“Boji got away out the window,” he said. “I am very sorry, mani. We had no idea there was any problem and I wanted to find him. We came right back.”
“Ha.” Mani seemed even amused. “Your little Boji had doors opened, people running out to the stable–possibly it startled someone into a mistake. Perhaps we must thank Boji. We shall keep him in mind, if we have anyone out searching. We shall catch him for you if we can.”
“He likes eggs, mani.”
“I am sure he does. Go back to your guests, Great‑grandson. Keep them contained. And do not venture out to catch Boji tonight. We are on a completely different set of priorities than we have admitted to the world. This is no time for a mistake. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mani,” he managed to say.
He got up. He made his bows. He left with a racing heart and an upset stomach, thinking: So Mother did not do it.
But what did my grandfather have to do with the Shadow Guild?
· · ·
There was a lengthy pause after the young gentleman had left. Bren waited, sensing it was not a general dismissal.
“In our opinion,” Ilisidi said, “we doubt Lord Komaji suffered a moral change that brought him to his end. It seems likely that he wa s attempting to escape his situation. Considering the man, we suspect his strange behavior in the Bujavid was complete panic. He was carrying far too much knowledge. My grandson and his wife–and, more importantly, her bodyguards–were not in the apartment at the time he attempted to get in. I think he wanted to talk to Cajeiri, to enlist him to reach my grandson, with the hope of meeting my grandson with Cajeiri to stand in front of him–as he exposed Damiri‑daja’s staff and everything else he knew. He was in a truly desperate situation–he had excellent reason not to trust his own bodyguards. Being rebuffed at the door–he slipped into total, unreasoning panic. He blamed us for creating it. He sought a public place as the place least likely his own bodyguards would choose to kill him–and quite, quite broke down. The poor man had no knowledge how to survive without a staff–he probably had no idea how to walk out the door, down the hill, and buy a train ticket.”
“Who carries money?” Tatiseigi asked. It was true. Lords didn’t. Staff did.
Ilisidi gave a short, ironic laugh. “I have found,” she said, “that a piece of jewelry serves.” The smile vanished. “Damiri‑daja had no wish to see him again. Nor to commit herself to Ajuri.”
“She has an uncle.”
“That she does, Tati‑ji.”
“You do not think, aiji‑ma,” Tatiseigi said, “that she in any wise has contact with this old man, this Shishoji.”
“No,” Ilisidi said, and moved her cane to lean on it, as she would when she had something more to say, of a serious nature. “She said herself that she had refused to visit Ajuri, that they would have been happy to have her daughter born there, and she would not consider it. That did not please Komaji in the least. She pleaded her condition. And the distance. She did not want to fly. Excuses. But, Tati‑ji, she carries very unhappy memories–no few unhappy memories. She is sensitive on the matter. Born here. Sent there. Back here. A long sequence of going there and here, all with the single question–whether she should ever have been born.”
“One never implied such a thing!” Tatiseigi said.
“She heard it somewhere: ‘The child of an unlucky alliance.’ Only she knows what remark, from whatever source, instilled that impression in her. I had it straight from her. This I have from my grandson: her father showing up in my grandson’s return–his having the lordship of Ajuri and courting her with such devotion–waked man’chi in her that quite upset her, and worried her. And with that man’chi still unsettled, came the incident that sent her father from court and removed her staff. She was quite, quite shaken. It took courage for her to wear the Atageini colors that evening, Tati‑ji. Great courage. But it was her choice. I told her that evening that I appreciated the situation she was in. That I knew it took courage. That I understood her hesitation at acknowledging man’chi to either clan. I recalled my marriage as an Easterner, coming to reside in a Ragi household. I told her when she was my age, she might find value in the position of outsider, and mother of the heir–but, I said, that power had to come from staff with good connections, and allies on whom one could call without doubt. She had made one step in that direction on her own. I offered another. I pointed out that she might gain you, Tati‑ji, and me, and various others who are her son’s most important allies. That in him is the source of power for her one day to stand where I do, doing as I do. That is what I said to her. She was not pleased to hear all of it. But her subsequent choices have, indeed, been better choices. She is sitting in my grandson’s residence with Malguri and Taibeni security, and she is still alive. She is much too intelligent to go to Ajuri. One may only imagine how eager this Shishoji would be to have her open Ajuri records to my grandson’s inspection.”
One could only imagine, Bren thought.
“She is,” Tatiseigi said, “a part of this household. As is the young gentleman. No one will ever again utter any word to the contrary. Never under this roof!”
“A good resolve,” Ilisidi said, and called for more tea. “We shall think on these things. We shall let Guild solve the problems.” Which had a more ominous ring than usual. “And we shall enjoy the evening, shall we not, Tati‑ji?”
“We shall by no means alter plans within this house,” Tatiseigi said. “Perhaps we shall find this new‑fangled thing on my roof has simply had a malfunction. We shall enjoy our dinner, though I fear we have had to cancel the choir. And if the Guild insists this fancy equipment cannot fail, well, we cannot ride. We shall entertain the children with a tour of the premises tomorrow. I shall show them my collections.”
The collections were famous–though Bren had never seen them. And one could not imagine the old lord entertaining a flock of children all day with case after case of tea services.
“The other collections, Tati‑ji,” Ilisidi said. “The taxidermy should interest strangers to the world. They will not have seen those creatures.”
Taxidermy. He was curious himself, what might be there. Great houses threw nothing away.
Tatiseigi nodded, and gave a rare little laugh. “We should send them in by lamplight. That is how I remember them, from my youth. Fangs and claws appearing out of the darkness. We promise it for tomorrow, since the basement knows neither day nor night, rain nor sun. We would wish them to sleep tonight.” He accepted a teacup, after which only small conversation was mannerly. “And just as well we shall not be riding tomorrow. Likeliest we shall all be limping about. I know I shall.”
“It is ridiculous that we should ache,” Ilisidi said. “We have gotten soft, Tati‑ji. And we resent every ache. Paidhi‑ji, be glad of your youth, and know what you have ahead.”
“One regrets to say, aiji‑ma, that one does feel it.”
Ilisidi’s expression lightened. She liked to be flattered, if the flattery was subtle. So did Tatiseigi.
Tea continued, and the house remained quiet, except the servants hurrying about their preparations–and except, one was certain, the unheard transactions of the Guild, those in communication with the Taibeni units, and those in communication with others about the grounds, where it was not tea service and light conversation. The best the lords involved could do in that matter was to stay out of the way. The answer to the alarm was not being obvious.