“Nand’ paidhi,” Borujiri said, moving slowly, not only because of age but also a long illness. “My monument, this work. I am determined it will be that. I have dedicated a portion of my estate to the recreation of the workers who will entitle themselves in this effort. And such an effort our people have made!”
“Everything here is in shifts,” lord Geigi interposed. “Nothing stops for night. And quality control, nand’ paidhi, meticulous quality control.” A horn sounded several short bursts, a signal for attention; Bren and his trigger-ready security had been advised in advance, and lord Geigi rested hands on the catwalk rail looking out over the vast assembly area. “Nadiin-ji! The paidhi commends your work and your diligence! Attention, if you please, to the paidhi-aiji!”
He grew used to such addresses. But reporters dogged him: there were reporters below who would carry what he said to the news services, reporters who, because of the major transportation lines, were in greater abundance here than in his last two, more rural, stops.
“Nadiin,” he called out to the upturned faces and himself leaned on the forbidden railing. “You have exceeded ambitious expectations and set high standards, highstandards, in work on which brave atevi will rely for their lives in space. But more than that—” It was in truth a beautiful sight in front of him, those pieces. Though for the reporters’ sakes, he tried to provide variety in his speeches and at the same time to keep them brief, he suddenly meant to say somethingdifferent than he’d said before on such tours. In the presence of old Borujiri and lord Geigi, in this first time that he could allow himself to believe there wasa spacecraft, and in the enthusiasm of engineers and ordinary workers who had foregone vacations and ignored quitting times to advance the work—he felt his inspiration.
“More than that, nadiin-nai, high standards in a work unprecedented in the history of the world. Plates of steel may make a sailing ship. But when it takes to the waves, when hands at work make that ship a living creature, then it binds all that ship’s makers and all who ever sail aboard that ship in an association that reaches to every shore that ship touches. Your hands and your efforts are building a ship to carry the hopes of all the world, nadiin! The work of your hands, the vision of your director, the wisdom of your lords, and the courage of atevi who will ride this ship will reach out to new things in the heavens, and draw the heavens and all their possibilities into your arms. The aiji in Shejidan will receive my report of you as extraordinary and dedicated workers, and I do not doubt you will remain in his mind at the next seasonal audience, at which lord Geigi and nand’ Borujiri inform me and permit me to inform you they will sponsor a representative from each shift at their own expense. My congratulations, nadiin, I need not offer you! You have distinguished yourselves and brought credit to your province, your district, your endeavor! Hundreds of years from now atevi will tell the story, how willing hands and the skill of such builders carried atevi into space on their own terms and in their own right!”
He expected nothing but the polite attention atevi paid a speaker, followed by the formal, measured applause.
“Nand’ paidhi!” he heard instead, and then a shouting from throughout the facility. “Nand’ Bren!”
Thatless than formal title had gotten started in the less reputable press. He blushed and waved, and stepped away from the rail, at which point Tano and Algini closed between him and the crowd, a living wall.
“Nand’ paidhi,” lord Geigi said, and wished him with a gesture to go down.
“A wonderful expression.” Nand’ Borujiri was clearly moved. “I shall have it engraved, nand’ paidhi. A marvelous gift!”
“You are very kind, nand’ director.”
“A passionate speech,” lord Geigi said, and kept close by him as they descended. “If the aiji can spare you, nadi, pleaseaccept my personal hospitality and extend your visit to a few days at Dalaigi, at a far slower pace, in, I assure you, the most wonderful climate in the country. The yellowtail will not wait. The paperwork will always be there. And if you provide my cook the fish and a day to prepare it, nand’ paidhi, I do assure you the result will be an exquisite, very passionate offering. He so approves your taste in your brief experience of his art last evening.”
It was partly, he was sure, formality and a desire not to have Borujiri suggest the same; it was likely, also, a truly honest offer, repeated, now, and he understood from Algini that the cook was extremely pleased in his requests for a local specialty last evening. The man was an excellent cook: Geigi’s relationship with food was unabashed and the cuisine of the household was deservedly renowned.
He was weakening. He was about to request his security to inquire of his office whether he could possibly manage one more day.
But he felt a sharp vibration from his pocket-com as they started down the third tier of steps, and that flutter signaled him his security was wanting his attention or advising him to the negative—the latter, he decided, when Tano cast him a direct look and no encouraging if the paidhi would preferregarding that invitation to a change in flight schedules and a return to the lord’s residence.
“I fear, nandi,” Bren sighed, “that my schedule back in the capital precludes it.” He had no warning in that small vibration of imminent danger. He took it for his staff’s warning against lingering in public view or a simple advisement he was, with more urgency than anyone had yet communicated to him, expected elsewhere. “But if the invitation were extended again through your kindness, perhaps for some other seasonal game, I would be more than pleased, nand’ Geigi, very truthfully.”
God, he wantedthat holiday, and he liked-liked-likedlord Geigi against all common sense governing use of that deceptive and deadly word, and he didn’twant to hear from his security that lord Geigi had changed sides again.
He set foot on the floor of the assembly area and the battalion of reporters tried to reach him. But the frontal assault of cameras failed to breach his security, as Tano and Algini directed him and his entire party aside through the plant manager’s office and up against the earnest good wishes of a woman who, like Borujiri, saw fortune and good repute in his visit.
“Nand’ paidhi!” She bowed, and proffered a card with a ribbon, white, for the paidhi, a card which the thoughtful staff had handed out to certain key people. There was the smell of heated wax, a wax-jack waiting in the office for that operation, and immediately lord Geigi and nand’ Borujiri, and a number of other officials came pouring through the door with the news services clamoring outside.
He signed and affixed his seal in wax to cards which would make a proud display on a wall somewhere for not only this generation, but subsequent ones, while his security fumed and clearly wished a quick exit. But there were moments at which haste seemed to create worse problems than apparent lack of it; and they hadn’t yet flung him to the floor and drawn guns, so he supposed it wasn’t critical.
“The car is waiting, nand’ paidhi,” Tano said, the moment the last card was stamped.
Escape lay out the door: the news services hadn’t yet out-flanked them. Algini went out first, surveying the Guild-provided car which procedure had dictated would never leave the personal surveillance of the paidhi’s own security. Tano held the door for him, a living shield against what he had no idea.