“Prepare to be surprised. He did return to Tanaja, but he is now headed back to Najida. Reports are scant, but he has received a communication from my grandmother, and we believe he is taking the train there and coming here. My grandmother has ordered a private car—we are gratified to know, not the Red Train—to pick him up at Najida. She has not informed you.”
“No, aiji-ma.” That was to say, Cenedi had not informed Banichi, either. It was strictest security around that move. “He is coming here, then.”
“Evidently. Perhaps for a face-to-face consultation. Or—she wishes to introduce Machigi to his former agent. Or—she is taking them both to Hasjuran.”
He was appalled. “One—had no idea, aiji-ma.”
“I daresay we would have had no idea—were we not keeping a close watch on all parties concerned—at least in places where we have assets. My grandmother is requesting a train, the Ajuri candidate, and the lord of Tanaja, and she wants you and your aishid to accompany her to meet Lord Topari in the least comfortable mountain fastness this side of Malguri. You are just come from a situation on the station, an attempted assassination and a lengthy mission on the island. Not to mention the stress of a welcome by my grandmother. We wish we could give you and your aishid an entire fortnight to sit at Najida and do nothing. But there is too much involved here.”
“I shall go, aiji-ma. I would get no rest from wondering. I have to go.”
Tabini nodded slowly. “I rely on you. Forgive Lord Topari. I ask that already. He means well.”
“I shall be more concerned for Lord Topari dealing with your grandmother, aiji-ma.”
“He will remind her of his ilk in Malguri. He should be safe—unless he attempts familiarity with her once back in Shejidan. And he may need to learn to deal with her—if this venture goes one step further than Hasjuran.”
“Senjin?” It was the logical step.
“If it does, I say. I know my grandmother, and of places where every attendee will be at disadvantage—except herself—she has chosen a place inconvenient for everybody, at an altitude and an environment where she is perfectly comfortable, and where strangers do not easily blend in. You are there for me, this time. That may prove a test of your diplomacy, but you will manage, as my agent.”
“Yes, aiji-ma. I shall advise her of that. Early, lest there be any confusion.”
“I am not superstitious,” Tabini said. “But you will meet those who are. Remember it.”
10
It was a good thing, Cajeiri thought, that he had gone to see mani. She had wanted the visit, but she would not have ordered it. He was not eager to report the visit to his parents, who might ask him to report on Great-grandmother’s reaction, and reporting on Great-grandmother was never a good idea. He simply went back to his own suite and sat down at his desk, letting his staff do whatever needed doing.
For himself—the letters, the precious letters, were an unexpected gift, and he hoped Father and nand’ Bren had had a good talk and that there was not going to be a family row.
It was not, now, his concern. His associates’ letters were his concern, letters written on proper paper, with Lord Geigi’s heraldry in the watermark—paper was difficult to come by on the station. It was usually a little gray, remade again and again, but paper like this was imported. Guests of the house would have been given it, to write letters to the Bujavid and such.
And to his associates, to write to him about their voyage down.
It was written in various sizes and various hands, the first very small and neat, Ragi characters interspersed with human ones. He knew the writing as he knew their individual voices.
We are very excited and a little scared. We know that nand’ Bren’s people are going to take care of us when we get down to the surface, and we hope nand’ Bren will be there.
Lord Geigi is giving us a dinner before we go down. We will miss him and everybody. They have taken very good care of us.
That was from Artur, and as best Cajeiri could read it, filling in a good many words and guessing on others.
And from Gene, a little heavier hand, with Ragi words written as they sounded in human characters:
My mother is worried about the shuttle. But she is brave, and it is only one time that she has to do this. She says she wants to see the ocean. So do I. And I hope she really likes living on Mospheira. I know everybody is very excited about the food. A lot of people want to come down for that. Many people are signing up because of the food.
Food had been rationed for years and years for the Reunioners, rationed on the ship, rationed even after they had gotten to the station, and things had gotten even worse from there before they had begun getting better. Shuttles had already started carrying food up, and once they got more people down, everybody would be better off. He could not imagine being hungry most of his life, but that was the way Reunioners had lived, measuring everything, just glad to have something to put in their stomachs. He was not surprised people wanted to come down and never have rationing again.
And from Irene:
I am determined not to be sick going down this time. I will not be scared. I saw my mother yesterday, because I am leaving. She said she hoped I was sorry. I said I hoped she was sorry. She said there was no way back from the planet and I said I was happy with that. I said goodbye and I left.
I am still not sorry. I want to go down to the world and I want to see the sky. I wish you could come to Mospheira when we come down, but nand’ Geigi said we shall be going to the mainland to see you. All of us will have tutors on Mospheira and we will live in Port Jackson. I will be writing more on the way down.
And again she wrote:
I talked to Bjorn before we left. He is unhappy we are going but he says good luck and he says he will see us someday.
I am not sick. I am not scared now. I want to be on Mospheira. I want to see you soon. Tell all your household thank you very much. I wish so much you could be there. We are very happy.
