“Be assured about the orchard,” Bren said. “One has just read part of your nephew’s account, and he claims to have planted new trees in the west of the orchard.”
“Gods know what he planted,” Geigi said with a deep sigh. “But that does offer some hope. And my boat. I hope it has survived intact.”
“When last my staff was there, it was riding securely at anchor, and they handed matters directly to the aiji’s men. One hopes they have checked it out.”
“Baji-naji,” Geigi said. “One hopes so, too.”
Bump. Even the modern bus springs had trouble with that one.
The road had seen a bit more traffic since their last visit— the Najida truck traveling back and forth had actually worn down the grassy track here and there. The bumps, however, were little improved.
But when they came to the turn off toward Kajiminda estate, and when they had reached the gates, the view of the harbor showed Lord Geigi’s yacht riding serene and safe on the dark water. That heartened Geigi no end, enough to lift his spirits even in the face of conditions inside the estate grounds: the neglect of paint and edgings about the walls, the sad state of the gates, hanging crooked on their hinges, and notably the portico being completely missing—except two and a half pillars with the beginnings of a timber frame between two of them.
“Najida is doing a grand job, Bren-ji,” Geigi said. “You are a most excellent neighbor.”
“One will relay the compliment to Najida village,” Bren said, himself heartened to see what progress the carpenters had made. The estate at least had the look of a place being improved, not a place in complete ruin: they had done that much for Lord Geigi.
A small dark van was parked on the circular drive, just beyond the building. Two men in Guild black came out of the house to meet the bus as it pulled up to the side of the construction zone. Banichi and Jago, along with Geigi’s men, got off the bus to meet them—Tabini’s forces, Bren said to himself, watching the handoff of keys and a small booklet. The book contained, one suspected, codewords or perhaps technical specs on equipment that might have been installed for the estate’s protection.
There was a solemn exchange of formalities, Banichi bowed, the leader of Tabini’s lot did, and then they headed off for the van and Banichi gave a small hand signal toward the bus.
“We may go, nandiin,” Tano said, standing up behind Bren’s seat. Bren got up, Geigi did, and the rest of the company took it for a signal, waiting, however, for them.
Down the steps, then, Bren descending very cautiously behind Lord Geigi. The last thing they needed was a bad omen like falling down the bus steps on an arrival like this, and he was more than a little on edge descending to the cobbles, mentally hearing the gunshots and the crash that had accompanied the fall of the former portico, unconsciously scanning the peripheries of the drive and building for any threat.
He didn’t waste time getting to the side of the building, which afforded major protection. Geigi stared about him a moment: it was his first time home in a very long time, and he was clearly trying to catch a view of his orchard, off behind the wall to the left—but Geigi’s bodyguard moved him very quickly to the open front door and on into the house. Bren followed, and Jago and Banichi stayed close as they entered the front hall. Tano and Algini went on past them, past Geigi and his guard, back into the further recesses of the house, evidently on a program of their own, and probably having consulted with Geigi’s men.
Geigi’s stationside major domo, Barati, came to him, bowed, and asked, with brimming excitement in his old eyes, whether the lord would care to take tea in the sitting room.
“Yes, Bara-ji,” Geigi said warmly, and then to Bren: “Will you join me, Bren-ji?”
Staff, for one thing, wanted the lords contained, amused and out of trouble for the hour. One couldn’t blame them for that. “Delighted,” Bren said, and went with Geigi to the sitting room he had lately occupied with Baiji. There they settled down, while the house quietly resounded with footsteps. Banichi and Jago stayed outside, and would be very busy right along with Geigi’s guard and Geigi’s four station staff, checking things out in the transition from Tabini’s men.
That was going to take hours. And a lot of tea.
But at least it was quiet in the house, and the likelihood of anything turning up to threaten them was not at all high, considering the handoff from Tabini’s men. The serving staff proudly arrived with tea and cakes from the supplies brought with them.
And he and Geigi had a lot to talk about, now that the matter of the estate seemed settled—not imminent business, nothing so dark as that; but the state of affairs on the space station—the likelihood of the promised visitation by the kyo, the aliens they had met in deep space; the state of affairs in his own stationside apartment, and the cherished staff he had left there, staff that had passed all but unnoticed in his lightning-fast transfer from the ship to the downbound shuttle. How were they? Well, it seemed, and happy enough. There had been a marriage on staff, and a baby was expected—fine news, but the couple and the baby very much needed passage to the world again, to present the new arrival to the respective clans.
Their talk wandered on to the station’s decision to build and drop the mobile stations: the decision to set up the cell phone network on the Island—a means of collecting observations from Mospheira during Murini’s takeover, and a means of reassuring and distracting a nervous Mospheiran population that they were still protected from a now-hostile and dangerous regime on the mainland.
It had worked. Mospheira had been utterly—and completely— distracted by the phones. They were protected from mainland troubles. But they walked off curbs into traffic, arguing with their girlfriends.
A sigh. And now the cell-plague threatened the mainland.
It could be useful here and there. He was starting to admit that. He still thought it too potent a change to loose in atevi society, wholesale.
Which he didn’t say. Geigi was the consummate gadget-addict, even more than Tabini, and that was saying a bit.
And while they discussed station politics and station gossip, Kajiminda quietly took on an actual semblance of its former life.
Then Geigi’s security reported the arrival of a number of lightly-armed Edi folk from further out on the peninsula, seeking permission to establish a surveillance post in the farther extent of the orchard and out by the estate wall.
“Yes,” was Geigi’s answer. “Coordinate with them, nadiin-ji.”
And hard upon that good sign was not-so-good news from the majordomo: there were certain valuable artworks missing. They were still taking account, but the absence of a famous porcelain was significant.
“The scoundrel,” Geigi muttered, over a renewed cup of tea. “The unprincipled young scoundrel. That is a famous piece! Did he think I would never notice? Or did he not know what it was?”
“I think we may surmise the district who dealt with him,” Bren said grimly. “And someone there undoubtedly knew its value. Or possibly some individual not in the district paid the price for it, someone who did not attend to its provenance.”
“Or my nephew forged the attendant documents.”
“Either way, one is certain the Artists’ Guild will have a certain interest in the matter, and I have some confidence in the integrity of that guild, throughout. One understands they came under some pressure during the Troubles, and did not buckle. They may turn it up.”
“One will prepare an inquiry,” Geigi said grimly. “Banditry. This is banditry. And Kajiminda, I am sure, has not lost so much as others. Except my sister. Poor woman. She was not stupid, Bren-ji, except in her doting on the boy.”
“Her protection did not improve him,” Bren said with a shake of his head, and then they fell to discussing the Marid, the rise of Machigi to the lordship over the region, and his ambitions—not least of it certain things he had gathered from files, who was now in charge of what township, and who was in favor and who not.