Tatiseigi, however, was reportedly down there—he was in his element. In very fact, Tatiseigi had convoked the meeting and asked Tabini to be there, an attendance nearly unprecedented. One understood the Merchants’ Guild had also been invited to appear, and almost certainly the porcelain trade would come under discussion, if only as a gloss.
The Assassins’ Guild was naturally there—not officially on the speakers’ list—they didn’t come to committee meetings and the like. But they were standing by every aristocratic member in that meeting.
Which was how information was flowing to his staff. So either the Guild leadership approved of that leak going to certain staffs—or his staff was getting it second-hand from the dowager’s or Tabini’s.
There had been the usual conservative viewings-with-alarm for openers. There was plenty of viewing-human-influence-with-suspicion. That was traditional, like the counting of numbers for felicity.
That had, predictibly, occupied the entire front of the meeting. It had not made the paidhi’s cold supper happier. But the execration of human influence was the establishment of bona fides for certain speakers, so it was understandable; the usual speakers were the Old Money of the aishidi’tat, in the main. Ragi clan ruled the aishidi’tat, some said, only because the Old Money could not abide one of their own lording it over the rest.
And then, wonder of wonders—Lord Tatiseigi had taken charge of the meeting and opened his statement with the accurate observation that there was no region of the aishidi’tat more conservative than the Marid.
He had further stated that if the conservative caucus wished to find kindred opinions in political debates and in the legislature in the future, they should work to stabilize that region of the continent, put power in hands with but one neck, as Jago so colorfully quoted Tatiseigi—and insist that everybody listen to the Assassins’ Guild’s new establishment there and operate through them in the old traditional way.
That last suggestion, Jago reported, had occasioned another furor. Why had the Assassins’ Guild, that bastion of conservative opinion, recently run amok, one asked, if not the ascendancy of liberal elements within it?
Because, Tatiseigi had retorted shrewdly, his lifelong neighbors, the Padi Valley Kadagidi, who had disowned Murini as a failure and supported Tabini’s return to the aijinate, had been lying: It was all designed to put the clan back into a position of great influence.
The Kadagidi, Tatiseigi had gone on to say, had publicized an enemies’ list that only began with the liberals of the legislature. But, Tatiseigi proposed, the real rivals of the Kadagidi were not at all the liberals. They were the other Old Money clans, whose leaders were in jeopardy from Kadagidi aspirations. The Kadagidi sat at the very heart of the aishidi’tat, assisting and backing the renegades of the Guild in districts south of Shejidan. The Kadagidi could not be in favor of the Guild action which had removed the Shadow Guild from the Marid.
And they had not deigned to show up yet in the legislature.
“Clever man,” Bren said, hearing that. “How was it received?”
“With the usual objections from Lord Diogi,” Jago said wryly. Diogi was not one of the brightest lights in the legislature. Nor that influential. Tatiseigi, notoriously not on the cutting edge of technological developments, was equally famously no fool and weighed far more in debate than Diogi.
“But no other objections,” he said.
“There is debate on mechanisms,” Jago reported, “to assure that there will be no competition to the detriment of certain regional interests. That these matters be referred to the Merchants and reports received.”
“Understood,” he said, and sat thinking about Lord Tatiseigi, who had made some very unprecedented movement on various questions…mostly on issues definitely to Tatiseigi’s advantage, taken all together. It seemed on the one hand too good to be true—and on the other, the constellation of advantages, ones he personally had labored to collect, precisely to try to head off conservative opposition—were real advantages.
Well, he’d made more of an impact on Lord Tatiseigi than he’d thought. Tatiseigi had quite happily taken the opportunity to fling stones at his neighbor the Kadagidi, via the whole program—and had gotten in a good hit or two. He wasn’t unhappy to hear that, and the Kadagidi were going to regret not being in the meeting. Possibly the Guild as currently constituted had been at work there, too—
—or possibly the Guild members that served the Kadagidi were having problems that Jago did not have clearance to report.
