Intruder (46 page)

“One is quite concerned about the timing, Nichi-ji.”

“We are concerned,” Banichi said, “but the aiji will be in the apartment in a matter of moments.”

Tabini would handle it. Being in the blast zone would not be a good thing.

“Dur is on his way to the Bujavid now,” Banichi said.

“One is grateful for Dur,” Bren said. “Do we have any information on the Ajuri’s whereabouts? Or Machigi’s?”

“Machigi is having supper,” Jago said. “The Ajuri lord is only now leaving the airport.”

“We are expressing concern to the Guild,” Banichi said, “about Ajuri’s intended visit and, taking a little on ourselves, we would advise the Guild on the situation in the aiji’s apartment. We believe any directive to delay Ajuri’s arrival in the Bujavid will have to come from Cenedi. With your authorization, Bren-ji, on such a matter.”

“Send to Cenedi,” Bren said.

Damn, court intrigue and Guild maneuvering. Ajuri’s own bodyguard, if the Guild directed, might be able to put the brakes on the old man and keep him quiet. But it was not guaranteed they
would
do it, if push came to shove and the Ajuri lord put pressure on them.

It was not even absolutely guaranteed where their sympathies were within recent Guild politics.

Damn again. It was not the time for a domestic quarrel in the aiji’s house to play out. And it did not need witnesses.

The last thing the aiji’s household needed was outside interference.

T
hings had been very quiet for quite a while. Boji had ceased hopping from place to place and clicking at every point of vantage in the cage.

But they were no calmer, Cajeiri thought. His mother had the servants all in a stir, probably to do with the nursery, coming this way and that down the hall, and they had had no word from Lucasi.

Then they heard the front door open.

It might be Lucasi with an answer from downstairs. It might be Uncle Tatiseigi, coming to take up for him, and maybe Uncle could just sit in the sitting room and drink tea with Mother and reason with her.

If Grandfather did not show up for dinner.

But it was a lot of people that had come in.

Uncle’s bodyguard, he supposed, listening with his ear against the door.

Then steps came toward their door, just one person, which was, he was sure, Lucasi. And sure enough, the knock came, the signal, so he got out of the way, and Veijico opened the door, with Antaro and Jegari standing close in case it was a trick. Lucasi squeezed into the room and set his back to the wall as Veijico shut the door and locked it.

“Is my uncle here?” Cajeiri asked Lucasi, who could have used his communications to tell his partner what was going on, but hadn’t. Possibly, Cajeiri thought, that had been because
he was trying to keep the whole business as quiet as possible.

But Lucasi had dropped his official face and showed a very upset expression. “Nandi, it is your
father.
”

“My father.” That was good and bad. “By himself?”

Lucasi gave a little bow. “One regrets. I gave the message to your great-uncle’s bodyguard, and the senior of that guard talked to your father the aiji’s senior; they reported it to your honored father, and your father immediately left the meeting. Lord Tatiseigi has stayed there, and your father’s bodyguard was not in contact with the guard up here on their way. He asked me, and I told him everything that has happened, while we were coming upstairs. Your father is angry, nandi. He is very angry. He told me to come here, keep the door locked, and to stay out of the way. And not to let you leave, either, nandi.”

“Are we in trouble?” he asked with a sinking heart.

“One has no idea what is going on, nandi.”

Father, and not Uncle Tatiseigi. Uncle and Mother would have just shouted at each other, and everybody would have blown off the heat of their tempers, and that would have been all right—tempers were always better once everyone had yelled at each other.

But with Father here, and telling him keep the door locked,
serious
things could be going on.

“Would you care for tea, Jeri-ji?” Antaro asked him. But he said no.

“All of you may have some,” he said, and walked back over to Boji’s cage, worried, just worried.

Scared.

He really did not know what might happen if his father came in mad from being pulled out of the meeting and ran into his mother when she was mad about Boji. Father could agree with Mother and order him to send Boji back to the market, that was one thing that could happen. But far, far scarier things could happen.

