“I leave the Dojisigi to my grandmother’s discretion,” Tabini muttered with a wave of his hand, “but Aseida is mine to deal with. You will remind her of that.”
“Without a doubt he must be, aiji-ma, nor does one believe she would say otherwise.”
“Of course not. —With a notable dearth of candidates for the Kadagidi lordship, of course she will not object. There will be a firestorm among the Conservatives, and we shall have to deal with the mess.”
“Ajuri,” Damiri said unhappily, regarding her clan, now lordless, with her father’s death, “and now Kadagidi must have new lords. And there will be more troubles for the north.”
Damiri herself was one candidate for the lordship of Ajuri. She was the very last candidate Tabini wanted in that frequently-vacated office. There was clearly subtext in the aiji-consort’s uncommon statement on politics in the paidhi’s hearing.
Subtext, too, in Tabini’s sideways shift of the eyes, in his wife’s direction.
“When shall we see our son?” Damiri asked sharply.
Angry. Yes. Damiri was angry with Tabini. Angry with her son. Angry with Ilisidi. Angry with him. Angry with her uncle. And, it was very certain, she was supremely angry at her recently-deceased father and whoever had killed him.
She was also the very last person on the planet the dowager wanted involved in any plan to move against the old man in Assignments—an old man who also happened to be her great-uncle.
“Daja-ma,” Bren said quietly, “the youngsters are all exhausted, and very concerned about making a good impression. An alert kept them up much of the night, and they are likely headed for baths and beds now as quickly as Lord Tatiseigi’s staff can settle them in. Your son is deeply concerned for your safety and your good opinion. He wishes you to know he is well. He is the only translator available for his guests at the moment, and he wishes not to disturb your peace of mind, daja-ma, by arriving here with his guests—not to mention the parid’ja.”
“That creature.”
“Indeed, daja-ma. The parid’ja is with him. And, right or wrong in his judgment, he has wished to regroup and set himself to rights. He wishes to present himself and his guests rested, and in the most felicitous way, and he wishes not to disturb this household with the commotion of young guests.”
He had averted wars. Damiri’s displeasure was a harder argument. The scowl persisted for a moment, boring into him. Then:
“Tell me this, paidhi-aiji. Was my uncle or the dowager involved in my father’s assassination?”
A reasonable question. He was ever so glad to report the negative.
“In no way or degree were they involved, daja-ma. They were aware of Lord Komaji’s movement toward Lord Tatiseigi’s estate—but they had given no order at all to prevent him. They were both quite shocked by the unfortunate event. I was present at deliberations and there is no question in my mind they were uncertain about his intentions. They even wondered whether your father, not knowing that the aiji-dowager or your son was present at Tirnamardi, was on his way to take refuge with Lord Tatiseigi, pending his return home, because of an imminent threat inside Ajuri—which the aiji-dowager believes existed. I believe she thinks he was indeed coming to appeal to Lord Tatiseigi. Lord Komaji and Lord Tatiseigi were not on good terms, but Lord Tatiseigi is moderate even to his enemies. We rather wonder also whether there was some particular intelligence your father meant to give Lord Tatiseigi, information that someone did not wish given.”
“Specifically?”
God, of course she would ask that question. And he had to lie. Or at least evade. “I am not that far into the dowager’s confidence, daja-ma.” And back to the edge of the truth. “But one believes elements among the Kadagidi, among others, may have had a reason to fear your father’s making common cause with Lord Tatiseigi against them.” He glanced away, back to Tabini, an appeal for rescue.
“My grandmother will not withhold that information from us,” Tabini said, “one is quite certain. Well-done, paidhi. Go. Rest. Have that injury treated—and deal with our guests. Keep us informed. We shall wish to see our son when he is rested.”
“Aiji-ma.” Another bow. A short bow to the aiji-consort.
And an escape, before the domestic discussion could start.
· · ·
They reached their own door, he and Tano and Algini. And within, safely in the hands of Narani, there was finally the chance to shed the ruined coat. Bren did that, not hoping to see it again.
“The aiji has the essentials of what happened on the Kadagidi estate, and in the south,” Bren told Tano and Algini before they parted company in the foyer—the two of them, in Tabini’s apartment, had been standing watch with the aiji’s guard, and not inside the office. “The aiji-consort arrived late. She asked questions regarding Lord Komaji’s assassination—she is understandably angry and she wonders whether she has been told all the truth. I mentioned the Kadagidi in the context of that assassination. I did not quite lie to her, nadiin-ji, but it was a misdirection; and it was certainly an untruth, when I said I was not that deep in the dowager’s affairs. The aiji clearly knows to the contrary, and probably the consort suspects it was a politic evasion and a half-answer. It was clumsy of me. I desperately need sleep, nadiin-ji.”
“Sleep as you can,” Algini advised him.
“Banichi?” he asked.
“He will rest,” Tano said. “Jago will see to it.”
With a dose of sedative, one suspected. The dowager’s physician had given him several bottles of pills.
“He should not think his risking his health in any way serves his man’chi to me,” he said. “One does not know how to convey that sentiment to him strongly enough. He needs several days abed.”
“That will not be the case, nandi,” Algini said.
Formal tone. Formal advisement. So he knew they weren’t waiting for the second part of the dowager’s plan. He had thought there would be a deal of information-gathering first.
“Then we are moving, nadiin-ji.”
“Imminently,” Algini said. “Banichi insists to be part of it. In plain fact, Bren-ji, he needs to be.”
Damn, he thought. “One understands,” he said, and the intellect understood, but the heart didn’t, not at all. He’d seen Banichi go down this morning. He kept seeing it, and knew there’d been considerable blood loss. “With how much risk?”
There was no answer. They knew he knew.
“I rely on you,” he said. “I rely on all of you. I ask that you think of your own value—to the aishidi’tat.” That didn’t half state it. “To me. You know that. Losing any one of you—I would be—I could continue to function in office, and I assure you I would do so, nadiin-ji, but—”
“He understands,” Algini said, a rescue.
“I am not expressing myself well, Gini-ji. Do not fear I could not function in my office. But I am worried. And I value all of you. Extremely.”
“We know. He knows. Understand, nandi—he knew that Haikuti would react to his presence. This troubles him. He knew if Haikuti did bring his lord out to parley, he would be maneuvering for position, with no regard for his lord’s safety. He knew that before we left the house. Banichi moved to protect you, and he moved to a defensive posture to secure your legal position; but in his own judgment he put himself in that position because he wanted Haikuti stopped and he left cover because he intended to withstand Haikuti’s fire to take him down definitively and legally. It served your interests and the aiji’s, too, but he strongly questions which motive was foremost in his mind when he did not turn and protect you with his body. I say this because he will not. He is determined not to operate at any disadvantage now, in consideration of what he sees as a lapse of man’chi—a failure of character. We have told him we would have done the same, on the simple logic of the situation, but he considers his action, however proper, was tainted by his personal feud with Haikuti, and he is determined not to be put out of action now because of his choice. That would give Haikuti some bearing on the outcome. And he will not tolerate that thought, either.”