“We have had news of the mainland from the radio, nand’ paidhi!

From your university.”

Was that how rumor was reaching epidemic proportions? Radio, from across the strait?

“What did they say?”

“Oh, that the shuttle is preparing a return, that the legislature is passing a resolution of support for Tabini-aiji and for the station-aijiin, that the Presidenta has urged citizens along the coast to keep a sharp watch and report any untoward intrusion.”

Aimed at the shuttle, it might be. One could only dread what might happen to the two others, here on the mainland.

“And do they know where Tabini-aiji is, Jiri-ji?”

“One remains unsure. It was never mentioned. But we heard. A car came to us, from Meiri. They had heard, because a Meiri woman has a son with the chief accountant of Ceigac”

Which was an Atageini town. Which meant rumors had been flying at record speed, a veritable network sending out word, possibly starting with Tatiseigi’s leaky communications system.

Rejiri went into detail as they passed through the ranks of wondering spectators, no few of whom were house security, and nonstop as they walked up and around the side of the house, Rejiri asking a barrage of questions all the way—had the voyage been successful? What strange sights had he seen?

Then onto the drive, where town buses and farm trucks vied for parking space.

“Taiben has come in,” Bren thought to inform him.

“Taiben! Then they are the mecheita-camp!”

“Indeed.”

“Now that is a wonder,” Rejiri pronounced this partnership of Atageini and Taibeni, and, casting his gaze up to the top of the steps that confronted them, he climbed energetically, security trailing them, house security standing at the top of the steps to confront and challenge them.

“The young lord of Dur,” Banichi said as they approached that cautious line, “come to confer with Lord Tatiseigi.” Oh, that Lord Tatiseigi was politic. Opposition immediately gave way.

“Our lord will see the visitor in the sitting room, nadi,” the seniormost of Tatiseigi’s security informed them, and doors immediately opened and staff folded in with them, past the scaffolding and repair work insidec up those steps, then, and onto the level of the sitting room. To judge by the collection of various bodyguards standing about that door, Tabini, Tatiseigi, and the dowager had gone back into conference in that room; and if one could judge by the Taibeni present, Keimi of Taiben was inside, and likely a couple of Atageini mayors, granted a couple of clerkish types in the mix.

And now another pair of participants arrived, racing down the stairs from the rooms above: Cajeiri, eight years old, as tall as a grown human, and accompanied by one Jegari, his young Taibeni guard.

“Did he fly the plane, nandi?” echoed and re-echoed in the stairwell, and Bren paused to introduce the aiji’s son to the son of the lord of Dur.

“Nandi,” Rejiri said, with a grand and sweeping bow to the boy, and Cajeiri likewise bowed, clearly entranced by the daring landing, the young pilot, and the brightly painted plane out on the meadow—doubtless estimating that if other young lords could do such a reckless thing, he could do it: One had only to know him to imagine the gears turning in his young head.

But by then the drawing room door had opened, and security inside had taken a look, exchanged words with security outside, and questions from the assembled lords were bound to come out to them if they did not now go inside quickly.

“Nandiin,” Bren said, and ushered Cajeiri and Rejiri both into the room.

Tabini-aiji sat at the center of the arc of chairs inside, with Damiri and the dowager on either hand, with Lord Tatiseigi. The young lord of Dur, facing the aiji that the news services under Murini’s control had claimed for months was dead and lost, bowed profoundly, as Cajeiri piped up with, “This is Rejiri, the lord of Dur’s son, nandiin! He landed just outside!”

“Aijin-ma,” Rejiri said in modest grace. “Nand’ dowager.”

Welcome was a little less certain on Lord Tatiseigi’s face— his age-seamed lips disapproved any commotion in his meadows, any further destruction of his lawn. Others present, Keimi of Taiben, and, yes, two Atageini mayors, to judge by their pale green and gold lapel rosettes, remained impassive, offering that inscrutable face one presented to strangers.

“Nand’ Rejiri,” Bren said, “reports himself in advance of his father’s associates, arriving by train this evening from the coast.”

“He landed right at the bottom of the hill,” Cajeiri said, unchecked, and improving the account, “right on the grass. We saw him, and he flew the plane himself!”

“Did he?” Tabini-aiji surely recalled a general chaos in air traffic control, in the very heart of the association, in which this particular plane had been involved, when the young pilot had made his first visit to the capital. But he rose from his chair and welcomed the young lord with extreme warmth. “Loyal, and arrived to join us, and the lord of Dur with him. Who could doubt Dur’s man’chi?”

“Is he prepared to fight?” Tatiseigi asked dourly, still seated in the privilege of age, though most had risen and now settled back again. “With that great noisemaker? Nevertheless we welcome the young lord from Dur. Well, well, welcome, Dur. We shall offer every hospitality. We shall have a go at those miscreants across our border, teach them to observe our hedgesc”

“And how are things on the north coast, young sir?” Ilisidi asked sweetly from her seat, neatly cutting Tatiseigi off.

Another bow, deep and gracious, in that direction. “Free, aiji-ma, free and unshaken—only awaiting the real aiji’s summons.”

Summons, had it been? Bren, having found a vacant chair at the end of the arc, darted a sharp look at Tabini, who said nothing to deny such a summons had gone out.

A summons. Aircraft. People arriving by train. The Ajuri coming in this evening—relatives, and intimately concerned with their daughter Damiri. And now there was talk of Edi coming in. All this motion and commotion suggested that he had been wrong in his estimations. The thought that the aiji and his men could somehow melt back into the woods seemed less and less practical. Clearly the paidhi had not quite gotten the picture until now: He was not sure that Lord Tatiseigi entirely had it yet, but that word summons rang like a bell. Tabini was not here simply to meet the dowager and reclaim his son.

They sat here in the open now. And Atageini had become involved to the hilt. Taibeni had come in. The Ajuri were coming to their defense, and Dur, and others from the coast, if there was a bus left at the railhead to get them here this evening. Or worse, they might have to fight their way in past Kadagidi agents, if the attack renewed itself at dusk.

“There might be trouble at the train station, nandiin,” Bren said quietly, aware it was by no means the paidhi’s job to give the aiji defensive advice, but he lacked information: He wanted someone to think of these things, and let him know what in all hell the aiji was planning. “We removed a bus and left it in Taiben. One is by no means sure there are enough buses left at the station to serve.”

“An excellent point,” Keimi said: The bus in question was still capable of being moved, if Taiben could send it back.

“My father and his guard are armed,” Rejiri said, with a gesture toward the outside. “And there are plenty of buses and trucks here to bring them, nandiin.”

There were certainly plenty of Atageini vehicles which Tatiseigi might not particularly want shot full of holes but neither did they want their allies shot full of holes getting here, it was easier to move a few of them by the shorter, open country road.

“We can send buses,” Tabini said decisively, without so much as a glance at Tatiseigi, who sat glumly chewing his lip and perhaps recalculating the shooting match he was planning with his neighbors. “But the Kadagidi may have moved on the station.”