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CHAPTER 13
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The television was on its way out. One servant dusted the table on which it had rested for more than half a year in the historic premises, another stood by with a gilt and porcelain vase which would replace it, and a third carried the incriminating modernism out to the kitchen where (rather than send the thing through the dissection of security when it had to come back again) it would hide in the rear of a cupboard of utensils that the Atageini lord would surely not inspect.
The cabinet that held the vegetables, especially the locker that held the seasonal meat, Bren would not lay odds on. Cook had illicit tomato sauce. Cook had by a miracle of persuasion gotten it through Mospheiran customs (let Cook talk to George Barrulin in the President's office, Bren thought glumly: Cook might fare better than he had) and now the offending cans of sauce from a human-imported vegetable had to hide somewhere. One simply didn't want to put anything through security examination if it could possibly be tucked away out of sight. Everything that went out of the apartment was a risk and a nuisance in its coming back in.
"I have the dread of Uncle opening a linen cabinet," Bren said to Jase as they stood watching, "and being crushed by falling contraband."
"They've even checked under the bed," Jase said. "Will he?"
"I don't think he'll go that far." He'd explained to Jase the importance, the deadly fragility of relations between Tatiseigi and Tabini, and the fact that on one level there was amusement in it; and on another, it was grimly, desperately serious, not only for the present, but for all the future of atevi and humans and Tabini's tenure as aiji. "Ready?"
"Hamatha ta resa Tatiseigi-dathasa."
"Impeccable."
It was. Jase had been working on that tongue-twisting Felicitous greetings to your lordship. Which wasn't easier because the name was Tatiseigi.
"So," Jase said. "Where is the tomato sauce?"
"Cook's bed."
Jase's nerves had been on all day, a skittish zigzag between panic and nervous humor. He laughed, and looked drawn thin and desperate. "I can't do this. Bren, I can't."
"You'll do fine."
Uncle Tatiseigi had asked to see both human residents, a point that had come to them by message from Damiri-daja this-afternoon, and he had pointedly not told Jase that small fact, not wanting to alarm him. But either the old man was curious, or the old man was going to make at least a minor issue of the human presence, possibly to try to create an incident that would give him points against Damiri — or Tabini.
"Just, whatever he says to you, listen carefully and stick to the children's language. He won't attack you if you do that."
"What do you mean attack?"
"Just stay calm. You don't argue numbers with children or anyone speaking like a child. No matter if you know the adult version, stick to the athmai'in. Believe me and don't be reckless."
"I don't see how you do this."
"Practice, practice, practice." There was a commotion at the front door. He went and looked from the hall, Jase tagging him closely, and met an oncoming wall of atevi with cameras, cable, lights, and all the accouterments of television. The television set went out as not proper, not kabiu, in an observant household, while the television service for the Bu-javid Archives came in to record the reception and to (unprecedented) broadcast live pictures of the restored lily frieze, the emblem of the Atageini, which, damned right, Uncle wanted on national television.
Tabini had discovered how very useful television was: the world in a box, Tabini called it. The little box that makes people think the world and the screen are the same thing. Tabini used it, shamelessly, when he wished to create a reality in people's minds, and now Tatiseigi took to the medium, at least, no laggard to understand or to use that aspect of technology.
So there was an interview area being set up in the hallway near the historic dining room, so that for an evening the Atageini household would, hosting the aiji and the Atageini lady closely allied to him and possibly intended to bear Tabini's heir, be linked in the minds of the whole aishidi'tat, the whole Western Association, meaning the majority of the world.
And public interest? The rare chance to see, on live television, the residential floors of the Bu-javid, inside a historic residence, with all the numbers and balance of arrangements about the rich and famous apparent to the eye?
The national treasures on display? Museums on both sides of the strait could long for such treasures as filled this apartment, but no public tours such as frequented the downstairs legislative halls had ever reached this floor. Such photography of historic treasures the security staff had allowed was limited to fine detail of certain objects, or set against a background, to prevent any public knowledge of the geography and geometry of the — in truth — rather simple and austere corridors outside, and of these fabled, far more ornate rooms. It was a television first.
