“Only that it applies to the aijinate and to the highest rank of the College of Numerology,” Algini said. “Tabini-aiji was never invested. Had the dowager strongly opposed his accession, that deficiency could have come into legal question. It has continued to be an issue with his detractors, who claim an infelicity in his accession. Murini of course was not given an investiture, and he was certainly an infelicity, with shocks still ongoing. Politically speaking—reviving the ceremony is a brilliant move. Doing it so young is a shock—but it will not be unpopular with the people.”
“What does it do?” Bren said. “I know it in terms of a will. The aijinate is not technically inherited. Does it somehow bind the legislature?”
“It does not,” Banichi said. “In ordinary inheritance, investiture sets business relationships for the future, makes the relationships public. And, especially with a family that has heirs through various contract marriages, it makes the future directorship of the business clear. To pass over an invested heir is only possible if the heir has disgraced the name or committed a crime. Investiture of an heir of the aishidi’tat establishes that the College of Numerology, the chief of which is the only other office that uses investiture, has set a stamp of good numbers on this heir being chosen on this date, and any change in those numbers thereafter has to go back to this point and demonstrate the origin and cause.”
“It makes it far more difficult,” Jago said, “to argue infelicity of origin.”
Origin.
Damiri.
“Nine,” Algini said, “carries the potency of an unbeatable number. And it will be six years,” Algini said, “before another year almost as felicitous. Under present circumstances, with a second child coming, there is certainly motive.”
“This,” Bren said, “effectively disinherits the daughter.”
“As regards the aishidi’tat, yes. It does. Having his son invested before this second child even exists—one sees, entirely, why he would decide on this course. The ninth year is indisputably fortunate; the next entirely felicitous year, the fifteenth—means six years in which speculation—and politics—might build around a second child. Considering the opposition to certain influences on the young gentleman—it is a statement, and a very timely one.”
“It also makes clear,” Banichi said, “that, given the history of the persons involved, the aiji-dowager, not the aiji-consort, could instantly be regent should anything untoward befall Tabini-aiji in the next twelve years. The executor of the inheritance would be, legally, of the aiji’s bloodline.”
“That would cool the opposition,” Jago said, “since the persons most likely to plot against Tabini-aiji have no desire to see the dowager in power.”
“And removing rights of succession for the daughter,” Banichi said, “leaves no argument that could make Damiri-daja regent if he leaves the daughter in her care—as he has promised to do. Damiri-daja may have title to her daughter. But that daughter will not have the aishidi’tat. And there has been some speculation about that, should something happen to Cajeiri.”
“The city will be wild tomorrow night,” Jago said, “once that news is run out.”
“An excitement that would tax resources at the best of times,” Banichi said. “Bren-ji, we have kept this as quiet as possible—but the Guild had a choice last night, when the new leadership seized control of communications. We could continue the old communication system—which could expose our operations to the remnant we are hunting. We could shut the system down entirely. We could continue to use it but redefine the signals for a given few, which could create dangerous confusion. Or we could go ahead with technical changes, which would lock everybody but a chosen few out of the system entirely. The Council opted for the latter, which will deny access to any units not specifically cleared, until they can be approved into the system.”
“We cannot reach the Guild?”
“We can. We, that is to say we four, the dowager’s units, those assigned to the aiji, and those assigned to Lord Tatiseigi, will all be cleared into the system from the beginning. This includes the aiji’s under-classified personal guard; Guild Headquarters, and units that it puts in place in and out of the Bujavid. We have argued to have the young gentleman’s bodyguard put onto the system, but thus far we have not moved the Council on that matter, since the Council is still reviewing records and has not cleared them. It is solely on our recommendation and Cenedi’s that the Council has not removed that unit from the young gentleman’s premises because of the date of their assignment. We will be able to use our equipment through the change, but we are noticing small interruptions. We were warned of this. We are assured there will be no interruptions from tomorrow afternoon, but we count that an optimistic assurance. Reliable Guild assets are moving into position right now, but, in the same security considerations, we are not informed in all cases where, or in protection of what.”
The paidhi-aiji was supposed to stay out of Guild affairs. The resolution of his non-involvement had held, what? Less than a day.
“The Guild, however, does not yet know the aiji’s intention for the event,” Bren said.
“No,” Algini said. “They do not. And this is not information I would gladly commit to the network at the moment.”
“One of us,” Banichi said, “needs to make another journey down to headquarters, before the crowds make van traffic impossible.”
“One hopes they have the headquarters doors back up,” Algini said. “They will have to reduce building security and reactivate numerous units to take duty in the streets, one assumes, without full communications resources.”
“Will you go?” Banichi asked him.
“Surely you will not,” Algini said. “And Cenedi has already made one such trip today.” Algini rose from his chair and reached for his uniform jacket. “Baji-naji, I should be back in an hour or so. I shall inform Cenedi on my way.”
“Take four from Cenedi,” Banichi said. “Better this floor be short five guards than have you approaching Headquarters alone. And ask them again to put the young gentleman’s bodyguard into the network. Name them again those of the Bujavid guard in whom we have confidence. Tell them— I leave it to you what to tell them. Convince them if you can.”
“Yes,” Algini said, agreeing, buckled on his sidearm, zipped his jacket, and left.
At least, Bren thought, the kabiuteri and the ’counters had been discreet enough that the dowager’s network hadn’t picked it up—a testament to the historic integrity of those individuals.
The Bujavid printing office, too, which also prided itself on discretion, had to have gotten its orders now, at least as far as the director, who at least would have cleared the presses to run. The cards to be handed out to the public, as well as the special run for the attendees at the event, would likely be in process within the hour, boxed, and kept in tight security until the official release . . . in the Audience Hall, and on the steps. Such public distributions were limited usually to thirty thousand of the first issue, and while atevi crowds understood the principle of keeping an orderly line, the distribution of cards could not be without Guild presence in force.
Unfortunately, at the moment, Guild presence in force had some problems.
“I had best leave you to your concerns,” Bren said quietly. “I have no needs at the moment. Jase-aiji is in his room and I am answering correspondence. I shall need nothing today that I foresee, unless the dowager sends for me. I shall ask Jase-aiji to check on the children.”
· · ·
He went back to his office, hoping Algini managed a quick passage, and hoping Algini had picked up a unit from the dowager’s household.
Traffic would be picking up down at the foot of the hill. The long-awaited Festivity being tomorrow, the streets down in the hotel district would be filling up with booths. By evening, as the crowds grew, anticipating tomorrow, the smaller streets would become absolutely impassable to van traffic. That meant those wealthy sorts accustomed to the luxury of the finer hotels and their ready transportation were going to have to use the common rail or go on foot to their destinations.