But when Cajeiri walked out of nand’ Bren’s office he found himself madder and more frustrated than he had been in a long, long time. He did not even look at Kaidin and Temein on the walk back, nor did he say a word.
When he got safely back to his own room, in his father’s borrowed apartment, and was rid of his guard, he flung himself into a chair and flung the book onto the table beside him. It nearly slid off the table. He stopped it.
Then he thought to look at the book. It was the sort of thing his great-uncle would have, the script of a machimi play. But it was one he had never seen or read. It was titled Blood of Traitors. The illustration chased into the leather cover, and painted, had swords and castles. And nand’ Bren had picked it out, which meant it might be very much better than the volume of court rules and etiquette his tutor was making him memorize.
It was no substitute for sailing on nand’ Bren’s boat, and none for seeing nand’ Toby and Barb-daja.
He had caught a fish on nand’ Toby’s boat once. It had been venomous, and it had flown all about on his line, making everybody scramble. It was one of his most favorite memories. They had all laughed about it later, himself, and Great-grandmother, mani; and nand’ Bren and his associates, even when things were desperate and people had been trying to kill them—even the fish in the sea had had a try at killing them. And that had been the best moment on the whole boat trip.
He so wished he had never told his parents about it.
Chapter 2
« ^ »
A very good idea,” was Tabini’s judgment to Bren regarding his removal to the coast, by no means surprising. A young man, still, a big wide-shouldered man, with the palest stare Bren had ever seen in an ateva—Tabini had ruled the mainland all the years he had served as paidhi. Tabini ruled the atevi world, in effect, though a recent challenge to his authority had racketed from east to west, provoking counter-revolution and skirmishes after.
But Tabini had resurrected himself from rumored death the moment Tabini had been sure he had his assets back in order— notably, when the paidhi and the aiji-dowager and his heir had come back from space alive. Tabini had come back, from what had been a cleverly planned assassination designed to take out first his staff (which had happened) and then isolate and kill Tabini himself (which plainly had not happened.)
In fact, within a few weeks of Tabini’s re-emergence from the hills, the capital showed few scars, most of the conspirators were dead, the always troublesome South, the Marid, was quiet, certain few had paid heavily for backing the Kadagidi Lord Murini in his coup, and Tabini had become again what he had always been: ruler of the world’s only major continent, owner of half the human-built space station in orbit above them, owner of every functional space shuttle in existence, linking the world to that station; and incidentally owner of a half-built starship, which had been the agreement the ship-humans had made with Tabini in order to get their vitally needed supplies off the planet.
Tabini’s space program had put a strain on the economy: that had been the origin of the Troubles, at least in some sense—but the panic and outrage that had attended the departure of the one viable ship and all that investment had abated with the return of said ship from its mission. On new evidence that the ship-humans were actually going to keep their word and honor their agreements, Tabini’s stock had risen indeed. Humans on the island enclave of Mospheira had not invaded the mainland: they had in fact cooperated with the ship-humans and with Tabini, and that old fear had proved empty.
It was, in some senses, a new world. Tabini had taken a renewed tight grip on the reins of power, and if there still were minor nuisances, like the Farai still occupying the paidhi’s apartment and pretending to be loyalists, it was also true that Tabini was a master of timing. If it was not yet time to pitch the Farai out and stir up the Southern troubles again, the paidhi could only conclude it was definitively not yet time, and the paidhi’s best interim course was probably to go visit his brother.
“We shall hope for some solution before the legislative session,” Tabini said.
“One thinks of taking a town house, aiji-ma,” Bren said, “but staff will deal with that process.”
Some legislators did that, at least for the session. Certain town families rented out their premises for the season at a profit. Housing was at that kind of premium in the town. But even if they went to that extreme—it was no permanent solution.
“Give it time, paidhi-ji,” Tabini said again, not favoring his proposed solution with a direct answerc neither saying the Farai would be out of his apartment in a few weeks, nor saying they wouldn’t be.
So a wise and experienced court official simply nodded, thanked the aiji for permission to depart the city and didn’t ask another question, even as easy and informal as Tabini had always been with the paidhi-aiji.
But he had promised—once, to take the boy; and a second time, to ask a foredoomed question. “Your son,” he began, and got no further before Tabini lifted the fingers of one hand. Stop right there, that meant.
“My son,” Tabini said, “just visited your premises.”
“He did, aiji-ma. He reminded me I did promise him a boat trip.”
“Not recently, surely.”
“No, aiji-ma. But your son has an excellent memory.”
Tabini sighed. “Indeed. He has lessons. He has duties. He was not to have left the premises. And he asked you to use your good offices with me. Am I right?”
“Entirely, aiji-ma.”
“Perhaps we can prevail on the workmen in ourapartment to make a little more haste,” Tabini said, “and solve one problem—but not before my grandmother arrives. No, my son may notgo to the coast, paidhi-ji. He will stay here to keep his great-grandmother in good humor. Now you have discharged your obligation to him. And Irelieve you of responsibility for the promise. My son will have to deal with me on that matter. Go, go. We have ordered the red car for your trip; it should be coupled on by now. The paidhi-aiji will have it at his disposal on the return as well, on a day’s call. Tell nand’ Toby we wish him well.”
“Thank you, aiji-ma,” he said, and rose, and bowed deeply. The red car, no less. The aiji’s own rail car, with all its amenities, and its security. It was no small honor, though one he had almost always enjoyed.
At no time had he mentioned Cajeiri coming to his office, and at no time had he mentioned Toby being near the estate, or intending a visit: but he was not totally astonished that Tabini knew both things.
He simply went to the door, collected Banichi and Jago, and Banichi said,
“The estate has contacted nand’ Toby, nandi, and he will be arriving.”
“Did he say whether Barb was with him?” he asked. He hatedto ask. One could always hope she wouldn’t be. But Banichi simply lifted a shoulder and said.
“We have never heard she has left.”
“Well,” he said, which was all there was to say.
Packing had proceeded, even when they had had no permission as yet to quit the city. Tatiseigi being a day short of their doorway, the baggage had been stacked in the hall, the dining room, and the foyer, involving security equipment, armament, ammunition, uniforms for his four bodyguards, and a few meager items of furniture, plus four packing crates with his clothes, his books, and his personal itemsc all this had been the state of things when he had left the apartment to call on Tabini.