Protector

Brandy always followed a formal dinner. With brandy, business talk, banned at the dinner table, could be conducted in an alcohol-fueled but somewhat torpid contentment. It was a social hour in which there was much leeway and little offense taken.

In the case of the aiji’s dinners, there were always more guests for brandy than would possibly fit at the aiji’s private dinner table—guests who did not fit for reasons of rank; or who did not fit for reasons of politics; or for a number of other considerations including the frequency with which they had lately been invited.

People kept track of these matters. Tabini’s master of kabiu more than arranged flowers, he arranged people. And he would keep everyoneproperly happy, even those not invited at all to the evening’s festivities, with small gifts, elaborate invitations, and special recognitions that substituted for invitations, keeping all the contacts polished, as it were.

So it was out to the large reception hall for brandy, more people, and light refreshment. There was still enough food on the buffet tables for a reasonable meal, had one not had supper yet—and it was shoulder-to-shoulder in places. There were Names in the room. That these were all well-wishers of the administration was a comforting notion, considering the political variety of the gathering, and considering the tradition-breaking legislation about to arise in the session. It augured well for everything they were trying to get settled.

Ilisidi was definitely a focus of attention in this room. Her personal understanding with Machigi, the new overlord of the five clans of the Marid, as he was shaping up to be, was certainly at issue. Machigi himself might have gone home to take care of business, but he had set up a new trade office down the hill from the Bujavid, and Ilisidi was doing business for that office wherever she walked, setting up meetings, extolling the virtues of the southern porcelains. She was simultaneously courting votes for the admission of the two west coast tribal peoples to the legislature—a matter which was notnear and dear to her new ally Machigi, but which was definitely connected to her recent dealings with him—and an issue most certainly connected to Lord Geigi, whose Kajiminda staff came from the local Edi people. She talked to this lord and that, the redoubtable cane grounded for a prolonged time, occasionally thumping the antique carpet in emphasis.

Bren judged himself not remotely as effective with the conservative set as Ilisidi, who, as the most powerful lord of the traditional East, had immense influence among western conservatives. Tatiseigi led that faction, and attended the dowager in her tour of the room. Bren just watched, taking mental notes as to who had a pleasant expression, and who looked less happy.

“Bren-nandi!” someone said, behind him. He turned, recognizing the voice with pleasure: the young lord of Dur, Reijiri, son and often proxy of the sitting lord, was the bravest, staunchest, and most reckless of his own allies. Reijiri was not in his usual flight-casuals this evening, but wore a very plain formal dress in this company of glittering elite.

“Jiri-nandi,” Bren said, with a quick bow. “So good to see you. Is your father here with you?”

“I tried to persuade him to fly.” The elder lord’s reluctance toward his son’s bright yellow, open-cockpit plane was a standing joke in present company. “But you know how that is. At least I shall have his apartment in order when he gets here.”

“Will you sit this session,” Bren asked, “or will he take the seat, himself?”

“My father has declared he will,” young Dur said. “Which is good for the bills. He carries far more weight than I do.”

“His support is very welcome,” Bren almost had time to say. Cajeiri arrived, with:

“ Nandi!One is very glad to see you!”

Reijiri, he meant. Reijiri was one of Cajeiri’s favorite people in the whole world.

“Young gentleman,” Reijiri said with a bow. “Delighted. One wondered if you would be in attendance this evening.”

“Oh, one is obliged to be here,” Cajeiri said. He had yet another fruit drink in hand—a charge of sugar, instead of the sedation steadily progressing in the company. “One is so boredalready with being shut in! Did you come with your plane? Might you possibly, possibly persuade my father to let me go up over the city, just once? Seeing the city from the air would be veryeducational!”

“Alas, though I do have my plane here, young gentleman, I fear your father would never consent to that, under current circumstances.”

“I am a prisoner in the Bujavid, nandi! I am bored!”

“Are you indeed, young gentleman?” Ilisidi had come up uncommonly silently. “Come, come, a pleasant face, Great-grandson. Smile. And good evening, nand’ Reijiri. We are so glad to see you.” She laid a hand on Cajeiri’s shoulder, turning him to face the sparser center of the room. “We wish to introduce our great-grandson to his second cousins.”

“Cousins?” Cajeiri asked, wide-eyed.