Irene was the one who had stopped them from having all kinds of troubles on the station and stopped people from being killed. She was extremely brave. Irene’s mother was still under arrest, maybe not to be punished, nand’ Bren had said to him, but she was never to have authority over Irene again unless Irene wanted it, and Irene was staying with Gene and Artur and their parents. It was probably a good thing Irene had gone to say goodbye to her mother; but he was very glad her mother would not be joining them at all soon.
It was very curious, the feeling he had about that. He and his associates had tried very hard to puzzle out what man’chi was compared to being friends in the human way, or having parents to look to, and they had concluded it was a lot like, but not entirely like. Irene did not even have all of that. Irene’s mother had been through very bad things—so had all the Reunioners—but something important was broken in that relationship. Irene had a strong man’chi toward them: that strength of attachment that had fastened onto him and Gene and Artur had given her courage to do very brave things, so whatever was broken was not broken from her side. Maybe he should ask nand’ Bren to explain it, but then, he feared he might not make it clear, and Bren might think he thought badly of Irene, or that Irene posed a problem, which he never wanted Bren to think.
So he held that question unasked.
He did have a good feeling about Gene’s mother. Gene’s mother was a small person and looked old and frail: but Gene’s attachment to her was strong; and Irene came to her as if she and Gene were the adults, taking care of Gene’s mother as much as Gene’s mother tried to take care of them. Artur’s parents took care of each other and of Artur, who was strongly tied to them in what seemed the most atevi-like way, respectful on all sides, once Artur’s father had understood they would be free on Mospheira and that nobody would take Artur away. Things were rightside up in that household, though Artur’s parents seemed not as brave as Artur was: they were always pr
one to worry things would go badly—which, if one had survived on Reunion, they had seen happen over and over.
But together—together, all of them were strong. And they were coming down to try to live where, Bren said, they would all be foreigners to start with. They would not understand Mospheirans, even if they were all human—and he supposed he did understand that: certainly there were atevi one could not understand.
And what he had, and his associates had, however hard it was to figure out, was an attachment they had formed together on a long voyage. Nand’ Bren was one thing—nand’ Bren had understood him first, and there was never any question of man’chi where nand’ Bren was concerned, because he had grown up with nand’ Bren and just—knew that, whatever else, nand’ Bren would protect him. He had never known people his own age, so it was hard to judge, but he thought he could trust his associates from the ship, and having associates to whom everything in the world was new—was a happy association. There was so much to share.
They had landed. They were safe, thanks to nand’ Bren and the Presidenta. And he and Uncle Tatiseigi were safe, and mani was somewhat happier.
What was more, Mother was happy, which was fairly well the first time she had ever seemed happy with him for days on end.
Father was happy.
Meanwhile he had a letter to write, and he had his tutor’s mail on the hall table, asking when they might resume lessons, and he had to answer that, too.
Everything was splendid.
Until Rieni came in and said, quietly, “Nandi, are you aware the aiji-dowager has called for the Red Train, and that the paidhi-aiji and Nomari-nadi are to travel with her?”
“Where?” he asked, dismayed.
“We have asked,” Rieni said. “We have not gotten an answer, except to say that it will go east.”
Not to Najjida, then. “Is she going to Malguri?” She might want to question Nomari, and if that was the case, it was good for nand’ Bren to be there. Mani could be more than frightening.
“That is the assumption.”
“Is there any hope I might go, nadi?”
There was a slight hesitation. “Your father the aiji has ordered us to be sure you do not, aiji-meni. We are sorry.”
He gazed up from his desk at Rieni—at a very hard Guild face, behind which, he well knew now, hid a habit of kindness and an occasional sense of humor—and he told himself no, Father had given him orders to get back to study, to prepare himself—not to run off with mani on another adventure. He had managed to get Mother’s good will. It was not a time to go running off to Malguri to stay with mani.
“One understands,” he said. “Father knows I have far too much to do here. For one thing, my associates on Mospheira might call, and I should be here if they do. But will you do one thing? Will you arrange it for me to go down to the train and be there when it goes?”
“Young gentleman.”
“Rieni-nadi, I trust you. And you will trust me, will you not? I wish to speak to nand’ Bren. I wish to introduce him to Nomari. I have been in the middle of things. I was in Tirnamardi and I did what I had to. I stayed safe. Now mani is upset and she is going off with my mother’s cousin. I know nand’ Bren will protect him. But I want her to remember that he is my cousin, too. Do you not think—I can go down and wish my great-grandmother and nand’ Bren and my cousin well—without causing a problem? Can I not do that? And do you not trust me to tell you the truth?”
There was a lengthy silence. Rieni stared at him, he stared at Rieni, and eventually Rieni gave a little nod. “Yes, nandi.”
* * *
• • •
There was one person Bren had to see before he left: Lord Tatiseigi—once upon a time far from his favorite social contact, but the old man had become a close ally in the passage of time, he was certainly distressed by Ilisidi’s displeasure, and Tatiseigi had just had a hellish time in Tirnamardi. Courtesy to the old gentleman was a must.
Tatiseigi was, moreover, supporting Nomari’s candidacy, and that involved questions needing answers.
