Intruder (30 page)

Bren had signed off on the order, and the market had sent it up. And doubtless their junior cook had made a brilliant move, since Bindanda was clearly in a good mood.

Narani had the running of the household now, that venerable old man, and a dust particle would not dare linger. Narani had ordered flowers and started an arrangement of spring blossoms for the front hall, while staff scurried about on routine tasks, and Jeladi was supervising an inventory and assignment of staff to particular maintenance and supply…it was, in short, becoming a very well-run household this morning, one in which Bren found no fault at all.

Anticipating that he would have a household in reorganization and that his approval might be needed to set up certain accounts, he had not scheduled any committee meetings, not a one. He had foreseen also just the shade of a hangover after last night, but he had wisely avoided one and felt—surprisingly—extraordinary.

He blazed through the policy statement he had promised his clerical staff. Aliens might arrive in the heavens, as foretold, but they would not likely descend. The kyo were not the sort that coped well with strangeness, and that disposition at least seemed part of their makeup, not just a mutable cultural condition.

They are, however, very respectful of elders, and they were fascinated by the aiji’s son, who very favorably impressed them, as
did the aiji-dowager, as an elder of great rank. We have a very good grasp of the basics of the language and are confident that the paidhiin on the station and the paidhi’s office in Shejidan will be able to translate adequately to enable a productive and well-conducted meeting. They have conceived of the atevi-human association as a good model for their own situation with their neighbors, and they wish to observe it in operation, which is their reason for contemplating a visit. They expect only to see how we live and to adapt it for their own circumstances.

One omitted the fact that the kyo had had no idea what to do about strangers and had gone to war with whatever strangers they met—though it was a little debatable who had shot first. Their troubles with their own neighbors was a problem one earnestly hoped never arrived on their planetary doorstep.

The world had, however, no choice about a kyo visit. The kyo either would come, as they had indicated they would, or they would argue themselves out of the notion and try to ignore the existence of a different model than the one they had. Politics must operate among the kyo. It did seem likely.

Rest assured they are very, very remote from us in space, and it will never be a frequent association, but a good one, out on the fringes of what we know of the universe. They have already given us better numbers and better information than we have ever had on the space beyond.

Please God that was
all
that happened regarding space beyond.

Then there was the statement he needed to write for the Transportation Committee, comprised of members of the hasdrawad and the tashrid. The Transportation Committee was the interface between the legislature and the Transportation Guild.
They
wanted to know whether to send the full text of materials the paidhi had provided to them on to the relevant Guild, which managed rail and air transport.

No, damn it, he did not want the full text of the Machigi documents going
to that Guild—yet. Not yet. He had already said so, in no uncertain terms. This was the second query. One hardly knew what one needed say to make it clear.

Kindly await the paidhi’s office in consultation with higher authorities regarding this matter. We have not yet concluded an agreement, the seal on the matter is not yet firm, and we are far from contemplating specific routes, although if there are any of merit being suggested on the basis of rumor, we should appreciate those suggestions being referred back to the paidhi’s office for consideration by the parties to the agreement. Meanwhile, please advise the Transportation Guild to exercise patience. Once information begins to be released, the paidhi assures them they will be in the very first tier of that release.

That should keep the committee busy long enough. He already damned well
knew
where the expanded rail line had to go, the only route that had ever been available to it because of simple geology: it had to pass through Ilisidi’s lands, up from the coastal region where her name carried far more weight than any of her neighbors could claim. The fact that geology delivered Ilisidi the only route might not please certain of her neighbors, but no degree of debate would ever deliver a different route. Perfect example of endless circular argument, at which that committee excelled lately. One burst of brilliant leadership in the development of the space initiative, and then—the current chair took over, and nothing had changed since.

Afternoon tea, and it was so very pleasant to have Jeladi bring him only a scant amount of mail.

And most of it in ornate message cylinders from within the Bujavid.

One of those was white lilies on green. Tatiseigi.

That
was potential trouble.

Bren Lord of Najida…

Well. That was interesting. It was the second time Tatiseigi hailed him not as paidhi-aiji, as he always had, but as a fellow lord…though using the lesser of his two titles, that of a minor country
estate, instead of the admittedly grandiose
Lord of the Heavens
. Twice now, seemed to be a social advancement. Lord Tatiseigi went on:

One is in receipt of an inquiry from Lord Brosan regarding matters before the Transportation Committee, expressing concern about the security of rail crews working in the Marid. If you would be so good as to reassure Lord Brosan and other members of the committee…

Et cetera.

God. The Transportation Committee. Again.

One hardly blamed the workers in this case. But their safety was already being assured by the Assassins’ Guild, making it very unlikely there would be trouble. What else could the paidhi-aiji do?—take up a rifle and stand guard over the work crews?—with far less skill than the Assassins’ Guild, one was quite sure.

He wrote, in reply:

Tatiseigi Lord of the Atageini,

From Bren Lord of Najida

Esteemed Lord Tatiseigi, one certainly understands the anxiousness of the Committee and will undertake to assure the gentleman Chair that the Assassins’ Guild is…

A knock at the office door. Jeladi returned, bringing the basket back, this time with only one message-cylinder, one of the polished steel sort used by the Messengers’ Guild for items relayed electronically.

“Thank you, Ladi-ji.” He took the offered cylinder and opened it, hoping it was not from Machigi, with a disaster.

Ilisidi.

With good news.

I shall expect you at supper this evening, nandi, following our arrival. We have likewise invited Lord Geigi and Lord Tatiseigi, and I hope to see my grandson, if he can arrange matters on
so short notice. As anticipated, we have important matters to discuss. We understand that Lord Machigi’s representative has now arrived. Would you do us the favor of calling on her and assessing her situation and intent?

