“That reprehensible creature. Will you take him to visit your great‑grandmother?”
“May I?” He was really worried about Boji if he had to leave him. Eisi was a little afraid of him, since he had gotten his finger nipped. “And I know Great‑grandmother has servants, but might I take Eisi and Lieidi with me?”
His mother smiled that secret smile she had when something amused her. “Son of mine, this is your household. You may deal with it as you wish. I see I have nothing to do. I leave everything up to your great‑grandmother.”
That was down a track he wished she would not take. And there were, regarding her and his grandmother, things he wanted to know.
“What did you talk about?” he asked. “When you walked with Great‑grandmother at the party, what did you talk about?”
His mother’s face went suddenly very serious. “Things,” she said. “Things that truly are not that interesting.”
“I would be interested, honored Mother.”
“Ask her. And when you do ask her, perhaps you will do me a favor.”
“What favor, honored Mother?”
“She offered me staff. And a bodyguard. If you will do me the particular favor, son of mine, tell her a skilled hairdresser who has also had a child would gain my deep gratitude at this point.”
“A hairdresser, honored Mother.”
“Truly,” she said. “Such a gift might win my gratitude. Shall I tell you my logic? It is very simple. The secrets of your father’s household are no secret from your great‑grandmother. This is not the case with other clans who have offered. So tell her yes, I have thought about it. I shall accept such assistance, not the bodyguard, not the wardrobe mistress. I wish to see how a small instance runs, and where man’chi may truly lie.”
“I shall ask her, then, honored Mother. I shall be glad to ask her.”
“I shall be relieved,” his mother said in a low voice, “beyond telling. But if this hairdresser bears tales to your great‑uncle, understand, she will regret it–I want no such connections. I am trusting your great‑grandmother in this one thing.” She made another tweak at the straying lock. It was hopeless. It was loose again in the next instant. “Even your hair is stubborn. Go. Be good. Look forward to your guests.”
He felt good. Truly happy. He had never in his memory had so good a conversation with his mother. But his great‑grandmother’s teaching immediately nudged at him to be a little suspicious.
There was one place to go with such a confusing situation: man’chi was a clear guide on that matter. When he took his leave of his mother, he gathered his aishid and went back to his father’s office, interrupting his father’s work one more time.
He bowed slightly and said, quietly, “Honored Father, Mother has asked me to ask Great‑grandmother for a hairdresser.”
“Gods less fortunate!” His father shoved his chair back from his desk and looked at him, up and down.
“One feared there might be a problem with that, honored Father.”
“Who first suggested this?”
“I think Great‑grandmother might have offered. When they were at the party.”
His father had no expression at all for several heartbeats. Then he lifted an eyebrow and said, “Women.”
“Shall I ask mani, honored Father?”
“Oh, do. Better my grandmother than her uncle.” His father kept looking at him, or through him. He stood still. It was never a good idea to interrupt his father’s thinking.
“It is not ,” his father said, “a bad idea. –And you did not suggest it.”
“No, honored Father.”
His father waved a dismissal. “Go. Send a message to your great‑grandmother. You are not to leave the apartment until she sends for you. She is occupied with the legislation. But she will read your letter.”
He had not at all expected to be able to go in person. They were still under the security alert, about Grandfather. “Yes,” he said, bowed again, went out to the hall and took his aishid back to his own sitting room.
“What happened?” Jegari asked.
I think my mother is sniping at my father, was what he thought. She knew his father did not want Great‑grandmother entangled in his affairs. He had fought that all his life.
But Father himself had had a lot of trouble getting staff. The aishid and staff his father had grown up with had died in the coup. The ones he had gotten next had tried to kill him. He had picked distant relatives that he knew he could trust, and now there were a lot of lords and the Guild upset about it.
Mani’s bodyguards . . . nobody fussed about.
So maybe it was a good thing. Maybe his mother was being very practical. His mother had looked sad and different, now. Her hair very plain, her nails unpolished. Maybe his mother simply did not feel like dressing up, with headaches and all. But her servants had used to do her hair, and press the lace, and the two girls from the kitchen probably could not be trusted with the iron and the lace.
So . . . he had better write a letter and have one of his aishid take it before his mother changed her mind.
He was very careful about it. He had no wish to have everything collapse into another argument from mani’s side. He wrote:
To mani, honored Great‑grandmother, from Cajeiri, your Great‑grandson. My mother has no staff. She has asked me to write to you asking for help which you offered at the party. She does not feel well now. She particularly wants a hairdresser. She wants a woman who has had a child.
He took a new piece of paper and changed the words: instead of wants, which was rude, he wrote, she particularly wishes to have, and she also wishes to have.
He wrote, after that: I have told my father too and he thinks it is a good idea.
That was hedging the truth a little. But it made a good ending and it might make Great‑grandmother curious enough to go along with it.
If Great‑grandmother could get a good hairdresser. She might have to fly somebody in from Malguri.
It will make me happy if you can make my mother happy. Please do it.
And then he remembered the whole other business, astonished that it could all have slipped from his mind.
Mani, my guests are coming early, and my father says I shall go to you as soon as you send for me, and you will be in charge of everything we do just as soon as you send for me. My mother wishes the party to be here, in our apartment–but all the days before and after, until my guests go home on the shuttle, I shall be staying with you, or with nand’ Bren if I am inconvenient. I am very happy. I am very much looking forward to this. I shall pack right away.
He revised it in a third copy, just because he had been careless in his penmanship. He wanted it perfect.
Then he dashed off a letter to nand’ Bren, who did not care about his penmanship.
He put the one to mani in his best message cylinder, and sent that one with Lucasi. He put the other in his second‑best, and sent it with Veijico.
Then he sat down in his own little sitting room, on the edge of his chair, all happiness, and looked at Antaro and Jegari, who still amazed him, they looked so official and grown‑up.
“We are going to stay with Great‑grandmother,” he said. “We have to pack. We have to take Boji with us, but Eisi and Lieidi are going with us, too.” He drew a deep, shuddery breath, and let it go. “I think, I think, nadiin‑ji, that my birthday is really about to happen.”