A further silence.
“Dreams,” Machigi said. “Hinging on this meeting in Shejidan.”
“Even so, nandi. And one urges this go forward with all speed. Your representative first, then yourself.”
“One just walks in,” Machigi said. “And there is security at the train station.”
“Let me outline what is proposed, nandi: you may come by train or by air—let me suggest Najida Airport, with your own security. At whatever facility you arrive, the dowager will provide a bus and additional Guild security to take you and your company to the residence your representative has established. You will be under the Guild’s close protection in that house and in every venture to the Bujavid, and every other venture you may choose, until you are safely back in Tanaja.”
“And the aiji’s opinion of this?”
“One does not speak for him, at present, nandi, only for the aiji-dowager, who has his assurance he will not intervene. One senses he will prefer to watch from a certain distance, and my sense is that he hopes for a good outcome for his grandmother. He regards certain of the reputations at stake as his personal assets, and he would by no means wish to see this go badly for her. He has extended himself that far.”
“Indeed.” Machigi rested his chin on fist. “We shall read these papers you provide. We shall talk together. We shall see you at dinner, nand’ paidhi.”
“Nandi.” That was a dismissal, and a reasonable one. He had time to go upstairs, settle in, try to get his nerves together, and dress for a formal dinner.
It wasn’t going badly. There was no guarantee it wouldn’t. There was no way to know what the ministers were going to argue in private, but they had to have that chance. He stood up, the ministers all rose and bowed, he bowed, collected his bodyguard, and left, on a familiar route, with two of Machigi’s servants leading the way.
It was surreal to be back in the suite he had occupied before the Guild action. The white, ornate furniture was entirely familiar, and the phone they had asked for was still on the table. The bed in which he had spent very uncomfortable hours had the same ornate coverlet. He might never have left.
And of all things—his lost shaving kit was sitting on the bureau. His clothes, recovered from luggage left behind in a desperate escape, were all in the closet.
He was particularly delighted about the shaving kit, which he could not replace this side of Mospheira, and about the personal items: his mother’s locket, a pocketknife his brother Toby had given him, an informal and very comfortable coat, and a well-broken-in pair of dress boots. It was a very welcome surprise.
Similarly, his aishid found items, all cleaned and proper. They met in the hallway to compare notes, and indeed, everything they had left behind in the van on the road was here.
“A kind gesture,” Bren said, and his bodyguard avowed themselves uncommonly pleased and, for once, surprised.
Machigi’s servants arrived to help them dress for dinner, and this time Bren did not decline the help. He had professional assistance with the dress coat and with the braid, which had wilted a bit from the weather, and he changed to the comfortable boots.
It felt a little chancy, having Machigi’s servants about, but there was not a single item with them this visit that they had to hold in secret—all of the sensitive items were already sent on to Shejidan.
And with the staff’s help, they were very quickly in order for a formal dinner. Banichi and Jago to go stand dinner duty, while Tano and Algini nominally to guard the room—but one doubted they would only be sitting and watching the furniture. They would very likely, Bren thought, have Guild visitors in his absence, people with things to report and to ask—conversations in which no civilian was welcome and which had very much to do with the future of the Marid, from quite another viewpoint and involving quite another power.
So downstairs he went with Banichi and Jago, this time into the dining hall, where he met, immediately, Gediri, the one minister he knew, the four other ministers he had just met, and relevant spouses, to whom he was introduced. There were, besides them, several notables, with spouses, to whom he was also introduced, all this quite properly accomplished before Machigi arrived. They were a table of twelve as they took their seats.
Twelve became felicitous thirteen as Machigi came in alone, filling the last chair. The mood was light over an excellent pastry, as Machigi chatted easily with the ministers and the other guests.
“The paidhi,” Machigi said, somewhat violating the no-business rule, “has brought us interesting proposals and, more, a signed intention of the aiji-dowager and several others of interest. We are well on track this evening to see this bargain completed.”
That definitely produced a happy mood at the table—not least in the paidhi-aiji. The advisors were not frowning. A decided plus.
It was small talk, then, chatter about impending weather, shipping to the Isles, the seasonal ban on hunting and the consequent rising price of the better fishcwhich happened to be the menu of the evening.
Then there was a quiet invitation to after-dinner discussion, which included only Gediri and the minister of trade without his spouse. That meant serious business about the agreement. They repaired to an adjacent sitting room and settled to talk over brandy.
“So. We are down to the actual agreements,” Machigi said. “We are definitely to assume, nandi, that the dowager will return within the month?”
“Easily within the month, nandi,” Bren said.
“And you assure us that we shall be welcomed in the legislature.”
That was irony.
“You will meet some opposition, and I know who will lead it. But, nandi, I know this man quite well, an elderly gentleman, very, very traditional—a staunch ally if you can gain his approval. A respectful approach, a personal approach—that would be a good beginning with him.”
“One closely associated with the aiji-dowager?”
“Indeed, nandi.”
“Tatiseigi.”
“Indeed. Lord Tatiseigi.”
“There is no dealing with him!”
“Yet you have things in common, nandi.”
“Do we? Enlighten us!”
“You are both patrons of the arts—you, from a region which produces extraordinary works in porcelain. He is a collector, a great admirer. And an expert. If anyone will be looking at the exhibition with a knowledgeable eye, it will be nand’ Tatiseigi. And his sense of kabiu is quite respected.”
A moment of silence. Machigi rested his chin on a crooked finger, running it over the old scar, and his eyes sparked with thought. “You are suggesting—”
“It is an avenue of approach. I have a specific plan, nandi. Iam in a situation of personal debt to Lord Tatiseigi—who sheltered me during the Farai occupation of my apartment. Granted it was a favor to the aiji-dowager. But one is still indebted. He is head of a group that is most likely to oppose this agreement. And ifone, with great delicacy, chose just the right gift—”
“Porcelain.”
“—then opening a conversation on Marid imports andthe agreement with the aiji-dowager would be so much easier. Enlist him regarding trade with the Marid, in precisely this commoditycand we might sway his opinion on other matters, even in a face-to-face meeting.”
Machigi heard this, gave an almost silent snort, and took a sip of brandy. “Gods unfortunate, paidhi, you can put a fine gloss on the most amazing situations. You want my agents to scour up a second exhibition piece. A gift for this man.”