“The lady,” Jago said, “will be arriving by train, amply escorted and picking up new staff in Shejidan, besides her personal staff from Tanaja.”
A woman. He had not envisioned that.
“Do we know anything about this choice, Jago-ji?”
“Her name is Siodi, of the Jaimedi clan. Her rank is Lady. She is a remote cousin of Lord Machigi, a lady of some standing in Tanaja and in Dausigi. She has represented Lord Machigi frequently in matters with Dausigi and Sungeni clans, mostly involving commerce and shipping. She lost a younger brother to the renegades early on and has been living either in the Isles or in the Residence for the last two years, for safety. In the estimation of Machigi’s guard, the lady was at least marginally in danger, principally as a way to deal psychological damage to Machigi, and did not exit close guard until early this year, when she undertook a mission to the Sungeni.”
“Qualified, then,” he said with some relief. “We shall hope to put the Merchants’ Guild immediately in touch with her; I shall write a letter. Likewise to Transport.” A deep breath. “Echo it to the aiji’s bodyguard. And to Tatisiegi’s.”
“It will leak,” Jago said, “in Tatiseigi’s instance.”
“But it will leak in beneficial places, with the perfume of Lord Tatiseigi’s house about the rumor. Advise the aiji’s staff it is intentional.”
Jago laughed quietly. “Be it so,” she said, and went off to create a small security breach.
He went back to work, writing the policy statement he had promised his staff, and declined Supani’s offer of tea. After meetings going right through lunch, he was awash in tea and had eaten too many teacakes to be at all interested in the sandwich their earnest young cook provided.
Tano came in to report the shuttle had left the station.
“Indeed!” That was good news. And was worth a little caution. “Are there any surprises aboard?”
“None,” Jago said. “Are we expecting anything else?”
“No,” he said with some confidence. “But one should advise staff Narani is coming. They will not wish to be caught with anything in disarray. Not to mention our young cook. He will want to have that kitchen immaculate. Would you care for a sandwich, Tano-ji? That one is superfluous, but one hesitates to offend our young lad.”
Tano gave a gentle laugh and took it up.
“Another report,” Tano said, “says that the dowager has now returned to Malguri from the wedding in Drien-daja’s villa.”
“She cannot return here too soon,” Bren said. “Is there word how matters there have gone with the wedding?”
“None specific and no information forecasting her return.”
“We can expect Lord Geigi at least to come to the capital once he hears the shuttle is on its way down. But I am very concerned about security for him. His bodyguard is no longer as well linked in as they might be. I am concerned about Lord Tatiseigi’s view of it, but I would feel easier if he would make use of my guest room.”
“We have advised his staff,” Tano said, “and we are in discussion on that point.”
Through Guild channels, that was. It was being managed, one trusted, in some way that would not rouse Tatiseigi’s jealousy or damage the uneasy truce between those two.
The sandwich went away with Tano, discreetly, and the paidhi-aiji got down to writing letters, with a sure timetable now for having his full staff. His hard-working crew was due a little rest. And more staff meant a chance for that.
But he had no timetable yet for having Ilisidi at hand to manage Tatiseigi andGeigi.
It was the porcelain, the imagination of benefits, and all the other arguments, that so far stood a chance of keeping Tatiseigi on their side of the political balance.
8
Cajeiri was bored. Bored. Bored. And one sowished one could think of another reason to visit nand’ Bren, or visit anyoneoutside the apartment walls today. Cajeiri even thought of asking Uncle Tatiseigi for an invitation.
No windows. No harbor. There was no garden in the Bujavid that hecould go to—despite his aishid’s discouragement, he did officially ask his father for permission to visit the little one he had heard lay off the Kitchen Court.
No, was the answer. He could not go outside. The garden was too public, access too general. He could not go there.
“Might I go to the library, then, honored Father? Just to the library. One promises, to no other place.”
“No, son of mine. You can send to the library, and the library will send up whatever you want.”
“How shall I know what I want? I cannot see the books!”
“They will send you a selection of titles on any topic. Or a list. You might have a list of all the books in the library, if you ask.”
He sighed, deeply, and looked at the floor, just disgusted. Nobody was letting him have any freedom.
“Things are unsettled,” his father said. “Until business this session is settled, son, things will remain uneasy. There will be no few measures put forward in the legislature provocative of action from unstable persons, not to mention there may be enemies lurking about that the Guild may not have laid hands on.”
“How long,” he ventured to ask, “do you think it will take for it to be safe, honored Father? To the end of the session?”
His father started to answer him and then sighed and said, “One believes you know, son of mine, that there is no easy answer to that. So cease asking like a child. One knows you are wiser than that. It will take as long as it takes.”
He was only eight. But nearly nine. He was notwiser than that, inside, where being locked up without windows made him want to break things.
But, honored Father! he would have cried, even a few months ago.
And of course that would have gotten him nothing but his father’s ill regard.
He had learned a lot in the sole company of grownups, especially in Najida. He had learned that busy people tended to have unusually bad tempers and that one never gained anything by pushing them until that temper surfaced. He had come on his father in the midst of writing letters, probably letters to people who annoyed him, or letters that were going to make people unhappy.
He also learned not to think over and over on things he could not fix. The fact that a baby that lay in a crib and cared nothing about windows was going to have the only view in the apartment made him mad. But he could not fix that. If he ordered his sitting room wall knocked down, all he would have was a view of the Bujavid hallway—which might be interesting, but it would upset Security. There was no question of that.
So he calmed his temper and sat there looking at his father, without a sigh or a protest, until his father grew annoyed with the silence and suspicious. It was exactly what mani did. She had the best tricks of anyone he knew, and those tricks very often worked extremely well on his father.
“How are your lessons, son of mine?” his father asked, then—it was always the topic when his father had run out of topics. “One has had no complaints yet from this tutor. Or, what is more remarkable, abouthim.”
“He wished to teach me about the East, honored Father. But he has never been there. I told him I have. So he said he would make a list of questions and find out what I know. But if he tells me anything I do not think is right, I think it would be prudent of me to ask mani if that is true.”
His father frowned, maybe just a little annoyed. “Possibly you should ask meif your tutor tells you any fact you think deserves further question.”