“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!”
“Security is doing that, nandi,” Jago said quietly. Banichi continued to talk to someone on com, and Algini had eased ahead of them—he was up at an intersection of the corridor, giving orders to a uniformed Bujavid staffer, probably part of the kitchen crew.
“We have a lift car on hold,” Tano said.
“I am perfectly well, now,” Damiri said. “I shall be perfectly fine.”
One hoped. One sincerely hoped.
· · ·
They had finished the cards. Cajeiri’s fingers ached, he had signed so many, and toward the end he had begun simplifying his signature, because his hand forgot where it was supposed to be going.
He wanted to go find his guests and at least talk to them, and ask how they were doing; and he wanted to go over to the buffet and get at least one of the teacakes he had seen on people’s plates, and a drink. He very much wanted a drink of something, be it tea or just cold water. His throat was dry from saying, over and over again, “Thank you, nandi. One is very appreciative of the sentiment, nandi. One has never visited there, but one would very much enjoy it . . .” And those were the easy ones. The several who had wanted to impress him with their district’s export were worse. He had acquired a few small gifts, too, which his bodyguard said he should not open, but which would go through security.
Mostly he just wanted to get a drink of water, but the last person in line had engaged his father, now, and wanted to talk. He stood near the table and waited. And when his father’s bodyguard did nothing to break his father free of the person, he turned to Antaro and said, very quietly, “Taro-ji, please bring me a drink of something, tea, juice, water, one hardly cares.”
“Yes,” she said, and started to slip away; but then senior Guild arrived, two men so brusque and sudden Antaro moved her hand to her gun and froze where she stood, in front of him; the other three closed about him.
It was his father the two aimed at; but his father’s guard opened up and let them through, and then he realized, past the near glare of an oil lamp, that they were his mother’s bodyguard.
“They are Mother’s,” he said, which was to say, Great-grandmother’s. And they were upset. “Taro-ji, they are Mother’s guard. Something is wrong.”
“We are not receiving,” Veijico reminded him, staying close with him as he followed Antaro into his father’s vicinity.
“Son of mine,” his father said, “your mother is going upstairs. It may be the baby. She has called for her physician. We are obliged to go, quickly.”
“Is she all right?” he blurted out.
“Most probably. She has chosen not to go to the Bujavid clinic. She is giving directions. Nand’ Bren is with her. Your great-grandmother has heard. She will make the announcement in the hall.” His father set a hand on his shoulder. “Do not be distressed, son of mine. Likely everything is all right. We must just leave the hall and go upstairs.”
“My guests,” he said.
His father drew in a breath and spoke to his more senior bodyguard. “Go to Jase-aiji. Assist him and the young guests to get to Lord Tatiseigi’s apartment. Advise my grandmother to take my place in the hall. She may give the excuse of the consort’s condition. —Son of mine?”
“Honored Father.”
“Will you wish to go with nand’ Jase, or to go with us?”
He had never been handed such a choice. He had no idea which was right. Then he did know. “I should go where my mother is,” he said. “Jase-aiji will take care of my guests.”
“Indeed,” his father said, and gave a little nod. “Indeed. Come with me. Quickly.”
He snagged Jegari by the arm. “Go apologize to my guests. Tell them all of this, Gari-ji.”
“Yes,” Jegari said, and headed off through the crowd as quickly as he could.
Only then he thought . . . What about Kaplan and Polano?
· · ·
* * *
· · ·
The Bujavid staffer guided them through a succession of three service corridors, to a door that let out across from the lifts, in an area of hall cordoned off by red rope, and Guild were waiting beside a lift with the doors held open. Recent events still urged caution—but, “Clear,” Banichi said, and they went, at Damiri’s pace, which was brisk enough.
“We are in contact with the physician,” Tano said in a low voice, “but he is down in the hotel district, attempting to get to the steps through the crowd. Guild is escorting him. They will activate the tramway to bring him up.”
It was moderately good news. “Should we,” Bren ventured to ask Damiri, as they entered the lift, “call nand’ Siegi in the interim, daja-ma?”
She drew in a deep breath. They were all in. The door of the car shut, and Tano used his key and punched buttons. The car moved in express mode.
Damiri gasped and reached out, seizing Bren’s arm, and Algini’s, and they reached to hold her up.
“I think,” she said, “I think—”
“Daja-ma?”
“Get my husband!”
“We have sent word,” Bren said. “He is coming, daja-ma.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, and gasped as the car stopped. “Paidhi, he is not going to be in time.”
“Just a little further,” Banichi said. “We can carry you if you wish, nandi.”
“No,” she said, and took a step, and two. They exited the car into the hall, with a long, long walk ahead.
“Tano-ji, go to nand’ Tatiseigi’s apartment,” Bren said, still supporting Damiri on his arm. “Tell Madam Saidin to come. And nand’ Siegi if you can find him.”
Damiri opened her mouth to say something. And kept walking, but with difficulty. One truly, truly had no idea what to do, except to help her do what she had determined to do.
Banichi, who did not have use of one arm, moved to assist on the side he could, and Algini gave place to him. He said, quietly, “We are in contact with your staff, nandi, and Madam Saidin is on her way. So is your physician, at all speed. Here is nand’ Bren’s apartment. We could stop here, should you need. He has an excellent guest room.”
“No,” she said, but quietly, in the tenor of Banichi’s calm, low voice. “I shall make it. I can make it.”
“How long has this been going on?” Banichi asked, and after a deep series of breaths, Damiri said,