially within a Guild as powerful as the Assassins, a clever few can make their clan important. To this hour, they still hold that importance.”

To this hour.God. What was inthat letter?

Tabini said, “And, this, paidhi-ji: Within the Guild, Ajuri clan Guildwere in charge of records we now know were gotten out of Guild headquarters and that turned up again in records we found in the Marid. There is clear proof of custody. A pair of time stamps. And two signatures. These were not stolen—they were released; and we have them. We traced them to a very high-ranking pair of that clan within the Guild—who are, last night, deceased.”

War, Tabini had said. War on Ajuri Clan.

But that his grandmotherhad declared it. Had it been Cenedi who had moved?

Cenedi had been in attendance on the dinner and the after-dinner sitting.

Nawari hadn’t.

Banichi and Jago had been in attendance.

He had suppose dTano and Algini were, as usual, in the hall outside the sitting room. It took—maybe an hour to get to Guild Headquarters, an hour back. All the principals of the anti-Ajuri position had been sitting in that room—even including Cajeiri—safe, under the tightest and most alert guard in the Bujavid. Sipping brandy. Having fruit punch.

His mind raced.

“One imagines Ajuri clan has by this morning been informed of their loss,” Tabini was saying. “And I shall have to break that news to Damiri before it comes to her by any other source. They are remote cousins.”

Bren said quietly, “One regrets, aiji-ma.” But he was thinking: God, what is her position with Ajuri?

“I sent my son to a dinner last night welcoming his great-grandmother, fully knowing what his presence with her would signal. And Damiri and I have had a disagreement on the matter, and as of last night, she is not speaking to me. One hardly knows what she thinks this morning.”

There was no expression of regret possible. Bren only bit his lip.

“A ridiculous domestic situation,” Tabini said, “if it were any other household. But she is attempting to refrain from words that would, perhaps, be irrevocable, in her view. She is also well aware she is not at her most rational. She is about to give birth, and, one believes, she is quite emotionally determined that my grandmother not lay hands on this one—so it does limit her options. This determination to exert control is being fed by her father. She gave up Cajeiri to keep him safe, and she got back a child who—well, is very much his great-grandmother’s. As I am, despite my best efforts. That—has been a source of argument.

“That I have kept him with his great-grandmother in places of hazard has upset her.

“That he has rejected her tutors and now kept mine has upset her.

“I have told her that we shall not need to send this daughter away as we sent our son, and instead of being mollified, she takes that as an affront to this new child’s value in my eyes.

“Last night I made a decision that had to be made, sending the boy to a family dinner, and that brought the explosion—without her even knowing her two cousins were dead.

“In the last words we had last night, she said that I was trying to get rid of her and that she would not go. That she would have this next child in the Bujavid, in this apartment, so there can be no question of the child’s right to inherit—her words were: whatever leftovers her brother may spare her.

“I could send her away, paidhi. I could send her to her father’s house; but thatwould have undesirable consequences. Especially in light of what has happened in the Guild last night. And what has happened within the Guild to bring on such troubles in the aishidi’tat. Of that, I am still convinced she is innocent.”

One hardly knew what to say. And Tabini shifted back in his chair.

“I havein fact gotten you back from my grandmother, have I not?”

“Aiji-ma, I never left your service.”

“You have heard nothing in my grandmother’s confidence last night that you hesitate to report to me—or that you have reserved from reporting to me?”

“No, aiji-ma. I have not.”

“One finds that gratifying,” Tabini said, nodding slowly. “My son, be it noted, is not in my confidence on this matter, nor do I wish him to know what is happening until we have resolved it, one way or the other. Sad to say, he is in his mother’s confidence in nothing. One believes he has perceived this want of attachment. So I am careful what I withhold from him. If he finds himself distressed at us—I take comfort that he has you and his great-grandmother as an immediate recourse. You need not tell me details if he comes to your door. Just take him in. Keep him and notify me.”

“Aiji-ma, without question.” God, he did notwant that to happen. “One wishes you may resolve this somehow.”

