Protector

In the meanwhile, given the boy suddenly on hishands, and the dowager rearranging her plans, there were things to do.

It started with phoning his own clerical office, commending the runners who had served him today, and asking the director to come meet with him in his apartment.

Tea with the worthy gentleman, who had served him under some very dicey circumstances, including during the coup.

He would instruct the man to lay down a preliminary official schedule that looked—at least until they were out at the spaceport picking up Cajeiri’s guests—as if the paidhi-aiji were doing business as usual.

It was a minimal sort of ruse, one they could adjust by the hour, and it might end up being one of several such schedules he let leak, but he thought it prudent.

He also had to arrange with Lord Dur, quietly, to have that very respectable gentleman attend the Tribal Peoples bill on its course through the legislature, and advise his office of events.

Then he notified Bindanda that the young gentleman was dining with them, that the dowager might be. And that they needed a supply of eggs.

•   •   •

He had only time to draft the first half of his message to Dur before he heard Narani open the front door.

That would be Banichi and Jago, with the young gentleman in hand. There might or there might not be baggage. If there was not, if the young gentleman were quitting his residence in a Situation, his staff might have to go next door a little later and collect it from Tabini’s staff.

Well, it sounded, out there, that there was something more arriving than the usual luggage cart, something that rolled and rattled in an odd way. He guessed what thatmight be, even before he heard a sudden blood-curdling shriek in his foyer.

Doors opened and closed and staff stirred from every recess of the servants’ halls, startled out of whatever they were doing.

He left his letter unfinished, capped the inkwell, and blew out the waxjack before he rose and opened his office door.

There in his foyer was the boy and a very large antique cage.

“Nand’ Bren, we are here!” Cajeiri said. “And Boji.” There was an earsplitting shriek. “We are sorry about Boji. He is excited.”

Tano and Algini came from the security station. The sitting room door opened, the young kitchen girls peering past the junior cook, who had arrived with one of the kitchen knives in hand.

There were, with Cajeiri, with their baggage, but still partly outside the doors, the young gentleman’s bodyguard and two servants in Ragi livery.

“These two young men are—” Bren asked.

“My servants, nandi.” Another bow, more nicely delivered. “We are all here! We are so glad! One is grateful!”

“Well, well, your great-grandmother will decide where you will stay this evening, and in what state.” He almost added, And who will house Boji and the servants, but he feared he already knew that answer. “She has been all day in a meeting, and one does expect she will be getting out of it about now, but you may at least settle long enough for tea and cakes, shall you not? Ladi-ji, if you will move the cage into the guest room for now.” The latter to Jeladi. He feared for the antique carpet runner, and feared an escape with the door still open, but the sitting room was a far worse choice, considering the vases.

Meanwhile baggage was inbound, Narani and Jeladi, Cajeiri’s servants, and his young bodyguard all handing it in, more and more of it piling up in the foyer. “Welcome,” he said to all and sundry, and to Narani: “Tea for myself and the young gentleman. Advise the dowager’s bodyguard and say that the dowager would be welcome for a modest and informal supper here, should she wish.”

Narani gave a little bow, and all those things would happen in short order. Bren showed the young gentleman into the sitting room, and they sat and had tea and cakes, quite spoiling any potential dinner, but Cajeiri was in a high good mood, chattering on about the party he hoped to have and asking questions about the shuttle and could he, could he, could he go to the spaceport to meet his young associates?

“That rests with your great-grandmother, young gentleman,” Bren said. “You will have to ask her. And do be somewhat prepared for her to forbid it: we have some security concerns, and you know such situations can change on very short notice.”

“But is there a chance,nandi?”

“There is a chance, but one cannot promise: we get our advice from our bodyguards. And one has no idea what their landing schedule is, nor are they likely to decide it yet—as with all these things, they will watch the weather.”

“Is it going to be good weather? I hope it will be good weather.”

In point of fact he had absolutely no idea what the weather was outside. It could be pouring a monsoon over the city, and he had been so locked in his work, in an apartment without windows, and offices without windows, that he had not the least notion what was going on in the natural world.