“One absolutely concurs in your estimate, aiji-ma, and I take your warning. I shall not negotiate with him. But one can advise Lord Topari—privately, politely—with no audience at all—that he is about to step into political quicksand. The Cismontane poses a nuisance to the southern agreement if he becomes a problem, but I may be able to do him a favor.”
“By warning him off this.”
“Warning him, exactly, aiji-ma. If he will talk to me—if he is not a fool, and I have not had the impression that he is. He is a devout ’counter, yes, a traditionalist, yes. But if I warn him away from a political cliff edge, and he avoids a second embarrassing loss to Lord Tatiseigi, then he may even deign to talk to me on the railroad matter, when it comes at issue . . . so long as I am entirely discreet about the contact. He needs publicly to deplore human influence, true. But if I can prevent him taking Aseida’s part in this, and if he warns certain other people off the idea—that will help us. One does recall that he lacks a Guild bodyguard. Several of his neighbors are in the same situation. They will not be getting the information that other lords have already gotten, quietly, from the changed leadership in the Guild. So he is in a position to make a public fuss and then to be embarrassed again, very painfully. But I propose to inform him—in a kindly way. Am I reasoning sanely in this, aijiin-ma? I think so, but a headache hardly improves my reasoning.”
“Will he even speak to you?” Tabini asked. “You are in no condition to go to him. Nor should you!”
“My major domo is a remarkable and traditional gentleman. It would be the crassest rudeness to turn Narani away unheard. I can at least try such an approach and plead my injury to necessitate Lord Topari coming to me.”
A deep breath. A sigh. “Well, well, do your best, paidhi. If you fail, then he may have to have his falling-out with Tatiseigi in public, and it will be untidy, and it may spill over into other debates, but I shall leave it in your hands, if you believe you can work with him. I have two vacant lordships to deal with, neither easy to fill, and I shall not be asking Topari for his opinion.”
“Will you ask Damiri?” Ilisidi asked archly, lips pursed, and Tabini scowled in her direction.
“We are certain you will have advice.”
“Who is her recommendation?”
“I have not asked her. Nor shall until she offers an opinion. Gods less fortunate, woman! She has a father to mourn!”
“Ah. We had hardly expected mourning on that score. But she will not take the lordship. Nor will my great-grandson. Let us agree on that, at least.”
Tabini frowned. “To my certain recollection, I have that decision, alone, and I find no reason to forecast who it will be.” He placed his hands on his thighs, preparatory to rising. “And we have kept the paidhi-aiji, who is distressingly pale, overlong, and made him work much too hard. Paidhi, you and your aishid will pursue the matter you wish to attempt. Cenedi will pursue business of his own. I have a meeting this afternoon with the Assassins’ Guild, regarding . . . business. And the aiji-consort will meanwhile make plans for the Festivity . . . which we are now hopeful will come off without hindrance or extraordinary commotion. Paidhi-ji.”
“Aiji-ma?”
“Rest. Care for your own household. And do not be talked into visiting Topari on his terms. We forbid it.”
“One hears, aiji-ma.”
Tabini rose, and offered his hand to his grandmother. She used his help, and her cane, and Bren rose and bowed as Jago moved close by him, in case the paidhi-aiji should unceremoniously fall on his face. Cenedi was now attending the dowager. Everything was back where it ought to be.
And he—he had to talk to Jase and send Narani on an errand into the city.
Preferably after a ten minute rest, with his eyes shut.
He was aware of his heartbeat in the wound on the back of his skull and tried to decide whether it matched the pounding in his temples. He just wanted to go home, lie down, preferably not on his back, and then maybe have another slice of buttered toast, to settle his stomach.
But he had to launch a campaign before he had that luxury . . . and see if he could move a man who ruled mountains.
He was laying plans even as he walked home with Jago and Algini.
Tell Lord Topari, he would say to Narani, that the paidhi-aiji wishes to forewarn him of evidence in the case of Lord Aseida, and that the paidhi-aiji wishes to meet with him discreetly and in confidence, preferring the honor of his company for tea in his residence— if he will be so accommodating. Say to him that the paidhi-aiji has been injured and is unable to walk any distance, but that the paidhi has heard of his concern and will not rest until he has spoken to him personally.
If there was one thing he had noted in the old lord, it was a sense of eternally frustrated entitlement, a sense that his mountainous district, though Ragi and part of the central lands, received everything last and least. Tea with a human might not be high on the list of honors Lord Topari craved—but Narani, country-bred himself, though coastal, might cajole the man into understanding at least one reason the conference was not taking place in an office.
Lord Topari, like other minor lords, lodged in town during the legislative session. The Cismontane, like many other small associations, seasonally held rooms for their representatives in the tashrid and hasdrawad in a moderately-priced hotel a few rows back from the esplanade at the foot of the Bujavid—off among the restaurants and office supply shops. Narani would take the tram down the lofty steps as far as the esplanade, and walk—it would not be far enough to necessitate local transport.
For the paidhi-aiji and his bodyguards to make the trek—the route would have involved the train station and a conspicuous Guild-supplied bus. He didn’t think he had it in him. He knew he didn’t. And he would, he thought, think better of Lord Topari forever, if Lord Topari would just come up the hill to disagree with him.
· · ·
· · ·
Son of mine, the letter went, that Madam Saidin had brought into the guest quarters, be advised that the official celebration of your birthday will be on the day itself. Jase-aiji will come to your door to escort your guests to the paidhi-aiji’s apartment, and to escort you and your aishid to our apartment for a private breakfast, at the usual time. There will be a small luncheon, late, attended by family and by your personal guests. Appropriate wardrobe will be transferred by staff during breakfast. Kindly advise your young associates of that arrangement. The paidhi-aiji’s staff will assist your guests.
Lord Tatiseigi has been requested, by separate letter, to escort your great-grandmother. He will, starting in late afternoon, lead a private museum tour for all official guests, ending at the supper hour in a buffet reception and formal Festivity for a larger number of guests, in the Audience Hall, to last about three hours.
Understand and explain to your guests that these arrangements in no wise reflect precedence, rank, or favor. The prime consideration is the capacity of the residency lift system and the need for the three of us to arrive at the appropriate time and together, as hosts of the event.
Understand too that for most of the day, your guests will be attached to the paidhi-aiji and Jase-aiji, not to you, nor should you signal or converse with them in public except for passing courtesy. You should direct your full attention to the various guests and officials.