“Daja-ma.” He lowered his voice as much as possible. “We are not in a safe place. If you will discuss this with some person of close connection to you, one suggests Lord Tatiseigi.”
“The dowager’s closest ally!”
“But a man of impeccable honesty, daja-ma.”
“No! No, I insist on the truth from you. You advise my husband. And I am set at distance. I am told I shall not be permitted to leave the Bujavid. I cannot claim the Ajuri lordship. I cannot go to my own home!”
“Daja-ma, there are reasons.”
“Reasons!”
“Your great-uncle, daja-ma.” He kept his voice as low as possible. “I believe he did order your father’s assassination. If you wish my opinion of events, daja-ma, your great-uncle plotted a coup from the hour of your son’s birth. When the aiji sent him to the space station, out of reach, and in the dowager’s keeping, it so upset your great-uncle’s plans he launched the coup to remove the aiji, and possibly to appoint you to a regency until the succession could be worked out. But you fled with your husband.”
Her look was at first indignant, then entirely shocked.
“You had no idea, did you not, daja-ma?”
“This is insane! My great-uncle. My great-uncle is in the Guild.”
“He was in the Guild. Exactly so. And not of minor rank.”
“Ajuri is a minor clan!”
“That is no impediment. What would you have done, daja-ma, if the Guild had separated you from your husband and asked you to govern for a few months—or to marry—in a few months, for the good of the aishidi’tat.”
“You are quite out of your mind!”
“Did anyone approach you with such an idea, daja-ma?”
“Never!”
“Perhaps I am mistaken. But I am not mistaken about your great-uncle’s support—with others—of a Kadagidi with southern ties, to take the aijinate. And one is not mistaken in the subsequent actions of your great-uncle, whose subversion of the Guild created chaos and upset in the aishidi’tat, setting region against region, constantly hunting your husband, and then trying to seize your son. A great deal of what went on out on the west coast was aimed at removing me, and the aiji-dowager—and, again, in laying hands on your son. We had no idea at the time. Your husband declined to bring his son back to the Bujavid, preferring to confront these people in the field rather than in the halls of the Bujavid. What he feared in the Bujavid—I do not know. But it was substantial.”
She stared at him in shock, a hand to her heart. And he was sorry. He was intensely sorry for pressing, but it was, there in a quiet nook of her son’s Investiture, surrounded by his aishid and the dowager’s men, the same question that had hung over her marriage, her acceptance in her husband’s household.
“Your father had just become lord of Ajuri,” he said, unrelenting, “in the death of your uncle. There were, one fears, questions about that replacement which I had not heard—about which your husband may have been aware. The Guild was even then systematically withholding information from your husband’s bodyguard, on the excuse that he had appointed them outside the Guild system. The heads of the Guild knowingly put your household at risk with their politics, of which, at that time, your great-uncle was definitely part. The Guild also withheld information from my aishid—more than policy, I now suspect, in a deliberate act which put my life in danger and almost killed your son. There was a great deal amiss on the west coast . . . but the threads of it have run back to the Guild in Shejidan. Realizing that, the aiji-dowager’s aishid and mine began to ask questions, and to investigate matters inside the Guild, which, indeed, involved your great-uncle. He is now dead. Unfortunately we do not believe all his agents in the field are dead. So there is a reason, daja-ma, that the aiji has forbidden you to take the Ajuri lordship. There is a reason he, yes, questioned your clan’s man’chi and wanted your father and his bodyguard out of the Bujavid, and you safe within it. And you should also know, daja-ma, that the aiji has since then strongly rejected all suggestions that your marriage should be dissolved for political convenience, insisting that you were not complicit in your great-uncle’s actions. More, by retaining you as his wife, he has now placed you in a position which, until now, only the aiji-dowager has held. The aiji-dowager has questioned your motives. And I have begun to incline toward the aiji-dowager’s opinion—that you are independent of your late great-uncle, independent also of your father, your aunt, and your cousin, and also of your great-uncle Tatiseigi. You never courted power. But power may someday land in your hands. And at very least, throughout your life, you will find not only your son, but your daughter besieged by ambitious clans. You have strongly resisted the aiji-dowager’s influence. But, baji-naji, you could one day become her. Do not reject her or her allies. Learn from her. That is my unsolicited advice, aiji-ma. Now you have heard it.”
