Well, whatever it had mutated into, Tabini willing, they might still go back to the relative privacy and security of Tirnamardi until the shuttle was prepared to fly.

But how that was going to work was becoming increasingly cloudy. The dowager and Lord Tatiseigi’s presence was absolutely required in the day or so after, if the tribal peoples bill was going to be up for debate—not even to mention the succession question in Kadagidi and Ajuri.

He needed to be available for the legislature. None of them were likely to have time to deal with a handful of increasingly restive youngsters.

Jase, however—

Jase could escort the youngsters. Jase was still known onworld as the ship-paidhi. He wasn’t fluent, but he could manage. It was a great deal to ask of Lord Tatiseigi, to turn his estate over to humans . . . so to speak.

But he could send them to his own estate of Najida, maybe. Or Taiben, Taiben, which detested roads, and distrusted outsiders . . .

Taiben would be safer . . . and it had mecheiti . . .

But the young gentleman’s dearly treasured birthday present was resident with a herd in Tirnamardi’s stables, and one did not put a child aboard a mecheita newly introduced to another herd.

Not to mention the politics of putting Tatiseigi’s gift into a Taibeni herd.

He sighed. It was just not going to be easy.

They couldn’t postpone the tribal peoples bill. Too much rode on it. He couldn’t get free. They couldn’t do without Tatiseigi. The dowager had to be there to push the bill.

“Deep thoughts,” Jase said.

“How much ground time do you expect for the shuttle?”

“What? Do you need us out of here faster—or slower?”

“Is there any chance the kids could wait for the next shuttle?”

“No logistical problem with Phoenix or station authorities. We just load cargo instead. Next rotation we load the passenger module and leave six cans of dried fruit and fish paste. The parents, however . . . Shall I ask?”

“Tomorrow will tell,” he said. “Let’s just get the lad through the actual birthday.”

“Not to mention your other operations.”

“I haven’t been a good host.”

“I have no complaints. I really should leave you to your work. I came down here to assist, not to be entertained. And I can see you’re up to your ears.”

“You know, if you could delay the kids to another shuttle, we could actually get that fishing trip.”

“You’re threatening to take me out in a shell with no attitude controls to float on a hundred meter depth of turbulent water. This is the reward.”

He laughed. “I wish I could absolutely promise it. But if you could shake yourself loose for another rotation, we’d have a better chance.”

“This hasn’t been the most opportune timing for us.”

“It’s no accident it hasn’t. But you know that. Past tomorrow, things should be a lot less tense, and there’ll be no public exposure. Can you manage it? These kids . . .”

“I know. Let me have a go at it. Gene’s mother likely won’t object. Irene’s—” Jase shrugged. “Maybe. She’ll run to ask her problematic friends, and they won’t decline a chance that makes the kid more useful. Artur’s parents—they’ll want him back. They’re just parents. But for the sake of an education—”

“He’s certainly getting one.”

“He is, that. Let me give it a try. Pending tomorrow.”

“Yourself?”

“Oh, I’ll be persuasive. If the kids stay, I can’t leave them here alone, can I?” Jase made to get up. “I should leave you to your work, however. I’ve heard the staff coming and going. Things are in progress, and I’m in the way.”

“Never,” Bren said, but it was true, and he’d caught a sign from Narani in the hall that there was important mail in-house. “I had better cross-check with staff, however, and stay up on the details. Supper tonight if we’re lucky.”

“Formal?”

“Informal as hell, I hope. Are you running out of entertainment in there?”

Jase grinned. “We’re amply supplied. My office doesn’t let me alone. And Kaplan and Polano are on the longest leave of their lives, so I’m hearing no complaints. I don’t know where their poker tab stands, but neither one gets more than twenty credits ahead of the other and it’s been ongoing for days.”

“Good.” He laughed. “Good for them.”

He saw Jase to the door, went to his office and settled to look through his mail—was not surprised when Narani arrived with the mail, and prominent in the batch was a message cylinder of the heraldic sort that usually circulated within the upper floors of the Bujavid.

Red and black.

The dowager, he thought, telling himself he needed to ask his staff how the preparations for the event were going.

“Thank you,” he said. “Wait just a moment. There may be a reply.” He opened the cylinder. The seal on the message itself was not the dowager’s, however: it was Tabini’s.

The numbers of the Festivity have officially come in as favorable for the event . . .

Rarely did official ’counters produce anything contrary, for something the aiji firmly decided to schedule. It was a bit of a non-announcement for most long-scheduled events, particularly those naturally containing fortunate numbers.

We have waited for these numbers, considering recent events. We are, as of a few moments ago, absolutely certain of them. Expect, at the Festivity, investment of my son as my heir.

Investment. Nine was a fortunate year, extraordinarily felicitous. But it was also extremely young to be officially set into a will. The traditional number for a child to be invested as heir was . . . he recalled . . . fifteen, the next entirely felicitous number after nine, and offering the greater maturity of that year as well as a fortunate numerology.

A formal investment, however, fended off inheritance disputes, or at least let them happen during the lifetime of the parent, when they could be quashed with authority.

Tabini’s legacy wasn’t a set of fishing or hunting rights.

But it was a little unexpected, this. For various reasons, Tabini himself hadn’t had it. He was not sure it had actually been done for the aijinate since Tabini’s grandfather’s investment. Certainly it wasn’t in Wilson’s notes.

My wife is advised, and I am, in two other letters sent with this one, informing my grandmother and Lord Tatiseigi of my decision.

My decision. Not the plural. Not the imperial we. And not including Damiri in any implication whatever.

“Trouble, nandi?” Narani asked.

“Not trouble, exactly,” he said. “The aiji is going to invest the young gentleman as his heir.”

“Indeed.” Narani hardly lifted a brow. Surprised? It was rare anything surprised Narani.

“It is, apparently, held secret until the event. Please keep it so.” He had no doubts of Narani, who well knew how to keep secrets. “You look surprised, Rani-ji.”

“One would say the last three years have certainly urged it.”

An overthrow of the government and the whole world in upheaval. That, to say the least, was a reason to have intentions clear.

But one still had to wonder.

Had something significant gone on between Tabini and Damiri in the boy’s absence—an understanding reached, or definitively not reached, since Tabini had taken initial steps to shift the birthday party from private celebration to national holiday—on the very day they had gone to the spaceport to pick up the boy’s guests?

Tabini had evidently started that extreme move while they—including the dowager—were on their way out of the Bujavid, and dropping into a communications blackout. It was as if Tabini had waited for that.

He evidently hadn’t mentioned his intentions to Ilisidi—who might have had definite advice about it.