He completely understood Great‑uncle’s feelings in that.
· · ·
Nand’ Bren was busy all day. And his aishid was gone most all day, carrying messages, doing things nobody talked about. It was all very mysterious.
Boji was upset at being in a strange room, until he had eaten so many eggs his stomach was round, and then he curled up and slept.
And there was just nothing to do but play chess with Antaro with everybody else to advise both sides, which made a rowdy sort of chess game.
He had lunch with nand’ Bren, who told him everything was perfectly fine, and that he was just writing letters and making phone calls all day, because of business he was going to have to leave.
After lunch, they decided to go through all the bags to make sure they had not forgotten anything they really might need at Tirnamardi, and he thought he might send for his other outdoor coat, but he decided against it, because if he even sent a message next door to his father’s major domo, that could stir up questions of why he needed the coat and get his parents interested in where he was going.
Things would be busy over there: his mother would be getting new staff, including a hairdresser, and his father would have new people in, all of them from Malguri district, which was not what he had ever expected his father to agree to.
He did not get a call from mani to come to her apartment this evening. There was no word from Great‑uncle, either. The only one who paid attention to him all day was nand’ Bren, having lunch with him, but then nand’ Bren was back in his office doing whatever he had done before. The front door opened and closed with people coming and going, and he just sat in the guest room with his aishid. Time just crawled past, hour after hour, with thoughts that things could still go wrong and they still could have an emergency that stopped everything.
He did remember a few more ship‑speak sentences to teach his aishid, things useful around mecheiti, like, “Get up on the rails.” He thought rails was the word even if they were wooden. And: “Don’t walk behind him.” And: “Don’t walk in front of him.” He could not remember the word for tusks.
He reviewed things useful in the house, like, “Be very quiet.” And: “Stop.” And: “Bow.”
His associates had never dealt with mani on the ship. They might be rude, in mani’s way of looking at things. Or Great‑uncle’s. He was worried about that.
But there was nand’ Bren to keep them out of trouble and explain things. He reassured himself of that. And he resolved really, truly, not to suggest anything that could get them in trouble, because even if it was not Najida with the boat docks and all, Great‑uncle’s house had mecheiti.
He really, really expected that mani would take charge of him, since the shuttle had to be getting close to starting down.
Maybe she would call him to dinner.
But she did not. He ended up having supper with only his aishid and nand’ Bren, who simply said, “We are still preparing things and sending letters, young gentleman, and while I understand, please do not attempt to discuss business at your great‑uncle’s table.”
“One is sorry, nandi.” He knew mani would be put out with him for asking questions before the brandy hour. And he was trying so hard to be proper.
But nand’ Bren did not ask him for a brandy hour. Nand’ Bren said he still had work to do at the very last moment, and would he excuse him?
So there went all the answers to all the questions he could ask.
He was sitting in the guest room, playing chess with Jegari, when a knock came at the door.
It was nand’ Bren, who said, “Everything is on schedule, young gentleman. We have been in communication with the station. The weather will be fine and clear, and the shuttle landing will be at noon tomorrow. So you know. Plan on breakfast here, but lunch on the train–with your guests.”
“Yes!” he cried. “Yes!”
They were coming, they were coming, they were really, truly coming.
11
It had ended up a long, long day–negotiations, letters sent out in code, letters arriving in code, and in the midst of all of it, Lord Tatiseigi’s porcelains arrived by train, for exhibit in the Bujavid museum . . .
Those had to be inspected, their display approved, papers signed by the museum director, publicity arranged–it was not Bren’s immediate problem, for which he was truly thankful. Lord Tatiseigi handled that quite ably, while Lord Tatiseigi’s security arrangements for the trip lay forming in the able hands of the aiji‑dowager’s bodyguard.
That meant the hovering news services, which had focused on the vote, happened on the historic exhibition before it was officially announced, and then got wind of a rumor that the heir, expected to make news with the arrival of human guests to visit Shejidan about six days from now–was sent on holiday, evidently to celebrate his numerically significant and fortunate birthday not in the Bujavid as planned, but under the dowager’s auspices.
The rumors rapidly ran to an assassination plot underway, hence the heir being taken elsewhere; or, most elaborate, the landing of the children from space as a dark plot involving activation of the mysterious machinery from space that still sat in various areas once Murini’s strongholds.
Fueling the rumors, the same plane that had brought staff to Shejidan from Malguri was now being outfitted for the dowager’s personal use–with the configuration she used, and all the attendant changes in designation, so it was very clear that the heir was headed for Malguri with the dowager today.
The plane was reaclass="underline" Jago said it would take off for Malguri about the time the red train left the Bujavid station, part of a cross‑continental misdirection. That jet would fly all the way to Malguri. And by the time it got to Malguri–a quiet district on the other end of the continent, where news services were much less aggressive–the dowager, Cajeiri, his guests, and, yes, even Boji, would be safely settled at Tirnamardi, where no news services were permitted access.
Rumor‑mongering was a popular sport in the cafes and tea shops across the capital. No matter what people at the airport saw or didn’t see, there would be persistent rumors that they were all in Malguri with a horde of humans from the station and a collection of death‑machines from space, and the porcelain collection had been intended as a distraction from these movements–one point on which they were absolutely right, but not one that had originated with that purpose. Conspiracy believers were determined, and occasionally useful.
What Ajuri might believe–and do about it–depended on how convolute Ajuri’s thinking was. But they had scattered all the confusion they could.
Meanwhile, in the real world, there was a shiny red and black bus being freighted by rail up from Najida, officially scheduled to arrive at the Shejidan station this morning, for use during the official visit scheduled for a week from now. The bus would not get quite as far as Shejidan–but what did not appear was less likely to be reported.
The shuttle, strictly on schedule, was now traveling toward atmospheric entry under power, and the weather reports were good. In a little while it would shut down the engines and simply use inertia and gravity for what they did so well, until the crew took active control again near the very skin of the earth.
The whole arrangement was becoming a sort of bait‑and‑switch operation. They kicked misleading items into motion. They sowed rumors in various direction. The porcelain collection arriving was Tatiseigi’s contribution to the effort. The only actual fact evident was that they were definitely on the move with the heir in some direction . . . but then there would be some theories that everything was designed to give a false impression that the dowager and the heir had left the Bujavid, and anything anybody saw was a carefully designed appearance.