"Sorry about that."
"You've got the nerve to ask me to have lunch?"
"I think it might be productive. We've done rather too much shouting. And I'd like to know where you got the seal you're using."
Silence on the other end.
"You're not in office," he said, if she missed the point. "You're alive because Tabini-aiji is a patient and fortunately powerful man who can afford a nuisance. A less powerful aiji would kill you, Deana, because he'd have no choice. I suggest you have lunch with me, act less like a prisoner and more like an official guest —"
"And be in public with you. And compromise my interests. "
"Thank God you do understand. I'd begun to fear you'd nonotion of subtlety. In private, then."
" I'm not coming to your apartment— which I understand has scandalized the Atigeini as is, speaking of subtlety, Mr. Cameron. I'm not being gossiped about."
"Watch your mouth! There's no swearing there are no atevi that understand you. Edit yourself, for God'ssake, or I can't protect you."
"Protect me, hell! "
"You area fool."
" No." Evidently not quite such a fool. The tone was quieter. "No, I'll meet you for lunch. When?"
"Noon. In this apartment. And you will be courteous to the lady's and my staff or I'll pitch you out on your head, Ms. Hanks. We're not playing games. I'm trying to salvage your reputation and prevent you doing another foolhardy thing that may get you killed. I can't say at the moment I feel overmuch sympathy for the mess you're in, but if you want to continue to watch the news for reports on the situation, you're quite free to rely on that."
At times he shocked himself. Maybe it was atevi court manners that took over his mouth when he suffered whiteouts of temper — court manners with all the vitriol that attended.
" Barb Letterman's married," Hanks said. " Did you know?"
"How kind of you to let me know. Please bring me your seal. Or I'll have your apartment andyour person searched."
The receiver went down. Hard.
Which didn't make him calmer. But he had the phone, he had the moment. He took a sip of tea and called the Bu-javid operator.
"Nadi, this is Bren-paidhi. Please ring the Mospheiran operator."
" Yes," the answer came back; he heard the relays click.
And abort.
" Nand' paidhi," the operator began, " the connection—"
"Is having a difficulty at this hour. Yes. Thank you. Would you give me the telegraph service?"
" Yes, nand' paidhi," the operator said, and a moment later, a new operator came on, with:
"This is the telegraph, nand' paidhi."
"Please send to the following numbers: 1-9878-1-1, and to 20-6755-1-1, and to 1-0079-14-42. Please voice-record for transcription."
"Ready, nand' paidhi, go ahead."
"Beginning message. Am doing fine. Are you all right? Last transmission was garbled. End message."
There was no fighting the phone system. It was part and parcel with the security problem — it went when you most needed it. And it could be retaliatory against him; it could be precautionary; it could be atevi doing. He couldn't know, as long as it was down.
That had gone to his mother in the capital, to Toby on the North Shore, and to his office in the capital. And presumably they'd know to resend. And possibly his mother's message would get past the censors this time, or possibly Toby would phrase things more obliquely. Their mother was not a diplomat.
Barb-Barb could get on with her life. He didn't want to rake over that set of feelings before breakfast. He didn't know how much of what he was feeling was Hanks' meddling and how much was being, still, mad at the way Barb had gone about it, and mad at that edge-of-his-bedtime "Call me."
He sipped the remainder of the tea, decided he wouldn't dress yet, and went off to the breakfast room, advising the staff on his way that the paidhi was ready for his breakfast, thank you, and meant to take his time and, which he didn't mention, to let his headache and his temper settle. It did him no good to wake up his nastier side before breakfast — he started the day in attack condition and he found it hard to escape it. Particularly with the notion of sitting down at a table with Deana Hanks before afternoon.
He hadn't seen Banichi this morning. He hadn't seen Jago. He hoped he had security still in the apartment, and that the mysteries that were going on around him had no truly sinister import.
He had, for one very major point, to requisition materials on Determinism, and try to coax a human brain to handle concepts of physics Deana Hanks herself hadn't remotely understood when she'd lightly tossed off the concept of faster-than-light without Departmental approval.
He didn't know folded-space physics. He was doing damned well to get chemical rocket design down. He didn't understand Determinists.
But he had to before the week was out.
Tea and seasonal fruit, eggs and buttered meal, chased by toast and another pot of tea — with the distant blue vista of the Bergid range floating unattached above the tiled roofs of Shejidan, the curtains blowing in the long-awaited breeze, and the crises seemed suspended, the world peaceful and ordinary.
If one didn't know what was in the heavens demanding attention, and beyond the sunrise demanding attention, and across the water demanding attention. He'd like to go to the library after the cup of tea, spend his entire day looking through the antique books on horticulture, taking advantage of the rare opportunity the apartment and all its history presented.
But on that very thought Tano arrived bearing a tray of letters for, one hoped, mere signature and seal.
"Routine matters," Tano said.
"You've been a vast help," Bren said. "I truly am grateful."
"Thank the lady's staff. These are simple courtesies. There are others the aiji may perhaps lend staff to answer. Tabini-aiji gave us a verbal message that the paidhi should not by any means be obliged to distract himself with schoolchildren."
"The paidhi finds in the schoolchildren the best reason for keeping this job," he muttered without censoring, in the growing confidence that Tano bore no tales and Tabini would understand anyway. "Ask Banichi about salads. Jago isback this morning?"
"Asleep."
"Where's Algini?"
"He had to go —"
"— out? What in hellis going on, Tano?"
"There's a vote in the Guild we must attend."
"Ah." One clear question to the right source. "About assassinating the paidhi?"
"No, nand' paidhi. That's already been defeated."
It didn't even rate a blink. "Then may I ask?"
Tano looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Please ask Banichi, nand' paidhi."
"Forgive the question, Tano-ji. Thank you for what you've told me. Will you wait for these, and share a cup of tea with me, or have you urgent business?"
"Nand' paidhi, I am of junior rank."
"High in my personal regard. Please. Sit with me. — Saidin?"
Saidin always seemed in earshot. "Another cup," he decreed as the head of staff appeared in the doorway, and Saidin departed without a word as Tano settled uneasily into a separate, fragile chair, perched as if for ready escape.