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“Will you ask Damiri? Ilisidi asked archly, lips pursed, and Tabini scowled in her direction.

“We are certain you will have advice.”

“Who is her recommendation?”

“I have not asked her. Nor shall until she offers an opinion. Gods less fortunate, woman! She has a father to mourn!”

“Ah. We had hardly expected mourning on that score. But she will not take the lordship. Nor will my great-grandson. Let us agree on that, at least.”

Tabini frowned. “To my certain recollection, I have that decision, alone, and I find no reason to forecast who it will be.” He placed his hands on his thighs, preparatory to rising. “And we have kept the paidhi-aiji, who is distressingly pale, overlong, and made him work much too hard. Paidhi, you and your aishid will pursue the matter you wish to attempt. Cenedi will pursue business of his own. I have a meeting this afternoon with the Assassins’ Guild, regarding . . . business. And the aiji-consort will meanwhile make plans for the Festivity . . . which we are now hopeful will come off without hindrance or extraordinary commotion. Paidhi-ji.”

“Aiji-ma?”

“Rest. Care for your own household. And do not be talked into visiting Topari on his terms. We forbid it.”

“One hears, aiji-ma.”

Tabini rose, and offered his hand to his grandmother. She used his help, and her cane, and Bren rose and bowed as Jago moved close by him, in case the paidhi-aiji should unceremoniously fall on his face. Cenedi was now attending the dowager. Everything was back where it ought to be.

And he—he had to talk to Jase and send Narani on an errand into the city.

Preferably after a ten minute rest, with his eyes shut.

He was aware of his heartbeat in the wound on the back of his skull and tried to decide whether it matched the pounding in his temples. He just wanted to go home, lie down, preferably not on his back, and then maybe have another slice of buttered toast, to settle his stomach.

But he had to launch a campaign before he had that luxury . . . and see if he could move a man who ruled mountains.

He was laying plans even as he walked home with Jago and Algini.

Tell Lord Topari, he would say to Narani, that the paidhi-aiji wishes to forewarn him of evidence in the case of Lord Aseida, and that the paidhi-aiji wishes to meet with him discreetly and in confidence, preferring the honor of his company for tea in his residence— if he will be so accommodating. Say to him that the paidhi-aiji has been injured and is unable to walk any distance, but that the paidhi has heard of his concern and will not rest until he has spoken to him personally.

If there was one thing he had noted in the old lord, it was a sense of eternally frustrated entitlement, a sense that his mountainous district, though Ragi and part of the central lands, received everything last and least. Tea with a human might not be high on the list of honors Lord Topari craved—but Narani, country-bred himself, though coastal, might cajole the man into understanding at least one reason the conference was not taking place in an office.

Lord Topari, like other minor lords, lodged in town during the legislative session. The Cismontane, like many other small associations, seasonally held rooms for their representatives in the tashrid and hasdrawad in a moderately-priced hotel a few rows back from the esplanade at the foot of the Bujavid—off among the restaurants and office supply shops. Narani would take the tram down the lofty steps as far as the esplanade, and walk—it would not be far enough to necessitate local transport.

For the paidhi-aiji and his bodyguards to make the trek—the route would have involved the train station and a conspicuous Guild-supplied bus. He didn’t think he had it in him. He knew he didn’t. And he would, he thought, think better of Lord Topari forever, if Lord Topari would just come up the hill to disagree with him.





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 · · ·

Son of mine, the letter went, that Madam Saidin had brought into the guest quarters, be advised that the official celebration of your birthday will be on the day itself. Jase-aiji will come to your door to escort your guests to the paidhi-aiji’s apartment, and to escort you and your aishid to our apartment for a private breakfast, at the usual time. There will be a small luncheon, late, attended by family and by your personal guests. Appropriate wardrobe will be transferred by staff during breakfast. Kindly advise your young associates of that arrangement. The paidhi-aiji’s staff will assist your guests.

Lord Tatiseigi has been requested, by separate letter, to escort your great-grandmother. He will, starting in late afternoon, lead a private museum tour for all official guests, ending at the supper hour in a buffet reception and formal Festivity for a larger number of guests, in the Audience Hall, to last about three hours.

Understand and explain to your guests that these arrangements in no wise reflect precedence, rank, or favor. The prime consideration is the capacity of the residency lift system and the need for the three of us to arrive at the appropriate time and together, as hosts of the event.

Understand too that for most of the day, your guests will be attached to the paidhi-aiji and Jase-aiji, not to you, nor should you signal or converse with them in public except for passing courtesy. You should direct your full attention to the various guests and officials.

My major domo has provided a list of ranks, titles, colors, and a brief history of the guests—a document which should by no means be carried to the hall. Kindly surrender the list to Madam Saidin once you have committed the necessary information to memory. She will destroy it.

It is also incumbent on you to make a brief speech to the reception guests stating the accomplishments since your last felicitous birthday and complimenting and thanking your guests for their attendance. I shall write it for you, and trust you will have no difficulty learning it. I shall send you that on the day.

Son of mine, your mother and I have every confidence you will carry off this felicitous event, the first state event in which you will stand beside us, with dignity and grace. We are confident you will conduct yourself in a ma

Bear in mind that your conduct in this event will follow you into adulthood, and that, while your eventual inheritance of the aijinate is presumed, it is an elective office, subject to the approval of the legislature.

Conduct your celebration with due respect to all your guests, old and young, and be aware that among them are individuals in various degrees disapproving of your human associates.

This event does not test your guests. It tests you, and your parents and great-grandmother. Opinions can be reversed, when they are held by honest and intelligent people, and, in your great-grandmother’s words, it is easier to lead a mecheita uphill than to carry him. Keep that in mind, regarding any negative or unpleasant opinions, and be particularly courteous to difficult people.

Be gracious, be pleasant, and if you detect an opinion that seems too obscure to be understood, or should one seem too argumentative or hostile, refer that person to me.

Beyond this event, your personal guests and relations and the ship-aiji and the paidhi-aiji will all return to our apartment for a private reception and, we hope, a far more relaxed end to a successful evening.

Not have his birthday guests with him?

Three hours with lords and legislators and committee people?

A list of old people?

And make a speech?