Текст книги "Conspirator"

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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“Is that the plan, Bren-ji?”

“It seems nand’ Baiji, in the confusion of his situation, with Lord Geigi in regular contact with the aiji, has not paid due courtesies in court, and the aiji-dowager will not visit him. But the young gentleman will come with me, so one hopes the situation can be regularized. Certainly, we owe the man. And thatis to the good. And one assumes you will come with me.”

“We shall.”

“So the dowager and Barb will be under one roof with only the dowager’s guards.”

“Barb may not survive,” Jago said. She was behind him, massaging his shoulders, but there was a smile in the voice.

“Someone who can speak to Toby must be here,” he said.

“You would not wish me to do so,” Jago said. “I would be honest.”

“Tano, then.”

“He will not be much more pleased.”

“Tano and Algini. They can understand what they hear.”

“Some on the dowager’s staff can do so. The dowager herself, one suspects, Bren-ji.”

“Nevertheless,” he said. “Nevertheless, Jago-ji, one makes one’s own provisions. I do not want Toby in difficulty. Make Tano and Algini understand this.” Algini’s hand was painful, and a little light duty would, he thought, be the best thing over the next several days.

“One will explain matters, Bren-ji,” Jago said, and a moment later: “I would actually do this duty, if you asked.”

“I know you would, but should never have to.”

They went to bed. Jago’s body was always a few degrees warmer than his. He apologized, on this particular night, but Jago pulled him close and evened out the difference.

It was soon very warm in bed. And he was out in minutes.

Chapter 9

« ^ »

It ought to have been a leisurely morning. It might have been, had the dowager not been in residence; but Ilisidi took her breakfast at the crack of dawn, and, detecting the stir in the household, Bren got up, which consequently meant more stir in the household, and in the staff.

And that meant the youngsters got up, and once the youngsters were up, nobody was fated to get much sleep.

So in fairly decent time, Toby and Barb arrived at table, too, to meet a truly formal and large atevi breakfast, with staff attending, and bodyguards and attendants properly on duty.

Staff had mightily exerted themselves in the breakfast offering, with the aiji-dowager as their guest—there were eleven items, from grain porridge to fresh fish, eggs, and toast, and the aiji-dowager took to all of them with evident pleasure.

Which was good to see. Ilisidi was in high good humor, which was a great benefit in dealing with Barb and Toby. Cajeiri was on spectacularly good behavior, took particular care of his manners, had his staff standing at formal service, and in short order, actually wrung a good-humored laugh from the aiji-dowager when he nearly overset his water goblet and caught it miraculously before it spilled a drop.

“One tries,” Cajeiri said, in great frustration, “one tries, mani-ma, and things fall over.”

“One believes you exude a vibration,” Ilisidi said, “from the effort of sitting still. Well caught, Great-grandson.”

“Mani-ma.” A little bow of the head.

“Are you through? You may be excused. You know you have a duty to do today.”

“Yes, mani!” Cajeiri got up—thumping the table in his haste to be proper, shaking all the water goblets up and down, and gave a little bow to try to cover that, a bow to his great-grandmother, and to Bren, and to Toby and Barb, last of all to his great-grandmother again, and then he left, back to the halls, drawing his two companions with him.

Toby and Barb hadn’t said a thing, a novel and pleasant behavior on Barb’s part—who couldn’t understand a word of the conversation, and Bren was very grateful. Predictably, Barb’s temper had vanished in the excitement, and all seemed smoothed over there.

“So,” the aiji-dowager said, in the waning of the meal, during which one might properly discuss light business, “you are off to Kajiminda this afternoon, nand’ paidhi?”

“Yes, aiji-ma. The arrangement is made. We may take tea, but no more, as we anticipate: we shall pay our respects and be off. One begs your indulgence for leaving you.”

“We shall enjoy the gardens and the coast. Cenedi and I shall walk down to the shore today and no doubt find a shell or two of a sort our Eastern lake does not provide.”

“One begs the aiji-dowager to avail herself of whatever diversion or comfort this estate can provide.”

“We plan to, we hope without inconvenience to your other guests.”

“There can only be felicity in the aiji-dowager’s presence.”

“Especially since we have recovered my great-grandson from his folly. Tell these persons of your house that we recognize them for their assistance in this latest event as well as the prior, and invite them to take luncheon with us.”

