Intruder (42 page)

There was no likelihood that the paidhi-aiji was going to have to host a formal dinner for the signing, so Bindanda, who was sending out daily orders for this and that exotic item—mostly staples that had to be gotten from Mospheira, so as not to poison his lord—was not going to have to present a formal service amid everything else that was going on in the household. They did not want to go into the evening’s event with a heavy supper sitting on their stomachs; there was to be a little refreshment at a reception afterward, and the decision on a very light cold supper perfectly suited the kitchen.

“The boy you have engaged to assist me is intelligent and willing, nandi,” Bindanda said, arms tucked tightly across his stout frame, “and there are excellent possibilities in him, but one would not gladly undertake a dinner party as yet with only Pai for help.”

So Bindanda was off the hook and glad of it.

Narani, however, that estimable old man, was not. He had a great deal of work to do, including arranging yet another bulletproof vest—a change in brocade to go with the brown tones as well as the blue and the green—and being sure a young staff had every item of the paidhi’s court wardrobe ready not only for this evening on short notice, but for any of a number of meetings that might follow.

“One begs to urge that you need more shirts, nandi,” Narani informed him. “Five more, at minimum. And more socks. One has made a list, which one would be pleased to send to the usual supplier on Mospheira. And a session with the tailor is in order: We need one more vest, in a modest gray-green. And, nandi, one is certain one remembers the brown coat from
before
we went up to the station….”

One had to agree that a new coat or two might be in order. “But the brown coat is my most comfortable, Rani-ji. One wishes to keep it—for quiet, home occasions.”

“It was always an excellent coat, nandi,” Narani said, and one
had confidence that his favorite coat would be safe and made as presentable as possible until it simply wore out.

Geigi’s own major d’ and staff were simultaneously working Geigi’s needs into the schedule; his wardrobe and that of his staff had to be in proper form for this evening.

And beyond that—

Beyond that, he and Geigi had nothing personally to do at this point but to exchange information and wait for events to play out, for Machigi to arrive in Shejidan, then settle into the Marid trade mission and get ready. The signing was set for the evening, and the word was out. Several lords, including Lord Dur, Adigan, and his son, were coming in by plane—by commercial plane, this time, unusual for the younger lord, but he was accompanying his father. The Edi and the Gan peoples were not sending representatives, but the new lord of the Maschi was coming. No few of the minor lords were coming in on short notice, some by train, some by plane.

Among the latter—the lord of the Ajuri. They had word of that along with the news of the others, and what the lord of the Ajuri wanted, no one was certain. He was not in the Conservative Caucus, was not speaking to Lord Tatiseigi, and had absolutely no interests on the west coast or the east. His sudden appearance on the scene roused some question, given the matters the aiji had mentioned, but that was Tabini’s problem, on a completely different front. He would not have an invitation to the event, one was quite certain, and one hoped he had a hotel reservation and didn’t plan to move in next door…one
hoped
not, and one didn’t think he’d get such an invitation, no matter the situation in the city, where no few of those who
were
invited to an event on short notice were going to be calling in favors for lodging. The paidhi would have invited Dur, but he had Geigi, and no more room. Suites in hotels at any close distance were absolutely full-up where it reguarded suites. A
room,
possibly, could be had. But status was at stake.

So various staffs would be going mad, trying to outfit various lords for
a court event, trying to assure on-time arrival, possibly from lodging clear across the city—and trying to assure their lord was decently fed before the event, which meant catering was going to be at a premium, as well.

In that thought—he did inquired about Dur’s arrangements but was assured he would dine on the flight.

So that was managed, and the new lord of the Maschi was not yet of status or seniority enough to be invited to dinner preceding so important an occasion. It was safest not to ruffle the waters of protocol; he would just stay quiet and not do anything remarkable this evening until he and Geigi had to go down to the affair, at a time decorously just ahead of the dowager’s arrival—staff would handle the timing.

He told his staff to advise him if any message arrived or any news broke.