She was breathing hard as any runner. She stared at him wide-eyed in shock, saying nothing, and now he wished he had not thrown so much information at her, not all at once, not here, not—tonight.
“One apologizes, daja-ma. One truly does.”
“You are telling me the truth,” she said, as if it were some surprise. “You are telling me the truth, are you not, nandi?”
“I have told you the truth, daja-ma. Perhaps too much of it.”
“No,” she said, eyes flashing. “No, nandi, not too much. Finally, someone makes sense!”
“One at least apologizes for doing so here, daja-ma. Understand, too, your husband held these matters only in bits and pieces. None of us knew until a handful of days ago.”
“Paidhi,” she said, winced, breathing hard, and suddenly caught at his arm.
“Daja-ma!” He lent support, he held on, not knowing where or how to take hold of her, and Jago intervened, flinging an arm about her, holding her up.
“I think—” Damiri said, still somewhat bent. “I think I am having the baby.”
“The service passage,” Banichi said. “Gini-ji, advise security; advise the aiji.”
“What shall we do?” Bren asked, his own heart racing. “Is nand’ Siegi here?”
“Call my physician,” Damiri said, and managed to straighten. “I shall walk. There will be time. First tell my husband. Then call my physician.”
“Two of you stay with her,” Algini said to Damiri’s security: “The other go privately advise the aiji and stand by for his orders. Bren-ji, stay with us.”
Never complicate security’s job. He understood. They walked at a sedate pace, Damiri walking on her own, quietly taking Algini’s direction toward the service passage, past a number of people who gave their passage a mildly curious stare.
No one delayed them. They reached the doorway of the service passage, met servants exiting with food service, who ducked out of the way, startled.
“There is a chair, daja-ma,” Bren said, “should you wish. You might sit down and let us call help.”
“No,” Damiri said shortly. “No! We shall not stop. Call my maid. Call my physician!”
“Security is doing that, nandi,” Jago said quietly. Banichi continued to talk to someone on com, and Algini had eased ahead of them—he was up at an intersection of the corridor, giving orders to a uniformed Bujavid staffer, probably part of the kitchen crew.
“We have a lift car on hold,” Tano said.
“I am perfectly well, now,” Damiri said. “I shall be perfectly fine.”
One hoped. One sincerely hoped.
• • •
They had finished the cards. Cajeiri’s fingers ached, he had signed so many, and toward the end he had begun simplifying his signature, because his hand forgot where it was supposed to be going.
He wanted to go find his guests and at least talk to them, and ask how they were doing; and he wanted to go over to the buffet and get at least one of the teacakes he had seen on people’s plates, and a drin
k. He very much wanted a drink of something, be it tea or just cold water. His throat was dry from saying, over and over again, “Thank you, nandi. One is very appreciative of the sentiment, nandi. One has never visited there, but one would very much enjoy it . . .” And those were the easy ones. The several who had wanted to impress him with their district’s export were worse. He had acquired a few small gifts, too, which his bodyguard said he should not open, but which would go through security.
Mostly he just wanted to get a drink of water, but the last person in line had engaged his father, now, and wanted to talk. He stood near the table and waited. And when his father’s bodyguard did nothing to break his father free of the person, he turned to Antaro and said, very quietly, “Taro-ji, please bring me a drink of something, tea, juice, water, one hardly cares.”
“Yes,” she said, and started to slip away; but then senior Guild arrived, two men so brusque and sudden Antaro moved her hand to her gun and froze where she stood, in front of him; the other three closed about him.
