Destroyer

“Ha.” Tatiseigi looked not to believe it of him. He was a handsome old man, extremely jealous of his proprieties in a world that had changed far too fast for him. He was going some even to receive a human alone, in this i

“And does this gracious solicitude,” Tatiseigi asked, “extend to gunfire under my roof?”

“One hopes not to endanger this household in any particular, nandi.” There was the unfortunate affair of the lilies, besides the first one. Tatiseigi would never let that go. “I am particularly sensible of the passions which confront my return from this mission, nandi, a quite reasonable demand for an accounting, which I am prepared to give. One would never wish to bring political difficulty on this house, or to provoke the Kadigidi. I understand there is an imminent threat.”

Tatiseigi simply gave him a fish-stare and kept staring, and had not yet invited him to sit down. The old lord had sent his letter, Ilisidi had said. He had dispatched a courier from his staff at considerable risk. But clearly it was not done for his sake.

The jaw moved. Briefly. “We will not countenance Kadigidi intrusion.”

“One is informed, nandi, that the Atageini are very formidable in that regard.”

“Ha. Spies, is it? Your Taibeni brats?”

At that point Ilisidi arrived, a rescue, a decided rescue. Tatiseigi rose to hand the dowager to a favored and comfortable chair.

“We see elegance, despite the circumstances of travel, Sidi-ji,” Tatiseigi said, quite pointedly regarding the paidhi’s less than splendid appearance, Bren was sure; and in fact the dowager with her black garments and blood-red lace made a very brave show, in a dark color in which packing wrinkles, if they were possibly allowed to exist, would not show. Much more practical, that, than his pale coat.

Ilisidi sat down with her hands on her walking-stick, ramrod straight. Bren took hers as a blanket permission to sit down, and he took the lefthand chair.

“Flatterer,” Ilisidi said primly. “But we accept it. One notes there has not been complete warfare between you and the paidhi in my absence.”

A small silence in which Tatiseigi, who might have protested that the paidhi had been perfectly gracious and polite in conversation, did not.

“Lord Tatiseigi has been very patient,” Bren said dutifully, and Ilisidi’s right eyebrow arched.

“Well?” she asked. “Patient, is it? A good thing, considering. And the letter has gone. Ah,” she said, deliberately diverting her attention and deflecting argument as Cajeiri came trailing in. “Great-grandson.”

“Mani-ma. Nandiin.” A stiff little bow, and Cajeiri walked to the one of the chairs—there were five—next Ilisidi’s right hand, and sat down, hands gripping the cushion edge. Late arrival, and very tight-lipped. One wondered what had occasioned the tardiness.

At that point, however, tea arrived through the main doors, a huge porcelain service in the hands of a very strong servant in green, followed by three young maidservants in soft gold and lily white coats.

No business was possibly appropriate while formal tea service went on in such a hall, nor, again, was it possible while the tea was being drunk. There were, at Ilisidi’s request, two rounds of service… and then a third. Tatiseigi had been impatient. Now he became edgy and frustrated, raising an eyebrow at Ilisidi. Cajeiri looked at his great-uncle, then at his great-grandmother, and back again in increasing frustration.

The paidhi kept focused on his tea cup and kept quiet, trying to avoid being spoken to or looked at for the interim.

“So,” Tatiseigi said, just that, after a mortal long time of waiting.

Ilisidi took a lingering sip of tea, and the lineaments of her face rearranged themselves subtly in what might be amusement. Or not. She made as if to set the tea cup down. And did not. She held it in her hands, carefully. “We have a proposition for our host.”

“And what would this be?”

A long inhalation, a slight stretch of frail shoulders, and she held out the tea cup for the servant to pour another. In the background, servant desperately signaled servant: the tea had run out. There needed to be more. “One has a notion,” Ilisidi said serenely, while servants scurried, “that the Kadigidi are bound to move against this house—I have even had the likelihood reported to me, as happens, through your own staff. One would be extremely distressed to see hostile forces move here to the detriment of the Atageini.”

A slight move of Tatiseigi’s shoulder. A shrug. “They would not be wise to do so.”

“Oh, doubtless, but then the Kadigidi know the lay of the land as well as the premises, since you hosted that ingrate Murini during the last upheaval.”

A muscle jumped in Tatiseigi’s jaw. “A mistake.”

“One we might ourselves have made, to be sure. But one is also very sure he was taking notes. Nor would such a slinking creature care for the odds as they might exist in a simple dispute between Atageini and Kadigidi, no, not this scoundrel. The Guild will not act. But Murini will gather reinforcement, and hire others, perhaps southerners.”

“He is in Shejidan.”

“Ah, but are all his servants, Tati-ji? Surely servants came with him, when he was a guest here.”

“One believes,” Tatiseigi muttered.

“They might easily advance onto Atageini land—in great numbers. And against such odds, and with their having observed the defenses at close hand, there might well be damage, even extensive damage to this house. We would ever so greatly deplore that. We had ever so much rather advance the quarrel to their territory and let it damage their crops and paintwork.”

Paintwork was a very touchy topic with the Atageini, and Ilisidi had neither shame nor remorse.

“Cease your campaign, woman,” Tatiseigi said with a wave of his hand. “We have sent this cursed letter, for all the good that may come of it, on your recommendation. The mission took away three of my staff, who might have defended this house.”

“Ah, but now, now, Tati-ji, I know where we can gain three back, and thirty more.”

“From what hidden source, pray?”

“My great-grandson, your grand-nephew, has acquired the man’chi of Taiben.”

Two heads moved, Cajeiri’s for a short sharp look at his great-grandmother, and Tatiseigi’s as if someone had just thrown something cold and wet right in his face.

It was, however, Ilisidi sitting there, and Tatiseigi did not explode outright.

“By no means,” he cried indignantly. “By no means, Sidi-ji, do we countenance these ragtag foresters who chase game into Atageini fields and refuse us any tithe of it! We have allowed two under this roof, but only on tolerance, and as a situation with our grand-nephew we earnestly counsel should never have happened, and should be dealt with at the first opportunity! Let them serve him at Taiben!”

“But look on it from a better vantage, Tati-ji. Your grand-nephew can mediate these ancient quarrels, which were quite justified… a hundred years ago, but a hundred years, nadi! Certainly you were wise, seeing how a grand-nephew’s co

“Abominable woman!”

The paidhi paid devout attention to his teacup. Few people argued with the aiji-dowager. Fewer engaged in a shouting match with her once, let alone twice in one day, and he could only add to the tension.