And a live reception in a premise of the Bu-javid where cameras had never been, with a guest list that included Tabini and his favored lady, who was contesting Uncle for supremacy in the Atageini clan?
Machimi plays couldn't possibly touch it.
All of a sudden his stomach knotted up in panic.
"Nadi," Banichi said, briskly coming from the same direction as the camera crew. "It's all on schedule. The aiji's party is arriving in short order. Entry will be by precedence and tenancy. They just settled it: simultaneously lord Tatiseigi will arrive at this door and the aiji and Damiri-daja will arrive from next door."
The mind refused to grasp what convolutions of protocol and argument that statement had settled.
"I'm going to forget," Jase muttered under his breath. "I'm going to forget his name. I'm going to forget all the forms."
"You won't," Bren said. "You'll be brilliant. Just, if I have to go off with someone, stay with your security: Dureni will be with you — he'll do the talking."
Banichi was off down the hall talking to Saidin, who was keeping a stern eye on the camera crew and the gilt woodwork. Junior security was down there standing by with grim expressions. Dureni and his partner Ninicho had come from the security station, junior, very earnest, and they stood by, attaching themselves directly to the paidhiin at a time when Banichi and Jago were apt to have their hands full or be distracted to a critical duty at any given moment.
Jase was saying to himself, "Hamatha ta resa Tati-seigi-dathasa. Hamatha ta resa Tatiseigi-dathasa. Hamatha ta resa Tatiseigi-dathasa."
Madam Saidin was talking furiously with the cook. One of the maids ran — ran, to the rear hall. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone run in the household.
The steel security barrier was gone. They'd taken that out while he was getting dressed for the occasion and he still hadn't seen the breakfast room, though he'd heard relief that the woodwork and the plaster was intact. Carts were coming from the kitchen, he heard them rattling. There was, for which he was infinitely grateful, no formal dinner, just a reception, at which guests, too many to seat, were going to be straying back and forth between the formal dining room and the breakfast room.
No one was stated to be a security risk except the lord who owned the apartment.
The rattle came closer. It and the maid must have met and dodged. There was a momentary pause: then a continued rattle.
Something evidently wasn't on schedule.
Jago passed them, coming from the breakfast room and from a brisk pause for a word with Banichi. She was resplendent in a black brocade coat with silver edgings. He'd never seen her in formal dress. She was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.
"They're coming," Jago said to them, and delayed for one more word with a servant. "— To the foyer, nadiin-ji, please!"
"Calmly," Bren said, and with Jase, walked to the foyer, which smelled of the banks of springtime flowers, and sparkled with crystal and gold and silver. Mirrors multiplied the bouquets, and showed a pair of pale, formally dressed humans. Saidin overtook them, and so did Jago, and they made a small receiving lin
e.
The door opened. Tabini and Damiri were there, Tabini in a brilliant red evening-coat; Damiri in Atageini pale green and pink, both escorting an elderly gentleman with an inbuilt scowl and a dark green coat with a pale green collar. Atageini green, like Damiri's.
Saidin bowed, Jago bowed, they bowed to the lordly arrivals. Tabini wore his cast-iron smile, Damiri had hers stitched in place, and Tatiseigi — Bren had no doubt of the gentleman's identity — came forward with jutting jaw, folded hands behind him, and looked down at them with unconcealed belligerence as a black and red and dark green wall of atevi security unfolded into the foyer, transforming the place from bright floral pastels to a metal-studded limiting darkness.
"Lord Tatiseigi," Bren said, as he had prepared to say, "thank you for your"— he had meant to say gracious, and gravely edited it out —"presence on this occasion."
Tatiseigi said, "Nand' paidhi," in glacial tones, and turned an eye to Jase, who said with an absolutely impeccable bow, "Felicitous greetings to your lordship."
Tatiseigi stood and stared. Jase stood his ground, bowed his head a second time, briefly, a trick of courtesy he had — thank God — correctly, but verging on impudence, recalled.
Miming him, dammit, Bren thought. It put the onus of courtesy on Tatiseigi.
