Emergence

  Think faster than the seniors? That was not likely. But it was proper order the Guild wanted—someone to be in charge, to just hear what was going on and speak to the other side, if there was another side. And in the case of Mother coming into Uncle’s house with Uncle abed and all the Ajuri here in the house, there really was another side. There was what Uncle would want done, and he was the one on the premises, able to authorize doors opened, that otherwise really should not open, with just staff in charge. It was an important thing. A principle, even if Mother was more Atageini than he was. He outranked her. So it was for himself as well as Uncle that he had to stand in the great room and hold the place. Mother might be in a bad mood. Mother might come in angry with everything and start giving orders.

  But she could not order the staff or the house Guild if he was standing there. Everything had to wait for Uncle.

  Shirt and coat went on together, shirt tucked in, lace settled in proper fashion. Liedi braided his hair. “Which ribbon, nandi?” Eisi asked, and he had no hesitation.

  “Ragi.” Which of all clans, Mother was not. Father was. And he was.

  He let it be tied, he had a look in the mirror, seeing Jegari arrive behind him.

  “Have you reached them?” he asked.

  “Seniors say your father ordered the bus, ordered a Taibeni escort—there are thirty-three persons in your mother’s party. She is bringing domestic staff, her own aishid, and two senior Guild units.”

  “Senior to mine?” That could upend everything.

  “No,” Jegari said with satisfaction. “Not in the field, and not, for that matter, attached to you, nandi.”

  He had not thought that through. Not quite. Father had assigned the seniors, that thought flashed through like a lightning stroke of understanding, lighting up a whole landscape of precautions Father had set in place. Nobody, effectively, could countermand his senior aishid. That was both comforting—and scary.

  Deep breath. “Advise Rieni what we intend to do,” he said. “We are going to open the gate only when the bus arrives, the Taibeni escort should stay with the bus as they come onto the grounds and get Mother to the front doors, and once they are inside, then the Taibeni may ride out again and let Uncle’s guard take over.” Internal things began to occur to him. “Mother is supposed to have the apartment I have usually had. But she has a senior escort. And domestic staff. And Ajuri have the lower hall, at least tonight. We have a lot of people moving about. Ask the Taibeni if they could camp outside the grounds for a day to watch the gate.” It was wet, it was still stormy, and it was asking a lot, but the logistics of it were clear: they came with their mecheiti, and bringing foreign mecheiti to camp on the grounds was begging disaster. It was going to be risky enough just for them to ride in and out again.

  “Uncle’s staff can solve it,” Jegari said. “Antaro and Veijico will go to the security station to bridge communications to us. We shall arrange everything with our clan. You should go down to the hall, nandi, and order things from there.”

  It was good advice, a good plan. He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders back and went toward the door.

  His aishid was with him. The seniors had already gone downstairs. Night watch had sent up the message, he was sure; Lucasi had waked him, and now they headed down the hall quietly and quickly, all still by lamplight.

  Downstairs, a few lights were on—the generator was still running, and a few servants might have been sitting about, night staff, entitled to that informality, but word had spread, and staff came to them as they came down the stairs.

  “My mother is coming,” he began. “With thirty-three staff and Guild combined. Uncle is asleep with medicines and I shall meet her. She has transportation and escort. She will need the suite next to mine and her additional bodyguard and servants will need places.”

  “Shall we turn out day staff, nandi?”

  One could only wish Saidin-daja were here, instead of managing Uncle’s affairs in the Bujavid. But the old man running Tirnamardi was next-best. “Anido first.” That was the head of night staff. “He will manage. My mother is arriving by bus. Once they are on the road, they will make good speed.” He was relieved to see Rieni coming up the central stairs, and looked to him. “Rieni-nadi. Uncle should rest. I can at least do this. Thirty-three persons. With my mother. And the bus.”

  “Indeed. We are aware, nandi, and things are on track. The bus is offloaded at the rail station, they are boarding, and Taibeni will be meeting it halfway, to be near when it reaches the gate. Staff is stirring. We shall manage.”