And after the initial flurry of arranging things with staff, and with so short a time left, he felt himself incapable of focusing on any extraneous business. Geigi agreed he was in the same condition—so he and Geigi sat at the table in the sitting room and played cards, game after game. As a host, one did feel somewhat a failure in the matter of entertainment, but poker afforded a chance to occupy one’s mind and simultaneously carry on a bit of conversation—as they did, somewhat erratically. Playing poker with an ateva was calculated suicide, but he did win now and again in moments when Geigi’s attention, for his own reasons, lapsed off into the event bearing down on them.

Their sole job now was to stay out of the way of staff. Tano did pop into the sitting room to report that, yes, Machigi had reached the regional airport, had chosen to go out from there on a smaller plane, rather than go down to the larger airport at Separti, and would arrive at a good hour.

Arrangements for his protection were in place, Tano said, and Lady Siodi had requested Guild assistance to set up a proper private dinner, which had to be catered from across the street, one
supposed. Machigi would get something to eat before the signing—nobody wanted to face a political problem on an empty stomach.

And the efficiency of staff contacting staff meant that by now Tabini was as unofficially in the loop as he wished to be—which was, for public consumption, not involved at all—and only Ilisidi’s staff was quietly working with Bujavid offices regarding the venue for the signing.

Banichi came in to report that set-up was finished in the downstairs reception hall and was undergoing a security check, and that the Guild was satisfied with arrangements for Machigi’s travel to and from the Taisigi trade mission.

By now, if the paidhi were playing for more than points, he would have been sunk in debt.

They tried small talk, which did nothing for one’s card-playing; by luck, the mail this afternoon had involved a report on the construction at Najida, and that carried into an engaging conversation with Geigi—and two lost hands—on the merits of native stone and wood as a theme for Najida’s new wing and the relocation of the sitting room into the new wing, with a window looking out over Najida Bay.

“A brilliant notion,” Geigi called it. “And what for the old sitting room? It was always quite convenient to the front door. One imagines the paidhi-aiji might enjoy the state of a reception hall.”

“Oh, one thinks not,” Bren said with a laugh. “One finds oneself quite content with the character of a country lord, nothing so grand as a reception hall in my house. One was actually thinking of making it another guest suite. And yet another idea was relocating my own quarters to the new wing and having the entire front hall for my guests. Guests were never a consideration in the original arrangements at Najida.”

“The old lords were never a social lot,” Geigi said. “But you are quite apt to have a cluster of associates dropping by with large staffs, never forgetting the young gentleman. You may need that new wing to extend to the road.”

“I have thought of that,” Bren admitted. And they fell to discussing architecture, and the need to keep the view rustic, and to keep it from impinging on the tranquility of the bay, and of Najida Village.

“Trees,” Geigi said. “Native trees.”

One liked that idea. There were no trees on the ridge, and one had the notion, considering the field across the road, and the forest that quite abruptly began on the next rise, that the previous holders of Najida had gotten their timber by clearing that land.

It was hunting range. One had to consider that and leave ample grazing for certain species.

But the renegades and their mortars had done immense damage out on the heights—cratering the landscape. Granted it had been rock and scrub, it had been peaceful rock and scrub, and
that
he was determined to sculpt back into a semblance of something more natural than shell craters.

Not to mention the hazard of unexploded shells. They currently had the entire area posted, and the village children were strictly warned. A handful of children, in fact, had been the first ones to report the location of shells, and had quite wisely given them a wide berth.

“One is determined to restore the heights,” he said. “We may derive some stone from that source, but we will do plantings there, as well.”

“It has been neglected ground for centuries,” Geigi said. “Since the Edi were moved onto the mainland. I have in my collection woodcuts that show that area densely wooded.”

“That surprises me. Perhaps I shall consult with your new majordomo, Geigi-ji.’

“Please do. And I wish you to do something for me, Bren-ji.”

“Beyond a doubt I shall. What is it?”

