Destroyer

Bren translated, improving it to: “He expresses all possible felicitations on the dowager’s safe return.”

Ilisidi frowned and muttered, “Has he any useful news?”

“She asks news,” he rendered that surly utterance. “I fear she won’t consent to stay here more than the night. She wants transport to the mainland, and information that can set her on the other shore as well-prepared as possible. I have to concur. Our enemies won’t waste time setting up opposition to a landing.”

Shawn absorbed that. More than the gray hair—he’d added a few lines in his face in the last two years.

“Does she intend to confront Murini-aiji militarily?”

“Not aiji,” Ilisidi said sharply.

Shawn quickly inclined his head, a slight apology. “Pardon.”

“She doesn’t acknowledge Murini’s claim,” Bren said quietly. “No offense on either side. The dowager will do what makes sense in atevi terms. I doubt she knows yet exactly what, though contacting allies figures somewhere in the plan. Crossing, preferably by boat. Quietly. Inserting our group onto the mainland. Quietly. Then all hell may break loose as we secure a foothold, or we may proceed more quietly. We don’t know. That’s where information would come in very handy. Have you possibly heard from Tabini-aiji?”

“No. Unhappily, no. Ms. Mercheson made it here. I’m sure she’ll want to report, but I don’t think she knows any more than I do.”

“What of the central provinces, the Atageini?”

“We don’t know the details of who’s allied to whom,” Shawn said. “We only know who’s come out in public as supporting Murini—mostly southerners, and the Kadigidi in the central association. For the rest, we don’t know who’s fence-sitting and who’s biding their time.”

“We have Lord Geigi’s information, which we’ll share with you, but it’s not current.”

“I have a file for you,” Shawn said. “And our current codes.” Shawn hadn’t entrusted this item to an aide. He reached into his own i

“Runs by itself?”

“D-socket. If it can get a phone co

“No. I haven’t.” It was far better than he’d hoped for. A profound trust, when he’d technically stopped working for Shawn years ago. “And won’t. The file is in it?”

“Yes. The information we have is thin, from a couple of north shore sources. For God’s sake, protect it. The recessed point on the back—that’s the security wipe. Punch that and everything’s gone.”

“Just thank God it’s got one.” He put the small black unit into his pocket. Miniaturized to a marvel. “The Presidenta has given us a great courtesy, extreme access and all his best information, nand’ dowager, contained in this small item which will co

That drew a deep inclination, a regal bow of the head. “Say to him that we shall remember this great courtesy, nand’ paidhi.”

“She is—” He began to say grateful, and, with a little coldness at heart, hesitated on that word. “Very favorably impressed.”

The car braked outside the service entry to the airport hotel—the utilitarian service entry, pavement spotted with grease and a couple of trash bins brimming over, was not where he would have presented the aiji-dowager and the heir, but there they were, the human notion of security, and not that far off atevi requirements. He hastened to get out, wanting everyone under cover as quickly as possible.

“This is the appointed stop,” he called out, as Banichi and Jago exited the car behind, with the other vehicles pulling up close. “We shall take a lift inside, among common folk of no likely ill intent. Above all, no deadly force, nadiin-ji.”

Atevi security and ordinary airport hotel guests, many of whom might have had their flights cancelled by the una

“Service lift, sir,” one of Shawn’s people said, and they reached it, dispersing security, human and atevi, along their route, and then folding it in behind them, with the exhausted shuttle crew bringing up the rear with all the baggage.

“That will all come with us,” Bren said sharply, when Shawn’s people tried to hold it at the lift in favor of people first. “Shawn.” Forgetting himself. “Mr. President, we need those bags with us at all times.”

“Absolutely,” Shawn said, waving off his own men’s efforts. “Rely on them, Jim. They’ll manage.” Shawn’s men were doing a splendid job so far, not coming between Ilisidi’s security and Ilisidi, and managing to hold the door of the lift for them, so that even the dowager found no reason to scowl.

Inside, with the dowager, Cajeiri, her security, Banichi and Jago, with baggage, plus Shawn and his aide and two of his men, the first load as the lift ascended, under key… up and up, to a destination which proved to be, indeed, the penthouses, not altogether unexplored territory to his eye. He’d been here for official meetings and the like, had stayed in more than one of the several suites, each with a formal room between. Comfortable rooms, large beds and a grand view, even by the dowager’s exacting standards. He’d had a relieved sense of where they were likely going when Shawn had said hotel, and the place had been, as Shawn had assured him, suitably arranged. There were flowers by the lift, flowers in the formal room, harmonious, even kabiu: suitable for high-ranking guests. Remarkable. University and the current paidhiin-designates had probably swung into action. And very, very welcome. The dowager drew an easier breath. Everyone did.

“The southern suite, nandi,” Bren said, motioning to the right—he was able to recommend it, having lodged there before, himself—“has an extraordinary and pleasant view.”

Ilisidi walked forward slowly, absorbing the environs, Cajeiri close beside her, Cenedi and Banichi to the fore. Bren opened the door of the suite.

“Perfectly adequate,” Ilisidi said, on a mere glance inside. A note of exhaustion had thi

“She is extremely tired,” Bren said.

“Not surprisingly so,” Shawn said, and motioned toward the sitting room that ended the corridor in a half-circle of broad windows, blazing daylight. “The hotel has laid a buffet, tea, fruit, and sandwiches, if it can pass her security. Mine has watched it, start to finish. If it doesn’t suit, she can order any service she may wish.”

“Nand’ dowager,” he said, extending an arm in that direction, “chairs, tea, fruit and sandwiches in the sitting room, provided as a courtesy by this establishment. The Presidenta’s security has passed it and swears to its safety.”

“Excellent,” she said, and forged grimly ahead, her cane in one hand, Cajeiri’s arm under the other, Cenedi in close attendance, as they walked into that sunlit room. The window held a broad view of the mountains, snowy Mt. Adam Thomas framed in the lesser peaks, its flanks shaded with a skirt of cloud in an otherwise blue sky.