Peacemaker

Tabini arrived, with Cajeiri, with his double bodyguard, and Cajeiri’s, too many people even to get into the foyer conveniently.

“How is she?” Tabini asked at once.

The major domo said: “Well, aiji-ma. She seems well. Nand’ Siegi is here.”

“Paidhi!” Tabini said, shedding his coat into the major domo’s hands, and there was no assistant to provide another. “Take care of my son.”

“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, and Tabini, in his shirt sleeves, and with only his junior bodyguard, headed down the long i

Cajeiri cast a worried look after him, then looked Bren’s direction. Worried. Scared, likely, and trying not to show it.

“Your mother walked to the apartment,” Bren said, “and she seems well enough. Nand’ Siegi just arrived.”

Nobody had taken the boy’s coat. The major domo had gone back down the hall in a hurry, following Tabini. Guild was talking to Guild, meanwhile, exchanging information partly verbally, partly in handsigns, and there was a general relaxation.

“I think we could do with a cup of tea,” Bren said quietly. “Can we arrange that?”

“Yes,” the Guild senior of Tabini’s guard said, and headed down the same hall, while Bren steered Cajeiri, Cajeiri’s bodyguard, and his own three toward the sitting room, the civilized place to wait.

“Sit,” he said to them, in consideration of Banichi. “Everybody sit. We are not in an emergency now.”

“Is she really all right, nandi?” Cajeiri asked.

“She seemed quite in command,” Bren said. “Madam Saidin is there; Jago is, and now nand’ Siegi.” There was another small commotion in the foyer, even as he spoke. “That may be her own physician—he had to come up from the hotel district.”

“Jago reports your father is with her, young aiji,” Tano said, “and she knows you are here.”

“My father says I should not go back there,” Cajeiri said unhappily.

“There are so many people,” Bren said. Two of the kitchen help were making their tea, over at the side of the room: there was not a senior servant nor a woman to be seen, when ordinarily a handful would have flitted through, checking on things, being sure the fire was lit, the chairs were set. “I think that is your mother’s physician who just arrived.” He could see an older woman and a younger pass the door. “Everyone who needs to be here is here.”

“My father sent word to nand’ Jase,” Cajeiri said, “and he is going up to Great-uncle’s apartment. I think my great-grandmother has taken charge of the party.”

“That was well-thought,” Bren said.

“But Kaplan and Polano . . .” Cajeiri said. “How do they get upstairs?”

That was a question. The poor lads were down there for security. “One believes Jase will give them orders; and they were prepared to be there until the party ended. They will be there for your great-grandmother, and, one supposes, Lord Tatiseigi’s safety, as well. And your guests will be upstairs, able to get out of these fancy clothes, so one supposes they are more comfortable than we are.”

“Is she going to be all right, nandi?”

“There is nothing that indicated anything to the contrary, young gentleman. She simply knew it was time, and she had us all escort her upstairs. Apparently,” he added, because the boy and his mother were too often at odds, “she has been having pains since yesterday, but she wanted you to have your festivity without the disruption of her taking to her bed. She thought she could get through the evening.”

“She did?”

“She is quite brave, your mother is, and she knew it was a very important evening.”

Cajeiri just stared at him a moment. “I wish she had said something.”

“But your father would have worried. And you would have worried.”

“She is going to be all right?”

“Baji-naji, young gentleman, but your mother is too determined a woman to do other than very well.”

“I am glad you call me young gentleman. I am not ready to be young aiji.”

“You had no idea your father would do that?”

“None at all, nandi!”

The boys were standing by, awaiting a nod before setting the cups down. Bren gave it, and took the teacup gladly enough.

Cajeiri put sugar into his. And drank it half down at one try.

“Did you ever get to eat?” Bren asked him.

“No, but—” Cajeiri began, when there was a sudden noise of footsteps from down the hall, and the major domo came hurrying in, to bow deeply in Cajeiri’s direction.

“Young gentleman, your father sends for you.”

Cajeiri set the cup aside, looking scared.

“Is it good news?” Bren asked sharply, startling the man, who bowed again.

“The aiji-consort is very well, nandi. The young gentleman has a—”

Cajeiri bounced to his feet and headed out the door at a run, taking a sharp right at the door, his young aishid rising in complete confusion.

“—sister,” the major domo finished, and bowed in consternation. “Please excuse me, nand’ paidhi!”

The major domo hurried after. Cajeiri’s bodyguard stood by their chairs, confused.

“As well sit and wait, nadiin,” Banichi said, as Tano and Algini looked amused. “There is no use for us back there.”

Bren let out a slow breath, and took a sip of tea, affording himself a little smile as Cajeiri’s young bodyguard settled back into their chairs, deciding there probably was no further use for their presence, either.

But they might as well finish the tea.

 · · ·

Mother was propped with pillows, and her hair was done up with a ribbon. Father was in a chair at her bedside. And there was a white blanket in Mother’s arms, just the way it was in the machimi. It all seemed like a play, like it was somebody else’s family, somebody else’s mother and father, on stage.

But he came closer, and Mother smiled at him, and moved the blanket and showed him a little screwed-up face that hadn’t been in the world before.

“This is Seimiro,” Mother said. “This is your sister.”

He looked at his father, who looked at him; he looked at his mother. He looked at the screwed-up little face. He had never seen a really young baby.

“Is she asleep?” he whispered.

“She hears you,” his father said. “But she ca

“Can I touch her?”

“Yes,” his mother said.

He put out his hand, touched her tiny fist with just one finger. She was unexpectedly soft, and warm. “Hello, Seimiro,” he said. “Hello. This is your brother.”

“Do you want to hold her?” his father asked.

She was so tiny. He knew he could. But she was so delicate. And his mother would be really upset if he made a mistake. “No,” he said. “I might do it wrong.”

“Here.” His father stood up, and carefully took the baby, and carefully put it in his arms. She was no weight at all. She made a face at him. He could hold her in one arm and touch her on her nose, which made her make another face, and made him smile. But it was a risk, all the same: he very carefully gave her back to his mother, who took her back and smiled, not at him, for doing it right; but at her.

Well, that was the way things were going to be. But she was new, and he could hardly blame people for being interested.

He just said to himself that he had a long, long head start on Seimiro, and she would have a lot of work to catch him.

There were a lot of things he could show her.

Even if they had sealed up some of the servant passages. There were still ways to sneak around the Bujavid.

 · · ·

Jase made it back: Madam Saidin had gotten home, and taken over, and Jase was willing to trade news over a glass of brandy.

Kaplan and Polano were still stuck in the hall, being statues, but they were comfortable enough, and there were atevi guards standing near them who knew what they were, and who had orders to get them back upstairs once the festivity had broken up.