But he tucked the gun into his coat pocket when he had finished dressing, dismissed Supani and Koharu to go get their own supper, and, going out into the hall, suggested to the few younger members of staff who stood about looking confused and alarmed, that they might usefully occupy themselves by removing porcelains and breakables to the inner rooms. “Just put them in the cellar, nadiin-ji. One cannot say there will be disturbance inside the house at all, nadiin, but one hardly knows. And at the first alarm, go immediately to the cellar and stay there with the door shut, one entreats you. I would sacrifice any goods in this house to preserve your lives.”
“Nandi,” they said, and bowed. He headed for the dining room.
In fact, he and the dowager arrived at the same moment, himself alone, the dowager accompanied only by two of her youngest bodyguards; and Cajeiri and the two Taibeni youngsters, who had almost matched the paidhi in dirt, immaculately scrubbed and dressed, likely having used the servants’ bath.
“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, bowing to the dowager. Staff had laid the table for three, the two Taibeni to stand guard with the two senior guards. Only the paidhi was solo—absolute trust for the security that was on duty; and a lonely feeling. Tano and Algini were in quarters, likely trying to monitor what was going on while the dowager’s men, under Cenedi’s direction, took defensive precautions.
And still no word from Banichi and Jago. He wished he could haul them out of wherever they were, whatever they were into, and let the aiji’s guard handle the mess at Lord Geigi’s estate. He was too worried for appetite. Given his preferences, he would have paced the floor. Sitting down to dinner was hard—but at this point necessary—besides being a demonstration of confidence for the staff.
The before-dinner drink, a vodka with fruit juice—that came welcome.
Supper consisted of a good fish chowder and a wafer or two, warm, filling, and quick. He took his time, somewhat, in general silence, in pace with the dowager, while Cajeiri wolfed his down with a speed that drew disapproving glances.
“Such concentration on one’s dinner,” Ilisidi remarked.
Cajeiri looked at her, large-eyed. “One was very hungry, mani-ma. One sat in that tower forever.”
“Tower,” Bren said.
“In the garden, nandi. We went over the wall and through the woods. We hid in a tower on the wall.”
“You have gotten quite pert,” Ilisidi said. “Have we heard an apology, boy?”
Cajeiri swallowed a hasty mouthful and made a little bow in place. “One is very sorry for being a problem, mani-ma, nand’ Bren.”
“How did you separate yourself?” Ilisidi asked. “ Whydid you separate yourself.”
“One—hardly knows, mani-ma. May I answer?”
At the table, there was properly no discussion of business. And the dowager’s table was rigidly proper.
“Curiosity overwhelms us,” Ilisidi said dryly. “You may inform us. We shall not discuss.”
“There was the bus, and Jago, and nand’ Bren, and Banichi; and the shooting started, and the bus was hit, and one just—we just—we just—the bushes were closer. We thought they would fight.”
It was a fair account. And contained the missing piece. We thought they would fight. He’d assumed Banichi would go for Cajeiri; and the kid had equally assumed Banichi wouldn’t. And the kid had assumed they were going to stand and fight, so he’d taken care of himself.
Ilisidi simply nodded, thoughts flickering quickly through those gold eyes.
“Indeed,” she said. “Indeed. One expected a sensible boy would then find his way down the road.”
It was more than the paidhi had expected of a boy. A lot more.
“One did, mani-ma. As soon as it was dark.” Cajeiri’s brows knit. There was something more to say, something unpleasant, but he didn’t say it.
“May one ask, young gentleman,” Bren said, “what you have just decided not to say?”
A flash of the dowager’s eyes, which quickly settled on Cajeiri.
“One fears one may have caused a serious accident to a man on the roof. One hopes they were the enemy.”
“What time was this?”
“Right at dusk, nandi. He was on the roof. He probably fell off.”
“Good,” the dowager said, taking a drink. And added: “Hereafter, you will have your own security.”
“Antaro and Jegari, mani-ma—”
“You are beginning to think independently. These young people will benefit from senior Guild constantly attached to you, young man. This should have been done before now.”
“Not Great-uncle’s! One asks, not Great-uncle’s!”
“No,” Ilisidi said, “ notAtageini. Nor Ragi. Malguri.”
Oh, that was going to be an explosion, once Tatiseigi heard hisgreat-nephew was dismissing his Atageini guards; and once Tabini andthe Taibeni heard that the senior pair in his son’s bodyguard was not going to be Ragi atevi, from the center of the aishidi’tat, but Easterners—that explosion would be heard end to end of the Bujavid, and Ilisidi’s opinion might not, for once, prevail.
The paidhi was going to stay well and truly outof that argu—
Quick footsteps sounded in the halls. One of the serving staff came in, breathless, bowed once to the dowager and once to him. “Nandiin. Movement is reported across the road.”
He cast a worried look at Ilisidi, whose face remained impassive. He swallowed the bite he had and with a little bow, got up from table.
The dowager likewise rose, Cajeiri offering his hand beneath her elbow as she gathered up her cane.
“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, “one would suggest the office, which has no windows: there is a comfortable chair, and the staff might provide an after-dinner brandy.”
“An excellent notion, paidhi-ji.” One earnestly hoped the dowager would provide sufficient psychological anchor for her great-grandson to keep his burgeoning personality from flaring off down the halls to help them out. Clearly, the paidhi had not been adequate to keep him from picking his own course. Cajeiri had been looking for cover when the shooting started, not looking for direction from the paidhi-aiji. So write the paidhi off as a governance. Write off the boy’s most earnest promises: one suspected he was hitting an instinct-driven phase.
“Go,” Ilisidi said as he lingered, ready to assist her. “Go, nand’ paidhi. We are just moving a little slower this evening.”
“Aiji-ma.” He bowed, then left with the anxious servant, asking,
“Where are Tano and Algini at the moment, Husa-ji?”
“In the security office, nandi, one believes.”
In most houses, that was near the front door. In this one, by revision, it was a comfortable nook in the suite his bodyguard used, a left turn at the intersection of halls.
“Carry on, nadi,” he said to the servant, “with thanks. Check the garden hall locks. Put the bar down.”
“Nandi,” the servant murmured, and diverged from his path.
That beautiful glass window offered a serious compromise to house security. That was why there was a very stout mid-hallway set of doors to close the garden hall, with deep pin-bolts above and below and a sturdy cross bar that resided upright in the back of the right-hand door. The two doors that led off that hall, one to the kitchens and the other to the staff rooms, had equally stout single doors, as solid as if they were opposing the outside worldc which, being next to more fragile sections, they were counted as doing.
The last of staff was on their way to defensive stations or to cover. Those last doors were about to shut. Kitchen would not be gathering up the dishes. They would be sealing themselves in from both sides.
He turned his own way, his bodyguards’ door being wide open. He entered without knocking, into the little security office where Tano and Algini had set up their electronics, black boxes of all sorts, and a low-light monitor screen.