“Damiri-daja stands with one foot in her uncle Tatiseigi’s camp, man’chi preserving an Atageini parent she never knew, and with a living Ajuri parent now sitting as lord of the Ajuri. Lord Tatiseigi was not civil to her in her childhood—the man was scarcely civil to me, for that matter, until Damiri and I suddenly connected him to the aijinate. You know Tatiseigi. You know how his opinions stay set and, if ever changed, revert without warning.”

“One does, yes, aiji-ma.”

“One can hardly blame Damiri for her relationship to relatives in the Guild. And when we were fugitives in the hills—when we were fugitives in the hills, Damiri and I, we used to laugh, we used to say that we knew Tatiseigi would remain on our side since he never changed his mind, that we understood that her uncle and her father had to play matters carefully to stay alive, and we dared not go there.

“And when Damiri and I did regain possession of our son, on Atageini land, with Tatiseigi’s help—” Tabini leaned back in his chair. “Oh, that brought the Ajuri running. What I did not approve but did not at the time see as a forecast of worse—they were very quick to drive a wedge between Damiri-daja and her uncle over the usual list of grievances. No courtesy her uncle showed was adequate or sincere. Her uncle endangered her son. And worst of all—they maintained it was through his influence she had lost her son to my grandmother, who is Tatiseigi’s close associate. Adding to the problems of two feuding relatives, once we had our son with us, our son met every correction from her with, ‘Great-grandmother saysc’ ”

Bren let go a breath, beyond words.

“You may imagine, paidhi, that thatdid not sit well with my wife.”

“One can well understand.”

“A child my grandmother reared, moreover, is quite capable of wielding his favor and disfavor as a weapon to get his own way. You may have noticed that in operation.”

“Yes.” Quiet acquiescence was definitely safest. “One has.”

“So our son had returned as a stranger and defied her wish to take him from his great-grandmother. Damiri has been unhappy since. And between you and me, paidhi, this next child is my own folly. This should not have happened at all. It was at a low point in our fortunes in the hills. And you may bear the burden of that knowledge, but it is not for my son to know in depth, for many, many years; and it is not for my grandmother ever to know unless you find it strongly advisable. This new child will certainly be born. Where this child will be born is another matter. Sending Damiri to the Ajuri—is not possible. But this morning I am not sure that she may stay here, under the same roof with our son. She is brave, she is resourceful, and ordinarily she is intelligent. But right now her thinking is not logical. I think she is convinced that Cajeiri will harmthe baby.”

“She cannotbelieve that. That is impossible!”

“Yet I think she does believe it. In the latest upwelling of her family’s influence, one fears, she does not trust Cajeiri. She does not trust my grandmother. She does not trust you. She does not trust me,at this point. One is very glad to have my household out of my grandmother’s apartment, into much less confined circumstances, or I think we two might have come at it with knives last night. Our separate bodyguards have been quite upset—and Damiri’s are Ajuri. The fact is, Damiri’s jealousy of my grandmother has woven itself as warp to the weft of Ajuri’s scheming for influence over her. And it is a damnable situation.”

He had never looked to be taken this far into Tabini’s confidence. He had not understood why Tabini had lately left Cajeiri with him and with the dowager on the peninsula, in a war zone.

Now he had an inkling.

“So.” Tabini pushed back from the table, and Bren must rise, too. “Your bodyguard is now briefed. You are to exempt these matters from Geigi’s knowledge until he is bound back to orbit and safely out of the politics down here. But you should know this: I have let my son invite his associates from the voyage down from the station. There is reason in arranging this distraction. His birthday and his sister’s—it willbe a sister, which he does not yet know—will closely coincide. I wish to have him occupied and on his best behavior, and I wish it to be a happy event in his memory—by whatever means I can engineer it. Once Damiri has her new child in her arms—” Tabini heaved a sigh. “It may mend a great deal. I have promised her she will have this one to bring up as she pleases. And Damiri and I may have better days ahead despite her father’s best efforts. So. Go. Be aware. Keep me advised of the schedule with Machigi. We are at ease with what we hear of that affair—so far. We shall not take up more of your morning.”

