There was nothing but pleasant talk. Cajeiri and Jase translated for the guests their elders’ assurances the weather would stay fair, assurances that Cajeiri’s mecheita would be stabled here quite happily and would always be available for him–and Tatiseigi’s personal regrets for the inconvenience of the change in schedule.
The attempt to have the herd‑leader locate their problem had not gone well–or given them any reassurance it had been a stray leaf or an electrical malfunction. Someone had strewn a massive amount of deterrent in the area. The mecheita had gotten a nose full of it, shied off, and they had just had to let him run it out–which had taken him much too close to the Taibeni camp at the eastern end of the estate. If he had not had his sense of smell disrupted, and if the wind had been blowing in the other direction, they would have had a serious problem. They had warned the Taibeni–but riders had also gone out from Tatiseigi’s stable and found him in time to get him calmed down. They were back in the stable, the grooms had treated the poor fellow with vapors and an abundance of water, and Tatiseigi was both irate, and now convinced it was a Kadagidi spy, equipped with the noxious weed, and somewhere on his premises.
The children had seen some of the goings‑on from their window. They had sent Veijico down to find out what was going on. House security had informed Veijico. Veijico had doubtless told her team, and told Cajeiri what was going on. Whether Cajeiri had then told the real story to his guests–one was not sure. But they had their door locked and that young aishid was doing everything by the book . . . a very good thing, in Bren’s opinion.
Tatiseigi signaled a desire for attention, and declared that there would be a treat tomorrow in place of the canceled ride. A tour of the basement collections.
It was, after a long and trying day, a complete puzzlement to the youngsters–Cajeiri and the human children looked equally as if they had missed a translation.
Tatiseigi said, “You shall see, you shall see,” and was amused.
“You will enjoy it, Great‑grandson,” Ilisidi said, preserving the mystery, and young spirits visibly lifted. A mystery. A treat. And Tatiseigi, God save them, was going to take the youngsters in charge.
Dessert arrived. Between a mystery and an abundance of sugar, the human youngsters’ spirits rose. The guests were happy . . . and Cajeiri had a second helping of cake.
15
The bitter‑spiced eggs had been a mistake. Cajeiri decided he never wanted another one.
He was exhausted. But he had had enough sugar his nerves were wound tight. Everyone was in that state: Lieidi and Eisi had had their supper in the room, and Antaro and Jegari were down in the dining room, having theirs, along with Banichi and Jago and Cenedi and Nawari and Tatiseigi’s senior bodyguard, Rusani, and the rest.
There was every chance they were going to find out something of what was going on. He had heard about the powder, and the herd‑leader nearly running up on the Taibeni camp. That was nasty–and it was mean, and it was a very good thing nobody had been outside that camp right then. There had been two searchers out in the little woods, and at least they could climb a tree, but that was just scary, what could have happened.
And some of the Taibeni were Antaro’s and Jegari’s cousins. They were not pleased with the trick, either.
“If my cousins lay hands on that fellow,” Jegari had said, “they will give him a dose of his black powder.”
He and his aishid agreed.
“It is certain,” Veijico told them then, “that there is someone here up to no good. And it seems that person is still here. He tried to get out, then realized he had set off the alarm, and went back into his hole.”
“Maybe,” Jegari said in a hushed voice, “he is in the basement.”
That was the scariest thing anyone had said yet. Great‑uncle was going to take them on a tour of his basement, for a surprise. But if some Kadagidi assassin was hiding down there in the dark–
“Maybe you should tell them to search the basement, nadiin‑ji,” Cajeiri said.
“One is sure they are searching it,” Lucasi said. “But we will mention it.”
Meanwhile, Cajeiri thought, he just had to take deep breaths and think of things to do so his guests had a good time and did not get bored. And he hoped the basement was better than it sounded. Mani had thought so.
Meanwhile–meanwhile, of all things, Artur had come up with a pocket full of rocks, and provided his own entertainment, laying his treasures out for everybody to see.
“Where did you find those?” Cajeiri asked. On a day when they were all pent in with a security alert, he knew where his guests had been, and surprises were not a good thing, today.
“The stables. Where we walked.”
Artur had been hindmost, going out the door, and Cajeiri recalled indeed, it was a gravel walk–a lot of places had gravel, or flagstones. And Tirnamardi had gravel all along by the stables.
There was a sandstone, a quartz, and a basalt one–“That one I got at the train station,” Artur said. “This one in the front of the house.” That was the pink quartz.
“You can almost see through it,” Irene said, admiring it against the light. “Those are so great!”
Artur had been collecting them all along. None of his guests were used to walking on rocks, or dirt. And trust Artur to do something unusual.
So now that Artur tallied up his collection, all very small ones, he used what he had learned from his tutor to tell everybody what they were, and how they had formed, and even where they came from. They were river‑rounded. And it was very likely they had been under a glacier once.
Everybody was impressed with what he knew. And he did not have his big map, but he drew one for them in Irene’s notebook, a map of the Padi Valley, and he showed them where they were, and the river where probably the rocks had come from–he had never been there, himself, but he knew about it.
And the idea that water and wind could smooth them into eggs, and how mountains formed and wore away, and how volcanoes happened, down near the Marid, and down in the islands in the Great Southern Ocean–all of that was wonderful to them. They knew about magnetic fields, and about dustball asteroids, and interesting things up in space. They said Maudit had volcanoes, a lot of them, but not much water.
“If we have to live there,” Irene said, “we’ll really live in another space station, in orbit, but it won’t be very nice as the station here is. Nothing will be.” Irene frowned and rested her chin on her hand. “I don’t want to live on Maudit Station. I don’t.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m not supposed to get upset. Sorry.”
He did not want Irene to live on Maudit Station either. Not any of them. And he did not want to think about anything else sad or upsetting today, he truly did not. He was very glad Irene was getting the better of her upset. Everybody had gone quiet.
“Right,” Irene said in a moment, and picked up the smoothest of Artur’s collection. “It’s like a little world, isn’t it? In space, rocks can’t smooth out and be round until they’re huge. And here’s this little round rock that spent hundreds of years in running water, and it’s just lying there on the ground this morning for Artur to find it. That’s something.”
“I can bring this back with me,” Artur said, then explained. “No animals, no biologicals, like seeds or anything. Everything has to be processed. They’re not going to argue about rocks. But there’s so much, like almost everything we touch. Everywhere I look–there’s things that are just–random. Shaped however they want to be.”
“Most things,” Cajeiri said. He remembered, how everything about the ship was made by machines, smooth, shiny, or plastic. He thought of his own room, where he had gathered living plants, and pictures and weaving, and carvings of animals on every chair and table . . . he knew what Artur meant by random. It was a good word. He had been on the ship two years and found himself wanting windows, wanting the open sky and the smell of plants and curves on everything his eyes touched. And he had told his associates how the world was and promised them they would see it. They had fourteen days. That was all they had, until–until–he had no idea. He had not mentioned his next birthday yet, and they were talking about being sent to Maudit, which none of them wanted to happen.