Of course for him it was slightly more challenging a feat than for most of the others assembled here. He was a tall human, but that was still a head and shoulders shorter than the average atevi. It meant looking up to talk to anyone he met, and it meant looking between shoulders to spot someone he was looking for. It meant being able to turn up at someone’s elbow relatively unnoticed, but it also meant watching out for people taking a step backward in crowded conditions. Dark‑skinned and golden‑eyed, wearing generally bright colors, they all towered above a fair‑haired, light‑skinned, quietly dressed human, who walked in a canyon of taller bodies.
His aishid would normally weave him comfortably through such a crowd. But he managed. He smiled, he talked, he kept his eyes open, and noted who was talking to whom . . . so far as he could see, until, finally, he did spot two others who did not tower. One was the aiji’s son Cajeiri–who at eight was already as tall as the paidhi‑aiji–and who was holding a stemware glass of, one trusted, plain fruit juice. The other, the ancient lady with him and only a little taller, was the aiji‑dowager herself, Ilisidi.
Notably absent was Ilisidi’s chief bodyguard, Cenedi. If there had been any exception to the rule of no‑attendance tonight, it would have been Ilisidi, because of her size and her age. But then Cenedi was likely the main source of information backstairs. Along with Banichi and Algini–of Bren’s own bodyguard.
“Nand’ Bren!” Cajeiri waved at him, and several lords looked and spotted him, while the aiji‑dowager gave her great‑grandson a sharp word and resettled that cane of hers with a thump Cajeiri would feel even if he couldn’t hear it in the general festivity.
And indeed, Cajeiri immediately resumed official propriety. He’d grown so mature in so many ways, had Cajeiri, though his enthusiasm still overwhelmed him from time to time.
And there, the tall old man in green and white, was Lord Tatiseigi–right beside the dowager, depend on it. He was Cajeiri’s great‑grand uncle, or however many greats one had to work into it: atevi were extremely loose about such niceties, even in the same sentence, so he was uncle as often as he was great‑uncle. Lord Tatiseigi was Atageini clan–a member of the family on Cajeiri’s mother’s side– and a sometime lover of the aiji‑dowager, grandmother to Cajeiri’s father.
Cajeiri’s little exclamation had turned Tatiseigi’s attention in Bren’s direction–no problem there–but it had also let a lord he had not particularly wanted to have corner him on a particular issue–notably his vote on the cell phone issue–draw dead aim on him.
A light bell rang. The dining hall doorway opened on salvation in the form of Lord Geigi. The attention of the lord in question turned immediately away from Bren in favor of Lord Geigi, who embodied a far rarer opportunity.
Geigi, rotund sun around which half a dozen such lesser lords immediately orbited, reached past them all to snag the new proxy lord of Maschi clan–and so of all Sarini Province–a proxy Geigi himself had appointed during this visit. He headed for Bren with the new man in tow–and his little planetary cluster following in his wake.
The new lord of the Maschi, a lean, elderly fellow, was a little countrified and old‑fashioned in dress–which by veriest chance was halfway in fashion, in the latest trend. The man seemed very overawed by the attention, and engagingly delighted to see Bren, whom at least he recognized in the crowd–how could he not, even had they not met before.
Haidiri was this new lord’s name.
“Felicitations, nandi,” Bren said.
“I have told nand’ Haidiri,” Geigi said, “that if he has any difficulties, any worries, he should contact your office directly, nand’ Bren.”
“Indeed, without hesitation, do so,” Bren said. “I am your neighbor, after all, at least when you visit Kajiminda. Since this will be your first sitting in the legislature, the marshal of the legislature should be in contact with you, and if he is not, let me know, nandi. Do not hesitate in the least.” He discovered two lords in sight: Haijdin and Maidin, strong supporters of the aiji, on the liberal side of the legislature. “Let me introduce you, nandi, to two gentlemen you very much need to meet. Lord Geigi, your indulgence.”
“Go, go,” Geigi said. “I shall pay my respects to the dowager before we are called to dinner.”
In point of fact, Lord Haidiri was definitely going to need the paidhi’s help–and the aiji‑dowager’s, and the help of the two gentlemen ahead, and likely the aiji’s help, too, if Tabini could be persuaded. Important issues directly affecting Haidiri’s clan, Sarini Province, and the peace of the region were centermost in the current session of the legislature, and this country gentleman had many of the keys to the situation in his district. One was certain Haidiri was well aware of those keys–Geigi would not have appointed him otherwise. But having the keys and having the associations to best utilize that knowledge were two different matters.
Bren made the introductions. There was a round of bows. And there was, by opportunity, as a third man strolled into range, another name to add to the new lord’s resources, Paturandi–a scholarly, middle‑aged man, unhappily as long‑winded as his notorious predecessor, Brominandi, but a goodhearted fellow who had suffered socially from his predecessor’s reputation. Paturandi was happy to make any new acquaintance who would engage him socially–and as lord of a small southern district he definitely had a regional interest in this new lord in Targai estate.
“Such a great pleasure, nandiin,” Paturandi said, and went on to join Haijdin and Maidin in asking about trade negotiations with the newly‑opening Marid, right at Targai’s doorstep.
Those introductions were a thorough success.
Bren wended his way back to Geigi, to effect a rescue of the situation should Geigi and Tatiseigi have crossed glances . . . those two gentlemen being long‑time rivals for the dowager’s attentions. Tatiseigi was a jealous sort, and a conservative, which Geigi, a Rational Determinist who denied the validity of numerology, certainly was not.
But at that very opportune moment the servants reopened the dining room doors and the major domo invited them all in for the seating.
There followed the usual sorting out by place markers at the long table. The highest lords were relatively sure of their seats–alert, of course, for any untoward significance in the positioning they might discover in those markers. The lowest at the table, conversely, had to do a little searching.
Bren found his own place with no more than a glance at the card and white ribbon. His seat was very close to the head of the table, with the honoree, Lord Geigi on his left, closer to Tabini‑aiji’s seat. Lord Geigi and Lord Tatiseigi were very diplomatically seated across from each other, at exactly the same level . . . particularly well done on the part of the major domo. Young Cajeiri was sandwiched between Lord Tatiseigi, his mother’s uncle on his left and his as‑yet‑to‑arrive mother on the right. That seated the boy across the table from his great‑grandmother, Ilisidi being seated on Lord Geigi’s left . . .
More significantly, Ilisidi’s seat would be directly opposite her granddaughter‑in‑law, Lady Damiri. That was a scary balancing act. The two were famously not getting along at the moment . . . not that they ever had, but it had become bitter.