“Aiji-ma.” He bowed. He gathered his bodyguard and took his leave. And he hoped to God Geigi had slept very late this morning, so he would not have to answer even casual questions.

14

Geigi hadslept in and was finishing one of Bindanda’s epic breakfasts in the main dining room with his bodyguard and valets for company when Bren got back. Bren simply left him at that activity while he repaired to his office for fast computerized note taking, and his own bodyguard headed for, he supposed, their own breakfast and their own quiet little discussion. Banichi and Jago had heard things Tano and Algini hadn’t, and very likely vice versa.

As he worked, something happened at the front door, mail, likely. There were already committee meetings on his schedule.

And in a fairly short time, Jeladi showed up in the office, quietly delivering a message cylinder that had the green and blue colors of the Marid.

That one couldn’t be ignored. It proved to be from Machigi himself, simply acknowledging receipt of a packet, courteously wishing him well, thanking him for the hospitality shown Lady Siodi. And the fact the cylinder itself had actually come from the Marid meant it had probably been dispatched yesterday.

That one required no answer. He finished his immediate notes, summoned Jeladi to advise him he was now at liberty for visitors, and received word that Geigi had received an invitation to morning tea with the dowager and would be leaving for that appointment.

Thank God, Bren thought. “Tell him I shall hope for his company this afternoon,” he said to Jeladi, “and that I do apologize for my neglect this morning.”

He ordered a pot of tea and simply sat in his office, in the more comfortable chair, listening, after a time, to the mild disturbance of Lord Geigi and his bodyguard exiting the front door on their way to the dowager’s apartment. Geigi, he trusted, well knew that business in the house, and particularly this one, had to be done regardless of guests: an unscheduled breakfast meeting with the aiji was not a matter of choice. In fact, Geigi was heading off on his own little conversation with another power, to be filled in on other things Bren hoped to find out, regarding, probably, Baiji and the situation in the East.

And her plans for the signing.

And maybe the behind-the-scenes situation with Lord Tatiseigi. There were so damned many fronts in this matter.

Quiet resumed in the apartment, Bren staring at the opposite wall for a time, feeling at once overextended and extraordinarily isolated, the possessor of very many details that could re-shape the aishidi’tat and of a personal communication from Tabini that could not bode well for its peace. Contract marriages came and went; most had written into the language a termination after a birth, with custody prearranged by the contract, man’chi of the child being determined by nature and instinct, usually according to which parent brought him or her up.

There were a few unions that lasted longer—couples who went for the ritual of lifelong marriage.

Damiri herself had been born of what was forecast to be a lasting marriage. She was born Atageini, but her mother had died in a riding accident, and Atageini clan had kept her until she was four, finally ceding her back to Ajuri after considerable fuss and furor; and then she had gone back and forth more than once. He had learned that much from the dowager.

A few unions began as contract marriages and worked out as lifelong partnerships. Tabini had only looked for a wise clan attachment, a good political match, to produce an heir. But he and Damiri had had a deep meeting of minds. And that relationship had been one of the constants in the political heavens, so well-known it had created a small boom in long-term marriage agreements. They’d worked together. Endured exile together. Suffered the loss of one child taken away by circumstances and only lately restored to themcand everyone had thought Cajeiri’s return would bring happiness to the aiji’s household.

Now clan loyalties were getting in the way—Ajuri ambition and the fact that Tatiseigi had never in his long life felt the need for tact or concealment of his opinionsc

One always knew where one stood with the old man, that was certain. It was a virtue with strict limits. He’d sent Damiri to be brought up Ajuri. He’d remained at arms’ length all her lifecbecause he detested Ajuri. Now, when her Ajuri clan connections were causing problems, she had no choice but to resort to alliance with Tatiseigi, and one could not blame her for not considering that a real choice.