A great and appalling honor, one he conveyed with a nod to the dowager and, turning to Toby and Barb: “The dowager has just thanked you for your help finding her great-grandson and for your assistance getting to the mainland in the first place. Understand, her thanks is a very, very high honor in itself, and one an atevi house would memorialize in family records. More than that, she asks you to lunch with her. We are speaking of international relations, treaties, and peace here. There will be limited translation. You should appear in your ordinary clothes and the servants will cue you. Tano and Algini will attend you and supply some translation. I am so sorry to leave you. I have no choice, considering the relations with our neighbor. Pleasebe extremely formal. This is beyond any state dinner in the Presidential Palace.”

“Understood,” Toby said. “Best coat, best manners, and all.”

“Best,” Barb said.

“Rely on the servants. Rely on the servants to cue you. And Tano and Algini. They will. If they ask you to do something, please don’t even question. Just do it.”

“I swear we won’t embarrass you, Bren.”

“I know you won’t,” Bren said, “or I wouldn’t leave you here, because it is that important, Toby, Barb. You both take care, will you?”

“Sure,” Toby said. “We’re pretty well done eating. Can we excuse ourselves out? Or should we sit a while?”

Bren turned to Ilisidi. “They consider the honor you offer extravagant, are very grateful and will of course be at luncheon. They ask, too, if they may gracefully retire now—atevi portions are somewhat generous for us, aiji-ma, and one believes they have become somewhat over-full.”

Ilisidi waved a hand in good humor. “Well enough, well enough. We look forward to the event.” Her expression instantly became businesslike, Ilisidi suddenly bent on a point she wished more urgently to carry. “One expects a full report on your return, nand’ paidhi, on this nephew of Geigi’s. One believes Lord Geigi himself would appreciate a report.”

“One will pay greatest attention to details, aiji-ma.”

“Then you, also, will wish to proceed, to be back in good season.”

“Yes, aiji-ma.” That was a dismissal from table, an urging to pursue his day’s business without worry, and he meant to do exactly that. He rose, bowed, leaving the table, and the remnant of the excellent breakfast, to the dowager.

He had, first, of course, to gather up Cajeiri and the Taibeni youngsters, pass on their attire—which proved far better than he had hoped. The servants informed him that all three—actually, probably Cajeiri, to do him credit—had had the foresight to pack something decently formal, in case manners were needed. Everything in the duffle had surely been crushed, but the staff, having wasted no time putting things in order, turned them all out quite nicely, given the situation.

“So,” he said as they gathered in the hallway, near the front doors, “we shall drive over to the neighbors’, pay our respects, have tea, and be back in time for supper. We shall not likely dine there tonightc possible, but unlikely.” If it had been Lord Geigi, no question he would have expected dinner, but Geigi was just that sort of fellow—nobody escaped his hospitality. Baiji was—so report said—an unenergetic fellow, and given the irregularity of his relations with the aiji, and given the fact he was leaving Toby and Barb in the dowager’s care, there seemed no likelihood at all of sufficient reason to overstay their intentions. There might be further exchanges: there might even be a reciprocal visit, if the dowager would agree to receive Geigi’s nephew: that would be socially dicey. A phone call from Baiji to the aiji’s secretary could straighten some of that out—but it hadn’t happened. It was a peculiarly sluggish young man—who just had not stirred out to secure his fortunes, trusting, one supposed, in his famous uncle’s relationship with the aiji, and his uncle’s ability to do business as needed.

But Baiji had, he chided himself, scrambled right quickly to save Cajeiri’s life—so perhaps it was just a reluctance to make moves that might cross Geigi’s. He had been fast enough last night. Picking up anylittle boat had been chancy in bad weather, and Baiji had at least ordered Geigi’s yacht out. One wondered if it had been Baiji at the helm last night—by what he had heard from the dowager, that seemed less likely; but if it had been, the young man was a very good yachtsman. And it hadbeen Baiji who had advised him on the radio where to look for the youngsters. So he had been out there.

So he certainly owed the man. They all did.

Banichi and Jago showed up, and they went out under the portico just as the bus came trundling up the cobbled drive. Iscarti was driving, one of the younger staff, a competent, cheerful fellow who also specialized in mechanical repairs and plumbing, jack of several trades.

That meant Banichi and Jago could settle back to be passengers as they boarded. The youngsters took the third and fourth seats, Antaro sitting up with Cajeiri, right behind the seat Bren claimed, as senior present; and Banichi and Jago across from him, behind the driver. They started out, a little rough over the ancient cobbles, and then more smoothly as they reached the drive.

