“Mutual,” Toby said. And despite everything, all the water under that bridge—it was probably still true.
He truly hoped that Barb wouldn’t move in for her turn, but she did: a public hug that had more warmth in it than the one he returned.
A woman, his brother’s lover, and in public: it was far more of a scandal to the staff than the human habit of embracing brothers, but there it was, and he treated it as natural, if only for the benefit of his watching staff and bodyguard. More to the point, he feltJago’s gaze on his back in that moment, and set Barb firmly back at arms’ length, seeing the faint traces of weather on her face as well. “You’re looking good,” he said. “The sea agrees with you.”
“You never change,” she said.
That meant several things, and he knew which. His perfunctory smile had an edge—just like the statement.
“Nice to know.” He let Barb go and said, to Ramaso, “Thank you, nadi, and thank the staff, for your welcome to my Mospheiran household, and to me.”
“Indeed, nandi.” The worthy gentleman bowed. “The kitchen has a supper ready, at the lord’s pleasure, rooms are ready, and water is hot.”
Supper, or rest, or a hot bath. Every possibility.
But cooks could hardly be disrespected. And the truck had pulled around to the garden gate, where Tano and Algini were busy supervising the offloading of baggage and belongings. “One will visit the room, wash, and enjoy a leisurely supper, nadi-ji,” he said quietly to Ramaso, and to Toby and Barb: “Wash up and dinner, forthwith. I’ll see you at table.”
“Right,” Toby said.
The south room, Ramaso had said, which was actually a small suite, but with only one bedroom. The staff had lodged his family before. And someone had found a way to ask, apparently, about bedrooms—that, or staff had been unable to dislodge Barb from Toby’s arm.
The brother of the paidhi-aiji and the paidhi-aiji’s former lover, together under the paidhi’s roof. Atevi did readily comprehend political realignments. And knew how to accept them without comment.
“Tano and Algini have gone the back way, nandi,” Banichi said as they reached the door of his room— hisroom, indisputably his, and when he opened the doorc
He knew that carpet. He knew that vase on the peculiarly carved table. That bed. That coverlet.
They were from his apartment in the Bujavid. He had known that staff had rescued significant items of his furnishings and gotten them out by train. And there they were, his bedroom, reconstituted just as it had been. He was quite amazed.
They didn’t enter alone. Domestic staff arrived to take his traveling coat, and to supervise the arrival of his personal luggage, followed by more staff, who set things in the hall of his two-room suite. Banichi and Jago directed matters while Bren changed his shirt and coat—or changed it with the help of two of the staff who deftly assisted him with the lace cuffs and the collar: staff he knew, staff who’d been his for years: Koharu and Supani, who’d grown at least half a hand while he’d been gone and, gangly young men that they both were, grinned like fools and kept bowing, delighted as they could be. He felt—
Comfortable, finally. Truly home, truly safe. Even his bodyguard let these people come and go in confidence, and let this staff arrange his wardrobe in the rooms allotted to them. Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini officially shared quarters just down the hall—though Jago would likely not sleep there.
And with the arrival of the various cases, it was a massive unpackingc an absolute fire brigade of clothing going from cases to closets, hand to hand, a steadily increasing staff all cheerful and quick about their jobs, and not a step out of order. They were excellent at their jobs, as fine a staff as any house could have, and Bren couldn’t but catch their mood. A man could workin this environment; a man could concentrate on his job in absolute confidence that everything was taken care of, impeccably managed, all in order. He’d be fed like a prince, he’d be dressed and taken care of, nobody would ever mess with his papers and his computer—he could rely on that. He could look out the windows and watch the sun set with no worries beyond the research he had to do.
And maybe he wouldhave ample time for the boat, and a little fishing, and a visit with his brother—he put the thought of Barb completely aside—before Toby headed back out to sea.
Oh, it was a goodset of circumstances that had brought him back. He’d held it off for months as both a promised reward and a necessary burden—and now that he was here—it was going to work. He could reward himself with a little time and it wasn’t going to put him off his duties at all. He could rest. His bodyguard could sleep decent hours and lean back and relax in real security, remote from the political angst that went with living in the Bujavid—and in the borrowed apartment and with the staff of a politically interested and very conservative lord.
And what was more, they could enjoy dinner with absolute confidence a borrowed chef on one of the Bujavid’s frequent dinner engagements wasn’t going to make a lethal mistake and poison the visiting human. This was Suba in charge of the kitchen. Suba absolutely understood what humans could and couldn’t eat: he was not the finest cook on the planet—but he cooked excellent regional dishes. And that was one more stage of relaxationc which Mospheira itself couldn’t afford him nowadays: too many crazy people there, too many agendas, too much controversy. Here, after a hellish year, he heaved a deep sigh as Supani made a final tweak at his collar and Koharu straightened the lace cuffs from the sleeves, and was just well content with himself and current company.
Even Barb’s presence under the same roof—if Toby wanted her, if she did good for Toby, that was all fine. He’d be pleasant. She could be. They could have some family time, do a little fishing—settle some personal business he didn’t exactly look forward to, but Toby probably wanted to say some things to him about the missed years, and clear the air, and he was obliged at least to listen and apologize. That needed doingc if Toby wanted to do it.
Banichi and Jago turned up ready for formal duty in their best black leather, gleaming with polished silver rings and fastenings—and they’d stand by while he ate and socialized, come hell or high water, since it was an official estate dinner, while Tano and Algini, on room duty and not obliged to formal dress, had their supper with staff, put their feet up, and watched the house servants unpack everything they were allowed to touch.
No arguing with the Guild’s sense of propriety, however. He headed out with Banichi and Jago, not, as it would be in the Bujavid, through the main hall of his quarters, out the foyer, and so on into the halls, but directly down the warm, wood-paneled hall of the main buildingc this wasn’t a building he shared with other lords, or even guests, ordinarily. Unlike the arrangement in other places he lived, this washis house, and when he went out his bedroom door he was immediately in the larger house, and when he walked down to the dining room, it was the dining room for himself and everybody who wasn’t staff.