"Nadi," Tatiseigi said. Not the rank: nand' paidhi. Not the respectful: nand' Jase. But the more familiar and in this case slightly supercilious nadi, as acknowledgement and finality on the matter.
And looked at Tabini and Damiri. "I'll see the room."
Tabini had an eyebrow that twitched occasionally. It never boded well. "That way," Tabini said with a negligent wave of his hand toward the hall, as if the lord of the Atageini didn't know the way under his own roof.
"Tati-ji," Damiri said, snagged the old man by the arm and whisked him off down the hall.
Tabini cast a look at them, drew a deep breath, and before there could be courtesies, followed as if he were going into combat.
Bren found himself with an intaken breath and a rise of temper he hadn't felt since he'd last dealt with the Mospheiran phone network. And he was still politely expressionless as he said to Jase, "You took a chance, Jase."
"What was I supposed to do?" There was a touch of panic in the half-voice. "He was staring at me!"
"Don't flinch. Don't stare back. You did the right thing. Just don't risk it again with his lordship. Wait for help."
"From who?"
"Whom."
"Dammit, whom?"
He had his own quirk of an eyebrow. He gave it to Jase, who shut up, shut down, and lowered his voice.
Just as the door let in the aiji-dowager.
And he couldn't — couldn't resist Tabini's grandmother. Ilisidi, diminutive and wrinkled with years, with her lean, graying chief of security, Cenedi, beside her, cast an eye about, leaned her stick on the polished stone of the floor, and snapped, in the face of no receiving line but him, Jase, Jago, and Saidin, "Well, well, if my grandson won't stay to meet me, at least the paidhiin have manners. Good evening."
"Nand' dowager." Saidin bowed, Jago bowed, he bowed. And looked up with no need to mask his delight to see the old woman.
"Nand' dowager," Jase said. "I'm honored."
"He's improved," Ilisidi said with a nod at Jase. "Hair's grown. You can understand him."
"Yes, nand' dowager."
"So where's my damn grandson? Here to meet me? No? Lets his grandmother wander about without directions? Where are these fabled porcelains?"
"Nand' dowager, we would most willingly show you the restorations."
"Manners. Manners. You should teach my grandson. And his neighbor. We should have stayed at Taiben, for all the courtesy we have here."
Cenedi never cracked a smile. But, veteran of many, many such maneuvers, Cenedi caught Jago's eye and stayed, along with the rest of the abandoned security who had gone into the security station to talk, as Saidin and Jago stayed to greet the rest of the guests.
Ilisidi was bent on viewing the interior of the apartments. Bren offered his arm, and Jase walked on the other side, as the aiji-dowager went.
"I haven't been here in ages," Ilisidi said. "Gods felicitous, the old man hasn't moved a stick of furniture in twenty years, has he?"
"I'm only a recent guest, aiji-ji."
"Tatiseigi has no imagination. No imagination. I'd have thought young Damiri would at least be rid of that damn vase." This, with a wave of her cane narrowly missing the vase in question. A servant flinched. "The old woman hated that thing. Tatiseigi's mother hated it. But no, they shoot the lilies, never the damn vase. Next time someone tries to shoot you, Bren-ji, promise me, have that vase in the room."
"One will remember, aiji-ma."
They reached the back halls and the formerly walled-off doorway that let into the brightly lit breakfast room, where lordly guests and armed security, notably
Banichi and Algini, in formal knee-length coats, stood before buffet tables laden with fantastical food, Cook's supreme and sleepless effort since yesterday's notification of Uncle's chosen menu.
There would be a kitchen tour, Bren was quite sure.
"There you are!" Ilisidi said in the felicitous three mode. It was Tabini, Damiri, and Tatiseigi she headed for; and it was time for the paidhiin to beat a judicious retreat from potential in-law negotiations.
"Is there going to be trouble?" Jase asked as they ducked out and back toward the foyer.
"Only if they get in 'Sidi-ji's way," Bren said, in high spirits for the first time in two days. "And don't call her that! I don't. Certainly not here."
Jase had met her before. And knew, at least, the aiji-dowager's abrupt manner; but last time he hadn't been able to understand a word except Felicitous greetings and My name is Jason. Don't shoot.
