Protector

It was nand’ Bren, who said, “Everything is on schedule, young gentleman. We have been in communication with the station. The weather will be fine and clear, and the shuttle landing will be at noon tomorrow. So you know. Plan on breakfast here, but lunch on the train—with your guests.”

“Yes!” he cried. “Yes!”

They were coming, they were coming, they were really, truly coming.

11

It had ended up a long, long day—negotiations, letters sent out in code, letters arriving in code, and in the midst of all of it, Lord Tatiseigi’s porcelains arrived by train, for exhibit in the Bujavid museum . . .

Those had to be inspected, their display approved, papers signed by the museum director, publicity arranged—it was not Bren’s immediate problem, for which he was truly thankful. Lord Tatiseigi handled that quite ably, while Lord Tatiseigi’s security arrangements for the trip lay forming in the able hands of the aiji-dowager’s bodyguard.

Thatmeant the hovering news services, which had focused on the vote, happened on the historic exhibition before it was officially announced, and then got wind of a rumor that the heir, expected to make news with the arrival of human guests to visit Shejidan about six days from now—was sent on holiday, evidently to celebrate his numerically significant and fortunate birthday not in the Bujavid as planned, but under the dowager’sauspices.

The rumors rapidly ran to an assassination plot underway, hence the heir being taken elsewhere; or, most elaborate, the landing of the children from space as a dark plot involving activation of the mysterious machinery from space that still sat in various areas once Murini’s strongholds.

Fueling the rumors, the same plane that had brought staff to Shejidan from Malguri was now being outfitted for the dowager’s personal use—with the configuration she used, and all the attendant changes in designation, so it was very clear that the heir was headed for Malguri with the dowager today.

The plane was real: Jago said it would take off for Malguri about the time the red train left the Bujavid station, part of a cross-continental misdirection. That jet would fly all the way to Malguri. And by the time it got to Malguri—a quiet district on the other end of the continent, where news services were much less aggressive—the dowager, Cajeiri, his guests, and, yes, even Boji, would be safely settled at Tirnamardi, where no news services were permitted access.

Rumor-mongering was a popular sport in the cafes and tea shops across the capital. No matter what people at the airport saw or didn’t see, there would be persistent rumors that they were all in Malguri with a horde of humans from the station and a collection of death-machines from space, and the porcelain collection had been intended as a distraction from these movements—one point on which they were absolutely right, but not one that had originated with that purpose. Conspiracy believers were determined, and occasionally useful.

What Ajuri might believe—and do about it—depended on how convolute Ajuri’s thinking was. But they had scattered all the confusion they could.

Meanwhile, in the real world, there was a shiny red and black bus being freighted by rail up from Najida, officially scheduled to arrive at the Shejidan station this morning, for use during the official visit scheduled for a week from now. The bus would not get quite as far as Shejidan—but what did notappear was less likely to be reported.

The shuttle, strictly on schedule, was now traveling toward atmospheric entry under power, and the weather reports were good. In a little while it would shut down the engines and simply use inertia and gravity for what they did so well, until the crew took active control again near the very skin of the earth.

The whole arrangement was becoming a sort of bait-and-switch operation. They kicked misleading items into motion. They sowed rumors in various direction. The porcelain collection arriving was Tatiseigi’s contribution to the effort. The only actual fact evident was that they were definitely on the move with the heir in somedirection . . . but then there would be some theories that everything was designed to give a false impression that the dowager and the heir had left the Bujavid, and anything anybody saw was a carefully designed appearance.

“We shall at least stretch our enemies’ resources thin,” Tano said, “and of all things, Lord Tatiseigi receiving these young guests is an idea most will not readily believe.”

What the news services mightnote was the red car, once it moved out of the Bujavid.

That would attract attention.

And the Transportation Guild that managed the rails was far from leakproof.

The general flurry of conflicting reports, however, was likely to be livelier than the actual event. If they reported the car moving toward Tirnamardi, well, was itthe diversion?