“Will you look in on Kajiminda from time to time, even after my nephew has an heir, and that young woman moves in? One wishes Kajiminda to open its doors to all neighbors, in the way of the
Padi Valley establishments, and to maintain a gallery for the exhibit of my collections. Those are the instructions I have left. I wish to open the doors to the Edi folk and to tourists I believe may come, once the agreements are in place. I wish people to see these old woodcuts of life as it was and to see my porcelains, such as—those that my scoundrel of a nephew did not barter away. I shall be making those arrangements with my staff…and setting up needful security. Visitors will keep them on full salary, and provide traffic for the region’s enterprises.”

“I should be very happy to open Najida in the same way, except the secure rooms,” Bren said, the whole idea flashing forth with a vision of roads and tour buses and maybe an inn near the train station, eventually with all the amenities. “One finds it a brilliant notion. We should correspond about this, Geigi-ji.”

“With great enthusiasm,” Geigi said. “Once I am on the station, I know my mind will be all plastics and metal and circuits again, except my little potted trees. I should be very pleased to have such a correspondence and a partner in such a project, to remind me constantly of my Kajiminda.”

“You must remain lord of Kajiminda, no matter how long this young lady may be resident, Geigi-ji. I value my neighbor extremely. I shall never give you up!”

“One is more than gratified,” Geigi said. “Ah, Bren-ji, how pleasant these days in your residence! You have been a most excellent host. Even under fire at Najida, one could feel it.”

He had to laugh. “One accepts the compliment, nandi.”

“Humans have the concept—
friend
, different than associate. Would you say, Bren-ji, that we are
friends?
”

That definitely set him back. He had built such a strong wall about that word, never, ever to use it with an ateva—even with his aishid, who were closer to him than anyone on earth, even closer than Toby.

But if there was one ateva who could use that word advisedly, exploring the interface from the opposite direction—it would be
Geigi, who lived and worked with humans of every sort, good and less good.

“I shall admit to that feeling from my side, Geigi-ji,” he said carefully. “And you may have the confidence in me that a human would have in such a relationship.”

“It is an intimate relationship. Excluding family. Excluding loyalties. Excluding obligations of clan or birth.”

He nodded. “It is that. Though it can admit any of those co-existing, it is independent of them.”

“It can occasionally be unwise.”

“As clan obligations can occasionally be unfortunate.”

Geigi gave a little laugh. “No way of being is perfect.”

“Regrettably, no. One thinks not.”

“Yet you are, paidhi-aiji, my
friend.
I would not say that of any other human, except Jase Graham. And one has not dared use that word with him. He has not your understanding of the hazards.”

“Advisable, that exception. He could misunderstand.”

“But you will not. I also live on that dividing line, Bren-ji. So I say, you are a peculiar association. The connection I have with my aishid, with my staff, these things are absolute and passionate. But there has to be a peculiar word for such a peculiar position as we have with each other. We are in some ways the same person.”

“It would be apt,” Bren said. “I think it would be apt to use that word, Geigi-ji.”

Geigi laughed at that, and said, with a deprecating gesture, “One would hesitate to attempt the word
love.
”

Geigi was joking. And there was humor in it. Friendship without love involved was a peculiar thing. But this was an ateva who, like his aishid, would fight for him. His aishid would fling themselves between him and a bullet. They in fact had done so. Geigi, if he were so physically inclined, would still be a puzzle in that regard. Probably Geigi would not be so inclined. He was
a leader among atevi, having come to that position not quite by instinct but by circumstance. He was not a leader as atevi usually defined the term—strongly instinctual, driven to be that. Not an autocrat, not inspiring a following. If Geigi had ever had to take the aijinate, it would have been a cold, calculated move, and he would have been very unhappy in the office, continually feeling out of place—as he evidently did not feel, on the station.

Geigi was what Geigi had had to be. And if an alien word defined part of what he had to be, and gave him some sense of connection, Bren thought, so be it. Geigi was Geigi. And thank God he was that.