“I am weary of riddles and suppositions! Tell me what you know, not what you guess!”
“Daja-ma.” He lowered his voice as much as possible. “We are not in a safe place. If you will discuss this with some person of close connection to you, one suggests Lord Tatiseigi.”
“The dowager’s closest ally!”
“But a man of impeccable honesty, daja-ma.”
“No! No, I insist on the truth from you. You advise my husband. And I am set at distance. I am told I shall not be permitted to leave the Bujavid. I cannot claim the Ajuri lordship. I cannot go to my own home!”
“Daja-ma, there are reasons.”
“Reasons!”
“Your great-uncle, daja-ma.” He kept his voice as low as possible. “I believe he did order your father’s assassination. If you wish my opinion of events, daja-ma, your great-uncle plotted a coup from the hour of your son’s birth. When the aiji sent him to the space station, out of reach, and in the dowager’s keeping, it so upset your great-uncle’s plans he launched the coup to remove the aiji, and possibly to appoint you to a regency until the succession could be worked out. But you fled with your husband.”
Her look was at first indignant, then entirely shocked.
“You had no idea, did you not, daja-ma?”
“This is insane! My great-uncle. My great-uncle is in the Guild.”
“He was in the Guild. Exactly so. And not of minor rank.”
“Ajuri is a minor clan!”
“That is no impediment. What would you have done, daja-ma, if the Guild had separated you from your husband and asked you to govern for a few months—or to marry—in a few months, for the good of the aishidi’tat.”
“You are quite out of your mind!”
“Did anyone approach you with such an idea, daja-ma?”
“Never!”
“Perhaps I am mistaken. But I am not mistaken about your great-uncle’s support—with others—of a Kadagidi with southern ties, to take the aijinate. And one is not mistaken in the subsequent actions of your great-uncle, whose subversion of the Guild created chaos and upset in the aishidi’tat, setting region against region, constantly hunting your husband, and then trying to seize your son. A great deal of what went on out on the west coast was aimed at removing me, and the aiji-dowager—and, again, in laying hands on your son. We had no idea at the time. Your husband declined to bring his son back to the Bujavid, preferring to confront these people in the field rather than in the halls of the Bujavid. What he feared in the Bujavid—I do not know. But it was substantial.”
She stared at him in shock, a hand to her heart. And he was sorry. He was intensely sorry for pressing, but it was, there in a quiet nook of her son’s Investiture, surrounded by his aishid and the dowager’s men, the same question that had hung over her marriage, her acceptance in her husband’s household.
“Your father had just become lord of Ajuri,” he said, unrelenting, “in the death of your uncle. There were, one fears, questions about that replacement which I had not heard—about which your husband may have been aware. The Guild was even then systematically withholding information from your husband’s bodyguard, on the excuse that he had appointed them outside the Guild system. The heads of the Guild knowingly put your household at risk with their politics, of which, at that time, your great-uncle was definitely part. The Guild also withheld information from my aishid—more than policy, I now suspect, in a deliberate act which put my life in danger and almost killed your son. There was a great deal amiss on the west coast . . . but the threads of it have run back to the Guild in Shejidan. Realizing that, the aiji-dowager’s aishid and mine began to ask questions, and to investigate matters inside the Guild, which, indeed, involved your great-uncle. He is now dead. Unfortunately we do not believe all his agents in the field are dead. So there is a reason, daja-ma, that the aiji has forbidden you to take the Ajuri lordship. There is a reason he, yes, questioned your clan’s man’chi and wanted your father and his bodyguard out of the Bujavid, and you safe within it. And you should also know, daja-ma, that the aiji has since then strongly rejected all suggestions that your marriage should be dissolved for political convenience, insisting that you were not complicit in your great-uncle’s actions. More, by retaining you as his wife, he has now placed you in a position which, until now, only the aiji-dowager has held. The aiji-dowager has questioned your motives. And I have begun to incline toward the aiji-dowager’s opinion—that you are independent of your late great-uncle, independent also of your father, your aunt, and your cousin, and also of your great-uncle Tatiseigi. You never courted power. But power may someday land in your hands. And at very least, throughout your life, you will find not only your son, but your daughter besieged by ambitious clans. You have strongly resisted the aiji-dowager’s influence. But, baji-naji, you could one day become her. Do not reject her or her allies. Learn from her. That is my unsolicited advice, aiji-ma. Now you have heard it.”
She was breathing hard as any runner. She stared at him wide-eyed in shock, saying nothing, and now he wished he had not thrown so much information at her, not all at once, not here, not—tonight.
“One apologizes, daja-ma. One truly does.”
“You are telling me the truth,” she said, as if it were some surprise. “You are telling me the truth, are you not, nandi?”
“I have told you the truth, daja-ma. Perhaps too much of it.”
“No,” she said, eyes flashing. “No, nandi, not too much. Finally, someone makes sense!”
“One at least apologizes for doing so here, daja-ma. Understand, too, your husband held these matters only in bits and pieces. None of us knew until a handful of days ago.”
“Paidhi,” she said, winced, breathing hard, and suddenly caught at his arm.
“Daja-ma!” He lent support, he held on, not knowing where or how to take hold of her, and Jago intervened, flinging an arm about her, holding her up.
“I think—” Damiri said, still somewhat bent. “I think I am having the baby.”
“The service passage,” Banichi said. “Gini-ji, advise security; advise the aiji.”
“What shall we do?” Bren asked, his own heart racing. “Is nand’ Siegi here?”
“Call my physician,” Damiri said, and managed to straighten. “I shall walk. There will be time. First tell my husband. Then call my physician.”
“Two of you stay with her,” Algini said to Damiri’s security: “The other go privately advise the aiji and stand by for his orders. Bren-ji, stay with us.”
Never complicate security’s job. He understood. They walked at a sedate pace, Damiri walking on her own, quietly taking Algini’s direction toward the service passage, past a number of people who gave their passage a mildly curious stare.
No one delayed them. They reached the doorway of the service passage, met servants exiting with food service, who ducked out of the way, startled.
“There is a chair, daja-ma,” Bren said, “should you wish. You might sit down and let us call help.”
“No,” Damiri said shortly. “No! We shall not stop. Call my maid. Call my physician!”