  “You are not to take orders from my mother, Rieni-nadi, if they go against mine.”

  The expression was absolutely proper, but was that a little reaction? “We assuredly shall not, nandi, except in matters of courtesy and comfort.”

  “In courtesy and comfort, yes.” Mother would arrive tired and probably cross. “I am going over to the conservatory to sit and wait.” Mani always said, Never dither. Sit. Be where staff can find you and do not pester them with questions.

  Tea for himself and his aishid might be trivial, but thinking of that, it had to be ready for Mother, too, if she wanted it. “Tea and cakes,” he said to Lucasi. “In the conservatory—enough tea, when they come. I shall sit.” He had Lucasi and Jegari, and now Rieni and Haniri, who were guard enough to satisfy Mother’s sense of safety.

  “I shall ask,” Lucasi said. “Gari-ji, go and sit.”

  They went to that far side of the great hall and sat, himself and Jegari. Rieni and Haniri, disposed to formality, shed it and quietly sat with them, resting while it was sensible to rest. There had not been a great deal of sleep for anyone. At some point the seniors must have gotten warning that Mother was on her way—and possibly gotten it late, if she was moving under extreme security. He decided to think so, at least, that they had been abed like the rest of them when word had come, and Lucasi had advised him of it while they were still finding out the first available details.

  Mani was in Shejidan. And Mother had taken the train—it must have been midnight—and somehow gotten nand’ Bren’s bus up from Najida. Could one even do that, through Shejidan, in that short a time?

  Father might have sent for it, because of its protections.

  “How did Mother get the bus?” he asked, while they were having tea, and while the great hall was having its lights come on, one set and the other.

  “We are wondering the same,” Rieni said. “Not to mention the Taibeni escort. It may have taken the northern route to get there.”

  Father could move the Taibeni. It was not sure that Mother would even try.

  So his parents were working together, with Great-grandmother arriving, and the bus on its way and the Red Train likely loading and under Father’s orders before Great-grandmother stepped in to take it over.

  He saw the politics stacked up, towering stacks of arguments one way and the other. But politics and potential arguments had gotten Mother here, launching out in the middle of the night. Great-grandmother was not quite stranded, once the Red Train rolled, but the politics of going ahead with her plans became extremely awkward.

  Mani would not come. He was fairly sure of that. Mani would not fight with Mother in Uncle’s house. But later . . .

  “The bus is apparently well on its way,” Haniri said, having picked up a message. “One does not believe we were brought current until the bus was well away from the train station. In the interests of security, young aiji.”

  “One worries,” he said, “regarding the two Ajuri missing still—and the gate—”

  “A unit is in place, young aiji.”

  He nodded, imitation of Father, he realized when he had done it. “Good,” he added, and sipped a fresh cup of tea.

  Five servants in a string came up the stairs with stacks of fresh linen, headed to the second floor at great speed. It was the fastest, not the most discreet r
oute for staff, and they were being as quiet as five people could. The laundry below probably had no power, so long as they were on generator, and he had no idea how long it might take someone, somewhere, to repair the lines. Mother was coming up to a very strange Tirnamardi, with only the main floor brightly lit, probably not even the outside lights, and the rain still coming down.

  • • •

  Rieni said, at last, “They are at the gate, young aiji, and it is opening.”

  “Well,” he said, “it is a short drive now.”

  He imagined he could even hear the bus now. He set down his teacup and strained his ears, and after a few moments, indeed, it was, probably just topping the rise after the gate. He knew that engine. He gathered himself up, and his aishid did, and they went to the central steps, where important guests would come.

  He took deep breaths, listening to the bus pull up outside, and catching the slight draft from the outer door. He almost told Rieni and Janachi to go down to meet Mother, but he realized then that Mother’s own guard would be coming in advance. She certainly had escort.