Bren got up and leaned on the seat railings, with the attention of that young trio, and most especially Cajeiri.

“You know certain things, nandi, nadiin: that Lord Geigi has served the aiji for years as the aiji’s representative to the space-faring folk, an inestimably valuable and clever associate. He appointed a lady, his sister of the same father, to be lord of the estate: she died. Now her son, nand’ Baiji, has been governing the estate in the lady’s stead—and we do not know this man. We have scarcely met—though we are greatly in his debt for his assistance last night. But here is the delicacy in the matter: Baiji has not officially paid respects to your father the aiji, and he held neutral during the Troubles. This does not mean he was ever an enemy to your father. It was a strategy which preserved Kajiminda from attack, giving it a low profile, and probably incidentally preserving myestate, on its little peninsula, from any concentrated attack, so it was not badly done. The rebels were quite busy with people who wereresisting them, we were away in deep space, I presented no threat and had no influence on any large scalec in short, because Baiji kept Geigi’s estate politically quiet, and because Geigi, up on the station, concentrated on relations with the humans and was not making any great noise about it, either, myestate at Najida remained insulated and safe. So I owe him a debt for that. Second point: the people of this coast are largely Edi. Lord Geigi and his relatives are Maschi clan, ruling with Edi consent. The usurper’s Southern allies are historic enemies of the Edi. Geigi’s absence would easily have been an excuse for them to come up the coast onto this larger peninsula and pay old grudges. But they did not. The reason appears to have been their preoccupation with the capital: they may not have wanted to open a second war, while they were busy with the first. As for where Lord Geigi himself stood during this period, he was laying plans and building a network, should your father have died, young lord, to raise a war against Murini in the north, and his Southerner supporters. Geigi would notlikely have claimed the aijinate for himself: in my own estimation, he is not a traditional person, nor would he enjoy being aiji. He likely would have backed your great-uncle Tatiseigi, young lord, who would have ruled in the hope of your eventual return. Geigi was responsible for the robot landers. He was responsible for the network of communications along the coast. He was responsible for very many things that made your father’s return to power easier. Therefore, your great-grandmother is much more tolerant of nand’ Baiji’s lapses in protocols, so we shall not mention them, agreed?”

Cajeiri listened to this with more apparent attentiveness than he gave most lectures. It involved him, and his father, and things Cajeiri did understand far better than most eight-year-olds.

“So,” Bren continued, “Baiji. Baiji has been quiet here. He has not visited the neighbors, including my estate. He owes my estate money, which he has not paid, but one does not mention that, either. He seems to be the sort of man who does exactly what he has to do and no more.” This with a look directly at Cajeiri, who should understand that this was not an ideal state of being. “But you are not to say I said so nor are you ever to say so outside your own house: this is an opinion taken in council, and should be left there. This man saved your life, and the simple thanks for that is what we are dealing with today.”

“Yes, nandi.”

“So.” Bren brought his hand down on the seat rail. “So we shall hope to meet an excellent if retiring young man, one who, whatever his failings, offered the proper response when you were in trouble. Is that entirely agreed upon?”

“Yes, nandi.”

“ Pleasestay close to me and my aishid.”

“Yes, nandi. We shall be very careful. We shall be absolutely well-behaved. And we shall not touch anything.”

“One is grateful. You may justly discharge your debt by visiting him, briefly, and expressing a reserved gratitudec in one sentence, young lord! For the rest—you are your father’s son and your great-grandmother’s great-grandson and you are not obliged to twosentences.”

A bright grin. A laugh. Cajeiri had one excellent quality, having had the dowager for a teacher: the ability to see when grownups had their reasons, and to sense that complex politics should be left to his elders. “Yes, nandi! One sentence. We promise.”

“We will handle other matters.”

“Yes, nandi.” Eyes flitted to a fair-sized animal bounding along beside the bus. “Is that an ai’wita?”

Hopeless. The kid waseight. Bren laughed, and waved his hand. “Go look at it.”

A thunder of youngsters leaving their seats, headed for the back windows to have a look, and Bren turned and sank down in his own seat, with a roll of the eyes toward Banichi and Jago, who were amused.

