“Get aboard,” Bren said to the last two. “Everybody inside. Take the first seats on the left, facing each other. The aiji‑dowager and a high‑ranking lord are across the aisle. Be very polite! Bow. Low.”
They didn’t acknowledge the instruction. They just went scrambling up the steps. Irene, smallest, and straight from a long free fall, had to be pulled up the steps.
“Jase,” Bren said, still amazed. “So good to see you! Are you running security on this trip, or what?”
“This is my vacation,” Jase said. “You invited me, remember? God, it’s good to see you. Sorry about the surprise. But the Council wanted to provide their own security.”
“Backup is more than welcome! We’re headed for Tirnamardi.” Baggage was down, a lift full of it that they had not planned for, and the dowager’s young men were moving to get it and load it onto the bus. “Get aboard. My security doesn’t want me standing out here. Or you. Jago‑ji!”
“Nandi.” Jago was right by him, assisting him up, and Jase. Polano and Kaplan moved with a soft, motorized whine. Polano somewhat awkwardly managed to get a toe on the step. Then, quite amazingly, he just rose up on that one foot and took the next step. Machine‑assist. Balance‑assist. Kaplan did the same, and one had to get out of the way, because they took up a lot of room.
“Just stand there,” Jase said, which left them no view of the shuttle and the trucks. But the rest of the baggage was coming aboard, with the dowager’s young men.
Pretty damned amazing, Bren thought, and had to give a second look at Jase, to believe it.
“You’re not sick,” he said.
“Medicated to the max,” Jase said, and patted his pocket. “’Til the brain adjusts.” He spotted the dowager, and Tatiseigi, and bowed, deeply. “Nandiin. One is surprised and honored. One apologizes for the children.”
In fairly good Ragi, that was. The dowager nodded, pleased. The children, having gotten toward the middle seats, were trying their best to keep quiet, but there were excited young voices, and Tatiseigi was eyeing them with unguessable thoughts about it all.
“The two in armor, nandiin,” Bren said, “are Kaplan‑nadi, and Polano‑nadi, Jase‑aiji’s personal bodyguard, very responsible men, who always accompany him.”
“You are very welcome, Jase‑aiji,” Ilisidi said, of course in Ragi. “Lord Tatiseigi, he is one of the ship‑aiji now, and a very astute young man, who has come to supervise the children. One hopes Tirnamardi can accommodate another guest with minimal difficulty.”
“Honored, nandi,” went both directions, and Tatiseigi looked a little less stressed.
Thump! went the door, then, the last of the hand baggage manhandled down the aisle without hitting anyone, and other baggage stowed below, in the baggage compartment of the bus.
Thump! went the ferrule of Ilisidi’s cane. “Let us be moving, nadiin,” she said, and Jago relayed it to the driver, who put the bus in gear.
“Well, well,” the dowager said cheerfully, bracing her cane against the sway of the bus as it turned, while Jase and Bren stood and held their ground. “We shall reciprocate the hospitality of the ship‑aijiin, with your kind assistance, Tati‑ji. You are very welcome, Jase‑aiji. My great‑grandson is holding forth with his young associates. Come sit with us.”
“One is honored, nand’ dowager,” Jase said, in very passable Ragi, and gave a second bow to Lord Tatiseigi. “We are not of close acquaintance, nandi, but you are known in the heavens.”
“Indeed,” Tatiseigi said–impassivity had settled over his face, but he seemed to like that information. “Tirnamardi will find room for any guest the aiji‑dowager recommends. You speak very well, ship‑paidhi.”
“One is very flattered, nandi,” Jase said with a perfect little bow, and slipped quite deftly into a seat, leaving space for Bren, next to Tatiseigi.
“A very great asset,” Bren said, thinking, Geigi. Jase, incongruously, had a slight southwest coastal accent, and one knew the source.
“One does not suppose the children are as studious,” Ilisidi said.
“No, nand’ dowager,” Jase said–hit exactly the right form of address for their relative ranks. Geigi’s coaching in that, too, Bren was quite sure.
“How is your stomach, Jase‑aiji?” Ilisidi asked.
“Much better,” Jase said with a little bow, and Bren said, “They have found a medication that works.”
“Excellent,” Ilisidi said. The bus left the concrete and turned onto the gravel.
There were suppressed human gasps from the middle seats–children, with faces pressed to the bus windows as the scenery swung into view, trees, and grass. A quiet shhh!
They were under way, collected, gathered, oriented, and headed back to the train.
· · ·
“Trees?” Gene asked in Ragi.
“Yes,” Cajeiri said.
“You can look right at the sun,” Artur said, leaning.
“Don’t,” Cajeiri said. “It’s not good.” They had never seen the sun in a sky. For them the sun was something else. A star. A place that anchored planets. A place that anchored ships. “It’s a clock. 1200 hours, a little more.” He inclined his hand. “0100. 0200. 0300 . . . By 0800 it’s gone. It comes back around 0530.”
“Neat,” Gene said, and leaned forward to catch a look as Artur sneaked another peek. “Come on, Irene. Don’t be a baby.”
Irene made a try, and then the bus took a turn. Irene shut her eyes.
“Just like a shuttle docking,” Gene said. “Just like two ships meeting. It’s all in your head.”
“It’s fast ,” Irene said, and Gene and Artur laughed.
“Silly. The ship is fast. This is just a little distance.”
“There’s a black and red machine.”
“The train,” Cajeiri said in Ragi–not knowing any ship‑speak word for it. Then thought of one. “It runs on rails. Like the lifts.” He made a sideways motion of his hand. “That way.”
“We’re going on that?” Irene asked.
“Yes,” Cajeiri said. “The red one. Back there.” He tried to think of words, after all his practice, and the only words he could think of for a moment were ship things. The tunnels. The places they met. Sneaking into the access doors.
“So are we going to the city?” Gene asked.
“No,” he said. “Tirnamardi. Lord Tatiseigi. It’s his. He’s my–” He realized he didn’t know ship‑speak for great‑uncle. “My mother’s mother’s brother.”
“Wow. He owns a whole city?”
He shook his head, struggled again for the right word, this time for house, and was immensely frustrated. “We go to his . . . Where he lives.”
“Apartment?”
“Like. But big.” It came to him–they had no houses, either. There were no words for it. Even apartments for them weren’t rooms in a building, but rooms off a corridor. “We say adija. Big. Lot of rooms. We’ll be there for a few days, then we go to Shejidan, to the Bujavid, for my party.”
“We’ve seen pictures of the Bujavid,” Artur said. “It’s huge.”
“My father’s apartment’s there. That’s where we’ll go for my birthday. First we go to Tirnamardi. They have mecheiti there.”
“It’s going to be good,” Gene said, and his eyes were wide and bright. “This is so good. We knew it was your birthday again. We heard about you. We knew you were all right. But pretty scary. A lot of scary stuff.”
That opened up difficult business. “Lots of trouble.” He had no idea where even to start telling them about the Shadow Guild and the trouble over on the coast. Or Malguri. Or what had happened at Tirnamardi before that. “But safe now. All fine.”
The bus slowed down. It was time for everybody to get out. His attention was all for his aishid for a second, for instructions, and then he realized he had forgotten to introduce them– everyone had a bodyguard, and bodyguards knew each other, and things passed back and forth. “Nadiin,” he said in Ragi. “This is Gene‑nadi. This is Artur‑nadi. This is Irene‑nadi. People, this is my aishid. This is Antaro. This is Jegari. This is Veijico. This is Lucasi. I wrote you about them.”