Peacemaker

There was the service corridor. And Tatiseigi was positioned nicely by the dowager’s side, not likely to leave her now, and Damiri was fully occupied with well-wishers. The major ceremony was past. It was a good time to go aside and take a break—most of all to let Banichi take a rest, he thought. He yielded and went in that direction: the door was open, the hallway only dimly lit, letting people supplying the buffet and bringing back dishes get in and out of the hall without a disturbing flare of light.

The promised chairs were there. It was, indeed, a relief. He sat down. Banichi dutifully did the same.

“How are you faring?” he asked Banichi.

“Well enough,” Banichi said. “There is, indeed, no need.”

“Of course not,” Jago said.

Bren let go a long, slow breath. “He did very well, did he not?”

“He did excellently well,” Tano said.

“How is the city faring?” he asked, wondering if information was indeed getting through cha

“Very well,” Tano said. “Very well indeed . . . a little damage here and there, simply the press of people. A bar set a television in a window, and attempted to serve drink on the walkway, and there was a complaint of disorderly conduct—it was nothing. The cards are still being distributed, from several points, and those lines are orderly.”

It was nothing. That was so much better a report than they could have feared. Algini scoured up a carafe of tea, and they kept themselves out of the way of serving staff coming and going.

“The ru

One could only imagine, should Kaplan or Polano grow restless and switch on a light or two. Or move. “Jase says they can rest in there fairly comfortably,” Bren said, “with the armor locked. One ca

Banichi drew a deep breath. “Best I move, Bren-ji.” He shoved himself to his feet and drew a second breath.

“We may find an opportunity to quit the hall early,” Bren said, “all the same. We have done what we need to do.”

He walked out into the hall, and indeed, Tabini-aiji and Cajeiri had finished their card-signing and finally had leisure to talk and visit with well-wishers.

“Bren.” Jase overtook them, and Bren turned slightly, nodded a hello to Jase and Cajeiri’s young guests.

“So,” he said in ship-speak, “are you three managing to enjoy yourselves?”

“Really, yes, sir,” Gene said.

“We love the clothes,” Irene said. “And we got our own cards.”

“Treasure them,” he said. “You won’t find their like again in a lifetime. Onworld, they’re quite valuable.”

“Do we call him Cajeiri-aiji now, sir?” Artur asked.

“That is a question,” Bren said, and glanced at Banichi. “What does one call our young gentleman now?”

“‘Young gentleman’ is still appropriate,” Banichi said, “but Cajeiri-aiji, on formal occasions; or nand’ aiji, the same address as to his father.”

“Can we still call him Jeri?” Gene asked.

“Not in public,” Bren said. “Never in public. Never speaking about him. He’ll always be Cajeiri-aiji when you’re talking about him. Or the young aiji. Or the young gentleman. But what he is in private—he’ll define that.”

“Yes, sir,” Gene said. And bowed and changed back to Ragi. “Nandi.”

“Jase-aiji.” Bren gave a little nod and walked on toward the dowager, who had gotten a chair, likely from the other service passage, and who was quite successfully holding court over near the dais, with a cup of tea in her hands and a semicircle of attendance, including Lord Dur and Lord Tatiseigi.

Protected, still. He was satisfied. He turned the other direction, to let that gathering take its course, and to let that pair pursue necessary politics, and saw, at a little remove, Lord Topari.

That was not a meeting he wanted at the moment. He veered further right.

And found himself facing, at a little remove, the aiji-consort and her borrowed bodyguard.

She was looking right at him. Eyes had met. Courtesy dictated that he bow, then turn aside, but when he lifted his head, she was headed right toward him with intent, and etiquette demanded he stand there, bow a bit more deeply as she arrived, and offer a polite greeting.

“Daja-ma,” he said pleasantly.

“Are you pleased?” she asked outright.

“One is pleased that your son is so honored, daja-ma. One hopes you are enjoying the evening.”

“Is that a concern?”

She was set on an argument, and he was equally determined to avoid it. He bowed a third time, not meeting her eyes, not accepting a confrontation.

“My question was sincere, daja-ma. One apologizes if it gave offense.”

“Who killed my father?”

He did look at her, with a sharp intake of breath. “I did not, daja-ma, nor did the aiji-dowager, nor did Lord Tatiseigi, who would have received your father had he reached Tirnamardi. It is my unsupported opinion, daja-ma, that Tirnamardi is exactly where your father was going, and that the most likely person to have prevented him getting there was his uncle—your own great-uncle. Shishogi.”

Her eyes flashed, twice, luminous as they caught the light. “What do you know?”

“A question for us both, daja-ma: what do you know of him?”

“That you killed him.”

“I never met him. Nor did my aishid, in that context.” He saw her breathing very rapidly. “Daja-ma, are you well? There is a chair in the servant passage.”

“Why would he kill my father?”

“Do you know, daja-ma, who your uncle was?”

“That is a very strange question.”

He was acutely conscious of his own aishid, of the dowager’s men at Damiri’s back, of a crowded hall, though they were in a clear area. “There are things that I ca

“Did he assassinate my father?”

“Daja-ma, your husband believed he protected you in dismissing your father, who was under pressures we do not accurately know. But to my knowledge the aiji did not wish his death. Your father may have discovered things he may have finally decided to pass to Lord Tatiseigi, as the closest to the aiji he could reach.”

“I am weary of riddles and suppositions! Tell me what you know, not what you guess!”

“Daja-ma.” He lowered his voice as much as possible. “We are not in a safe place. If you will discuss this with some person of close co

“The dowager’s closest ally!”

“But a man of impeccable honesty, daja-ma.”

“No! No, I insist on the truth from you. You advise my husband. And I am set at distance. I am told I shall not be permitted to leave the Bujavid. I ca

“Daja-ma, there are reasons.”

“Reasons!”

“Your great-uncle, daja-ma.” He kept his voice as low as possible. “I believe he did order your father’s assassination. If you wish my opinion of events, daja-ma, your great-uncle plotted a coup from the hour of your son’s birth. When the aiji sent him to the space station, out of reach, and in the dowager’s keeping, it so upset your great-uncle’s plans he launched the coup to remove the aiji, and possibly to appoint you to a regency until the succession could be worked out. But you fled with your husband.”

Her look was at first indignant, then entirely shocked.

“You had no idea, did you not, daja-ma?”

“This is insane! My great-uncle. My great-uncle is in the Guild.”