The major domo hurried after. Cajeiri’s bodyguard stood by their chairs, confused.
“As well sit and wait, nadiin,” Banichi said, as Tano and Algini looked amused. “There is no use for us back there.”
Bren let out a slow breath, and took a sip of tea, affording himself a little smile as Cajeiri’s young bodyguard settled back into their chairs, deciding there probably was no further use for their presence, either.
But they might as well finish the tea.
· · ·
Mother was propped with pillows, and her hair was done up with a ribbon. Father was in a chair at her bedside. And there was a white blanket in Mother’s arms, just the way it was in the machimi. It all seemed like a play, like it was somebody else’s family, somebody else’s mother and father, on stage.
But he came closer, and Mother smiled at him, and moved the blanket and showed him a little screwed-up face that hadn’t been in the world before.
“This is Seimiro,” Mother said. “This is your sister.”
He looked at his father, who looked at him; he looked at his mother. He looked at the screwed-up little face. He had never seen a really young baby.
“Is she asleep?” he whispered.
“She hears you,” his father said. “But she cannot see you yet.”
“Can I touch her?”
“Yes,” his mother said.
He put out his hand, touched her tiny fist with just one finger. She was unexpectedly soft, and warm. “Hello, Seimiro,” he said. “Hello. This is your brother.”
“Do you want to hold her?” his father asked.
She was so tiny. He knew he could. But she was so delicate. And his mother would be really upset if he made a mistake. “No,” he said. “I might do it wrong.”
“Here.” His father stood up, and carefully took the baby, and carefully put it in his arms. She was no weight at all. She made a face at him. He could hold her in one arm and touch her on her nose, which made her make another face, and made him smile. But it was a risk, all the same: he very carefully gave her back to his mother, who took her back and smiled, not at him, for doing it right; but at her.
Well, that was the way things were going to be. But she was new, and he could hardly blame people for being interested.
He just said to himself that he had a long, long head start on Seimiro, and she would have a lot of work to catch him.
There were a lot of things he could show her.
Even if they had sealed up some of the servant passages. There were still ways to sneak around the Bujavid.
· · ·
Jase made it back: Madam Saidin had gotten home, and taken over, and Jase was willing to trade news over a glass of brandy.
Kaplan and Polano were still stuck in the hall, being statues, but they were comfortable enough, and there were atevi guards standing near them who knew what they were, and who had orders to get them back upstairs once the festivity had broken up.
Everybody was in the sitting room. Everybody was sitting, Bren, Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini, even Narani and Jeladi, all indulging in a modest brandy, and everybody debriefing, in safe privacy. Even Bindanda came in, their other plain-clothes Guildsman, to get the news straight from those who were there.
“The baby’s name is Seimiro,” Jago said. And: “Damiri-daja had no trouble at all. And well we hurried. The baby was there before nand’ Siegi was.”
Jase said, “The youngsters were a little worried when they saw everybody leaving—so were the guests. But the dowager took over and explained the situation, and I took the youngsters right on up to Lord Tatiseigi’s apartment: the guests were headed for the wine and brandy, very happy.”
“One wishes the youngsters could have had a better time,” Bren said.
“Oh,” Jase said, “they had fancy dress, they had the museum, they had all the lords and ladies, and seeing Cajeiri and the ceremony—they were very excited. They asked me more questions than I could answer. Then the baby coming—they knew why they had to go upstairs, and then with Madam Saidin helping deliver the baby—they were very excited.”
“One hears the city is going wild,” he said. That was, at least, what his bodyguard reported, and he had no doubt of it.
“The printing office is calling in staff,” Algini said, “and they are preparing another release of cards for tomorrow: the birth announcement.”
“And no trouble?” Bren asked.
“None,” Algini said. “One hopes our remaining problems are busy relocating, and where they have been, we may be interested to learn. For tonight, at least, we can relax.”
Relax. With a glass of brandy, good company, and everybody safe and well. It was a special occasion.
· · ·
“Will you want to stay here tonight?” Father asked, in the hallway. Mother and the baby were asleep, though Father said they would probably have restless nights for quite a while.
Cajeiri gave a little bow. “One has guests waiting, honored Father, and if I may, I should go to nand’ Tatiseigi’s apartment and explain everything. If I may.”
“Yes.”
The enormity of everything struck him then, and maybe, he thought, he should have said something special—about the inheritance and all that. And the ceremony. And the surprise. He gave a deep, deep bow.
“Thank you, honored Father. Thank you very much. And one is very sorry for forgetting the speech.”
“You did very well this evening. One was quite proud of you.”
He straightened up, heat rushing to his face. He could not remember his father saying that. “I shall not be a fool. I shall study. But I do not want to be aiji for a long, long time.”
“You are a good son. A very good son. One is twice proud. Go. Behave yourself. Enjoy the day.”
He did, instantly about infelicitous four paces down the hall before he remembered, then, to make a grown-up exit, and turned and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Father.”
“Indeed,” his father said, and nodded, and Cajeiri walked sedately all the way down the hall, collected his aishid, and walked a little more briskly outside and up the hall past nand’ Bren’s apartment.
“Her name is Seimiro,” he said, thinking of it.
“Is she pretty?” Lucasi asked.
“Wrinkled,” he said, making a face, and laughed.
“Babies are like that,” Antaro said. “I saw my cousin after he was born.”
They were in the hall with no other escort, no guards at the end. They came up on Great-uncle’s door, and it opened, Madam already having gotten a signal from Antaro, and in they came, Madam very happy to have them back.
“Come right on in,” Madam said, “into the sitting room.”
He had a little suspicion when Madam did not take his coat, and when Madam showed him straight to the sitting room, that his guests had not gone to bed.
Indeed, they were all three waiting, in their court dress, with, in the midst of the side table, a very large—cake. It was iced like a teacake. But it was large enough for everybody and the staff. And there was a candelabra beside it and beside that, three boxes wrapped up in brocade fabric.
“Happy birthday!” they all said at once.
He laughed, he was so surprised. And they insisted he open the boxes, one after another: there was a little handwritten notebook from Irene—“A lot of words you could use,” she said; and he saw words he had never seen before, with the rules for pronouncing them. And from Artur there was a little clear shiny marble that lit up. “Just set it in any light,” Artur said, “and it recharges.”
And from Gene there was what looked like a pocket-knife, but it unfolded in screwdrivers and picks and a magnifying glass.