Might some that protected that house have gotten themselves personally involved in the fracas down in the Marid? That would be interesting.
Might there have been a thinning of the ranks, leaving the Kadagidi with less than their usual protection?
Some among the Shadow Guild had fled from Guild vengeance to the south. Naturally those that they knew had run first were the leaders.
And would the Kadagidi be stupid enough—or scared enough—to admit them back into Kadagidi territory? Surely not.
“Is there, Jago-ji, any of the Shadow Guild in the Kadagidi district? Is Lord Tatiseigi advisedly taking that position?”
Jago’s gold eyes flicked upward. And down, hiding secrets. “Perhaps. We have personally taken aside all of Lord Tatiseigi’s bodyguard and explained certain things forcefully. He is under heavy protection.”
“One understands,” he said.
Jago went back about her business elsewhere.
And he went to consult with Geigi, who was in the hands of his aishid, being dressed.
“Tatiseigi is speaking in favor of our position,” he said. “We are doing very well, thus far. He has not carried the day, but it seems reasonably likely that he may do so.”
“The porcelain,” Geigi said, fastening the vest, “has incredibly sweetened his mood. Had I known this a decade ago, I swear I would have sent the old reprobate my best!”
“I believe it is the contemplation of gain, Geigi-ji. Gain from transport of grain: he is admirably well-situated for it. Grain headed south and fish to the north. Not to mention the porcelains.”
“Well, well, well,” Geigi said, and turned to accept his coat. “I swear to you, I shall ply him with little gifts. I shall remember it if the weather truly holds fair, from the Padi Valley.”
“He is a very shrewd politician,” Bren said. “If we can enlist him, so much the better for the dowager’s cause.”
There were a dozen things still to do—one of which was to look up and absolutely fix in his head the names of two similarly named bays on the East Coast that he had confused before, and the names of several contacts in that district.
He was doing that when the office door opened, and Banichi came in.
“There is a difficulty, Bren-ji,” Banichi said.
“Difficulty.” Adrenaline came up. Instantly. “What difficulty.”
“The young gentleman,” Banichi said. “He sent to his father earlier to request his father come back to the apartment. Now he has dispatched one of his aishid from the apartment with a message to Lord Tatiseigi.”
“To Tatiseigi.” He was immediately confounded and chagrined—puzzled that the boy, if he was distressed at not having his own invitation to the evening event, had not sent to the aiji-dowager and chagrined that the boy had not sent to him, who was right next door. He would have explained to the young gentleman—the high security involved, the chance of difficulty—and the statement it would make having the aiji’s son present. The omission of an invitation was a political decision, not an accident. “Should I go there, Nichi-ji?”
“The young man has reportedly had a falling-out with his mother,” Banichi said. “That is the matter at issue. And one does not believe it would be a good idea, Bren-ji, either to send us or to go yourself.” Banichi looked worried. So, he was sure, did he. They had both heard Tabini’s account of difficulties.
And an issue had to arise today. This evening. “Perhaps,” he said, “we should notify Jaidiri.” Th
at was the chief of Tabini’s bodyguard.
“Jaidiri knows, now, from Tatiseigi’s bodyguard,” Banichi said.
“Damn. One hardly knows what to do.”
“There is nothing that suggests itself,” Banichi said. “Damiri-daja’s father is in the city.”
“Twice damn,” Bren said, and there went his concentration on details. Damn and damn. “Keep an eye on that situation. Keep me posted.”
“Yes,” Banichi said.
He went to have a concentrated look at his maps, to fix the names in his head. He tried not to think what might be going on next door, and he told himself an eight-year-old within a very little of fortunate nine had been desperate, appealing to his great-uncle and not his great-grandmother…He was in possession of information internal to the family and dared not send down to Ilisidi’s apartment. She would march in, already at a pitch of nerves from the Machigi affair, and if there was war to be had on Cajeiri’s account, she would declare it.
