It was one mundane problem, in the midst of others not so mundane. But it was a large problem. They had to put the youngsters somewhere. Somebody had to make a decision, and it had to be one that calmed, rather than exacerbated, Tabini-aiji’s domestic problems. God knew whether Tabini had told the aiji-consort the public story—or the truth about where her son had been staying.
There was at least time, in that slow climb, for everybody to get organized. “I am perfectly well-arranged, nadiin-ji,” Bren said to his two valets, when they came to assist him. He needed a change of coats, at very least, but they had not packed with that in mind. “Kindly help any of the heir’s guests who need assistance. We are not going to delay for precedence once the doors open. Our intention is to get off the platform as quickly as possible until we know the situation here. Help keep them in good order.”
They moved immediately to do that, quietly assisting Jase to lift his duffle down, for starters, from an atevi-scale storage rack. The dowager’s own servants had gone to the other end of the car, assisting with the fair lot of hand baggage the human party had with them—a significant amount of it belonging to Jase, equipment that they had not wanted to leave behind for later shipment.
Their personal wardrobes and such, two very large crates, were due to arrive with one of Lord Tatiseigi’s staff and security, on another train. They had not wanted anything to delay their boarding or hold the train any longer at the local station than absolutely necessary. On the official records, that train might not even have stopped, for all he knew.
They had, however, transported Cajeiri’s pet, Boji, a parid’ja, in an ornate, antique cage the size of a small dining set. It, with staff baggage, was in the car ahead of them, with Cenedi and certain of the dowager’s men, with Kaplan and Polano, and all their gear. Boji had somewhat earned special consideration, as much of a headache as he had been last evening. The black-furred little imp, of a species fairly rare on the continent except in Taiben and the foothills of the continental divide, was noisy, escape-prone, and hard to catch, but he had been of service, and if they had had to leave Cajeiri’s principal present behind in the stables, they had resolved not to leave Cajeiri’s little egg-thief behind if they could possibly avoid it.
Boji was going to have to come up the freight elevator, however, with Cajeiri’s valets, who were traveling in attendance on it. And in yet another car were certain of the dowager’s bodyguard, Jase’s two men, in armor, and with their gear; and the three prisoners they were bringing back with them. One almost hoped, regarding Aseida, the Kadagidi lord, now in deep difficulty with the dowager and Lord Tatiseigi, that Boji pitched one of his prolonged screaming fits. One did not, however, wish it on Cenedi—or on their other prisoners, two Dojisigi Assassins who were also going to have to be put somewhere. Those two honorable and sensible men did not deserve a bare cell in the Bujavid’s detention station. Lord Aseida himself, who deserved the bleakest lodging they could find—was too sensitive a case to put into ordinary care, and one wondered what the dowager was going to do with the three of them.
But it was not his decision.
Bren slung his computer strap to his shoulder—Jago usually helped him with it, but Jago had her several weapons with her. They all did. There was enough firepower in this car and the next to take the entire Bujavid by storm, if that had been their intent . . . or to have defended the train, if they’d come under attack. One earnestly hoped not to have to do that.
The train ran level now, and though he’d lost track of the switches, Bren was sure he knew on what track they would arrive, and that they would face a short walk to the end of the track. He stood ready to debark. Jase did. And at the other end of the car, the youngsters surged to their feet, all gathering up their personal bags, with Bren’s valet attempting to bring order to chaos. The aiji-dowager and Lord Tatiseigi alone stayed seated as the train, somewhat past the little bump at its switching-point, came to a stop. Then Tatiseigi got up, not too obviously with the assistance of his chief bodyguard, and gallantly offered his hand to Ilisidi, who used the other hand for her black cane.
The movement of senior Guild outward up the aisle displaced the youngsters, who crowded back into their seats, clearing passage, but that door was not going to open until Cenedi and their people from the car in front had deployed on the platform and signaled them it was safe.
“Nandi.” Bren gave place to Ilisidi and Lord Tatiseigi. And to Jase, Jase happening to outrank him, at least in the protocols of the heavens: “Just keep in front of me. Cajeiri and the youngsters are your problem. Don’t lose me. We’re all going to the same floor.”
“Got it,” Jase said.
The right-hand doors opened at the end of the car, and Bren’s heartbeat picked up as their company began to disembark. Ilisidi’s bodyguard exited first, all business, and quickly formed up. Then half of Tatiseigi’s bodyguard.
Ilisidi and Tatiseigi went out together, the rest of Tatiseigi’s bodyguard followed, and then Jase and the youngsters, with Cajeiri and his young bodyguard. Bren exited behind Banichi and Jago, hindmost of the principals, out into the echoing dim chill of the station, with Tano, Algini, and his two valets right at his back.
Down the platform, Cenedi headed toward them, from where two of the dowager’s men and Kaplan and Polano, conspicuous in their white armor, guarded the open baggage car door. Cenedi joined the dowager, and they and the rest of the party headed off with no delay for the baggage, Jase’s bodyguards, their prisoners, or the parid’ja in its cage.
They had arrived not quite in the situation Bren had envisioned: they were on track one, instead of three, which usually took provincial arrivals. Their engine faced the Red Train’s venerable engine nose to nose. So the station authority had had the word, and shunted them over to the reserved track, saving them, and particularly the dowager and Lord Tatiseigi, a trek down the concrete platforms to the end of the line, and another exposed trek over to reach the lift columns.
That was a relief. If there was going to be a problem it should manifest now, on the short way across that concrete expanse to the lifts. Their bodyguards walked between them and the likeliest vantages for snipers, and they did not linger a moment to look about. Polano and Kaplan were going to have to rely on the dowager’s men to direct them to the lifts—but they had the prisoners to bring up. Jase’s guards had about enough Ragi for go and stop, fire and hold fire, but that was another problem, in someone else’s hands. The overriding concern was getting the primary targets—the dowager and Tatiseigi—and himself and Jase and the youngsters—out of view and under cover.
They reached the bank of lifts in safety. Cenedi quickened pace slightly to reach the second lift, opened the door not by the ordinary means—but using a Guild key that not only opened the door, but took the car temporarily out of service, under a senior bodyguard’s control.
That was how deeply the Guild’s access was embedded in the Bujavid’s systems. Units serving lords resident in the Bujavid were authorized; and to what extent their electronics could reach into systems, and whether a key like that could be locked out at a higher level, were not matters for non-Guild to know. A lord was not used to questioning how such things worked. A lord was used to trusting the people who used those accesses, and trusting that they were going to work when needed.