Intruder

And, an item Supani and Koharu would not yet think of arranging and that Narani would certainly not have forgotten, were Narani here yet: he had to talk to Daisibi, head of his clerical office, and be absolutely sure that every committee meeting he was scheduled to attend had an appropriately felicitous flower arrangement at all times. He also had to engage Bujavid security to be sure that no political agent adjusted a display of flowers in any infelicitous fashion. He was back in the land of i

Now he needed all the help he could get. He could not expect Supani to understand the ins and outs of political trickery, and he just should not set up appointments on the fly, not until Narani, who was old and ca

God, but he surely didn’t want to go down that mental track of detail and detail right before bed.

Talk to his office manager. That was the necessity. Be sure every prospective appointment went through that worthy gentleman, Daisibi.

And quit trying to manage the details himself.

One plain little cylinder remained in the bottom of the bowl, a copper one, topped with a bit of amber and a little fatter than currently stylishcthe sort of thing a businessman might use; it was odd that his office staff let such a thing through to reach him.

The letter inside it brought a smile. He knew that carefully rounded handwriting at first glance. And it was no business solicitation.

It was the aiji’s son.

Cajeiri of Ragi clan to the paidhi-aiji, the Lord of the Heavens, Lord Bren of Najida district.

Please may we share breakfast in the morning, nandi? It is a personal embarrassment that I have no kitchen or dining room to be able to offer, but one would be happy to see everyone at breakfast if you could please invite us. It is very boring already, and you will be too busy.

  This letter had to be answered. He took paper and pen, lit the waxjack with a match. and wrote, briefly,

Lord Bren of Najida to Cajeiri-nandi.

It would be the greatest honor to see you at breakfast tomorrow at sunrise. Your bodyguard will also be welcomed to table.

  Supani was, typically, not far from his summons. He rang a gentle little bell and delivered one of his silver cylinders, with his own wax seal, into Supani’s hand. “This invites young Cajeiri to breakfast at dawn,” he said. “Deliver it to the aiji’s staff. And do mention to that staff that I have indeed read the aiji’s note and shall be on time for a meeting, so I may be added to his appointments tomorrow.” It was more than likely that his bodyguard had already heard from Tabini’s bodyguard and had intended to tell him in the morning, maneuvering him toward that appointment by arranging his breakfast call at the appropriate time, but everybody was tired, and twice done was better than not done at all. “Tell Cook Cajeiri-nandi and I shall have breakfast in the dining room, with my entire bodyguard and Cajeiri’s, at table together.”

“Yes,” Supani said, and was off to help staff work the magic that always delivered a lord, even a very young one, appropriately dressed, at the appropriate hour, in the appropriate place, and got another very sleepy lord out of bed and dressed for the day, with a breakfast readyc

That was assuming that Tabini let the young rascal come, once the staffs got their information together and told Tabini. It was by no means certain that that initial message had traveled through Tabini’s staff at all on its way to his door and to his staff.

But he honestly hoped that the boy would be allowed to come. And it was a very good guess that the young gentleman would be as happy to see his bodyguard as to see him. If he seated all four of his own bodyguard at breakfast, then courtesy obliged him to extend the same invitation to Cajeiri’s young bodyguard—it would embarrass hell out of the youngsters, likely, whose rank in the Guild did not near approach that of his staff, but it was not as if they were strangers to each other.

Supani left. Jago came to the office doorway to report everything had arrived in good order, unbroken. And with that information, Bren took another of his own message cylinders and wrote a second letter, one he had intended to handle in the morning.

Bren paidi-aiji to nand’ Tatiseigi, Lord of the Atageini,

One rejoices to be back in the Bujavid again, this time in one’s own premises. One will never forget the kindness of your excellent staff and, most of all, the graciousness and generosity of the lord of the Atageini—in gratitude for which one extends a cordial invitation to an informal supper in my modest dining room tomorrow evening. One hopes you will accept such an offering, along with a gift in token of my profound esteem and gratitude for your hospitality.

  The gratitude was real. So was the urgent need to talk to the old man before Tatiseigi wound himself up for a fight over the negotiations in the Marid.

He hadn’t personally seen the porcelains. He took the second message cylinder with him to the foyer and found the two massive porcelains set out carefully on the floor, in a scatter of straw and other packing.

My God, he thought at the sight of them. He’d thought the weight, which had made loading them on and off the plane a job for a lift, was mostly the wood and packing. But they were amazing, each of the two a complex weight a human would lift with caution—each a delicate and extraordinary spiral of sea-creatures that imitated the ones on the great pillars of Machigi’s hall, and executed with the hand painting and the glazes that had made Marid work important to collectors across the continent.

They were extravagantly expensive works of art, and there was little to choose between them.

If thisgift didn’t mollify the old lord and set him a littleoff his balance, there was no dealing with the man. He was personally embarrassed that he was this beholden to Machigi.

But there it was.

He made his choice. “Set them both back into their crates,” he told the staff who had been cleaning them of dust. “And deliver the one nearest me tonight, in my name, to nand’ Tatiseigi’s apartment. Advise staff it is extremely fragile and irreplaceable. Then in the morning, after breakfast, deliver this letter.”

A crate, arriving late in the evening, when likely the old man was abed, would get staff attention, and at very least Lord Tatiseigi, a notorious early riser, would see the gift before the sun rose. Madam Saidin, Tatiseigi’s major d’, would see to its proper handling and safe situation, he was entirely confident.

And if he knew Tatiseigi, Tatiseigi the collector would have set his heart on permanently owning that porcelain several heartbeats before any other consideration of indebtedness for the gift occurred to him.

He ordered the recrated porcelain set at the door, dispatched staff to get a dolly, and laid the letter on the foyer table, trusting his orders would be very precisely carried out.

And he went back to his office and wrote a third letter, rubbing his eyes the while and trying to be extremely accurate in phrasing.

Bren paidhi-aiji, Lord of Najida, Lord of the Heavens, to Master Hadiro, Director of Exhibits and Curator of the Bujavid Museum, with respect and honor.

This object is offered for initial private exhibit in the lower hall. Please see that it is available for viewing and that the Merchants’ Guild is specifically invited to its first showing.

Then, tomorrow afternoon, please set it in the public exhibit hall as a gift from Machigi, Lord of the Taisigin Marid, to the people of the aishidi’tat.