“Best young minds stay busy,” Ilisidi said, not displeased, and the three of them sat quietly and talked, had one cup of sweet tea, and the chess match progressed.
Then the train, with its characteristic chuff, began to move.
The chess match paused, Cajeiri’s hand, on a Fortress, hesitated in midair.
Then calmly resumed its course toward a square.
Eight, going on fortunate nine, and a mental age above that. Cajeiri, on the most intense campaign of good behavior in his whole life, set the piece down.
Cajeiri’s opponent, Veijico, lifted an eyebrow, considering the move, then cast a furtive glance toward the dowager, and quietly advised the young rascal, likely, that they were indeed watched.
There were quiet remarks. Human ears, at least, could not hear them. Likely neither the dowager nor Tatiseigi could hear. Tano got up and renewed the teapot, and provided a large pot for Cajeiri and his bodyguard as the train made its slow passage along the restricted tunnel. The rest of the adult bodyguards continued in quiet conversation interspersed with Guild signs.
They cleared the hill, cleared the tunnel, gathered speed toward the city junction, and clicked over onto the lefthand track.
Faster and faster, then, a steam-age locomotive bent again on rendezvous with a spaceship.
“Are they coming down yet, Banichi-nadi?” Cajeiri turned to ask as the train gathered speed. “Shall we see it land?”
“One fears not, young gentleman, however we will be arriving there at about the time it touches down, and we shall take the bus to meet them. You will get to see them disembark.”
“One wished—” Cajeiri began to say, and then meekly said, “One is glad, Banichi-nadi.”
“Security,” Banichi said. “One regrets, young gentleman. But these are necessary precautions.”
“Yes,” Cajeiri said quietly, frowning.
Difficult for the boy, Bren thought. But one understood. They were moving as expeditiously as possible: get the youngsters under their protection, get them to the train, and get moving again, with as little exposure as possible. The shuttle landings were fairly routine. The shuttle the children were stated to be taking was not due for days. When the news did get to observers that this one had the children, and that the heir was here, any hostile action, unless extremely well-placed or very lucky, was going to have to scramble.
The whereabouts of the train was traceable—if one had agents within Transportation; but again, the exact routing for thistrain was given only at intervals necessary to shunt other traffic onto other tracks. It prioritized itself through the system on a sector by sector basis, not always at high speed, given the engine that often pulled it, but in a traveling bubble of secrecy and priority; and they would be stalling all train traffic on a very main line for at least an hour, while they performed their maneuver out to the port and back.
“The port has contact, aiji-ma, nandiin,” Cenedi reported finally.
They were very near the spaceport.
And Nawari got to his feet. “Aiji-ma, nandiin, you will find the port bus right off the platform, so it will be a very short walk. We shall enter the perimeter fence through the service gate, which will be open. We shall pick up our passengers, and their baggage, which is able to be hand-carried aboard the bus. No one should exit the bus. Aiji-ma, nandiin, as you board, please occupy the seats behind the driver. The opposing row will be reserved for our passengers, who will board as quickly as possible.”
“Very good, Wari-ji,” the dowager said.
The operation was on schedule, and while they had no view, Bren had an excellent idea where they were: a flat prairie with very few features except grazing herds and the occasional patch of brush.
And at a certain point they slowed, and slowed further, then took that little jog of a switchover, toward the port, everyone swaying.
“They are in process of landing, nandiin,” Cenedi said. Then: “They are touching down.”
Cajeiri visibly elevated off his seat, then shut his mouth and settled, locking his hands in his lap and not saying a thing.
The dowager nodded, satisfied.
Bren just breathed a sigh of relief. The train did not regain its speed. It lazily chugged around a slight curve, then took the straight for a while, and another, opposite, curve, which led to the platform.
Brakes applied. The engine sighed out a final chuff!And stopped.
Bren got up, as their bodyguards did. Cajeiri bounced up and offered Ilisidi his hand, as Tatiseigi used the seat arm to lever himself up.
“The bus is here, nandiin,” Cenedi said. “And the shuttle has arrived.”
So. From here on until the shuttle lifted again, they were in charge of a flock of youngsters on holiday. Bren moved out into the aisle, toward the door—ordinarily protocol gave the aiji-dowager precedence, but not into a security situation, and while he might technically outrank Lord Tatiseigi as an officer of the aiji’s court, he didn’t stand on the point—he was younger, he was stronger, he was faster, and he took the risk of finding out whether the platform was as secure as they hoped it was.
He felt Jago’s hand on his arm as the door opened on a bright, sunny day, and had Banichi right in front of him and Tano and Algini at his back. Out the door, down a slightly inconvenient step—he dropped off it without a hesitation and kept up with Banichi, headed for the black, sleek bus across the wooden platform.
It was three tall steps up and inside with the driver, with Banichi and Jago and with a handful of Guild in the port service, while Tano and Algini stood outside beside the bus door, assuring a good view of the platform, just security as usual.
The dowager stepped off the train with Cajeiri and her cane to steady her, with Cenedi to offer his arm, and with Nawari and Tatiseigi’s bodyguard to assist the old lord in his descent to the platform. They crossed to the bus at their own pace and boarded.
Tano and Algini came aboard, standing next to the driver—they had the heaviest armament in evidence, rifles, a little extraordinary precaution. The bus started moving, gathering speed on a gravel drive. Cajeiri sat with his hands clenched in fists, a bundle of anxiety.
Guild was in communication with Guild, talking back and forth as the bus reached a gate and a guard post. The wire gate swung open without them even needing to stop, and the bus bumped up a hard edge and onto concrete, and kept rolling.
A long white shape sat on the strip, surrounded by service trucks.
“There is the shuttle, young gentleman,” Bren said quietly.
Cajeiri twisted in his seat, got up on one knee, and then reluctantly slithered back down, facing Bren, hands locked so the knuckles stood out.
“You may go stand at the front glass, Great-grandson,” Ilisidi said. “But do not give the driver problems!”
“Mani!” Cajeiri exclaimed, and got up ever so carefully and edged past her feet and Tatiseigi’s. “Thank you, mani!”
“Paidhi,” Ilisidi said wryly. “Go keep my great-grandson on the bus.”
“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, and as carefully got up and worked his way out to the aisle. Cajeiri was as close to the front windows as the dashboard let him get, as the bus pulled up near the service trucks and came to a stop.
The lift was in place, elevated up to the hatch, and the passengers were disembarking.
Two of them, Bren saw, from his vantage. Taller than children. He could see their heads as the lift started down.
They wouldn’tpromise the boy and then renege.
They wouldn’t lie to all of them. Geigiwas running this operation. He had faith in Geigi not to do something like that.
The lift settled lower and lower. He saw two men in body-armor, weapons, carrying their helmets— shipsecurity. That, at least, was understandable.
And then one turned his head, looking up at the hatch, and punched the communications tab on his armor. God! That was Polano. The other must be Kaplan.
Jase Graham’s bodyguards.
Those two stepped off the lift platform, and the lift went back up.