It was his father the two aimed at; but his father’s guard opened up and let them through, and then he realized, past the near glare of an oil lamp, that they were his mother’s bodyguard.
“They are Mother’s,” he said, which was to say, Great-grandmother’s. And they were upset. “Taro-ji, they are Mother’s guard. Something is wrong.”
“We are not receiving,” Veijico reminded him, staying close with him as he followed Antaro into his father’s vicinity.
“Son of mine,” his father said, “your mother is going upstairs. It may be the baby. She has called for her physician. We are obliged to go, quickly.”
“Is she all right?” he blurted out.
“Most probably. She has chosen not to go to the Bujavid clinic. She is giving directions. Nand’ Bren is with her. Your great-grandmother has heard. She will make the announcement in the hall.” His father set a hand on his shoulder. “Do not be distressed, son of mine. Likely everything is all right. We must just leave the hall and go upstairs.”
“My guests,” he said.
His father drew in a breath and spoke to his more senior bodyguard. “Go to Jase-aiji. Assist him and the young guests to get to Lord Tatiseigi’s apartment. Advise my grandmother to take my place in the hall. She may give the excuse of the consort’s condition. —Son of mine?”
“Honored Father.”
“Will you wish to go with nand’ Jase, or to go with us?”
He had never been handed such a choice. He had no idea which was right. Then he did know. “I should go where my mother is,” he said. “Jase-aiji will take care of my guests.”
“Indeed,” his father said, and gave a little nod. “Indeed. Come with me. Quickly.”
He snagged Jegari by the arm. “Go apologize to my guests. Tell them all of this, Gari-ji.”
“Yes,” Jegari said, and headed off through the crowd as quickly as he could.
Only then he thought . . . What about Kaplan and Polano?
• • •
* * *
• • •
The Bujavid staffer guided them through a succession of three service corridors, to a door that let out across from the lifts, in an area of hall cordoned off by red rope, and Guild were waiting beside a lift with the doors held open. Recent events still urged caution—but, “Clear,” Banichi said, and they went, at Damiri’s pace, which was brisk enough.
“We are in contact with the physician,” Tano said in a low voice, “but he is down in the hotel district, attempting to get to the steps through the crowd. Guild is escorting him. They will activate the tramway to bring him up.”
It was moderately good news. “Should we,” Bren ventured to ask Damiri, as they entered the lift, “call nand’ Siegi in the interim, daja-ma?”
She drew in a deep breath. They were all in. The door of the car shut, and Tano used his key and punched buttons. The car moved in express mode.
Damiri gasped and reached out, seizing Bren’s arm, and Algini’s, and they reached to hold her up.
“I think,” she said, “I think—”
“Daja-ma?”
“Get my husband!”
“We have sent word,” Bren said. “He is coming, daja-ma.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, and gasped as the car stopped. “Paidhi, he is not going to be in time.”
“Just a little further,” Banichi said. “We can carry you if you wish, nandi.”
“No,” she said, and took a step, and two. They exited the car into the hall, with a long, long walk ahead.
“Tano-ji, go to nand’ Tatiseigi’s apartment,” Bren said, still supporting Damiri on his arm. “Tell Madam Saidin to come. And nand’ Siegi if you can find him.”
Damiri opened her mouth to say something. And kept walking, but with difficulty. One truly, truly had no idea what to do, except to help her do what she had determined to do.
Banichi, who did not have use of one arm, moved to assist on the side he could, and Algini gave place to him. He said, quietly, “We are in contact with your staff, nandi, and Madam Saidin is on her way. So is your physician, at all speed. Here is nand’ Bren’s apartment. We could stop here, should you need. He has an excellent guest room.”
“No,” she said, but quietly, in the tenor of Banichi’s calm, low voice. “I shall make it. I can make it.”
“How long has this been going on?” Banichi asked, and after a deep series of breaths, Damiri said,
“Since yesterday.”
“Since yesterday.”
