“You assisted the search for nand’ Cajieri yesterday,” Bren said. “With what motive? To find him yourself? To kill him?”
“No! No. One had no idea—no idea of who the boy was. No idea. One only wished to be neighborly.”
“Kill this man,” Ilisidi said.
“No!” Baiji wailed, lifting his hands, then bowing. “No, aiji-ma. I can tell you—I can tell you everything!”
“Why did you search for my great-grandson?”
“It was the paidhi, it was the paidhi-aiji, aiji-ma, one knew— one knew he was here, one wished to warn himc”
“We were in radio contact, nandi,” Bren said. “Why did you not?”
“You left,” Baiji stammered. “You left. One—one thought of sailing into Najidama Bay, but—they might have come here. They might have come here and we all would die.”
“Tell us,” the dowager said quietly, “tell us the details of this, tell us once, and be accurate, as you hope for my patience. My great-grandson is in danger. Is he not?”
“He is in great danger, aiji-ma. The Tasaigi came a few days ago. They came with new proposals—regarding—regarding the wedding. One has—one has not wanted to trouble those waters. One had hoped—they would simply go away and not renew their offer.”
“A few days ago,” Bren said, “notice came that made them move. Some in the Bujavid knew I was coming here. Some at Tirnamardi knew. My staff here in Najida knew. But one would wager on someone within the Bujavid.”
“The Tasaigi flew in, we take it?” Ilisidi snapped, looking at Baiji. “They arrived in the district, you met with them. Where did you acquire your personal guard?”
“They are—they are a—”
“Gift from the proposed in-laws?”
Again the deep bow. The appeal with the hands. “No. No, nand’ dowager. My guard vanished—in the Troubles—greatly mourned. The Guild itself sent these two. One has never, never, nand’ dowager—one would never be so foolish—they are not Southern! I would know if they were Southern.”
“Central district,” Ilisidi said sharply. “Let me guess. The traitor Murini himself sent them.”
“No, aiji-ma. The Guild in Shejidan.”
Ilisidi looked ceilingward and turned away.
Then looked straight at Bren.
“One bears blame for this, aiji-ma,” Bren said with a bow. “I divided my staff. I trusted our old relations with Kajiminda.”
“ Wetrusted Kajiminda,” Ilisidi said bitterly, “trusting an old ally, trusting in those two childrenwho attend my great-grandson, besidesc” She spun on her heel and looked straight at Baiji. “Elaborate, man! The nature and extent of this contact. Nowyou may go into detail and meander as much as you like.”
“I—”
“And use nouns! They, they, they! No more they! Give me names!”
“Aiji-ma—”
“Sit down,” Ilisidi said sweetly. “Nand’ Bren, send for tea. And no, nephew of our esteemed Lord Geigi, ambitiousnephew of our Lord Geigi, we do not intend to poison you. Let us sit down and talk reasonably. We lack some time until dark, when we shall take action.”
Bren himself went to the door, opened it, and signaled the major domo. “Kindly provide tea, a service for three.” He added: “ Notthe historic set, if you please, Rama-ji. I think that would be best.”
“Nandi.” A bow, and Ramaso was off like a shot, giving orders to two staffers on the way. Four of Ilisidi’s young men were out there. Tano and Algini were.
“Come in,” Bren said to them, increasing the coverage of black in the room, black uniforms wall to wall. He had assumed a tea service for three. He assumed he would sit with the dowager, and indeed, the dowager had taken a seat, and Baiji had, and, indeed, the dowager gestured to him that he should also take a chair, fortunate three.
“So,” the dowager said with sweet-voiced patience, while her great-grandson was at hazard of his life, while, very probably, hostile Southern interests had taken possession of Lord Baiji’s estate, while Assassins from the Marid were, very probably, moving against her as well. “How isthe spring planting shaping up?”
As if they were preparing to take tea with the traditional discussion of small topics, peaceful topics, pending service of the refreshment. Baiji stammered answers, sweat standing on his brow.
“And the dawi festival? How was it this year?”
“One did not attend, aiji-ma.”
“Did not attend?” the dowager asked with sudden sharpness. “Or do you fearto travel, Lord Baiji? Can it be fearthat kept you from, for instance, otherfestivities—such as, say, my grandson’s resumption of the aijinate? Or were you not celebratingthat event?”
“Aiji-ma,” Baiji began to answer. But Ilisidi had a flawless sense of timing. The tea service arrived, when conversation ceased for a moment and Baiji could not answer.
The service went around, one, two, and three. When Baiji picked up his cup, he had to steady it in both hands.
“Now,” the dowager said. “We were speaking of your attendance at court. Collect your thoughts, nand’ Baiji, and make your accounting as thorough as possible.”
Baiji shut his eyes—thinking, it was likely, possibly thinking harder than Baiji had ever thought in his life.
“Do not,” the dowager said sharply, “waste any moment of this contemplative time on a lie, an equivocation, or appeasement. We desire information on a political scale, and a full accounting of your dealings with the Kadagidi, with the Tasaigin Marid, with others that may be pertinent. Do not omit any detail and any person from this accounting. Name names. Cenedi-ji.”
“Aiji-ma.”
“Record this session.”
“Yes,” Cenedi said.
“So. Baiji.”
“Aiji-ma.”
“If we later discover an omission or a gap in your account, you will most profoundly regret it.”
Tea went down all in one gulp. The servant, standing by, moved to fill that cup, and yet again as Baiji swallowed—a certain dryness of the mouth, perhaps.
Bren himself swallowed small sips, as did the dowager. They both emptied their cups, and had another. It was late afternoon, now. His mind raced, trying to find logic in the situation, and one thing occurred to him—that if the Edi in Kajiminda were unconstrained and knew they had the boy in their keeping, they would have sent a courier, or at very least made a phone call.
So either they dared not or could not make such a call. They were constrained. He did not believe they had turned.
And no one had called to ask for ransom.
My God. The airport. The train station. He was asleep.
“Nand’ dowager,” he asked, ever so quietly, “has anyone been stationed at the airport?”
“Flights are grounded as of your return here, nand’ paidhi. Trains are stopped.”
The whole district was cut off, then. That left movement by car. The dowager had made that one phone call to Tabini. Of course. He was a fool. He’d been rattled. It was a Guild matter.
“Nand’ Baiji,” the dowager said, and set down her cup on the little side table. “Speak to us now. Never mind an apology. State the facts.”
“The facts, aiji-mac”
“Aiji-ma! Am I youraiji? Have you man’chi to us? Or where, precisely, does it reside?”
“With my uncle, nand’ dowager, one knows thatc one is so confusedc”
“ Focus, man! Where is your man’chi at this moment?”
“To my uncle, aiji-ma, and his is to the Ragi aiji, which has always beenc”
“You do not have to defend your uncle, boy. Yourman’chi is the one in question, gravely in question. Has it lately wavered?”
“Nand’ dowager, it—I—one has—one has been beseiged. One has been alonec one has hardly known where to turnc”