They looked a little surprised, themselves. Antaro and Jegari were standing over against the door and met his glance with a little handsign from Jegari. All right, that meant. Jegariwas fine. Probably Antaro was.
So.
There had been no explosions from the young gentleman’s quarters. The dowager was asleep, beneficially so, Bren hoped, and no one wished to disturb her.
The arrival was, however, worrisome—not least because he wanted the meeting tonight to go well, and wanted no cause of suspicion in the interference of Ragi-directed Guild inside Najida—never mind Banichi and Jago had come from Tabini’s household: that was years past, and this was current, while Ragi Guild sat in what had been the key holding on the peninsula, namely Kajiminda. Double-crossed a dozen times in recent history, the Edi had been very specific in their invitations, were probably very upset at the fate of Lord Geigi’s estate, and he wanted to calm that situation down, and get the Edi back, not drive them further away.
Banichi and Jago had slept through the mild commotion, or at least declined to stir forth, relying on Algini and Tano to keep him out of trouble. And when they did wake, in late afternoon, their only comment on the business of the two arrivals was, from Banichi, a “Good choice.”
Well, he thought. That was encouraging. That there was still total silence from the young gentleman’s premises—that was encouraging.
“One hesitates to observe,” Tano said mildly, “that the young gentleman may now have Guild assistance in his mischief.”
Bren looked his way. Algini remained fixed on his boards, taking some sort of note, and speaking to someone, and Tano did not elaborate. Banichi and Jago had opted for an off-schedule lunch, and had gone out to see to that. So he had no word from them, either. But he gathered that the two newcomers had a certain reputation, and Algini did not bestir himself to deny it, only to say that they were very good.
Interesting, Bren thought.
Word from the dock was, currently, that repairs had a bit to go. The Brighter Daysmight be fit for sea tomorrow, not tonight. They had her hauled over so they could come at an underwater patch, and that was still in progress—besides which the disorder that made inside the boat despite closed lockers and tight storage he could only imagine.
It also meant there was no safe quarters for Toby and Barb aboard the boat.
“Get Toby,” he said, and it took a while, but Toby himself came on with:
“Hello, brother. What’s up?”
“Nothing, I hope, but I understand you’re boatless for the night and we’re bedding people in the hallways up here. Can I ask you and Barb to bed aboard my boat for the night and report up to the house for breakfast in the morning?”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Toby sounded cheerfuclass="underline" work on the boat did that for him. “If I get any phone calls, you’ll tell me.”
“Certainly I will. I imagine the kid’s fine by now. They bounce, at that age. But I’ll call you at whatever hour if there’s any emergency.”
“You take care up there tonight. You think there’s any chance those guys are coming back for another try?”
“Never can tell. But we’ve gotten everything fixed that has to be and we’re fine with that.” He didn’t mention to Toby about going down to the village. It was a phone, it wasn’t that secure, and he didn’t want to advertise his movements in any degree. “Things are settling. I just want to be sure you and Barb are comfortable.”
“Couldn’t be better. We’re all over glue and paint. Happy as we can be.”
He grinned. “Great. Come up for a sendoff tomorrow, all right?”
“Deal,” Toby said, and signed off.
On any other day, he’d figure he’d had a day at that point, and take to his study—which was occupied at the moment— and sip tea and do his correspondence.
On this particular day he hadn’t even started his day’s work, which entailed kitting up in something suitable and—
“Are we taking the truck to the village, Tano-ji?”
“The bus is beyond repair, nandi.”
“One would prefer a healthful walk,” he said with a sigh, “but probably the truck is the better idea.”
“We shall insist on it,” Tano said.
He was quite sure they would. And considering the dowager’s state of exhaustion—it was an even better idea.
“Get some rest yourselves,” he said. “All of you. I shall take Koharu and Supani and figure out my wardrobe for the evening—we shall have supper as we can, and then we shall be needing the truck, Tano-ji. I leave it to you.”
“It will be there,” Tano said, not objecting to his leaving in search of Koharu and Supani—no, Tano went withhim to the hall, and, once he had passed orders for the pair he wanted, to his suite. Tano stood by, pleasant and affable, while he and his dressers took account of the wardrobe; and while those two consulted with Ramaso, and Ramaso himself came to fuss over the problem.
Simple beige coat, little lace, but enough to be respectfuclass="underline" a country gentleman, with the paidhi-aiji’s white ribbon for his queue, not the grandiose black with stars.
And when he turned out for dinner, to meet Ilisidi and the young gentleman and his enlarged company, the dowager had chosen simple black with a great deal of lace, and the young gentleman was nicely turned out in a brown coat with his hair done up with a smallish black-and-red ribbon, the colors of his father’s house, but not extravagantly displayed. Ramaso had been behind that, he would almost bet. The dowager had her own sense of proprieties.
And she was, Bren was glad to see, energetic and bright-eyed, perfectly herself, plying her cane as she entered the dining room with Cenedi, taking her place at one end of the table, while Bren with Tano and Algini in attendance—Banichi and Jago were taking their ease at the console in quarters, and doubtless doing a little touchup on the evening’s arrangements—took the other end of the table, and settled with minimal flourish and fuss.
A small dinner, he had ordered, and a single glass of wine, followed by water. Mental acuity would be a very good idea this evening.
The young gentleman settled in, with his entourage attending, the two newcomers quite stiff and proper.
And: “The paidhi may have noticed the addition to my great-grandson’s company,” the dowager said. “Do you approve, paidhi-aiji?”
“My approval is neither here nor there, aiji-ma.”
“Ha!” Ilisidi said, and picked up her water glass. “My interfering grandson.”
“He has, however, assured that your staff will be protecting you, aiji-ma, which pleases all of us who—”
“Shameless,” the dowager said. “We shall watch this carefully,” she added with a sharp look toward the nearer of the pair in question, who affected not to have heard a thing. “And we starve ourselves this evening, one trusts, with the promise of a small offering before we retire.”
“If the dowager is in appetite for a sweet and a cup of tea when we return, one is very certain the kitchen will be delighted.”
“Oh, give us an argument, nand’ paidhi. Everyone is agreeing and dodging. Probably these two are a politic choice and we shall have some of those cream pastries, shall we?”
“Granted a felicitous outcome tonight, aiji-ma, one will be extremely delighted to argue with you over pastries.”
Dinner consisted of a good chowder and whole grain crackers, a small glass of wine, and a fruit compotec by no means up to the dowager’s usual standard, except she had a second bowl of chowder.
And by then it was toward dark, and they had only time to gather up essentials and to go out to the portico, where the village truck had pulled up to take them down to the village.