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The numbers of the Festivity have officially come in as favorable for the event . . .

Rarely did official ’counters produce anything contrary, for something the aiji firmly decided to schedule. It was a bit of a non-announcement for most long-scheduled events, particularly those naturally containing fortunate numbers.

We have waited for these numbers, considering recent events. We are, as of a few moments ago, absolutely certain of them. Expect, at the Festivity, investment of my son as my heir.

Investment. Nine was a fortunate year, extraordinarily felicitous. But it was also extremely young to be officially set into a will. The traditional number for a child to be invested as heir was . . . he recalled . . . fifteen, the next entirely felicitous number after nine, and offering the greater maturity of that year as well as a fortunate numerology.

A formal investment, however, fended off inheritance disputes, or at least let them happen during the lifetime of the parent, when they could be quashed with authority.

Tabini’s legacy wasn’t a set of fishing or hunting rights.

But it was a little unexpected, this. For various reasons, Tabini himself hadn’t had it. He was not sure it had actually been done for the aijinate since Tabini’s grandfather’s investment. Certainly it wasn’t in Wilson’s notes.

My wife is advised, and I am, in two other letters sent with this one, informing my grandmother and Lord Tatiseigi of my decision.

My decision. Not the plural. Not the imperial we. And not including Damiri in any implication whatever.

“Trouble, nandi?” Narani asked.

“Not trouble, exactly,” he said. “The aiji is going to invest the young gentleman as his heir.”

“Indeed.” Narani hardly lifted a brow. Surprised? It was rare anything surprised Narani.

“It is, apparently, held secret until the event. Please keep it so.” He had no doubts of Narani, who well knew how to keep secrets. “You look surprised, Rani-ji.”

“One would say the last three years have certainly urged it.”

An overthrow of the government and the whole world in upheaval. That, to say the least, was a reason to have intentions clear.

But one still had to wonder.

Had something significant gone on between Tabini and Damiri in the boy’s absence—an understanding reached, or definitively not reached, since Tabini had taken initial steps to shift the birthday party from private celebration to national holiday—on the very day they had gone to the spaceport to pick up the boy’s guests?

Tabini had evidently started that extreme move while they—including the dowager—were on their way out of the Bujavid, and dropping into a communications blackout. It was as if Tabini had waited for that.

He evidently hadn’t mentioned his intentions to Ilisidi—who might have had definite advice about it.

Geigi had hastened the shuttle launch—so the boy had been able to pick up his guests a few days early and enjoy a little vacation before all hell had broken loose.

But had that been the only reason Geigi had moved things up? Had Geigi had a clue this was in the offing?

More, the dowager’s servants were threaded all the way through Tabini’s household. And yet—had she been surprised by it?

All Tabini needed do to arrange it was sit in his office, write a few orders, seal them and send them: Give me the numbers of the event. Give me the numbers if I do thus and such in addition.

Damn, he hoped this didn’t mean Tabini had decided on divorce.

His headache threatened to come back in force.

What had Tabini discussed with Lord Geigi during their private conversations? And did Ilisidi know it was coming?

“Nandi. Will there be an answer?”

He blinked the room back into focus. “Rani-ji. One apologizes. No. No, there will not be an answer to this one. That will do. Thank you.”

“Nandi,” Narani said, and left the office.

God. If Geigi had gone up to the station with orders to get the kids down here . . .

Why? A distraction?

Maybe he was overthinking everything. Things too easily ran in interlocking circles. That didn’t help the headache, either.

But thinking often ran in circles, where Tabini was involved, circles that always ran right back to Tabini’s tendency to keep his own counsel.

Tabini’s quiet, even joking dismissal of his problems with his Ajuri wife?

Never believe Ajuri’s move physically to reach his grandson would be dismissed. No. Tabini had been amazingly forgiving of Komaji’s actions.

Damn.

Today was the day the birthday party should have returned from Tirnamardi, had everything gone as planned when they’d headed out there. Tabini had launched his own plan, ordered the numbers run—which meant he’d long since had to tell the ’counters what he was up to—and then having launched the inquiry about numbers—Tabini would also have had to tell the ’counters and kabiuteri what had happened at Tirnamardi and in the Guild. Keeping it from the arbiters of arrangement and felicity risked an infelicity in the goings-on that could turn into a political earthquake.

He’d had his moment of sheer terror pinned beside that shattered door in the Guild. Tabini had probably had his own moment in his sitting room the day after they’d returned, when Cenedi had told him they were going to go into the Guild and restore the old Guild leadership.

Well, if Tabini had surprised his grandmother with his plan to put the boy into his will—Ilisidi had certainly returned the favor with interest.

And God only knew what strings Tabini had just pulled with the College of Numerology to get a good outcome after the upheaval in the Guild.

He got up from his desk. Painkiller and pleasant company had thus far had kept the headache at bay. He backed it off with two deep breaths, then walked out and down the hall to the security station.

His aishid were all in their outer office, sitting in the arc of desks and consoles, apparently in conference.

“One would not wish to interrupt a discussion, nadiin-ji,” he said quietly, “but one has just received an advisement from the aiji. He intends formally to name the young gentleman his heir tomorrow, in the Audience Hall.”

Four faces showed rare surprise.

“An investiture, Algini said, rocking his chair back. It was an obscure word, a variation on the modern legal word he had read it to be. “The Guild does not know this. Has he run the numbers?”

“He says they have come back favorable.”

Algini asked, warily: “Did you expect this, nandi?”

“In no wise did I.”

“Sit with us, Bren-ji,” Banichi said, and Bren sat down gingerly on the edge of the counter, closer to eye level. “It explains the aiji’s intention in making this a public event. But did he give a reason, Bren-ji?”

“None. It was a very short letter. He has told Damiri-daja. He said he was writing to the dowager and Lord Tatiseigi.”

“This was not anticipated,” Algini said.

Banichi said dryly, “With encouragement, the best ’counters can find felicity in an earthquake. But it is useful, considering the changes in the Guild, that these ’counters will proclaim felicitous numbers. One trusts he has told them about the substantial changes in the Guild.”

“It was not in the letter,” Bren said, “but this information seems down to the moment.”

“At nine years of age,” Algini said. “This will surprise everyone.”

“Investiture,” Bren repeated. “Different from investment?”