There was not a damned thing he could do to mend what Tatiseigi’s attitudes had done. He’d succeeded with the old curmudgeon on the association issue simply because the political reality had changed, and he’d offered the old man a route to what he wanted—importance with the dowager and close relationship with Tabini and places of power.

Cajeiri’s contribution to alienating his own mother—he was a child. He had his own justified grievances with fate. But Cajeiri’s “my great-grandmother says” hadn’t helped.

The dowager, who had a very good network, surely had to know what was going on between Tabini and Damiri.

And if she’d tried to keep it somewhat quiet and had not told the paidhi-aiji, that was one thing—but if hehad information, he had to be sure she knew; and he was sure Tabini, whatever his cautions about keeping it quiet, had to route a warning in Ilisidi’s direction. The dowager could not operate in the dark about the stress in the aiji’s household.

The question was how long a very bright youngster like Cajeiri, living under the same roof, could avoid figuring it out—if he wasn’t consciously exacerbating it—and how it would affect him if Damiri did leave. Cajeiri had never attached to his mother. He had not greatly invested, that one could detect, in the prospect of a sib.

And one had to remember, as much as Cajeiri had been affected by human society, much as he liked—no, lovedthe kid, there were triggers in Cajeiri’s psychology that were not human and did not turn in human directions.

Could Cajeiri deliberately set off the problems between his parents?

Yes. If his temper were set off, he might.

A distraction, Tabini had said. Bringing human kids down from the stationcassuming the kids’ parents would permit it, and no doubt Tabini would apply pressure to make it happen—right in the middle of this mess. Distract the boy. Keep his mind on that, while all hell broke loose?

God. That problem, of getting permission from the human parents, was going to land on Geigi’s desk.

And was he then to limit what Geigi should know, when Geigi was going to have to assure a handful of human parents that the situation would be safe for their kids?

He called Jeladi.

“Tell Narani I need security around the office. And tell Banichi I need to see all of them.”

There were chairs enough in his little office. And Narani and Jeladi would see to security outside, no stray junior servant wandering near enough to hear too much.

He had to tell them. He had to get an atevi opinion. That was paramount.

15

It was well into morning. Nobody had been allowed out into the halls, which Cajeiri first took as a security alert in disguise when the permitted servant, Eisi, woke him, apologizing that he was late, but they had to keep the doors shut and not stir about the halls.

“Why, nadiin-ji?” he asked.

“Your father the aiji has had visitors.”

“Who was here?” he asked, and the senior servant said, “We are not to discuss it anywhere, young gentleman. May one assist you to dress?”

“Who was here?” he asked Eisi.

“One is truly instructed not to say, young gentleman. There is breakfast. Just now. One has set it on the—”

“ Whois it you serve, nadi?”

It was, deliberately, because he was angry, mani’s sort of tone. The servant looked at him, wide-eyed, and said: “The paidhi-aiji, nandi. He visited. We were not to move. So everything is late this morning. One fears—one fears breakfast is cold.”

Nand’ Bren. Nand’ Bren had been here on business, and he had been ordered to stay in his room.

That was crazy. And Eisi stood there looking upset.

“You are not to tell anyone I asked the reason,” Cajeiri said grimly, and he got out of bed. “Help me dress. Is my aishid awake?”

“Yes,” Eisi said, and hurried to the closet.

He dressed. He heard his aishid stirring about, and Jegari came in, dressed as far as shirtsleeves.

“Everything is late, nandi. We all overslept.”

“My father surely had official business this morning. With the paidhi.”

“There is all that business with your great-grandmother going on.”

“I was part of that,” he said peevishly.

“You were, nandi,” Jegari said, “but your father may have had other business with nand’ Bren.”

“One supposes.” He still did not like being left out. He slipped on the light day-coat Eisi offered him, and they went out, picking up Lucasi and Veijico and Antaro on the way to the sitting room. Eisi had set out breakfast on the modest table that served sometimes as a dining table—it was a disgusting breakfast, since the eggs were cold, there was only mild red sauce with the eggs, none of the green, so someone had made a mistake. The toast was cold.