For a moment those young eyes bored straight into him, his father’s very look—then a darted look aside at Cenedi, and back to him, dead-on. “Mani-ma says you are smarter than any other human, nandi, and I should pay close attention to you, except a few things. That one should understand why you say things.”
“One is flattered beyond all measure, young lord, by your great-grandmother’s good opinion. One hopes never to fail it.
Particularly in this. Be ever so careful, young sir. Rely on Cenedi.
Rely on him, and on your great-grandmother.”
It was a worried look. And a boy had confronted the edge of a political breach he was born to span.
“A Ragi father, a Malguri great-grandmother, an Atageini mother, young sir, along with an Ajuri great-grandfather and Kadagidi relatives with ties to the south coast—these are considerable advantages, once you reach your majority. Your heredity spans the whole continent, have you considered that? It is a great advantage for you someday, but it requires a certain patience at the moment. It requires living to be a man, and aiji in your father’s place. Cenedi is the one who will protect you.”
“Do I have to rely on the Ajuri? And my great-uncle?”
“One must not offend these relatives. Leave that to your great-grandmother.”
Golden eyes flickered—a swing between suspicion of humor and grim determination. From inside the door, a moment ago, the sharp crack of Ilisidi’s cane, a family fight in full spate.
“Cenedi-ji,” the boy said then, ever so quietly, and with a shift of his eyes past Bren’s shoulder, “is this good advice?”
“It is extremely good advice,” Cenedi said.
“Then I shall talk to my great-grandmother,” Cajeiri said. “Tell her so, Cenedi-ji.”
“Not in there, young sir,” Cenedi said, “but one will pass this word.”
“We should all go upstairs,” Jago said in a low voice, as a clot of other security passed them in the hall, not within earshot, one thought, but there were electronics, despite the hammering that echoed throughout, from two independent sources. “There are situations in progress, and one does not count this hallway secure.”
Never disregard staff’s warning. “Yes,” Bren said. He longed for the peace and quiet of his own quarters, removed from this gathering horde of strange guards and potentially deadly tension in the household. “Young sir, you may come up with us.”
“What shall we do up there?” The eight-year-old was immediately back in the ascendant, and strode along with them as they turned toward the stairs and climbed up to the next, the residential floor, catching a step as he tried to match Banichi. But no one answered the heir’s question in the echoing stairway, not past Ilisidi’s quarters and not past Cajeiri’s, where, presumably, Jegari’s sister Antaro was still watching the premises.
Banichi knocked at their own door, tested the handle, received some sort of signal, or gave one, via the pocket com, and opened the unlocked latch.
Algini sat at a small table near the window. He had a curious black box deployed and plugged into house circuits. He had not locked the door or secured the entry corridor against adventurous house staff on their proper and innocent business, but Algini was very much on alert, had a com-plug in one ear, and a pistol laid beside him on the little table.
Astonishing, Bren said to himelf. An operations center had materialized out of their luggage.
Banichi was not astonished. “Any news?” Banichi asked matter-of-factly, and Algini shrugged.
“Too much radio traffic for our safety,” Algini said. “The house itself no longer chatters freely, and we have our new guarded communications, besides the aiji’s staff and their network, but these newly arrived staffs are a liability. Every bus out there has a common-channel radio, and the citizens are by no means cautious in calling their relatives in the far reaches of the province.”
“The Kadagidi know by now there is a large component of common citizenry to this gathering,” Jago said, with a glance at Bren and at Cajeiri. “This is to our good, nandiin. They cannot press ahead with an attack and claim ignorance of the situation.”
“They will not attack, Jago-ji?” Cajeiri asked.
“One did not say so, young sir. But the Kadagidi will have to be much more cautious, not to proceed without finesse.”
“Finesse,” Cajeiri echoed.
“Indeed,” Jago said.
Assassins, Bren thought. The only way to get in a deft strike, and such a strike would aim at the house and the high-value targets.
Meanwhile Cajeiri had restrained himself from a look out the windows and instead sidled close to Algini’s black box device—had gained the sense not to reach out an inquisitive hand, but pointed at it. “Is it a com?”
“One might say so, young sir.” Algini flipped a switch and took out the earplug, with a look toward Bren. “Nandi.”
Offering his full attention, that was to say, and implying a question regarding their return to the room.
“It seems safer up here,” Bren said. “The aiji is having a family discussion downstairs. The plane is off and about to reconnoiter and Ajuri clan has come in, with its junior and senior members.”
A wry turn of Algini’s mouth. That situation needed little amplification.
“So what is funny?” Cajeiri asked.
“Very little, young sir.”
“The other installations?” Jago asked.
“Done,” Algini answered her. “Tano has been busy. One would recommend the young gentleman and his staff relocate to these premises or to the dowager’s for safety tonight.”
“My great-grandmother,” Cajeiri said with no hesitation. “We have to—” Talk to her was the probable next statement, but Jago cut that off with a sharp move and a finger uplifted to the ceiling, their code for possible listeners.
“Probably wise,” Bren said.
“So Jegari will bring Antaro here until then, shall he not, nand’ Bren?”
Pert. Entirely too pert, Ilisidi would say, but the boy was thinking, clearly.
“Excellent,” Bren said, and Jegari made a dart for the door.
“Halt!” From all his bodyguard at once. Jegari skidded to a stop and faced them, shock writ across his young face.
“Now the door is disarmed,” Algini said. “Make deliberate speed, young man, and inform your sister. And when you come back, knock. Always knock for admittance where Guild is involved and pray do not dart at doors. This is not Taiben Lodge.”
“Nadi.” A very chastened bow, and Jegari made a quieter departure from the premises.
“One assumes that vital instruction need not be repeated for others,” Bren said in a low voice, “young sir.”
“By no means, nand’ paidhi.” Oh, so quietly. Cajeiri’s eyes were wide and alert. Two reprimands in a handful of minutes, after his very adult response downstairs, and he was clearly off his balance.
“Come,” Jago said, “and one will instruct the young gentleman in other needful precautions.”
“Yes,” the lad said respectfully, and just then a distant hum obtruded, even to human ears. “The plane!” Cajeiri cried, and made one abortive move toward the window.
“Boy!” Banichi, in that tone, but Cajeiri had already frozen in midstep.
“I would not have touched—” Cajeiri began, and then the aircraft roared across the roof from east to west, distracting him.