Madam Saidin was on duty, serving tea in the sitting room—Tatiseigi’s longterm major d’ and a person to whom Bren himself owed considerable gratitude. Bren gave her a smile as she served, said, “Thank you, Saidin-daja,”—lady she was, a lady of some rank and distinction in the township, but choosing to manage Lord Tatiseigi’s Bujavid residence, in what longterm relationship one declined to ask.
“Nand’ paidhi,” she said softly, and gave a gentle bow as Tatiseigi himself made a belated and informal entry to the sitting room. Saidin poured him a cup, too, and for most of that cup there was silence—longer than usual, with more worry than usual in the silence.
“So,” said Tatiseigi, as host, finally setting his cup aside. “You are going with her. Advise her to take precautions, paidhi. This venture is reckless in the extreme, and I am distressed to be left behind, but I suppose I am not in her good graces at the moment.”
“One does not believe that her distress is with you, nandi. Not truly.”
“My niece’s presence certainly is part of it,” Tatiseigi said. “But I cannot wish that had not happened.”
“Nor can I,” Bren said, “as one best understands it. The aiji-dowager could not be at Tirnamardi as quickly, and as I understand the outcome, I am, forgive an outsider to the matter, very pleased at what resulted.”
“An heir, a prospective reasonable neighbor, and a reconciliation between my niece and her son. I cannot regret it. I do regret the dowager’s inconvenience, and yours, and the damage to the bus.”
“I am particularly glad the bus could serve. Think nothing of it.”
“We would have repaired it entirely, nandi, but clearly that would have taken far too much time—and I was truly concerned that the dowager had moved recklessly across country with things stirred up as they were, without adequate protection. The Guild is on the alert, but some problems may slip through the net, and the dowager still will not hear my objections.”
“You have spoken with her.”
Tatiseigi gave a brief sigh. “That. Briefly. Indeed, the aiji-dowager is understandably upset at being forestalled. But had she been at hand, as you say, none of the things that happened might have happened, and the Ajuri might have hesitated to approach the house.”
“Are you confident in this Ajuri claimant, nandi?”
“Let us say that he is a far more pleasant neighbor than Geidaro. The question is whether the Guild can keep him alive long enough to serve any good purpose, and whether he has enough tempered strength to deal with the factions in that house. He is absolutely untutored in accounting, but he is well-read in law.”
“If you are approving of him, nandi, your judgment will carry great weight.”
Tatiseigi nodded. “One is not utterly certain, but I have hope for him. Ajuri cannot do worse than they have done if they selected a random criminal. It is time for better leadership—but since the climate there has favored scoundrels, it may be a time coming.”
“Najida’s small vote, nandi, will be yours.”
“Keep him alive, paidhi.”
“You know, then.”
“That the dowager has invited him on this unlikely trip to the mountains? Protect her, paidhi. She does listen to your advice.”
“I shall do my best, nandi.”
“With Machigi. Her retired pirate.”
“So you do know the whole business.”
Tatiseigi’s eyes acquired a sullen fire. “She is convinced she knows his motives. You negotiated her agreement with this young scoundrel. And now he wants a railroad. Tell me. Do you find him charming?”
Jealousy. Of a decidedly atevi flavor, but jealousy, nonetheless. An old man for a younger? Was there attraction—the dowager for a rakish young lord with an large overdose of ambition and very little restraint? Lord Tatiseigi’s feelings were evident ev
en to a human.
“Say, rather, compelling. I have my own apprehensions, which I do state—but Cenedi will be more forward in cautioning the dowager than I dare, nandi, and one is very certain Cenedi is not blindly trusting of anyone.”
“True,” the old man said with relief, as if he had indeed not thought of Cenedi in the matter. “There is a man of good sense.”
“My notion is, nandi, that the dowager is too wise to trust a lord who has double-crossed every neighbor he does not rule. I think rather the trap she wishes to set is for Machigi and this candidate of yours, who has been in Tanaja, and in Koperna. It is not the way I would wish to go about the inquiry—and I hope your candidate justifies your good opinion.”
Again Lord Tatiseigi nodded. “Paidhi, I am glad she is at least consulting you. Call me by phone at any hour, if I can be of any assistance.”
Lord Tatiseigi did not favor telephones. God, no.
“One is honored, nandi, and one understands the depth of your concern. Would it give you peace of mind if I say I truly shall use that permission if I feel the dowager is at risk?”
“Do not hesitate, nand’ paidhi. Do not hesitate at all.”
11
The dowager’s dislike of night train rides notwithstanding—they were about to take another.
“The dowager is already aboard,” Banichi said as they prepared to leave the apartment for the train station downstairs. Banichi and his team carried full kit, rifles and sidearms, not to mention Guild baggage—the black bag Tano carried, that they never gave into outsider hands. Bren’s own large cases had gone down before them. Narani and Jeladi were escorting those, to board the train only after they were satisfied of the security of the cases; and with the dowager’s young men supervising the loading, that should be a fairly smooth and practiced operation. Koharu and Supani were handling details in the apartment foyer, helping Bren on with his traveling coat.
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