Peacemaker

Everybody was in the sitting room. Everybody was sitting, Bren, Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini, even Narani and Jeladi, all indulging in a modest brandy, and everybody debriefing, in safe privacy. Even Bindanda came in, their other plain-clothes Guildsman, to get the news straight from those who were there.

“The baby’s name is Seimiro,” Jago said. And: “Damiri-daja had no trouble at all. And well we hurried. The baby was there before nand’ Siegi was.”

Jase said, “The youngsters were a little worried when they saw everybody leaving—so were the guests. But the dowager took over and explained the situation, and I took the youngsters right on up to Lord Tatiseigi’s apartment: the guests were headed for the wine and brandy, very happy.”

“One wishes the youngsters could have had a better time,” Bren said.

“Oh,” Jase said, “they had fancy dress, they had the museum, they had all the lords and ladies, and seeing Cajeiri and the ceremony—they were very excited. They asked me more questions than I could answer. Then the baby coming—they knew why they had to go upstairs, and then with Madam Saidin helping deliver the baby—they were very excited.”

“One hears the city is going wild,” he said. That was, at least, what his bodyguard reported, and he had no doubt of it.

“The printing office is calling in staff,” Algini said, “and they are preparing another release of cards for tomorrow: the birth a

“And no trouble?” Bren asked.

“None,” Algini said. “One hopes our remaining problems are busy relocating, and where they have been, we may be interested to learn. For tonight, at least, we can relax.”

Relax. With a glass of brandy, good company, and everybody safe and well. It was a special occasion.

 · · ·

“Will you want to stay here tonight?” Father asked, in the hallway. Mother and the baby were asleep, though Father said they would probably have restless nights for quite a while.

Cajeiri gave a little bow. “One has guests waiting, honored Father, and if I may, I should go to nand’ Tatiseigi’s apartment and explain everything. If I may.”

“Yes.”

The enormity of everything struck him then, and maybe, he thought, he should have said something special—about the inheritance and all that. And the ceremony. And the surprise. He gave a deep, deep bow.

“Thank you, honored Father. Thank you very much. And one is very sorry for forgetting the speech.”

“You did very well this evening. One was quite proud of you.”

He straightened up, heat rushing to his face. He could not remember his father saying that. “I shall not be a fool. I shall study. But I do not want to be aiji for a long, long time.”

“You are a good son. A very good son. One is twice proud. Go. Behave yourself. Enjoy the day.”

He did, instantly about infelicitous four paces down the hall before he remembered, then, to make a grown-up exit, and turned and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Father.”

“Indeed,” his father said, and nodded, and Cajeiri walked sedately all the way down the hall, collected his aishid, and walked a little more briskly outside and up the hall past nand’ Bren’s apartment.

“Her name is Seimiro,” he said, thinking of it.

“Is she pretty?” Lucasi asked.

“Wrinkled,” he said, making a face, and laughed.

“Babies are like that,” Antaro said. “I saw my cousin after he was born.”

They were in the hall with no other escort, no guards at the end. They came up on Great-uncle’s door, and it opened, Madam already having gotten a signal from Antaro, and in they came, Madam very happy to have them back.

“Come right on in,” Madam said, “into the sitting room.”

He had a little suspicion when Madam did not take his coat, and when Madam showed him straight to the sitting room, that his guests had not gone to bed.

Indeed, they were all three waiting, in their court dress, with, in the midst of the side table, a very large—cake. It was iced like a teacake. But it was large enough for everybody and the staff. And there was a candelabra beside it and beside that, three boxes wrapped up in brocade fabric.

“Happy birthday!” they all said at once.

He laughed, he was so surprised. And they insisted he open the boxes, one after another: there was a little handwritten notebook from Irene—“A lot of words you could use,” she said; and he saw words he had never seen before, with the rules for pronouncing them. And from Artur there was a little clear shiny marble that lit up. “Just set it in any light,” Artur said, “and it recharges.”

And from Gene there was what looked like a pocket-knife, but it unfolded in screwdrivers and picks and a magnifying glass.

They were wonderful gifts. And then Madam lit the candles and they cut the cake, and all had some—Madam said they had made another cake for staff, and his guests had told them how such a cake had to be—it was iced like one piece, but inside it was in layers and pieces, and Great-uncle’s cook had made the icing orangelle-flavored, his favorite, in clever patterns.

They had fruit drink, and cake, and told stories until it was past midnight and Great-uncle came home, asking whether he had seen his sister, and how his mother was.

“My sister is fine and my mother is, Great-uncle. My father is very happy.”

“Excellent,” Great-uncle said. “Excellent. Such a day this has been! Congratulations, young aiji.”

“Nandi.”

“A fortunate day, indeed. Your ninth year and your sister’s first—all on one day.”

He stood there a moment, realizing . . .

He had a sister. And she was born on his birthday.

His birthday was her birthday. Forever.

Nobody had asked him about that. Worse—his next fortunate birthday would be his eleventh. And from zero, which was today, the very same day would be her infelicitous second: they were always going to be out of rhythm, and nothing could ever fix it.

Except if they celebrated each other’s fortunate day with a festivity.

He had to make a deal with his sister about birthdays. There could be a sort of a festivity every year.

“Is there a problem, Jeri-ji?” Gene asked.

He saw Great-uncle venturing a taste of his extraordinary cake, and very definitely approving.

“No,” he said, and felt mischief coming on. There were so many things his sister needed to learn, not to turn out as stiff and proper as people could want her to be. “No. Not a one.”

Lord Geigi, Lord Regent in the Heavens: His History of the Aishidi’tat with commentary by Lord Bren of Najida, paidhi-aiji

i

Before the Foreign Star appeared in the Heavens, we, on our own, had reached the age of steam.

We had philosophically and politically begun to transcend the clan structure that had led to so many ruinous wars.

We had eleven regional associations which agreed to build a railroad from Shejidan to the west without going to war about it.

Within the associations, there had been artisan guilds for many years. But during the building of the first railroad, many guilds, starting with the Transportation Guild and the Builders, had not only transcended the limits of clan structure, Transport and the Builders ended by transcending the regional associations. They were the first political entities to do so.

Clans had long formed temporary associations of regional alliance and trade interest. These were associations of convenience that often broke up in bitter conflict.

That was the state of things when, three hundred years ago, the Foreign Star arrived in the heavens.

It appeared suddenly. It grew. Telescopes of the day could make out a white shape that seemed to reflect light instead of shining like a star. The Astronomers offered no one theory to account for it. Earliest observers said it was a congealing of the ether that conveyed the heat of the sun to the Earth. But as it grew and showed structure and shadow, the official thought came to be that it was a rip in the sky dome and a view of the clockwork mechanism beyond.