The rest of him was amazingly pain-free. Usually when he and his aishid had been in a situation, he emerged sore in amazing places. But the back of his head paid for all.
And he had to find out how Banichi was doing. That thought, once conceived, would not let him rest. He crawled backward off the high bed, felt after his robe, and padded barefoot down the hall toward the security station and his aishid’s rooms.
The door was open, and there were servants about in the back halls, being relatively quiet. He heard nand’ Siegi’s voice, and Banichi’s, which was reassuring. He reached the little inner corridor, nodded a good morning to Algini and Jago, who were there in half-uniform, and asked, as he stood in the doorway, “How is he?”
“Arguing,” Jago said. “Nand’ Siegi will not permit him to sit up until afternoon.”
“Nor will we,” Algini said, and cast him a look. “You are next, nandi. Nand’ Siegi will deal with that.”
He truly was not looking forward to that. “Cup of tea,” he said, thinking hot tea might steady his stomach. The headache remedy was not sitting well.
He did not, however, get that far. Nand’ Siegi turned in his direction, saw him, and came his way with business in mind.
And treating it did hurt. God, did it hurt! Nand’ Siegi graciously informed him that it would scar somewhat, that he was very lucky it had not fractured his skull, that there were certain symptoms he was to report immediately should they occur, and that he should sleep on his face for several days. He was out of the mood for tea, after that, but by that time Jase was up, breakfast was about to be served, and Supani and Koharu were asking him whether he would dress for breakfast, or have it informally.
He was not sure he could keep toast down, his neck was stiff from tension and he did not want to tilt his head out of vertical. But he advised his valets that he would be paying a visit to Tabini-aiji as soon as the aiji wished. And he got up carefully, trying not to tilt his head, and made it to the little breakfast room, where Jase was having morning tea.
“How’s the head?” Jase asked.
He sat down, staring blankly at the out of focus door, and took about a minute to say, “Sore. Damn sore.”
“Tea?”
The door was still his vision of choice. It was uncomplicated. It didn’t move. And he didn’t have to turn his head to look at it. “Did Kaplan and Polano ever get any sleep?”
“You’re white. Here.” Jase reached across the little breakfast table. A cup of tea thumped down in front of him. “Drink.”
He picked it up and tried, gingerly, without looking at it. It was strong, sugared, and spiced.
“Nand’ Bren needs toast and eggs,” he heard Jase say.
He was far from sure about that. He was not sure about the spice in the tea. He blinked several times, and brought the door completely into focus. That was a start.
“We’re doing fine,” Jase said. “The kids got some sleep, I understand. I did. Algini says he’s been in touch with the Guild periodically during the night, and they’ve run down one of their fugitives. They have three others holed up in a town to the south.”
“Trying to run for the Marid,” Bren murmured, turning his head slightly, trying his focus on Jase’s face, which was a shade blurry. “No surprise. But that won’t be as ready a refuge now.” Two more sips of tea. “Anything else?”
“Nothing that’s reached me,” Jase said.
He was sure there would be messages. The message bowl in the front hall was likely overflowing since dawn. He remembered the bundle of post-mortem letters he had put in Narani’s hands. Retrieving those and destroying those was absolutely urgent.
He said, “Anything from Geigi?”
Jase shook his head. “Nothing. But I don’t expect anything. We haven’t advertised the problem. It’s really been rather quiet until this morning.”
“Last night,” he said, “last night in your venue. How did it really go?”
“Amazingly well,” Jase said, and the eggs and toast arrived. The youngest of the servants spooned eggs onto Bren’s plate, scrambled, thank God, nothing requiring such focus as cracking a shell and eating a soft-boiled egg without spilling it. “Sauce, nandi?”
“Thank you, Beja, no. —The kids,” he prompted Jase. “Damiri-daja. The dowager.”
“Damiri-daja said very little,” Jase said, “except at the last. Irene had a little speech, thanking the household. Damiri-daja asked Irene if her mother approved her being here, remarked how small she is, and told Cajeiri he’d done very well. It was an odd string of questions.”
It was odd—on an evening when her son’s guests were sheltering with her because her husband’s closest allies were out assassinating her elder cousin, who had probably just assassinated her father.
She was about to have a daughter of her own. Was it some maternal impulse?
Or had it been a political statement, intended to annoy her husband—from a woman very close to a politically-driven divorce?
Never forget, either, that her uncle Tatiseigi had been there as witness. God, he wished he’d been there to parse the undercurrents.
“Was Cajeiri upset?”
“Puzzled.”
“Small wonder, that.” He had a bite of toast, and the egg, and with the hot tea, his stomach began to feel warmer and a little steadier. It was awkward to eat, wearing the heavy ring, but he would not take it off. “At least it wasn’t outright warfare.”
“It wasn’t that,” Jase said, “I’m reasonably sure. Irene didn’t seem upset at it. She’s a shy kid. Timid. But she held her ground. We had to translate a question. She answered in very good Ragi, with all the forms I’d have used.”
“Good for her,” Bren said. “Good for Cajeiri. He’s done all right.” He shifted a glance up, as Narani appeared in the door, looking apologetic.
“The aiji wishes your presence, nandi,” Narani said. “At your convenience, the message said. He is in conference with the aiji-dowager.”
God. That meant—show up. Now. Possibly even—rescue me. Fast. He frowned, and those muscles hurt, right along with his neck. “Koharu and Supani,” he said to Narani. “Immediately, nadi-ji, thank you. Tell Algini.” He used the table for leverage to get up, not inclining his head in the process. “Best I get over there,” he said. “He means now.”
“Understood,” Jase said. “If you need me—”
“I’m all right,” he said. “Finish your breakfast.”
There might be another breakfast. Or lunch. He had no clear idea what time it was. He had to dress, get the damage to his scalp covered in a suitable queue, and look civilized, at least.
His valets met him in the hall, went with him into the bedroom—they dressed him, got his boots on without his having to bend over, and arranged his hair very gently so, they assured him, the wound hardly showed. He went out to the foyer, gathered up Algini and Jago—in a timing Narani arranged without any fuss at all, and went out and down the hall—a little dizzy: he was not sure whether that was the headache or the headache cure; but he made it the short distance down the hall and through Tabini’s front door without wobbling.
He could hear the argument in the sitting room, something about Lord Aseida. It was the dowager’s voice, and Tabini’s, that was too quiet to hear. Cenedi was on duty, with Nawari, outside the sitting room door, and that was useful. Algini could have a word with them while he waited.