“I would not spoil my son’s festivity.” Deep breath, and in a tone of distress. “With him, I had two days.”
“It can be sooner.”
“I think, nadi, it could be before I get to the doors.”
Halfway to her apartment. “We are approaching,” Bren heard Algini say. And his ears told him, too, that someone was coming behind them, likely Madam Saidin. “The hall is secure. You are clear to unlock the doors.”
The doors ahead did open, wide, and the major domo and Damiri’s personal maid came hurrying out in great distress, ran to them and paced along beside as, behind them, indeed, Madam Saidin came hurrying into their company.
“One can assist her, nandi,” Madam Saidin said, easing herself into Bren’s place, while Damiri’s maid took her arm on Banichi’s side.
“I am no great assistance in this,” Jago said, “but I can at least provide communications.”
“Go,” Bren said. “Stay with her as long as need be.”
Tano arrived at a near run, from behind them. “Nand’ Siegi says he has not done this in thirty years, but he is coming, Bren-ji.”
“Well done,” he said. He thought perhaps he should go back to his apartment and wait there for news, but he was one person who could give orders if something had to be decided, and someone who could at least answer questions and explain to Tabini, when he got here—if protocol would let him get here—and he was determined to stay. He followed, stopped in the foyer with the major domo as Madam Saidin and Damiri’s maid assisted Damiri down the inner hall, toward her own suite, with Damiri’s two bodyguards and Jago following. Servants were hurrying about, everyone hushed and trying not to make a commotion.
Bren just stood there, with his aishid—with Banichi, who by the sound of his questions knew more than the rest of them put together regarding Damiri’s situation.
“One had no idea what to do,” he said to his aishid, a little out of breath.
“One cannot say Jago has,” Banichi said. “But she will tell us what she can learn, and the dowager’s men will not go past the sitting room.”
“Do you need to rest?” he asked. “Nichi-ji, do not hesitate.”
“One has no desire to add to the commotion,” Banichi said. There was a small bench built into the foyer wall by the major domo’s office, not an uncommon arra
ngement, and he quietly took it. “You might sit, Bren-ji.”
“I am too worried to sit,” he said, but he did sit down, for fear Banichi would get up again. “I precipitated this. I was too harsh with my answers. I was far too blunt. I upset her.”
“You gave her answers, Bren-ji. They were not pleasant answers, but they were answers. And she seemed to have wanted them.”
“Still . . .” he said, and saw by the sudden doorward look of everyone in the foyer that someone was coming. Human ears picked up nothing yet; but Algini took it on himself to open the door, hand on his pistol as he did so.
“Nand’ Siegi,” he said, and held the door open until the old man arrived, with an assistant carrying two cases of, one supposed, medical equipment and supplies.
“Where?” the old man asked, out of breath, and Tano showed him and his assistant down the inner hall and into the direction of the major domo, before Algini even began to shut the outer door.
But Algini stopped, and held the door open. “The aiji is coming,” he said.
Banichi used the bench edge to put himself back on his feet. Bren stood up, and the major domo arrived back in the foyer, from down the hall, agitated and worried. Algini ceded him the control of the door as numerous footsteps approached.
Tabini arrived, with Cajeiri, with his double bodyguard, and Cajeiri’s, too many people even to get into the foyer conveniently.
“How is she?” Tabini asked at once.
The major domo said: “Well, aiji-ma. She seems well. Nand’ Siegi is here.”
“Paidhi!” Tabini said, shedding his coat into the major domo’s hands, and there was no assistant to provide another. “Take care of my son.”
“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, and Tabini, in his shirt sleeves, and with only his junior bodyguard, headed down the long inner hall, toward his wife’s suite.
Cajeiri cast a worried look after him, then looked Bren’s direction. Worried. Scared, likely, and trying not to show it.
“Your mother walked to the apartment,” Bren said, “and she seems well enough. Nand’ Siegi just arrived.”
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