But the Taibeni lord had hastily informed both Shejidan and the units assigned here at Tirnamardi that Taibeni had not done it, and that he believed the style of the assassination, a shot from a small woods, was deliberately arranged to make it appear they had.
Bren personally laid his bets on the Taibeni telling the truth, particularly as it would look very bad to make such a move right now, while they had members of their clan sitting encamped on Tatiseigi’s grounds. If they were going to do it, it would have been better politics to wait until the aiji’s son was not also sitting in Tatiseigi’s house. The messiness of that move–no. Even the Taibeni’s several enemies would not believe it.
That still left a lengthy list of those who would have done it, quite cheerfully.
“Lady Damiri,” Bren said out of that thought, “is pretty well out of the question. Her bodyguard was dismissed. They could still be suspect, operating on her behalf, possibly on orders given before their dismissal, but we actually suspect they were reporting to Komaji. Her current staff is the dowager’s.” That was no guarantee, he thought. “She has been upset, but she would not act for emotional reasons, not on that scale. I think we can eliminate any of Tabini’s house, our host–”
“The dowager herself?” Jase asked quietly. “That has to be asked.”
“Perfectly possible,” Bren said, “except there’s no reason for her to deny it. And not without a proper Filing.”
“If it’s an in‑clan action, policy says I’m not officially interested.” Deep breath. “Humanly speaking–I’m entirely damned curious. How many Ajuri lords is that, just in the last decade?”
“Going on four,” Bren said. “The succession in Ajuri is a problem. Has been a problem for generations. You can see why Tabini doesn’t want Damiri under that roof, and he damned sure doesn’t want his son taking the lordship. That’s Komaji’s whole branch. His half brother died, likely with help, without an heir, so it’s the end of that entire line, except for a handful of females who lack the disposition and backing to rule. It has to go to a completely new branch now. There are two, and it may be a noisy transition.”
Far, far too noisy, Komaji. From his highly dubious ascension, to his equally dubious ending. He had started out doing very well for Ajuri clan–a little too ambitious, perhaps, and then far too ambitious, culminating in that final, jealousy‑driven assault on Tabini’s apartments, damaging to the clan’s interests, possibly for years to come.
If there were records left in Ajuri–he’d bet those were already ashes.
“Politics,” Jase said. “But you think we’re safe.”
“Physically safe.” Bren said. “Nothing’s crossing the hedge. Nothing’s passing the gate. And down here, your problems generally come in two dimensions, not three. We’re all right. Or at least–all right enough.”
“Two dimensions.” Jase shook his head. “But with far more cover.”
· · ·
Lunch was mid‑afternoon, very late, after their baths, and served in the suite rather than down in the dining rooms, but it was good, and they could sit in their casual clothes and be comfortable–even if they were all a little sore in places it was not polite to mention.
They talked about the morning, the ride. And Lucasi and Veijico, who had come back in time for baths and lunch, told what they had heard downstairs. Cajeiri translated the important parts, and then–
Then he told them story after story about Grandfather, including the night Grandfather had tried to get into the apartment when he was there with just a reduced staff and the servants. He told about his father banning his grandfather from the Bujavid, which really meant he had to stay out of the city, too.
Gene said, after a little silence, “If you act like that on the station, you get arrested, and they cancel all your cards and keys, and there you are, until they figure out how dangerous you are.” Gene added, with a downward glance, “I lost all my cards for sixty days, this year. But I was right. ”
“I let Gene use mine,” Artur said.
“I got him into places,” Irene said. “And Bjorn did.”
They would have done that. Cajeiri entirely approved. And Gene told him why he had gotten in trouble–he was trying to get into the atevi section of the station where humans were not supposed to be–like the mainland and Mospheira.
And Gene told what it was like to get arrested on the station, if one did not have a person like mani to straighten things out, or a father to call on, just one’s own cleverness, and the cleverness of one’s associates. He made it funny, even if he had been worried at the time. For a while, listening to their adventures on the station, it was like being back on the ship.
His guests wanted to hear, too, about the escapes he had had, and how it was, when he had flown back with mani and nand’ Bren and they had had to do all sorts of things, like riding on a train with fish, to get here to Tirnamardi without being shot or caught. He had written about it in the letters, but he had been very careful what he wrote, then, especially careful about naming names; and now they wanted to hear it all, through two rounds of tea and cakes.
They had gotten down to the shells falling on the lawn at Tirnamardi, and the stables being wrecked, and young Dur landing his plane, and–
A black streak bounded for the top of a chair.
That could not happen. Boji had his harness on. His leash was clipped to the cage.
Boji took another bound, toward the cage, and Cajeiri leaped up. “Close the window!” he yelled at Lieidi, who was closer, and ran to do it himself.
They all moved, knocking chairs aside, and Boji panicked. Boji dived straight for the open window, dodged Lieidi’s hands, and was out the window.
“Gods less fortunate!” Cajeiri leaned out over the sill, as far as he could, and heard his bodyguard, who had been caught by surprise, object to that effort, warning him not to try to reach too far.
Boji was down on a line of stonework trim, just out of reach. Cajeiri stretched further, felt hands on his coat, not pulling him back, but being sure he stayed in the window. “Boji,” he said quietly, reasonably, holding out his hand. “Boji, come back. Do you want an egg?”
Boji looked at him round‑eyed and frightened, then ducked down and skittered right down the sheer wall below, using his clever little fingers to find the joints in the masonry.
“Go out, nadi,” he heard Lucasi say to someone, “try to get him from below.”
“Boji,” Cajeiri called, holding out his hand. “Boji, the game is over. Come back.”
Boji stopped, down by the next tier of windows, and looked up at him.
“Get me an egg,” Cajeiri said, upside down, and with the blood rushing to his face and his hands.
“Egg,” he heard Veijico say, as the door of the suite opened and shut, and he could heard his guests’ voices, offering to help.
He could see the harness and leash on Boji, or about a hand’s length of the leash, and a ragged end where Boji had chewed it through. He lay across the windowsill as far as he dared.
“Egg, Boji! Egg!”
“Nandi.” That was Lieidi’s voice, and he did not leave the window or make any sudden move that might frighten Boji. He just held out one hand backward, and when an egg arrived in it, he slowly brought it down and offered the egg clearly to Boji’s view.
Boji had climbed down another little bit. The movement had gotten him to look up, and Boji did see the egg: the fixed stare of his golden eyes said he had.
“Come on,” Cajeiri said. “Come on, Boji, Boji, Boji.”
Boji was definitely interested. Cajeiri held the egg to make it completely visible.