So Bren sat opposite the dowager, with the sun risen only halfway above the hills and the steam of hot tea tending to fly bannerlike from the cups. The ancient fortress that was the Bujavid loomed high on its hill above the busy streets of Shejidan, but there was none of the city visible from this side—only the foothills of the mountains to the south. And even in summer, those mountain heights and the small glaciers thereupon lent a slightly frosty edge to the breeze.
A servant ladled eggs in sauce onto the dowager’s plate. The dowager used a toasted wafer to herd the eggs onto her spoon.
Bren preferred the grilled fish, and toast, sauces generally being the lethal aspect of alkaloid-laced atevi cuisine.
Much of the breakfast service passed in discussion of the weather in Malguri, and hunting in the highlands.
The dowager did discuss the new mill manager in Hasjuran. So far had Aseida fallen that he was not reckoned any longer as business, just as a tidy and satisfying bit of gossip.
One was properly appreciative.
Then the dowager asked, not quite casually, “So all our visitors are safely back in space.”
“Indeed,” he said.
“Did they enjoy Najida?”
“Very much so, aiji-ma.”
“And you escorted them to the shuttle yourself?”
“Yes, aiji-ma.”
“And what was my great-grandson’s mood, so doing?”
There was the question.
“Sadness, aiji-ma. All the youngsters were sad. The young gentleman wished not to speak at all once they had gone. He slept most of the way to the city.”
“He did not protest?”
“No, aiji-ma.”
Ilisidi took a satisfied sip of tea that curled steam in the wind. “Excellent. Now that his guests have departed, he must show their visit to have had an extremely good influence. He must be cheerful, whatever the provocation, particularly with his mother. One trusts he observed our advice throughout.”
The dowager favored a human connection for her great-grandson. That was not sentiment. It was purposeful, it was thought out, it was policy—and one didn’t know precisely when she had taken that decision. But decision it clearly was, and would be.
He supposed he should be flattered. There had been a time the dowager would have been passionately against it.
“They were all exceedingly mannerly, aiji-ma. One believes indeed he observed your advice. And passed it to his guests.”
“Well, well, he wants them back, does he not?”
A stiff gust challenged the weights on the tablecloth. They held.
And Bren thought, deeply troubled, of Irene’s parting wish.
“He does want them, very much so, aiji-ma. And I believe they wish to come back.”
“We shall support him,” Ilisidi said, and immediately, irrevocably, shifted the topic elsewhere. “And how are things at Najida?”
“The windows you provided us, aiji-ma, are extravagantly beautiful. The first, the largest, is installed.”
“Since they were my enemies who destroyed its predecessor, it seemed just.”
“One hopes you may find some season to view it soon, aiji-ma. And the other windows, when they are installed. We have not yet roofed the new wing. But we shall have that done before the fall.”
“Alas, my time away from the capital must be devoted to the East this year. And one hears you will be visiting the station. —Come, paidhi. You are shivering. Let us go inside.”
Breakfast was entirely sufficient; and the wind was persistent, becoming a nuisance—he found it necessary to pin his napkin with a full water glass as he laid it by.
Inside, after hot, sweet tea with a touch of orangelle, plain business became allowable, even necessary, and the dowager had implied her central question—the thing she wanted to hear, and understand.
There was reason for question. She had laid out her agenda, things he had to do.
“A problem has arisen on the station, aiji-ma, and I fear I shall indeed need to go up there, at least briefly, to settle a human issue.”
“Regarding.”
“The Mospheiran stationmaster is uncooperative regarding the disposition of the Reunioners, and Sabin-aiji thinks I can be of service. Certainly I need to assess the situation.” He saw the dowager arch a brow and his pulse kicked up. Did she know? Had she possibly gotten wind of Tillington’s indiscretion? God, he hoped not.
The question, if it was a question, stayed unasked.
She asked, instead, “How long shall we miss your presence?”
“One shuttle rotation, one hopes. I do not wish it to be two. But I shall not leave on any other business until I have seen to every necessity now pending in your affairs, aiji-ma. I am determined on that, and I have told Jase-aiji so. I shall pursue everything as rapidly as possible here. I shall be meeting personally with Lord Topari on the routing matter. He seems to have found a new objection. Or a new request.”
“That man!” the dowager said. “One hardly knows whether he is resolved to be difficult by stages, or whether he simply does not know how to organize his proposals.”
“I have every hope it will be some very small matter. It usually is. There were five letters waiting for me. The fifth discovered his actual objection.”
“What, were you at correspondence last night?”
“Early this morning aiji-ma.”
“Earlier than I?” Again the arched brow.
“One had to know what was in the bowl. Curiosity overwhelmed me. And his letters were the reward of it.”
“Well, well, I leave him to you, paidhi-ji, with gratitude. We shall deal with the Toparis of the East—of which I assure you there are several.”
“Is it going well there, aiji-ma?”
“Oh, we have utterly amazed our neighbors. I have ordered the harbor channel dredged and a large pier built, where nothing larger than a trawler has ever docked, and this you may imagine provides great amusement about the region. These same neighbors will be pleading for access and jealous of every advantage once Machigi’s ships arrive. —But in order to move Machigi to risk his ships on the southern passage, we need a demonstration from Lord Geigi of the accuracy of his weather forecasts. We have no doubt he will provide it, and we are working with the Messengers to assure the entire affair goes smoothly. But should there be a problem, and if you happen to be on the station, you will surely work out any difficulties of that sort. So your presence there may prove a convenience.”
“I would certainly undertake to attend that, aiji-ma.”
In the Southern Ocean, circumpolar storms ran unchecked and came round again increased in fury. The sea route between east and west coast had historically been impossible for shipping. There had once and very long ago been a diagonal traffic between the west and the Southern Island, at least from its northern shore, and that one approachable sea lane southward had been important—but cataclysm had overtaken that harbor and the civilization that had thrived there. A great wave had destroyed the port at the height of its prosperity, and made the survivors refugees in the Marid, that little nook of calm seas and rugged peninsulas on the southern edge of the mainland.
It had all happened more than a thousand years before humans ever had arrived in the skies, and sea trade now skirted the western coast, no more.
But the space station provided a hope that modern ship-building and space-based weather advice could make possible that southern passage by sea—at least during part of the year. That would link Lord Machigi, the dowager’s new ally down in the Marid, to her own little fishing ports in the East.
So two of the poorest districts in the aishidi’tat looked to combine forces and improve their situations outside the thriving economy of Shejidan, which ruled in the center and west.