And the fight that would create in the chief household—one didn’t want to contemplate. The boy was far from stupid. He had not sent to her.
Please God he had not sent to Ilisidi.
Banichi came back to his office, this time with Jago, in some urgency. “Tabini-aiji himself has left the meeting, stating for the membership that he has received an urgent message. Lord Tatiseigi’s guard, on the advisement of Tabini-aiji’s bodyguard, has held back the message from the young gentleman and has not yet shown it to Lord Tatiseigi.”
Bren drew a deep breath. “We should probably notify Cenedi, if he has not been told, but one must emphasize he should keep the news from the dowager. Is the caucus continuing?”
“There was some concern,” Jago said, “in the sudden departure of Tabini-aiji. There was speculation of some incident involving Lord Machigi. Lord Tatiseigi has told them it is a Bujavid security concern and does not involve Lord Machigi.”
“Excellent.” That sort of issue would be rated severe, but the sort of thing that, once attended at high levels, would cease to be a threat. And it was the sort of disturbance that routinely happened around important events. “Brilliant. Lord Tatiseigi deserves credit for that one.”
“Lord Tatiseigi’s bodyguard will certainly meet his displeasure,” Banichi said, “once they admit the content of that message.”
One of Cajeiri’s pranks gone awry, maybe. Maybe an attempt to leave the apartment and go to the signing.
Or maybe not.
With all else that was going on in the world…it was not safe.
Not with the rejection of a bouquet in the Taisigi mission foyer, and not with the arrival of the Taisigi lord, and not with Damiri-daja’s grandfather inbound and her great-uncle, in that meeting downstairs, just having shifted the conservative balance over to a side not profitable for that gentleman.
There were just too damned many pieces in motion for a good-hearted boy to have any room for mistakes.
“One is quite concerned about the timing, Nichi-ji.”
“We are concerned,” Banichi said, “but the aiji will be in the apartment in a matter of moments.”
Tabini would handle it. Being in the blast zone would not be a good thing.
“Dur is on his way to the Bujavid now,” Banichi said.
“One is grateful for Dur,” Bren said. “Do we have any information on the Ajuri’s whereabouts? Or Machigi’s?”
“Machigi is having supper,” Jago said. “The Ajuri lord is only now leaving the airport.”
“We are expressing concern to the Guild,” Banichi said, “about Ajuri’s intended visit and, taking a little on ourselves, we would advise the Guild on the situation in the aiji’s apartment. We believe any directive to delay Ajuri’s arrival in the Bujavid will have to come from Cenedi. With your authorization, Bren-ji, on such a matter.”
“Send to Cenedi,” Bren said.
Damn, court intrigue and Guild maneuvering. Ajuri’s own bodyguard, if the Guild directed, might be able to put the brakes on the old man and keep him quiet. But it was not guaranteed they would do it, if push came to shove and the Ajuri lord put pressure on them.
It was not even absolutely guaranteed where their sympathies were within recent Guild politics.
Damn again. It was not the time for a domestic quarrel in the aiji’s house to play out. And it did not need witnesses.
The last thing the aiji’s household needed was outside interference.
18
Things had been very quiet for quite a while. Boji had ceased hopping from place to place and clicking at every point of vantage in the cage.
But they were no calmer, Cajeiri thought. His mother had the servants all in a stir, probably to do with the nursery, coming this way and that down the hall, and they had had no word from Lucasi.
Then they heard the front door open.
It might be Lucasi with an answer from downstairs. It might be Uncle Tatiseigi, coming to take up for him, and maybe Uncle could just sit in the sitting room and drink tea with Mother and reason with her.
If Grandfather did not show up for dinner.
But it was a lot of people that had come in.
Uncle’s bodyguard, he supposed, listening with his ear against the door.
