No, let Shawn arrange some sort of soft landing for Tillington, get him out of the way without creating wreckage in the system—or damaging his administration. That needed thought. It needed calm. And it needed, most of all, a little time.
Well-fed and content to retire was the best disposition for a man who’d served tolerably well—until the arrival of the Reunioners had triggered something in him that wasn’t at all pleasant.
Maybe a University sinecure—
No. The man should not teach. If he entertained Heritage ideology—he should not have students in his hands.
Ilisidi, with the Assassins’ Guild entirely at her disposal, had managed to find a spot for the former lord of the Kadagidi, supervising a textile mill. Well-paid. Quiet. Not political.
And under another lord’s thumb.
Solutions like that, unfortunately, weren’t readily to be had on Mospheira.
Not as secure, not as quiet, and not with that kind of well-watched certainty.
Unfortunately, sending Tillington himself to non-existent Maudit wasn’t an option.
7
“And was it a regretful parting?” Lord Tatiseigi asked, regarding the young gentleman’s guests.
“It was, nandi,” Bren said. The two of them occupied opposing green-upholstered chairs across a low table in the legislative sitting room, two days on from the exchange of messages with Shawn.
On the wall, a wooden scoreboard reported a slowly progressing tally of votes on the forestry bill—a certainty to pass. Half the people who should be voting were in the lounge at the moment having a cup of tea, but that didn’t include the representatives of the Edi and the Gan peoples, who were exercising their very first votes as members, and who were early on the floor to cast them in favor of something that would benefit the Edi district.
It was an auspicious beginning to the tribal peoples’ admission to the aishidi’tat. The bill established and funded a new open game reserve, land donated by the Taisigin Marid, the tract to be reforested on the western side, with game corridors that would improve three other hunting ranges in the direction of the Edi lands and the Marid.
The bill included restoration of species drawn from the other shore of the Marid, moreover, which was another popular new notion in various quarters—bringing certain trees and shrubs back to regions where they had once flourished.
Free land, a new spirit of cooperation from the Taisigin Marid, and a wide-reaching ecological repair. Those were attractive notions to party leaders on both sides of politics—especially when the more suspicious conservatives, in favor of all lordly prerogatives across the board, had had the aiji-dowager pushing them to approve the measure. Well, as Tatiseigi expressed the conservative sentiment, the entire forestry program would probably not be too high a financial cost to run, and, key provision, it improved the hunting, which improved the economy, which improved local chances of peace. Atevi might farm grain and vegetables, might have orchards, might run a business like egg-gathering, and fishing—but everything was seasonal. Wild game was how districts put autumn meat on the table—huge tracts given over to nature, and hunting.
Bren had cast his vote already; so had Lord Tatiseigi, both favorable to the measure. Not infrequently their votes cancelled each other out; but today they happily agreed.
And they had tea together.
“Did the youngsters seem sad to leave?” Tatiseigi asked.
“Indeed, nandi. They will miss the young gentleman.”
“One observed that they seemed sad to leave Tirnamardi.”
The old man was justifiably proud of his estate, his collection, his stables.
“They were delighted by Tirnamardi, nandi. They were entirely delighted, and there could be no better place in the world to show them so much of history and art. They will certainly never forget that first experience of your collection, so long as they live.”
Tatiseigi cleared his throat. “Well, well, perhaps we shall find time to host them next year.”
Now, that was the most unlikely thing in the world, that Tatiseigi should not only tolerate the youngsters, but miss them and court their return. The childless lord had demonstrated an unexpected soft spot for children—even, it turned out, human ones.
“Nothing would please them more,” Bren said. One suspected it was as much Tirnamardi’s lawns and open spaces the children regretted, as the baroque and gilt of the Bujavid’s great halls, or the collections of antiques and pottery—but so had Tatiseigi delighted them, personally. “They will miss you, too, nandi, one strongly suspects. They greatly enjoyed your stories.”
A second clearing of the throat. “Well, well, the staff certainly was charmed. They have inquired repeatedly after the children’s well-being.”
Not Lord Tatiseigi, himself, oh, no, not possibly would Lord Tatiseigi personally miss a handful of human kids.
· · ·
He had messaged Tabini, spoken to him once since his return—a pleasant conversation in Tabini’s downstairs office, and the topic had, beyond the Tillington matter, mostly been on operational matters and the legislative session.
But in his second such session with Tabini, after the vote on the forestry bill, and in Tabini’s sitting room, Tabini asked a more direct question:
“You just have exchanged letters and messages with the Presidenta.” Tabini’s information-gathering was markedly improved, since he had taken the dowager’s men as his security. “Does it regard the administrative matter you mentioned?”
One never knew, sitting down with Tabini, where a conversation might go.
“It does, aiji-ma. Tillington, and the Presidenta’s search for a resolution of the Reunioner situation, which is at the heart of the problems aloft. I have expressed quite firmly that the Reunioners must be counted toward the treaty balance, whether at this station or any yet unbuilt. The Presidenta is inclining to oppose the creation of a Maudit colony at all, and may be leaning toward bringing them down to Mospheira. But that solution would have to involve a very few at a time: there just is not room in the shuttle schedule, even with the Mospheirans increasing their fleet. It cannot be any faster.”
“These children? Their families?”
“One would not press for them to take priority without your direction, aiji-ma, and the matter is only theoretical. Should you wish them brought down first, however—the Presidenta would, I am sure, agree—even as a case separate from a general resolution. But politics—as usual, aiji-ma, politics will complicate any actual decision.” A deep breath, a decision. “The Heritage Party is not entirely dead, aiji-ma, and the Presidenta has no wish to see them find a foothold in this case.”
“And you will entangle yourself in these affairs?” The pleasant casualness faded. Became a frown. “For whom are you paidhi—when you go up to the station?”
He was caught unawares by that question. It was a fair one. “For you, aiji-ma,” he said. “One begins to feel one does not know all one should know, aiji-ma, to give good advice. I have become uneasy in my understanding of politics aloft. And I cannot advise to any good advantage without better information. If I can, in the process, solve a problem—”
How much dare he say? How much should he say?