He truly wished he could bring up Baiji’s debt, but that was going to have to be finessed, now that Baiji had paid off in other ways. Possibly, too, Baiji had gotten on the wrong side of some of his uncle Geigi’s talent—a knack for standing on both sides of an issue—he could still be playing minor politics with old Southern contacts, who knew? It could be useful. Tabini-aiji was working hard from the other side, trying to use the Farai as a wedge into a changed Southern political landscape. Their layabout lordling Baiji could end up being useful a second time.

Meanwhile, his own day’s program involved getting back to the estate before even mild-mannered Tano locked Barb in her room.

The south road, past the intersection for the train station, rose over rolling hills as a slightly muddy track, not well-kept—shockingly not well-kept, one might think. It devolved from a graveled stretch of dirt to a thin pair of wheel marks through tall grass with only the memory of gravel to keep it from mud puddles. It was not overgrown with brush, one could at least say that for the traffic, as the people of Kajiminda had surely come and gone to market in the village, and up to the train station or as various freight might have come from the airport. Surely Najida had sent some small commerce over to Kajiminda’s farming village, and conversely. But the upkeep had definitely fallen off since the last time Bren had seen the route, and, Bren supposed, it was not all one-sided. Things must have fallen off during the Troubles.

So hisestate might make the gesture of improving it, putting down gravel, and cutting the grass, at least to the halfway mark.

He was already seeing certain things he thought he should report to Lord Geigi, once they drove onto Kajiminda: the condition of a low wooden bridge, blocked with brush and ready to become a major problem of local flooding—erosion across the road, a hard bump for a bus or a truck: points against the young caretaker lord. Those inroads of erosion were going to become a gully at that low spot. And he noted loose boards on the second low bridge they crossed. The road definitely should be an issue in their eventual conversation, when they had done their fill of thank you and what a storm that had been.

The outlying signage was yet another matter: it generally needed painting. And the sign that pointed to Kajiminda, where the main market road went on down the coast toward the greater township in the region, and the lesser one went on toward the estate—that was lying on its face in the grass.

Certainly, the factory further down the main road in Lord Geigi’s district should be generating traffic clear to Dalaigi, and up to Kajiminda—but it looked no better on the track they did not take. Lack of maintenance up in this direction might have discouraged it, that, or habits and patterns of travel had shifted during the years of the Troubles—granted, this was not a main road, and possibly some change in rail service had encouraged them to use the rails for something that local. But it didn’t change the fact that the road needed to be fixed.

He remarked to Banichi and Jago, “We shall want to visit the factory, on some day before we leave the district. There is a certain lack of maintenance. But despite other circumstances, one has no wish to enter upon a neighborly exchange with an excessively critical view. There may be reasons.”

“Yes,” Banichi said, but Banichi’s gaze was otherwise out the window, observing details, marking this, marking that. So was Jago’s attention.

The youngsters clearly thought the jolts and ruts were exciting. The road had, to the paidhi’s eye, a certain spookiness about itc and still he told himself that it was no good going into a negotiation with preconceptions based on road maintenance.

In that view, as they had turned onto the unmarked and overgrown track that led to Lord Geigi’s estate, Bren said to himself that he might reasonably extend the gesture at least of mowing, if not patching allthe road up to Geigi’s private road—he should offer that, for an old ally’s sake, and for the help Baiji himself had rendered in a desperate situation. If there was any dearth of proper equipment in this estate, there was not in Najida: he had a grader, and a truck, and he could get repairs moving. This young man might have felt somewhat isolated and lacking direction in his situation during the Troubles. Perhaps he had simply not been up to the job he was given—the Maschi line was running thin, down almost to its last. Possible Baiji had come in with no training for the job he had prematurely attained. Possibly he and staff had had their difficultiesc Perhaps Najida could help smooth over more than the roads.

Bump! The passage of truck tires—at least more frequent here—had created massive potholes, where the native sandstone, not far beneath the layer of dirt and grass had shattered or eroded into sand.

Well, however, his own two-year departure from the region, almost three years until this visit, had removed the last experienced authority from the district and left everything to Baiji. Could he greatly blame the man, who had at least avoided invasion on this coast? Baiji might be due some credit in areas other than road construction.

And the villa did, when it appeared in the distance, appear much as it had a decade and more ago, red tile roofs above a sprawling structure of the harder, coastside limestone, plastered and painted white.

