“Thank you for your gift, honored Mother. One was quite surprised.”

“You look very fine,” she said, looking extremely pleased. “How grown-up you look.”

“One is happy to be a fortunate age,” he said. “Thank you, honored Mother.”

There was, of course, tea. There were very fancy teacakes, one of a flavor he did not like, but his mother did, and he got it by accident. He took one bite, and nerved himself and swallowed the rest of it, smiling and washing it down with tea, thinking it was rather like the change of coats. One could get through anything, if there was a reason.

“The numbers of the day are fortunate,” she said. “And the whole country has turned out to celebrate the day, son of mine. The banners are out and the whole city will be in festival. You may see them from my windows.”

“I shall look,” he said. He truly had no desire even to go into the nursery, which had all the windows, but he thought perhaps he should, at least once, so when he had had his tea, he did go, and stood with his mother looking out past the filmy lace of the nursery windows. Very small and distant, there were colorful banners, and the tops of the tents, and the main street, even farther, crowded with people.

“The city is happy,” she said, with her hand on his shoulder, “and so should you be.”

“One is indeed happy,” he said dutifully, already wishing to be back in the sitting room. “One is very happy.”

“Your father favors you,” she said, and her fingers pressed his shoulder hard. “He favors you so extremely your sister will rely on you for the least scrap of his favor. Say to me that she will not go wanting.”

He did not look at her until one fast, wary glance, and she was gazing out the windows, into the hazy distance.

“I shall take care of my sister,” he said, and her hand pressed once, then relaxed. “Have I not told you I shall? If she relies on me, I shall be her older brother.”

“As you should be,” she said. “Always remember that.”

An uneasy thought struck him. “You will be here, will you not?”

“That is always at your father’s pleasure. But someday it will be at yours.”

“You are my mother,” he said with complete determination. “I only have one.”

“That is good to know,” she said. “Shall we return to the sitting room?”

He was only too glad to do that.

 · · ·

Getting three kids into unfamiliar garments and giving them a meaningful lesson on how to keep the cuff lace out of the soup and the soup from landing on one’s collar lace was no small undertaking. Turn your wrist to the outside covered the first; and Keep your chin up was the other. They practiced with water, as less damaging than soup.

“Very well done,” Jase said. “I shall try not to be the one to have soup go astray. You all have your speeches, if you need them.”

“Yes, nandi,” Gene said, with a very proper bow. “And one will pay very close aggravation to persons.”

“Attention,” Bren corrected quietly. It was a very easy mistake. “Elegantly done, Gene-nadi.”

“Attention,” Gene repeated, a little chagrined. “Yes, sir.”

Bren set his hand on Gene’s shoulder. “You three are extraordinary. Keep up the manners just until midnight, and don’t panic if you make a mistake. You’re all three very small, people won’t possibly mistake you for adults, and while children have all kinds of leeway . . . everyone’s very impressed when they get things right. So just bow and apologize, and if you really have an accident, you have several spare shirts in my apartment. We can rescue you if we must, but we’d so much rather not. And the farther we get from the apartment the harder it becomes. Security’s extremely tight.”

“Yes, sir,” Gene said in ship-speak. “We won’t mess things up. We really won’t.”

“Good. Good.” Bren let the boy go and cast a look at Jase. “We’re about due. Dur’s just made it up to the floor. I need to go. If you can follow with the youngsters, we’ll expect you in about ten minutes. Kaplan and Polano are ready?”

“Suited up and ready,” Jase said. “We’ll be right over.”

“See you,” Bren said, and went out to the hall. Staff told staff, and his bodyguard showed up a moment later, Banichi with them, without his sling, at first glance, but then one noted the black, slim support for the injured arm.

Good for that, he thought. He had his hair arranged to hide the stitches, had a little paper of pills, not for atevi consumption, in his right pocket, and a second number of pills, not for human consumption, in the inside pocket of his dress coat, nicely done up, not to mention the discreet little pistol he had in his right-hand coat pocket . . . he had not carried it to the Guild. It did not mean he could not carry it to Tabini’s apartment.

“Nichi-ji,” he said as his aishid joined him. “We are agreed, are we not, each to take a rest as appropriate?”

“We are agreed,” Banichi said.

“Do we have a promise, Nichi-ji?”

“We have an agreement, Bren-ji.”

It was as good as he was getting. Narani opened the door for them, and they walked out and down the short distance to the aiji’s door—which, as it chanced, was still open, Lord Tatiseigi having just arrived with, as it proved, the aiji-dowager.

One simply stood a bit back and let that party sort itself out. There was some little hushed and prolonged to-do involving a coat, about which neither was pleased. But Ilisidi said, “It is the boy’s event, Tati-ji. He will wish not to affront his mother.”

“His mother,” Tatiseigi muttered, but said no more of it.

One didn’t ask. One was simply glad to get through the door, past the foyer, and into the enforced civilization of the dining room, where, indeed, the younger and the elder Dur were already present, and the formalities were a welcome relief.

The dining table was at full extent, with places for thirty-three persons, including Jase and the three youngsters, and an assortment of lords and spouses. It was diplomacy at full stretch. Even Lord Keimi had come in from Taiben—very, very rare that he put in a court appearance; but it was a pleasant arrival. Haijden and Maidin were there. And Jase and Cajeiri’s guests arrived, Jase resplendent in the borrowed coat and the youngsters in immaculate and proper court dress—shy, and a little hesitant about getting to seats, but Jase, who could read the name tags, settled them properly, and sat down in a seat of high rank next to Tatiseigi, who was family—with the youngsters at his left, as Cajeiri’s guests. As minors in Jase’s care, they were seated far higher than their rank would have allowed.

But good-natured Maidin was next to them, and Dur was across the table, which was a very deft bit of diplomacy. The servants brought a cushion for Irene—the boys being just the little degree taller that made a cushion a bit too much; and the youngsters sat with their hands tucked and their eyes darting about the glittering table and the glittering guests—very, very quiet, the three, on best behavior.

Other lords arrived, the Calrunaidi, strangers to the aiji’s inner circle, but on the rise; the Brusini and the Drusi, with current spouses. The company stretched to the end of the table with other arrivals, and the noise level even of quiet conversation became significant.

The youngsters sat staunchly silent, already stuffed with little sandwiches and teacakes, and shyly responding to servants’ questions or deferring them to Jase, who ordered them small glasses of fruit drink . . . which they very judiciously sipped without much tilting.

The table was full. Conversation remained polite. Bren and Jase had followed their own prescription of sandwiches and teacakes to assure they had enough to eat before they had to deal with a full-blown state affair of thirteen courses, three or four involving gravy.