He even thought—he had had nightmares before in this place—about people shooting up the apartment, and how the old staff had been killed in this apartment, right in the sitting room. He had seen far more shooting and dead people than he ever wanted.

He wished he could make a break for it and just go down to mani’s apartment, or next door to nand’ Bren.

“Can you talk to nand’ Bren’s guard?” he asked Lucasi and Veijico. “Are they there?”

“We are no longer permitted to use communications, nandi,” Lucasi said. “Regrettably, we do not have that access.”

“We should have it!” he said, telling himself he was going to talk to his father about that. But he dared not go out there.

He stood there, thinking these things, and aware that his bodyguard could do absolutely nothing to stop anything, not when it came from his father.

He heard the footsteps, his father and his whole aishid, by the sound of it, coming toward him, and he got back from the door, anticipating his father’s bodyguard to knock on it.

But they went right on down the hall, to about, maybe, the security station. And he immediately pressed his ear back to the door.

His father was going to ask security what had happened. That would be first. And with Lucasi and Veijico both here, his father was going to get only what Lucasi had already told him.

He hoped it was enough. He was in trouble. He was in really big trouble. And he tried hard to control his face and to look nonchalant about the situation in front of his bodyguard.

He went back to Boji’s cage, and Boji put his arm through the cage, reaching out with little fingers. He let Boji grasp his index finger, and Boji tried to drag it closer to his face, up against the filigree. That was not a good idea. Boji might still be in a bad mood.

He had no idea why it was so important to him to keep Boji. Except—Boji was his. Boji
was alive, and noisy, and without him—this place would be like being locked in the basement in Najida, with no windows, nothing. He was not going to give Boji up. If the way his mother and his father could make peace was at the cost of Boji, he was going to appeal to Great-grandmother to take care of Boji for him. She might do that. Nand’ Bren might do it.

He wanted to be all the way to mad: he was always happier being mad than scared. But he was scared as a little baby. He was ashamed of himself for that, and he kept trying to be mad, but he was not succeeding well at all.

His aishid sat at the table, nobody making a move to fix tea.

And waiting went on, a long, long time. He finally went over to the table and sat down, too, at the head of it.

Then he heard more footsteps, going further away. His father was going to his mother’s suite, and he had his bodyguard with him.

That was not good. That was definitely not good.

Time to dress.

There was absolutely no word from Tatiseigi’s apartment.

“They are shut down over there,” Algini said, while Supani was helping Bren dress. “They are receiving advisements from outside, but they are outputting nothing.”

“Perhaps you should stay here,” Bren said.

“No,” Algini said. “No, Bren-ji. We will be with you. We are determined on that point.”

That was definite enough. His bodyguard was attending him downstairs in full force.

Tano said, quietly: “The guest list downstairs has widened.”

“Indeed,” he said.

“The conservative caucus is seeking an invitation,” Algini said. “There are logistical problems, primarily in chair arrangement. There are other inquiries afoot. There is a request to adjust the venue, and
members of the Liberals are requesting a statement from Tabini-aiji, which is not immediately forthcoming. The Liberal Caucus will be hearing that the Conservatives are being admitted, if this is the case. They will be accommodated.”

“Damn,” Bren said. The meeting size had tripled.

“Accordingly,” Tano said, “you will have all of us. Narani and Bindanda will communicate with us.”

“Keep me informed, nadiin-ji,” Bren said. “And inform Lord Geigi. And Tabini-aiji.”

“His aishid is being kept aware of the situation,” Tano said.

Dur had landed. Ajuri was due in, but for the aiji’s apartment, not the event, and with extraordinarily bad timing for events in that household.

He slipped on the vest and held out his arm for Supani to fasten it.

“They are shouting,” Antaro reported, her ear against the door. “One cannot quite hear. One believes they have the sitting room doors all shut.”

Antaro set her back to the door, saying things had quieted. But with what outcome Antaro could not say.

A time passed.

And he was very glad Grandfather had not arrived yet, and he was sure now the signing downstairs must be getting organized, so at least mani would not come bursting into it.