They reached the foyer again, and enjoyed a few moments alone with Cenedi, Jago, Saidin, and the flowers, before another party turned up at the door, the lord of Berigai and his entourage, early, while Bren was sure the company in the breakfast room was still engaged in preliminary negotiation and had hardly gotten to the general walking tour the staff expected.
But he knew that Berigai, in whose province Grigiji the astronomer emeritus lived and taught, was well-disposed to him; and by extension, to Jase or whomever the paidhi wished to introduce him to — the Grigiji affair having brought good repute to the observatory and prosperity to the region. It was a very auspicious start to the party which would begin in the formal dining room with a few tidbits and a glass of spirits until it had gathered numbers.
And until the business in the family was settled.
More guests showed up. Jase was bright-eyed, and stayed with hot tea — they both did, as some of the guests also chose to do. There was nothing on the menu, Cook had promised them, except any dish with the red or the purple vegetable, that was harmful to humans. There were a couple of noble guests clearly in the Tatiseigi camp who spent a great deal of time in the corner looking toward them, and discussing matters in private behind the floral arrangement.
Then another arrival, who created some movement among the quiet security presence, and brought Cenedi to consult with Tano, quietly, just outside the dining room. Another lord walked in, unescorted.
Algini slipped to Bren's side.
"Nand' paidhi, Banichi wishes you to know that lord Badissuni is in the company this evening."
Badissuni, Bren thought, looking at the thin, grim-faced lord who broke into a pasted smile as a servant offered him a drink, then coasted up to the lords and ladies around the dining table. Conversation there staggered, took note, and lurched forward valiantly.
Algini had gone, doubtless on some business known only to security. The business in the Marid had just walked in, had a drink, and smiled its way around the table with the occasional flat, wary glance atevi gave to the novelty of humans.
"What's the trouble-in-the-house?" Jase asked in a low voice, and this time the noun was entirely appropriate.
"Badissu
ni, from the peninsula. Messenger to Tabini. Don't get involved with him." The doorway electronics, he was sure, contained a metal detector of some kind. His mind was busy adding up Badissuni as a guest while the relatives of the man Badissuni was serving (and wished to kill: dead before autumn, Banichi had said) were guesting in the house of the lady Direiso, who was Tatiseigi's ally last year when Tatiseigi was plotting against Tabini — who was back on the kitchen tour with Tatiseigi and Damiri looking for contraband in the vegetable bins, God save them.
Badissuni smiled at everyone but him and Jase: the smile was still there, but it went rigid and unpleasant when his gaze fell on either of them, and Bren avoided staring back. Jase was staring — and he moved between Jase and the view of trouble.
"Don't look at him, nadi. You invite trouble."
"He doesn't like us here."
"No," Bren said. "He doesn't like us anywhere."
Jago appeared from the doorway and definitely kept a watch on the situation. Cenedi had gone back to keep an eye on the dowager and no doubt to pass a message, but Jago tracked them, and eased up next to him.
"That is Badissuni, Bren-ji. Don't come close to him."
"Is he armed, nadi?"
"No one brings weapons past the door save the three authorized security present: the aiji's, the aiji-dowager's, and lord Tatiseigi's, one assures you, nadi."
Which counted his own among the aiji's and Saidin technically among Tatiseigi's, to be sure.
"Danger?" Jase asked.
"Be careful, nadi," Jago said to him. "Only be careful. He is an invited guest."
"Who invited him, nadi?" Bren asked.
"The aiji," Jago said — Jago who'd wished for the contract on that lordling's life, and who'd already occupied a rooftop vantage in the Hagrani estate. Jago was, he was sure, armed; and that coat surely concealed body armor. "Don't stand near him, nadiin-ji."
"Nadiin." Madam Saidin appeared and spoke in a clear voice. "The host suggests the party adjourn to the breakfast room."
They lingered with Jago, letting the lords and ladies exit, Badissuni among them. The party left a table of serving platters mostly down to crumbs by now, and a clutter of abandoned glasses which the servants hastened to gather up on trays.