“You have that skill. Use it. About certain things, your aishid will brief you. Know there may be a time my son may resort to you on his own. Do not refuse him. Put him immediately within your security perimeter.”
“I shall, without fail, aiji‑ma.”
“There may be a time I send him,” Tabini said further. “That will signal a far more serious situation.”
“Aiji‑ma. We will defend him with all our resources.”
“I have no doubt of it,” Tabini said, “and that is all I can say until events prove the outcome.” He himself opened the door into the reception hall. They quietly reentered, past the two bodyguards. Numerous eyes turned their way, and Bren took his cue from Tabini and smiled, as if it was some light, pleasant business.
Far from it.
Tabini moved off to speak to another partisan.
Deep breath. Keep smiling.
He presented courtesies to a lord of the mountain districts, and to the Chairman of Finance.
Thank God the boy had gone to bed. The atmosphere had gone dangerous, and he was, God help him, not as good as some at keeping worry off his face.
And he was not surprised when, a few minutes on, one focus of that worry–Ilisidi–walked up and stopped beside him.
“Well?” she asked, expecting at least no outright prevarications.
“Your grandson is concerned, aiji‑ma,” he answered her. The evening was, one was sure, needing to wind down soon. There was drink enough that voices were getting a little loud. “But the situation is of long standing.”
“There is every reason my granddaughter‑in‑law should make peace with us,” Ilisidi said. “We did not speak of the baby. Nor of the young gentleman.”
The dowager, Tabini had said, likely knew what the issue was–probably more than he did, and maybe more than Tabini did, seeing the dowager’s guard was more plugged in to the security surrounding the aiji than were the aiji’s own bodyguards. And they all knew why there had to be some settling of the issues. Ajuri was hoping to drive a wedge into that marriage. And to cloud the issue of the clan of the impending child–by getting Damiri to give birth under an Ajuri roof.
“We did express hope we might improve relations,” Ilisidi said smoothly, softly. “We are about to retire for the evening, however. We understand the young gentleman has already gone to bed.”
“So I am told, aiji‑ma.”
“They have taken his young guards in for training,” Ilisidi said. “All at once. He is alone in his suite. We are not pleased with that situation.”
“One believes they are raising the level of his security, aiji‑ma. And certainly your grandson has taken measures to remove Ajuri access to him.”
“Except his mother,” Ilisidi said bluntly. “In the meanwhile he is alone, and his mother will take no servants from Tatiseigi, none from me, none from Sarini Province, and none from the Taibeni.”
“Dur, possibly?”
Ilisidi lifted a brow. “Suggest it, if you find the time and can manage the access. My granddaughter‑in‑law’s feuds have eliminated half the continent. More than half, if one counts the Marid.”
“Dur would be a good choice. In a position, geographically, to checkmate Ajuri. And Cajeiri has ties to Dur. One of the mountain clans, associates of her son’s bodyguards, would be another choice.”
“She is a difficult woman,” Ilisidi said. “But at least never a fool.” Ilisidi resettled her cane on the floor, under both hands. “We shall meet tomorrow for tea. We shall discuss what cannot be discussed on the floor. We shall see.” She walked off, then, and with uncharacteristic warmth, greeted the lord from Talidi, and conversed with him.
3
The evening was going to go on as long as it took for the Guild meeting in the back rooms to wind up, at very least–Bren was sure that meeting was why the evening had spun out as long as it had. It was worrisome, to say the least, as the hour grew very late indeed.
He was not sure whether what Tabini had told him even played the most major part of what was at issue in the Guild’s meeting–there was the whole business down in the Marid, for one major unknown. In breaking down the Guild splinter organization, people had to be set in place to keep order. Others had to be removed. Discoveries of all sorts were being made down there, connections being brought to light.
He knew at least he had to stay until the last; and the dowager was clearly going to stay on. She had others of her young men, as she called them, that she could call on . . . but was the aiji‑dowager going to go to bed tonight until she had found out what had gone on in the back rooms?
Not likely.
In very fact, the first few guests were taking their leave–a little the worse for drink, and probably incapable of being interviewed by the news services lurking in the downstairs of the Bujavid. Their departure meant their bodyguards would be leaving as well. Not bodyguards of the level, however, that might be participating in the deepest briefings. These were lords of small districts, and a few committee members, such as might have a Guild‑trained servant in attendance, but no actual uniformed Guild bodyguard: minor players, these, in what had gone on this evening.
In this slight ebb of guests from the hall, amid farewells and well‑wishes, Ilisidi found an opportunity to stand near Damiri again, and the two women talked without looking at each other, each with smiles to match departing guests’ courtesies.
Hell, no, Damiri was not leaving the hall, either, to be the object of discussion once she had left. She stayed on.
Geigi strayed over to Bren quite casually, stood beside him and said, “Is there any emergency afoot, Bren‑ji?”
“No emergency,” Bren said, gazing out over the room, and keeping his voice very low. “Simply the situation in the household. Nothing that will trouble you on the station. One is certain you will be briefed on the matter in the back halls. So will I.”
“One understands,” Geigi said. “One prefers to hear it en route, for security’s sake. Such things too easily escape the bag. Advise me if I can be of use tonight. Meanwhile, I see the head of Transport. I do need to speak to him before I leave.”
So it went. It was the better part of an hour, with minor lords and department officials trickling away, and the major ones becoming more and more significant in the room, before the first of the senior Guild showed up at the door of the reception hall to gather up their own.
The trickle of departure became a flood. Maidin left. Haidiri had gone some time ago. Paturandi departed. Bren took up a position near Damiri, testing the atmosphere, then walked close to her, bowed, and said, under his breath:
“I shall be leaving soon, daja‑ma. My assistance, for what it is worth, is always available to you as to your husband, with greatest good will.”
“Everyone in this hall has attempted to place servants on my staff,” Damiri said somewhat sharply. “Are you the sole exception, paidhi‑aiji? Or will you disappoint me?”
“I have no such proposal, daja‑ma. I only offer–”
“Information?” Damiri asked. “Dare one suppose you will tell me what the dowager said? Or what my husband said?”
“Both were gratified by your choices tonight, daja‑ma. Your husband is no fool. Nor is the aiji‑dowager. Nor, may one say, is your son.”
“You are not my confidant, paidhi‑aiji. Do not presume!”
“I shall not, daja‑ma, but neither shall I ask a confidence and then break it. I serve your husband primarily; and the dowager at times, yes. But your interest is my concern, because your happiness affects your husband and your son. If I can ever be of service, I say, I will serve your interests as man’chi allows.”
“A sentiment humans notoriously lack!”
“We have compensatory sentiments. I offer them. Bluntly, I have wondered myself whether the dowager would seek to influence your daughter yet to be, and I have been concerned. The answer is, bluntly, no. She will not.”