For a long time it was quiet. Then steps, lighter as well as heavier, sounded in the hall, and seemed to go off to the sitting room.

But if his parents had gone to the sitting room, it might be to have tea and to sit for a moment. And talk.

That could be good. Or not.

He decided he should clean up. He had a complete change of clothes, with Jegari to help him, and had his queue redone, smart and smooth and pulled tight, with a new red ribbon, and he had his almost-best coat, to give his best impression if they called
him. It was not just of defense of Boji. It was defense of him. Of his whole aishid.

It was court dress to the nth degree; the flash of jewelry on Bren’s person was limited to a single pin, but Geigi turned out with an impressive flash of jewelry, most of it diamonds, which had traveled with him, brought down to the world for any chance state occasion.

It was the paidhi’s business to be in the reception hall before Lord Machigi, and Machigi before the dowager—the same order of things as at any formal dinner.

Getting there, however, was not without obstacles. The whole main hall was filled with onlookers—lords with their own bodyguards, other Guild officials, even Bujavid staff. Bujavid security kept the hall where the lifts were located completely controlled, and at the turn to the left, toward the great doors and the display cases, they had established a line along the wall and displays, keeping spectators back. News cameras were there, a knot of them, and another nearer the reception doorway.

“The paidhi-aiji!” the shout went up, and “Lord Geigi,” the rumor went through the crowd; the years spent in space had made Geigi less recognized among lords, and a rare sight for the Bujavid. There were Bujavid staff in the crowd, lesser officials, and just the general public and tourists, who tended to show up for the spectacle when there was anything afoot on the hill; if one was in town, and there was some pageantry accessible to the public (and the lower hall of the Bujavid was,) the public came, dressed in their best, and partaking of whatever commemorative cards and ribbons the Bujavid might be passing out for the occasion.

On the left, the Lesser Hall doors stood open, and the guards there, armed, let them and their bodyguards into a more organized sort of crowd, glittering lords and ladies in their household colors, all milling about in the pre-event social, a rainbow interspersed
with the black and silver of bodyguards in great evidence. Chairs were at some remove, near the walls. There were three tables set up at the head of the hall, for the signing, and at the side of the hall long tables with offerings of flowers and piles of refreshments.

One of course toured the floral arrangements, parsing them for origin and meaning, and they were always set out, with the exception of sponsoring parties, in order of receipt, so being first mattered. The arrangements all looked thoughtful and fortunate, and one trusted they
were
properly fortunate: that was the province of the kabiu masters.

One read Prosperity frequently and prominently in the flower choice. One read Peace. That was good. One read Welcome, and one brave Offense Forgiven on the part of the Oturi, south of Sheijidan; the kabiu masters of the Bujavid had let that one in, but anything of greater controversy would not have made it. The next one read New Things. And Good Fortune and Auspicious Skies.

One refused a cup of fruit drink. One wanted no accidents, either of spills or of poisoning. The occasion was, for the paidhi and all his staff, pure business.

But not without pleasure. “Nandi!” he heard near him. Adigan, elder lord of Dur was there, and the new lord of the Maschi, with their respective bodyguards; and young Dur was there as well, grinning with complete delight—they had not parted that long ago, but now their meeting meant success.

“Lord Machigi is on his way to the train station, nandi,” Banichi advised him.

Immediately after there were polite greetings for them both from the legislators of the Commerce Committee, who were very glad to have a word with Lord Geigi, in his capacity as representing space industry, and the members of the Library and Records division offered polite felicitations. Behind them, a traveling backdrop, were the official secretaries of that department
and their assistants; and there was a very discreet television presence—one did not miss that. The event was not going out live, but it would be out with a half-hour time delay and be done before the west of the continent went to bed this evening, and sent to the East by radio.

One sat, in one’s almost-best coat; one even attempted to do one’s homework—anything to make the time pass—but one had no concentration on it, however one tried, with ears pricked for any sound at all from the rest of the house, the coming and going of servants, the heavier tread of bodyguards, the opening and closing of doors.