“Since yesterday.”
“Since yesterday.”
“I would not spoil my son’s festivity.” Deep breath, and in a tone of distress. “With him, I had two days.”
“It can be sooner.”
“I think, nadi, it could be before I get to the doors.”
Halfway to her apartment. “We are approaching,” Bren heard Algini say. And his ears told him, too, that someone was coming behind them, likely Madam Saidin. “The hall is secure. You are clear to unlock the doors.”
The doors ahead did open, wide, and the major domo and Damiri’s personal maid came hurrying out in great distress, ran to them and paced along beside as, behind them, indeed, Madam Saidin came hurrying into their company.
“One can assist her, nandi,” Madam Saidin said, easing herself into Bren’s place, while Damiri’s maid took her arm on Banichi’s side.
“I am no great assistance in this,” Jago said, “but I can at least provide communications.”
“Go,” Bren said. “Stay with her as long as need be.”
Tano arrived at a near run, from behind them. “Nand’ Siegi says he has not done this in thirty years, but he is coming, Bren-ji.”
“Well done,” he said. He thought perhaps he should go back to his apartment and wait there for news, but he was one person who could give orders if something had to be decided, and someone who could at least answer questions and explain to Tabini, when he got here—if protocol would let him get here—and he was determined to stay. He followed, stopped in the foyer with the major domo as Madam Saidin and Damiri’s maid assisted Damiri down the inner hall, toward her own suite, with Damiri’s two bodyguards and Jago following. Servants were hurrying about, everyone hushed and trying not to make a commotion.
Bren just stood there, with his aishid—with Banichi, who by the sound of his questions knew more than the rest of them put together regarding Damiri’s situation.
“One had no idea what to do,” he said to his aishid, a little out of breath.
“One cannot say Jago has,” Banichi said. “But she will tell us what she can learn, and the dowager’s men will not go past the sitting room.”
“Do you need to rest?” he asked. “Nichi-ji, do not hesitate.”
“One has no desire to add to the commotion,” Banichi said. There was a small bench built into the foyer wall by the major domo’s office, not an uncommon arrangement, and he quietly took it. “You might sit, Bren-ji.”
“I am too worried to sit,” he said, but he did sit down, for fear Banichi would get up again. “I precipitated this. I was too harsh with my answers. I was far too blunt. I upset her.”
“You gave her answers, Bren-ji. They were not pleasant answers, but they were answers. And she seemed to have wanted them.”
“Still . . .” he said, and saw by the sudden doorward look of everyone in the foyer that someone was coming. Human ears picked up nothing yet; but Algini took it on himself to open the door, hand on his pistol as he did so.
“Nand’ Siegi,” he said, and held the door open until the old man arrived, with an assistant carrying two cases of, one supposed, medical equipment and supplies.
“Where?” the old man asked, out of breath, and Tano showed him and his assistant down the inner hall and into the direction of the major domo, before Algini even began to shut the outer door.
But Algini stopped, and held the door open. “The aiji is coming,” he said.
Banichi used the bench edge to put himself back on his feet. Bren stood up, and the major domo arrived back in the foyer, from down the hall, agitated and worried. Algini ceded him the control of the door as numerous footsteps approached.
Tabini arrived, with Cajeiri, with his double bodyguard, and Cajeiri’s, too many people even to get into the foyer conveniently.
“How is she?” Tabini asked at once.
The major domo said: “Well, aiji-ma. She seems well. Nand’ Siegi is here.”
“Paidhi!” Tabini said, shedding his coat into the major domo’s hands, and there was no assistant to provide another. “Take care of my son.”
“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, and Tabini, in his shirt sleeves, and with only his junior bodyguard, headed down the long inner hall, toward his wife’s suite.
Cajeiri cast a worried look after him, then looked Bren’s direction. Worried. Scared, likely, and trying not to show it.
“Your mother walked to the apartment,” Bren said, “and she seems well enough. Nand’ Siegi just arrived.”
Nobody had taken the boy’s coat. The major domo had gone back down the hall in a hurry, following Tabini. Guild was talking to Guild, meanwhile, exchanging information partly verbally, partly in handsigns, and there was a general relaxation.
“I think we could do with a cup of tea,” Bren said quietly. “Can we arrange that?”
“Yes,” the Guild senior of Tabini’s guard said, and headed down the same hall, while Bren steered Cajeiri, Cajeiri’s bodyguard, and his own three toward the sitting room, the civilized place to wait.
“Sit,” he said to them, in consideration of Banichi. “Everybody sit. We are not in an emergency now.”
“Is she really all right, nandi?” Cajeiri asked.
“She seemed quite in command,” Bren said. “Madam Saidin is there; Jago is, and now nand’ Siegi.” There was another small commotion in the foyer, even as he spoke. “That may be her own physician—he had to come up from the hotel district.”
“Jago reports your father is with her, young aiji,” Tano said, “and she knows you are here.”
“My father says I should not go back there,” Cajeiri said unhappily.
“There are so many people,” Bren said. Two of the kitchen help were making their tea, over at the side of the room: there was not a senior servant nor a woman to be seen, when ordinarily a handful would have flitted through, checking on things, being sure the fire was lit, the chairs were set. “I think that is your mother’s physician who just arrived.” He could see an older woman and a younger pass the door. “Everyone who needs to be here is here.”
“My father sent word to nand’ Jase,” Cajeiri said, “and he is going up to Great-uncle’s apartment. I think my great-grandmother has taken charge of the party.”
“That was well-thought,” Bren said.
“But Kaplan and Polano . . .” Cajeiri said. “How do they get upstairs?”
That was a question. The poor lads were down there for security. “One believes Jase will give them orders; and they were prepared to be there until the party ended. They will be there for your great-grandmother, and, one supposes, Lord Tatiseigi’s safety, as well. And your guests will be upstairs, able to get out of these fancy clothes, so one supposes they are more comfortable than we are.”
“Is she going to be all right, nandi?”
“There is nothing that indicated anything to the contrary, young gentleman. She simply knew it was time, and she had us all escort her upstairs. Apparently,” he added, because the boy and his mother were too often at odds, “she has been having pains since yesterday, but she wanted you to have your festivity without the disruption of her taking to her bed. She thought she could get through the evening.”
“She did?”
“She is quite brave, your mother is, and she knew it was a very important evening.”
Cajeiri just stared at him a moment. “I wish she had said something.”
“But your father would have worried. And you would have worried.”
“She is going to be all right?”
“Baji-naji, young gentleman, but your mother is too determined a woman to do other than very well.”
“I am glad you call me young gentleman. I am not ready to be young aiji.”
“You had no idea your father would do that?”
“None at all, nandi!”