  The lower doors opened, in the hands of Uncle’s staff, carrying hand torches in the dim first foyer below the landing. Guild came in first, and then Mother entered, in a warm wrap, and with the other team of her aishid. Behind them came Mother’s maids, two in number, and more uniformed Guild, while Mother climbed the stairs.

  There was one question he had not asked his aishid: do they know what has happened here?

  He was not sure Mother did know, and likely he was not the person, alone, that Mother expected to be standing atop the stairs.

  “Honored Mother,” he said, and she did look puzzled, and a little worried as she came up the last steps.

  “Son of mine. One takes it we have lost the electrics to the storm. Where is Uncle Tatiseigi?”

  “Asleep, Honored Mother. He hurt his arm. So when we knew you were coming—”

  A baby cried, a bundle in a servant’s arms, and he recognized Beha, Seimei’s nurse, attending on Mother.

  His sister.

  With everything that was going on.

  “Sister is here,” he said, appalled.

  “You are distressed.”

  “Honored Mother, we have all the Ajuri in the lower hall, we have a dead person out by the stables, we have no light or power, and Uncle is Filing on Great-aunt Geidaro.” It was a completely disorganized account. He finished it, desperately, with, “Will you have tea, while staff finishes with the rooms?”

  “Son of mine, what has happened?”

  So Guild had not talked to Guild in specifics while Mother was in transit, only advising them at the very last. Mother had spent the night on the train. And there might be a great deal Mother did not know.

  “Mother, we have hot tea in the conservatory. As yet my sister has no bed . . . staff can arrange one. Please sit a moment. Staff is moving as fast as they can.”

  He had confidence his aishid was passing those orders, to make them true. Seimei was fussing—likely at the lights and movement, at an hour when any reasonable baby was asleep. Mother took the steps toward the great hall and the conservatory, and Beha came with her, along with Mother’s aishid, her aishid from the Bujavid, so at least one knew the level of confidence immediately around them, while the rest might be strangers.

  They no more than sat down in the conservatory before Uncle’s staff was moving in, to offer tea, even sandwiches should the aiji-consort wish . . .

  “Tea,” Mother said, the bare requirement of hospitality, and leaned aside a little to look at Seimei, who was burrowing in Beha’s arms, shutting out the light. “We shall have a bed in a little while, daughter, just a little while.”

  Tea was ready. It was a three-sip question, and Cajeiri took the three, almost without pause, then set the cup down, waiting for the others.

  “Mother. Someone loosed the mecheiti a few hours ago, in the storm. Uncle gashed his arm and Antaro’s arm is broken, but they are all back in.”

  “We were signaled there was trouble,” Mother said solemnly. “But half an hour later we had advisement it was safe enough to proceed as planned.”

  Guild would have made that judgment, but Rieni had not known at that hour that the Red Train was already moving, Cajeiri thought, and that Mother had brought Seimiro. That all had been secret.

  But would Mother have turned back, and would Mother not have brought Seimiro with her where she went? He had not been thinking from Mother’s side of things . . . coming here as Atageini and Ajuri, into the middle of a mess that had upset her life from before she was born—and in which Father had forbidden her to intervene. Until now.

  “You are here,” Cajeiri said, “and it is safer now, with all the Guild arriving. Uncle will be up in the morning, one is sure.”

  “But you were not involved in the incident.”

  “I was not, Honored Mother. I sent Antaro and Jegari outside to help Uncle and the grooms, but I stayed right in this chair and Rieni and the rest were right beside me the whole time. I could by no means do what Antaro and Jegari could do. Or Uncle.”

  “You were very sensible,” Mother said. “And you wake to meet us in your great-uncle’s stead, at our unreasonably early arrival.” Mother nodded. And nodded again to her own thoughts. “Well done, well turned out, son of mine. Your father will be proud.”

  Are you? he wondered, wishing, once, to hear her say that. Seimei was hers, only hers. He . . . was his father’s. That had been the agreement. And of course she brought Seimei where she went, with no way his father could legally object. That was the way it was. She was Atageini, Great-uncle’s niece, born in Tirnamardi. Keep her away? Father could not have. If the advisement had been that Tirnamardi was overrun, she would have come—he had that feeling. She was from here, and he was not.

