Peacemaker

A pleasant face hardly helped what was inside, but it would, mani had said, give him time to think.

And he thought about what he had promised Madam, about his associates not talking to their parents, and if it was not precisely the truth, he knew now he had to make it the truth. If someone slipped, if someone said a wrong thing to the authorities in the heavens, some report that would take his associates away from him, he would still get them back, even if all the aijiin in the heavens were against them associating—even if his father was against it.

He had gotten them down here with all this going on.

He surely could do it twice, no matter what.

But it would be a lot easier if he could be sure his associates were careful what they said in the first place.

8

The aroma of breakfast was in the air as Bren dressed. Yesterday had not produced any regular meal, and brandy with Jase had sent him straight to bed. It didn’t count as supper, not in any regard. “How is Banichi this morning?” he asked, with the intention of having breakfast sent to his bodyguards in their quarters if they were slow getting up—God knew they’d deserved it. “Is my aishid up and about?”

“They were up an hour ago, nandi, taking breakfast with Cenedi-nadi in the aiji-dowager’s apartment.”

“Banichi too?”

“Indeed, nandi.”

The Guild did not observe such niceties as no business over food. And business did not half describe what that conversation might entail.

So he didn’t invite his aishid to breakfast. He headed for the dining room alone and took his seat at a table that could seat felicitous thirteen. He was grateful that his servants, Bindanda’s staff, appeared instantly to pour tea. He usually drank it without sugar, in consideration of his waistline, but he loaded in two spoonfuls, then a third, stirred it and took a sip.

Bindanda appeared in the doorway. “Nandi. Will there be any requests?”

“Whatever you have this morning, Danda-ji. Toast. Simple toast would do very nicely.”

“Eggs and toast, nandi,” Bindanda said.

“Excellent.” He nodded to Bindanda’s departing bow, took a sip. His ordinary breakfast. His staff. People were solving at least some of the problems. They were home. Home was a very good place to wake up.

Someone left or arrived at the apartment. He was not sure which. Such often happened during the course of the day, the arrival of messages, or orders from staff—but less often, when the whole floor was shut down.

Mail, likely. Letters were going to start pouring in once the Bujavid knew they were back. And though only one lift had access to the third floor when it was under lockdown, and that lift normally sat at the third floor, operating only by key—mail and deliveries would reach them.

Letters were going to ask questions. They were going to ask questions he could not answer. He worried about what he could say. He worried about what his aishid was doing. He ate the toast and eggs, swallowed a cup of tea, acknowledged Bindanda, who showed up for his polite appreciation . . . “Thank you very much, Danda-ji. I am fortified for the day. One ca

“Nandi,” Bindanda said with a little bow, and Bren waited only until Bindanda had gone back into his own realm before getting up, shedding the napkin, and heading for the foyer.

Message cylinders, yes, were already standing in the bowl.

 · · ·

Boji was upset. Cajeiri waked, rubbed his eyes, astonished for the moment at the gilt and ornate curves of the curtained bedstead, and at the vases and bric-a-braq around him and Boji’s ornate filigree cage—on the one side of the bed-curtains he had left open—

Until he remembered he was in the guest bedroom in Great-uncle’s apartment.

All of them were. Because they had all wanted to be together, and Irene had not wanted to be apart from everybody, Madam Saidin had put his guests in the very fine two little bedrooms a visitor’s aishid was supposed to use, and his aishid had kindly volunteered to bed down in the sitting room beyond. It was a very large guest suite.

Boji, furry and long-limbed, was clinging to the bars of his cage and making his water-bottle rattle. And he had better not let out a screech in Great-uncle’s apartment, at whatever hour it was.

“Hush!” he whispered. But it could not be that early in the morning: he smelled tea.

And if Great-uncle’s servants had brought breakfast to the guest quarters sitting room, he and his guests ought not to oversleep and make things inconvenient for the staff. His father had di

So he crawled out of bed, put on his dressing-robe, and pulled the ornate cord next to the service door. He hated to wake his servants after their hard work yesterday, but he and his guests would have to dress, if tea had arrived on the household’s schedule.

And if Boji was starting to get restless, Boji had better have his egg and have his little accommodation cleaned out, or he would become inconvenient in more than one way.

He had worried about bringing Boji into Great-uncle’s apartment—and he was sure he was not nearly as worried about it as Great-uncle. Great-uncle, with all the fine antiques in his Bujavid apartment, was surely reckoning the possibility that Boji might somehow get out of his cage again, the way he had just done in Great-uncle’s house at Tirnamardi.

And it had looked for an awful moment when they had gotten off the lift as if Great-grandmother might send Boji back to his father’s and mother’s apartment—which he did not want, because his mother was already upset about his having Boji. His mother had almost said he could not keep him in the first place—and it was sure that Boji was going to make a racket if he was left alone and bored or hungry.

But then Great-uncle had ordered his staff to direct Boji’s cage to the guest quarters of his apartment. And he had promised Great-uncle he would be triply sure there was no problem.

“Just wait,” he said to Boji, and made the clicking sound that imitated Boji himself. “Be quiet. Be good. Just a little while. Hush.”

The servant passage door opened quietly, and Eisi and Liedi came in, two young men a little subdued and tired from the trip. He said quietly, “One is almost certain there is a breakfast service from staff, nadiin-ji. So we should all be up. I shall be right back.”

The servant passage had a little accommodation—his guests being in the two rooms within his, he had advised them last night that they should not hesitate to go through his room in any case of necessity: the bed-curtain was as good as a wall. It was a very fine arrangement, although he found the thick bed-curtains a little spooky. He had been too tired to care, last night, and whether his guests had indeed come and gone last night, he had no idea. He hurried back, now, expecting that Eisi and Liedi would have waked his guests and advised them both that there was breakfast soon to be had, and that they would have his clothes laid out ready for him.

He was not disappointed. He dressed quickly—he had to dress in the bedroom, while Irene was still in her little room, having to dress herself, and his aishid was doing the same out in the sitting room. Guild managed, that was all, having their own rules; and Jegari looked in on him, already in uniform—just a brief appearance in the doorway to tell him breakfast was indeed waiting.

Cajeiri put his coat on. Eisi knocked on one side door and the other to advise his guests they might now come and go—such had been their arrangement last night.