Well-painted and orderly, still, within its surrounding garden walls, with the little false garden watchtowers, and the villa’s general L-shaped roof reflecting the bright sun in a cheerful way. That view entirely lightened his mood. The orchards were still well kept. The stucco wall and towers—built mostly to keep pests out of the orchard—were immaculate.The natural woodland that ran down to the shore was still what it had been. Geigi’s dock and yacht were not visible from this vantage: the wooded coast curved somewhat, making a neat little cove where Geigi kept his boats, and from which Geigi’s extended household did a little fishing. And when they turned through the gates of the low, white-plastered outer wall, the road became a broad gravel track, leading up to a portico not unlike that at Najida.

The youngsters had moved forward in the bus as they passed within the gates, and now they clustered close behind Bren’s seat as the bus pulled into the little courtyard that faced the front doors.

The driver drew to a sedate halt and opened the door. Banichi and Jago exited first, and now the house doors opened and the staff came out to meet them.

In the center of the doors, hindmost, arrived a well-dressed young man, a little plump—could one at all doubt that he was related to Lord Geigi? He looked like every Maschi lord in the lineage. And he seemed quite fond of gold thread—he positively glittered, the whole expanse of him glittered. But that was no great sin, that the young man should have gotten himself up in his absolute best for the meeting. He shone in gold. A shadow attended him, four men in Guild black, his bodyguard, also in their most formal black and silver for the occasion.

Well, discourtesy to the aiji had ruffled some who noticed such things, and true, the young lord hadn’t phoned first, seeing a neighbor returning after long absence; but one could not fault the turnout now.

Banichi and Jago got out, and took their position, opposite. Bren quietly descended the steps and gave a little bow, as Cajeiri and his pair came clattering down the steps behind, and landed on the aged cobblestones just behind him with a little crunch of sand.

Lord Baiji was of moderate height, taller than his ample figure immediately suggested; a solid young man, and he had a pleasant expression, a little softness about the mouth, but over all distinctly like Lord Geigi.

“Nandiin,” Baiji said, and bowed to him first, and bowed to Cajeiri. “My house is honored. One hopes you find yourselves well, nand’ Bren, after the events of last night.”

“Entirely, nandi,” Bren said. “Thank you.”

“We wish to express our gratitude, nandi,” Cajeiri piped up, coming up at Bren’s side, and bowing, which occasioned a second bow from Baiji. “We were in great distress last night, and very glad to be found.”

That was, Bren said to himself, two sentences. And before he had had a chance properly to introduce the boy.

And simultaneously a peculiarity struck him: nandiin, Baiji had said—the plural my lords. The presence of young, civilian-dressed attendants with Cajeiri was some indication of higher rank, as was the fairly elegant coat Cajeiri was wearing. The Taibeni youngsters were certainly too young to be attending the paidhi-aiji himself. Village child, they had said. And this morning Baiji met them with nandiin.

And came out onto the porch to do it. He had not the manner of a lord in his own hall, rather that of an anxious merchant in his shop doorway.

“The house of Lord Geigi,” Baiji said, “is more than pleased to have been of assistance. We beg you come inside, nandiin, and take tea in the solar.”

Well, well, the man lacked the manner, but he met them knowing more than he’d been told—that was at least commendable industry. And one so hoped to find some sense of ease with this young man, some good point or two to relay to his uncle Geigi.

So they took the invitation, leaving the driver to park the bus and wait.

Now, in the inner hall, was the proper time and place for the major domo of the house to express his own delight at the visit of close associates of the lord, and to show them to the solarium for tea, never mind that Baiji himself had usurped that office. But in fact a sober, quiet man approached and led the way in silence.

Geigi’s major domo had gone with him to space. This man would have been on staff at his last visit—but in some minor post. Other things, however, were much as he remembered. The potted plants in the tiled hall were a bit taller, and when they came into the solar and took their seats, the chairs were a few years more wornc the house was not much using this room. There was a trace of dust in the grooves of the chair arm—Ramaso would never tolerate such a thing—but he was not here to criticize.

It was still a pleasant venue. The room had a frieze of sailing ships. Many-paned windows gave a view of a small winter garden. A small rug covered the seating area of the tiled floor, deadening sound.

The solar, Bren thought, had another advantage—being near the front doors. A quick session, and an early out if things turned awkward—if there was, for instance, any business about the debt to Najida merchants, which he truly did notwant to discuss today, because he would have to say things that would not be auspicious.

