“Four Associations,” Toby said. “Isn’t that an infelicity?”

“Extremely,” Bren said. “In all senses. It’s unstable as hell. Double crosses abound in that relationship. One clan or the other is always playing for power—lately mostly the Tasaigi, which swallowed up the fifth Association, the islands, which has no living clan, and has the most territory. The Tasaigi argue that one strong aiji in theirAssociation, dominating the other clans, makes a felicitous arrangement. The Senji, the Dojisigi, the Dausigi—all have their own opinions, but the Tasaigi usually lead. Except lately. Since the Tasaigi’s puppet Murini fell from power, the Farai of the Senji district seem to be bidding to control the South.”

“The ones in your apartment.”

“Exactly. The Tasaigin Marid has produced three serious conspiracies to take powerc all failing. If Tabini-aiji should actually give Farai that apartment permanently—that nice little honor of residing inthe halls of power— Well, the theory is that the Farai, and thus the Senjin Marid, might become a Southern power that can actually be dealt with, which would calm down the South. I personally don’t think it’s going to work. But in one sense, my apartment could end up being a small sacrifice to a general peace—until the Farai revert to Southern politics as usual; or until someone in the South takes out a Contract on them. Which could happen next week, as the wind blows. What’s a current security nightmare is the fact that my old apartment shares a small section of wall with Tabini’s proper apartment. So that’s being fixed—in case the Farai presence there becomes permanent. Who knows? It could. At least they didn’t make a claim on this estate. I’d be veryupset if that happened.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Barb said.

“Palatial,” Toby said. “I can only imagine what your place in the Bujavid must have looked like.”

A little laugh. An easier feeling. “Well, Najida’s a little smaller, actually. And the rooms here all let out into a hall that I alsoown, which always feels odd to me. I think this whole house would fit inside the aiji’s apartment in the Bujavid.” He saw a little tilt of Banichi’s head, Banichi being in position to have a view down the serving hall, and read that as a signal. “Staff’s preparing to serve the first course. And with apologies, let me give you a fast primer on formal dinners: no business, no politics, nothing but the lightest, most pleasant conversation during the dinner itself, nothing heavy until we retire for after-dinner drinks. We keep it light, keep it happy, take modest bites, at a modest tempo, and don’t try to signal staff for drink: you’ll embarrass them. They’ll be on an empty glass in a heartbeat. A simple open hand at the edge of the plate will signal them you want a second helping of a dish: be careful, or you willget one; and if you see them give me a flat palm for a signal, that means they’re running out of a particular course and want to advance the service, so don’t ask for seconds then, or they’ll be scrambling back there to try to produce an extra, probably one of their own meals. There’ll be an opening course, a mid-course, a meat presentation, and a dessert, different wine with each, so expect that. And somewhere during the meat presentation the cook will look in, we’ll invite him in, praise the dish—it’s going to be spectacular, I’m sure—and thank him and the staff. There’s going to be much more food than you can possibly afford seconds of, if you want my advice. And then we’ll thank the staff again, and get up and go to the parlor for drinks and politics, if you like.”

They took that advisement in good humor, at least. It forecast at least a patch on things.

Barb, however, was on her own agenda since she’d arrived at the front door. He’d known her long enough to spot that.

And being Barb, she didn’t think her agenda through all the way to the real end, just the immediate result she fantasized having. She wanted to make him uncomfortable: she wanted him to acknowledge he’d been utterly wrong to drop her. The fact it could have international repercussions was so far off her horizon it was in another universe. The possibility of setting him and Toby permanently at odds, well, that just wouldn’t happen, in her thinking, because she controlled everything and that wasn’t the way she planned.

That was how she’d ended up marrying the dullest man on Mospheira, to get back at him, and had an emotional crisis when it turned out he wished her well and walked off; it was how she’d spent years of her life taking care of his and Toby’s mother, once she got her divorce—because she was just essential to their family, wasn’t she?

In point of fact, if he hadn’t had to run the gauntlet of Barb’s emotions to get to his mother’s bedside, maybe he’d have found a way over to the island more often—

No, that was a lie. Circumstances a lot more potent than Barb’s angst had made him unavailable and finally sent him off the planet and into a two-year absence. So that hadn’t been Barb’s fault, wasn’t his, wasn’t Toby’s fault, either, but it had done for Toby’s marriage, all the same.

And where did Barb go after Toby’s divorce—hell, beforethe divorce? Barb had been at their mother’s place. So had Toby. They’d both been at the hospital all day. Toby’s wife Jill had taken the kids and bailed.

He didn’t want to think about that, not the whole few days Toby and Barb might be here. He’d be damned sure there wasn’t another scene. He had to talk to Toby, was what. There was no use talking to Barb. That was precisely what she wanted.

Hewas precisely what she wanted, because he’d been too distracted to give a damn when she’d left him. There was the lasting trouble.

He put on his best diplomatic smile while staff served the first course, eggs floating in sauce; and didn’t let himself think too far down the course of events. They’d get out on the boat, they’d do some fishing. There was no real reason to have a deep heart-to-heart with Toby on the matters of atevi manners, Barb, or the particular reasons he hadn’t been there when their mother needed him. Fact was, Barb was going to do what Barb intended to do, and there was no way to warn a man off a personal relationship and stay on good terms with him. They could put a patch on it and smile at each other, fishing would keep them all busy, wear them out, and they could do some beachside fish-roasting and keep the issues between him and Toby and him and Barb off the agenda entirely until it was time for the formal farewell dinner.

They could get through that, too. With luck, they never would have to discuss the reasons for their problems at all.

Chapter 3

« ^ »

Great-uncle Tatiseigi was coming back to the Bujavid, and that was by no means good, in Cajeiri’s estimation.

But Great-grandmother was coming with him, and that waswelcome news. Great-grandmother understood him better than his parents did, and better still, Great-grandmother could make his father listen, being Father’sgrandmother, and powerful in her own right.

Things were definitely looking up, almost making up for his losing nand’ Bren—who hadn’t been able to talk to him before he left, not really. Great-grandmother’s major domo, Madiri, was hurrying about, berating tardy staff. Cajeiri’s own door guards, Temien and Kaidin—his wardens, in his own estimation—who were on loan from Uncle, were in their best uniforms; his mother and father were dressing for the aiji-dowager’s arrival— it being her apartment they all were living in.

And very possibly—Cajeiri thought—they might soon be in the same case as nand’ Bren, having to move out to let manihave her apartment back, the same as nand’ Bren had had to move out to let Uncle Tatiseigi have his. They might have to move out to the hunting lodge out at Taiben, which was where his own personal staff, Antaro and Jegari, had come from.