Supper this evening. And
Geigi
was coming in, having been in direct contact with Ilisidi. Doubtless planes were already in the air. Something was up with those two.

Meanwhile he was going to have to make a delicate social call on extremely short notice, and thank God he hadn’t been caught with a schedule full of committee meetings.

He got up from his desk, went out to the foyer and found Narani at his flower-arranging.

“Rani-ji. Lord Geigi must be picked up at the airport this afternoon, one believes, and he may choose to guest in my premises for a few days. He must be urged to do so, on grounds of security, if you will see that message conveyed to him. I have just received word from the aiji-dowager that I am expected, with Lord Geigi, at formal dinner this evening. This afternoon, a mission on her behalf—I need to go down to the city to visit the Taisigi representative at her offices; one estimates about an hour for that meeting, excluding transit, but arrangements must be made that let me get back to the dinner in good order, ideally with time to consult with Lord Geigi beforehand.”

“Nandi,” the old man said, and one could at that point trust that every single detail of that arrangement would come off in the best possible order. One could do Narani the greatest possible favor by getting out of his way and letting him do his job, which was not going to involve flower-arranging for a good half hour: that it would entail advising Bindanda and Jeladi of the likelihood of a guest; having Banichi contact Geigi’s bodyguard and find out if Ilisidi had included an invitation for lodgings, or if Geigi could be persuaded to accept the paidhi’s; having Koharu and Supani have the paidhi’s best court
day
clothing ready for an afternoon outing; having his best
evening
clothing ready for the evening; and being sure that the social and meetings calendar for tomorrow
morning was cleared of any other obligations in the most courteous possible way in case the dinner ran late—a good guess—or that there might be need for office work in the morning—another good guess.

One could meanwhile heave a sigh of moderate relief and think about the next thing, which was to advise Koharu and Supani he needed to bathe and change.

He had visited the foot of the Bujavid hill very seldom in his career. It was a train trip down to a small station that had a secure transfer point to transport. Legislators used it, committee witnesses might use it; court officials and secretaries used it; and servants of Bujavid households traveling on passes used it.

It rarely had the aiji’s own train pulling into the station at the bottom of the hill. But that was how the paidhi-aiji traveled, when he traveled. He had his bodyguard about him. He had his briefcase. He had the cooperation of a Guild special attachment, who were in contact, besides the ordinary security that surrounded this little substation. The van, specially protected and held for him, with a Guild-approved driver, would transfer him a short distance through the hotel district, and another Guild detachment would meet them at the curb of the Taisigi mission.

Time to move. He got up, moved briskly to the exit, debarked with a quiet assist from Jago, and the four of them went quickly down the four steps to the street level, where the van waited, all very nearly handled. He boarded. They all did, Banichi hindmost, settling for the short drive through the streets, in a van with comfortable padding, but no windows.

It wasn’t as if he got to
see
the hotel district.

He sat with his briefcase at his feet and his bodyguard a comfortable presence around him.

Far different than the early days, before so much neon had blossomed at the foot of the Bujavid hill. There was a new public tram, he knew, an improvement on the old uphill funicular, a conveyance
for those for some reason unable to make the ancient long stairs of the Bujavid. The tram, which essentially ran forward and back, up and down the hill, would have had him on the street in front of the main hotel in ten minutes.

But no. A secure van. No windows.

They turned corners, several of them. Old Shejidan was a maze of red-tiled roofs, twisting streets, neighborhoods defined by man’chi, by association, from antiquity, and the heart of Old Shejidan was right here, clustered around the Bujavid and beyond the thin shell of neon. Far more people
wanted
to live in Shejidan than
could
live in Shejidan…There had been talk about emulating Port Jackson and building massive apartments over on the eastern hill, but, thank God, the traditionalists had won on that one. So increasingly there were suburbs and a busy rail traffic to the main train station.

Tabini had come down hard on wealthy influence-seekers buying up the maze of little shops and red-tiled houses that made up the heart of the city to turn them into office and lodging space. There was a Preservation Association, and Tabini had given it teeth, unfortunately just after the explosion of neon light around the two chief hotels. By the covenant, a shopkeeper could sell his shop only to another similar shopkeeper, and a house could not take in boarders without approval, no matter how legislators’ aides cried out for rental space. There were some islands of modernity farther out in the city—the neon in the hotel district was the greatest unfortunate exception—but those had not spread, thanks to that measure. The little shops prospered more than ever in the influx of visitors who wanted to see that antiquity and quaintness, and the householders continued to pass down their greatly envied old houses to their descendants.

So the heart of the largest city on the continent was going through a phase, as residents began to suspect that preservation was a good thing, not a vile plot to deny current residents a great deal of money.

In Murini’s brief tenure, however, there
had
been renewed pressure
to sell in those red-tiled neighborhoods—to some of Murini’s supporters. Some owners had signed, and then regretted it, which was why there was now one modern office block stalled under construction next to the hotel.

But at least that one half-built construction was all Murini had gotten away with. The residents of the Old City, as they called themselves, had stuck together, and mysterious roof tiles had fallen very near speculators in the neighborhood, even in those scary days. There was talk, now, of tearing the half-finished building down, or allowing one more hotel, or refinishing it as a set of shops more in tune with the neighborhood. There was even a proposal to rebuild what had been there, but that was mired in controversy about authenticity.

He approved of the struggle to preserve the central city. And he leaned forward, elbows on knees, to get the best view of its winding streets through the front window, once they passed the busy commercial area. The way ahead was gray and brown, old buildings, those traditional red-tiled roofs, and there was a logic to the street layout that stemmed not from geometry, or convenience, or even topography—but from interfamilial associations that had lived and operated there for centuries.