  Well, he thought—seeing a trio of upstairs servants coming down the stairs toward them, likely to say that rooms were ready—he could not mend that.

  “You likely know that Nomari is lodged upstairs,” he said. “There are guards in the hall, and he is not to leave his room. Late as it is—”

  “We are too tired to deal with his situation,” Mother said.

  “One understands. But likely he will come down to breakfast, if Uncle does. And likely Uncle will come down, if he possibly can.”

  “Is he badly hurt?”

  “He fell,” Cajeiri said, “and what he did was very hard, terribly hard. He will be upset to have slept through your arrival, Honored Mother. I know he will.”

  “It continues,” Mother said, frowning. “From my birth, it goes on. So he has Filed on Geidaro. I cannot say I regret the need. I tried peace. But I did not know what I now know. Does the Filing encompass Meisi?”

  “I do not think so, Honored Mother. Great-uncle did not mention Meisi or Caradi or Dejaja.”

  “That probably is apt and fair,” Mother said quietly. The servants were standing by, and she acknowledged them with a nod. “Are we ready?”

  “We are,” the oldest said. “We have found a crib, daja-ma, and made it clean and soft and free of dust. It has been a long time since there was a baby in this house.”

  “Well,” Mother said without comment, “then we shall go up. We all shall go up.” She and Beha rose, and they and their guard went toward the stairs. Cajeiri walked with her as far as the bottom step.

  She turned, at that point, looked at him critically, up and down. Then she said: “Well done, son of mine. Very well done.”

  12

  “The gist of the message was a little stir about a replacement for the lordship of Ajuri,” Bren said to Shawn. It was a break of dawn breakfast on a balcony. Beyond the stone railing was a vista of hills and the tops of tall trees, this side of Francis House being devoted to formal gardens, and those gardens well-guarded.

  They were utterly on their own, the servers dismissed e
ntirely. It was help-oneself service, informal as it came, with a portable work table and stools in the adjacent room for Banichi and the rest: Shawn’s staff was trying to improvise. A light breeze, nothing like the bracing wind off the mountains of the continent, ruffled the tablecloth.

  “The central association,” Shawn said. “Padi Valley Association. Kadagidi’s still out, too, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly.” He was talking to a man who’d spent his early career in the State Department. Shawn had a fair knowledge of which clan was where, how closely certain ones were tied to Shejidan, and which ones were traditionally trouble. But the map had shifted radically in a few areas, nearly overnight.

  “The aiji’s son is in Tirnamardi with his great-uncle, and Ajuri’s upset, which is a little concerning, but nothing unusual. Kadagidi’s not yet in play, but in the background of it all. Practically speaking, there’s no way in hell Tabini’s going to let Ajuri go on indefinitely the way it is. It’s being run right now by a woman who’s part of the same pattern of plot and counterplot that’s made Ajuri a problem to the region. Kadagidi’s in a more stable state: their governing line is deposed, and Tabini has to find some reasonable successor, but thus far they’re still under audit, trying to reconcile the books and find out who did what. Whoever does succeed to the lordship has to have a mandate from the clan as well. It’s that whole mess. But Kadagidi is far from a stage of seeking a nominee. Ajuri, however, is heating up. Tabini wants me informed on the mess in the notion that, when I do get back, I may need to step in. I’m not anxious to walk into Ajuri. But I will, if that’s what it takes.”

  Shawn nodded and took a piece of toast. “Glad to know what’s going on. Our navy tracked your brother out, sure now he’s under the eyes of the aiji’s navy, all safe and well.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “We want him safe, too. And I had every confidence if it was something urgent, you’d have told us at least the gist of it last night.”

  “I would. Surprises don’t make for good relations. Bottom line, my mission stands for now, but I could be called back to the mainland if things heat up.”