So they sat, himself, and Cajeiri, and Baiji, while their respective bodyguards stood in attendance on opposite sides of the room.

Tea was ready with no delay at all: staff must have spotted them coming up the drive, and hastened now to bring forth the service. That provided a decent period of quiet and mental collection.

So they sipped their tea, Cajeiri in very commendable silence, until Baiji asked his young guest how he found the district.

“Very beautiful, nandi. Thank you.”

Commendable brevity. And offering the suggestion, on Bai-ji’s side, that Cajeiri was not quitec as advertisedc local.

Hell, Geigi would have asked the facts at the front door. Baiji just insinuated bits and pieces of what he knew.

So it was, Bren decided, on him to explain matters decently. That had been a diffident probe, at least, perhaps the man’s attempt at genteel inquiry. He took a sip of tea—his sips were scarcely enough to wet his lips, cautiousc alkaloids were always a risk, in unknown hospitality. Then he said: “One must apologize, nandi, for the slight deception on the radio last night. You have clearly guessed by now that my young companion is not from Najida village. Let me introduce, nandi, nand’ Cajeiri, the son of Tabini-aiji, and his young staff.”

“Nandi.” Their host immediately set aside his teacup and rose. Cajeiri, a properly schooled youngster, also rose, and there was a brief exchange of bows between Cajeiri and Baiji, then a resumption of seats.

“One is extremely honored, young gentleman, and delighted to have rendered service.”

Remarkable. Astonishing. Having already spent his allotted two sentences, Cajeiri merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, and said not a thing, asked not a single question—the perfect model of a young gentleman.

“One should add,” Bren said, “that the grandmother referenced last night is the young lord’s great-grandmother, who is a guest at my estate.”

“One is completely astonished by the honor paid this house.” Baiji had broken out in a sudden sweat, and actually reached for a pocket handkerchief to mop his cheek. “One is very gratified at your visit, nandiin.”

“Security is tight,” Bren said with a calm nod. “We wish no attention to my guests. Nor should it be mentioned beyond staff until my guests have left the region. But as my neighbor, it is useful that you know.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

“Please,” Bren said, accepting another dose of tea into his cup, the servant late to provide it. “Please take my visit as gratitude for your assistance last night. As to your question, nandi, how we find the districtc it is, of course, as I left it—except the roads.”

“Ah! Nandi, one so deeply apologizes—one—”

“If Kajiminda would accept a more substantive token of my gratitude for last night, Najida might mow the road from Najida up to the turnoff, so heavier traffic might be more convenient between our estates.” And I would like my people’s bills to be paid, he thought, but simply had a sip of tea.

“One would be extremely gratified by that favor, nandi,” Baiji said. “We have been short-handed in the estate, and last fall, we let that matter slide far more than we should.”

“Short-handed,” Bren echoed him.

Another pass of the handkerchief. “During the Troubles, certain staff found the need to be closer to their families. And most regrettably, nandi, they have not yet returned.”

“Ah,” Bren said. Not returned to their jobs, and it had been months since the restoration of Tabini’s regime. Odd. He declined, however, to say so, just letting his bodyguard sum things up.

But he was not as easy now. Something unpleasant in the tea? One could become just a little anxious in their host’s continued nervousness, but there was a reason a lord’s bodyguard stood while the lords sat at tea—stood armed to the teeth, and did not drink or eat. It was his job not to drink much of the tea, and to find out what he needed to learn.

And he could wish he had not brought the boy on this trip.

“Do you, nandi, hear often from your esteemed uncle?”

“Not often at all, to my regret, nand’ Bren. One hopes for his continued good health. One has been concerned.”

“One has heard nothing at all distressing regarding his health. We dealt with him briefly on the station, and we have been in contact with him intermittently for months.”

“Then one is glad to know so, nandi.”

“Indeed. He frequently keeps a hectic schedule. I shall be sure to remember you kindly to him.” Banichi meanwhile, in the tail of his vision, had stepped outside the room to have a word, perhaps, with the major domo, maybe to pose his own questions of staff. One of Baiji’s men had likewise left the room. That would not be at all unusual, in two staffs establishing contact. And it was the lord’s job to smooth things over. But it was approaching time to cut the visit short, the gesture made, and the outcome offering more questions than answers. “One has little time in the schedule today, to let us pay a long visit, nandi, but later, should you wish, one might have that road mowed, and your reciprocal visit to Najida might meet no serious obstacles.”