The youngsters had moved forward in the bus as they passed within the gates, and now they clustered close behind Bren’s seat as the bus pulled into the little courtyard that faced the front doors.
The driver drew to a sedate halt and opened the door. Banichi and Jago exited first, and now the house doors opened and the staff came out to meet them.
In the center of the doors, hindmost, arrived a well-dressed young man, a little plump—could one at all doubt that he was related to Lord Geigi? He looked like every Maschi lord in the lineage. And he seemed quite fond of gold thread—he positively glittered, the whole expanse of him glittered. But that was no great sin, that the young man should have gotten himself up in his absolute best for the meeting. He shone in gold. A shadow attended him, four men in Guild black, his bodyguard, also in their most formal black and silver for the occasion.
Well, discourtesy to the aiji had ruffled some who noticed such things, and true, the young lord hadn’t phoned first, seeing a neighbor returning after long absence; but one could not fault the turnout now.
Banichi and Jago got out, and took their position, opposite. Bren quietly descended the steps and gave a little bow, as Cajeiri and his pair came clattering down the steps behind, and landed on the aged cobblestones just behind him with a little crunch of sand.
Lord Baiji was of moderate height, taller than his ample figure immediately suggested; a solid young man, and he had a pleasant expression, a little softness about the mouth, but over all distinctly like Lord Geigi.
“Nandiin,” Baiji said, and bowed to him first, and bowed to Cajeiri. “My house is honored. One hopes you find yourselves well, nand’ Bren, after the events of last night.”
“Entirely, nandi,” Bren said. “Thank you.”
“We wish to express our gratitude, nandi,” Cajeiri piped up, coming up at Bren’s side, and bowing, which occasioned a second bow from Baiji. “We were in great distress last night, and very glad to be found.”
That was, Bren said to himself, two sentences. And before he had had a chance properly to introduce the boy.
And simultaneously a peculiarity struck him: nandiin, Baiji had said—the plural my lords. The presence of young, civilian-dressed attendants with Cajeiri was some indication of higher rank, as was the fairly elegant coat Cajeiri was wearing. The Taibeni youngsters were certainly too young to be attending the paidhi-aiji himself. Village child, they had said. And this morning Baiji met them with nandiin.
And came out onto the porch to do it. He had not the manner of a lord in his own hall, rather that of an anxious merchant in his shop doorway.
“The house of Lord Geigi,” Baiji said, “is more than pleased to have been of assistance. We beg you come inside, nandiin, and take tea in the solar.”
Well, well, the man lacked the manner, but he met them knowing more than he’d been told—that was at least commendable industry. And one so hoped to find some sense of ease with this young man, some good point or two to relay to his uncle Geigi.
So they took the invitation, leaving the driver to park the bus and wait.
Now, in the inner hall, was the proper time and place for the major domo of the house to express his own delight at the visit of close associates of the lord, and to show them to the solarium for tea, never mind that Baiji himself had usurped that office. But in fact a sober, quiet man approached and led the way in silence.
Geigi’s major domo had gone with him to space. This man would have been on staff at his last visit—but in some minor post. Other things, however, were much as he remembered. The potted plants in the tiled hall were a bit taller, and when they came into the solar and took their seats, the chairs were a few years more wornc the house was not much using this room. There was a trace of dust in the grooves of the chair arm—Ramaso would never tolerate such a thing—but he was not here to criticize.
It was still a pleasant venue. The room had a frieze of sailing ships. Many-paned windows gave a view of a small winter garden. A small rug covered the seating area of the tiled floor, deadening sound.
The solar, Bren thought, had another advantage—being near the front doors. A quick session, and an early out if things turned awkward—if there was, for instance, any business about the debt to Najida merchants, which he truly did notwant to discuss today, because he would have to say things that would not be auspicious.
So they sat, himself, and Cajeiri, and Baiji, while their respective bodyguards stood in attendance on opposite sides of the room.
Tea was ready with no delay at alclass="underline" staff must have spotted them coming up the drive, and hastened now to bring forth the service. That provided a decent period of quiet and mental collection.
So they sipped their tea, Cajeiri in very commendable silence, until Baiji asked his young guest how he found the district.
“Very beautiful, nandi. Thank you.”
Commendable brevity. And offering the suggestion, on Bai-ji’s side, that Cajeiri was not quitec as advertisedc local.
Hell, Geigi would have asked the facts at the front door. Baiji just insinuated bits and pieces of what he knew.
So it was, Bren decided, on him to explain matters decently. That had been a diffident probe, at least, perhaps the man’s attempt at genteel inquiry. He took a sip of tea—his sips were scarcely enough to wet his lips, cautiousc alkaloids were always a risk, in unknown hospitality. Then he said: “One must apologize, nandi, for the slight deception on the radio last night. You have clearly guessed by now that my young companion is not from Najida village. Let me introduce, nandi, nand’ Cajeiri, the son of Tabini-aiji, and his young staff.”
“Nandi.” Their host immediately set aside his teacup and rose. Cajeiri, a properly schooled youngster, also rose, and there was a brief exchange of bows between Cajeiri and Baiji, then a resumption of seats.
“One is extremely honored, young gentleman, and delighted to have rendered service.”
Remarkable. Astonishing. Having already spent his allotted two sentences, Cajeiri merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, and said not a thing, asked not a single question—the perfect model of a young gentleman.
“One should add,” Bren said, “that the grandmother referenced last night is the young lord’s great-grandmother, who is a guest at my estate.”
“One is completely astonished by the honor paid this house.” Baiji had broken out in a sudden sweat, and actually reached for a pocket handkerchief to mop his cheek. “One is very gratified at your visit, nandiin.”
“Security is tight,” Bren said with a calm nod. “We wish no attention to my guests. Nor should it be mentioned beyond staff until my guests have left the region. But as my neighbor, it is useful that you know.”
“Indeed, indeed.”
“Please,” Bren said, accepting another dose of tea into his cup, the servant late to provide it. “Please take my visit as gratitude for your assistance last night. As to your question, nandi, how we find the districtc it is, of course, as I left it—except the roads.”
“Ah! Nandi, one so deeply apologizes—one—”
“If Kajiminda would accept a more substantive token of my gratitude for last night, Najida might mow the road from Najida up to the turnoff, so heavier traffic might be more convenient between our estates.” And I would like my people’s bills to be paid, he thought, but simply had a sip of tea.
“One would be extremely gratified by that favor, nandi,” Baiji said. “We have been short-handed in the estate, and last fall, we let that matter slide far more than we should.”
“Short-handed,” Bren echoed him.
Another pass of the handkerchief. “During the Troubles, certain staff found the need to be closer to their families. And most regrettably, nandi, they have not yet returned.”
“Ah,” Bren said. Not returned to their jobs, and it had been months since the restoration of Tabini’s regime. Odd. He declined, however, to say so, just letting his bodyguard sum things up.