Then steps came toward their door, just one person, which was, he was sure, Lucasi. And sure enough, the knock came, the signal, so he got out of the way, and Veijico opened the door, with Antaro and Jegari standing close in case it was a trick. Lucasi squeezed into the room and set his back to the wall as Veijico shut the door and locked it.
“Is my uncle here?” Cajeiri asked Lucasi, who could have used his communications to tell his partner what was going on, but hadn’t. Possibly, Cajeiri thought, that had been because he was trying to keep the whole business as quiet as possible.
But Lucasi had dropped his official face and showed a very upset expression. “Nandi, it is your father.”
“My father.” That was good and bad. “By himself?”
Lucasi gave a little bow. “One regrets. I gave the message to your great-uncle’s bodyguard, and the senior of that guard talked to your father the aiji’s senior; they reported it to your honored father, and your father immediately left the meeting. Lord Tatiseigi has stayed there, and your father’s bodyguard was not in contact with the guard up here on their way. He asked me, and I told him everything that has happened, while we were coming upstairs. Your father is angry, nandi. He is very angry. He told me to come here, keep the door locked, and to stay out of the way. And not to let you leave, either, nandi.”
“Are we in trouble?” he asked with a sinking heart.
“One has no idea what is going on, nandi.”
Father, and not Uncle Tatiseigi. Uncle and Mother would have just shouted at each other, and everybody would have blown off the heat of their tempers, and that would have been all right—tempers were always better once everyone had yelled at each other.
But with Father here, and telling him keep the door locked, serious things could be going on.
“Would you care for tea, Jeri-ji?” Antaro asked him. But he said no.
“All of you may have some,” he said, and walked back over to Boji’s cage, worried, just worried.
Scared.
He really did not know what might happen if his father came in mad from being pulled out of the meeting and ran into his mother when she was mad about Boji. Father could agree with Mother and order him to send Boji back to the market, that was one thing that could happen. But far, far scarier things could happen.
He even thought—he had had nightmares before in this place—about people shooting up the apartment, and how the old staff had been killed in this apartment, right in the sitting room. He had seen far more shooting and dead people than he ever wanted.
He wished he could make a break for it and just go down to mani’s apartment, or next door to nand’ Bren.
“Can you talk to nand’ Bren’s guard?” he asked Lucasi and Veijico. “Are they there?”
/> “We are no longer permitted to use communications, nandi,” Lucasi said. “Regrettably, we do not have that access.”
“We should have it!” he said, telling himself he was going to talk to his father about that. But he dared not go out there.
He stood there, thinking these things, and aware that his bodyguard could do absolutely nothing to stop anything, not when it came from his father.
He heard the footsteps, his father and his whole aishid, by the sound of it, coming toward him, and he got back from the door, anticipating his father’s bodyguard to knock on it.
But they went right on down the hall, to about, maybe, the security station. And he immediately pressed his ear back to the door.
His father was going to ask security what had happened. That would be first. And with Lucasi and Veijico both here, his father was going to get only what Lucasi had already told him.
He hoped it was enough. He was in trouble. He was in really big trouble. And he tried hard to control his face and to look nonchalant about the situation in front of his bodyguard.
He went back to Boji’s cage, and Boji put his arm through the cage, reaching out with little fingers. He let Boji grasp his index finger, and Boji tried to drag it closer to his face, up against the filigree. That was not a good idea. Boji might still be in a bad mood.
He had no idea why it was so important to him to keep Boji. Except—Boji was his. Boji was alive, and noisy, and without him—this place would be like being locked in the basement in Najida, with no windows, nothing. He was not going to give Boji up. If the way his mother and his father could make peace was at the cost of Boji, he was going to appeal to Great-grandmother to take care of Boji for him. She might do that. Nand’ Bren might do it.
He wanted to be all the way to mad: he was always happier being mad than scared. But he was scared as a little baby. He was ashamed of himself for that, and he kept trying to be mad, but he was not succeeding well at all.
His aishid sat at the table, nobody making a move to fix tea.