“Do they have mattresses?”

“Look here, sir, we’re not under your orders!”

“No. They are.” This with a conscious reference to the living wall of atevi waiting around them. “We need the mattresses, we need more room, and we’re going to be persistent. I don’t care what you find, sir, or how long it takes, but this is the team that’s supposed to supply you with yourneeds, I assure you, not ours. I do appreciate the inconvenience and the difficulty involved and I’m sorry it’s fallen on you, but I know, too, that your captain places confidence in your judgment and your resourcefulness, or he wouldn’t have sent us off with you. So what can you do for us?”

Likely suggestions occurred to the man, but he adopted an aggrieved, respectful expression and heaved a sigh. “Sir, I’ll do what I can, sir.”

“I’ll expect success, then. I’m sure of it. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Yes, sir.”

The guard left, probably saying more on his personal communications than a request for mattresses.

Bren, on the other hand, looked at Banichi, then cast a look at Jago, and then, with the indisputable privilege of rank, ducked inside in desperation, and to the back of the room, to what atevi politely called the accommodation.

In hardly a day and a night he’d antagonized a Mospheiran ambassador, one of the four Phoenixcaptains and an innocent crewman. It was not unpredictable that the aiji’s notion of presenting a fait accompli to the Pilots’ Guild had lodged them sideways in the throat of the station, but he had to reflect, once the adrenaline had somewhat fallen, that he’d had to do it, that Tabini had put him into a position, and he had no choice but make it clear… he couldn’t lie to the Mospheirans.

He couldn’t tell them the entire truth of his intentions either, much as he’d gone out of his way to level with them. He’d told most of the truth to Jase, his one wholehearted ally. But as far as human relations went, he’d had to clear a working space, make it very clear to the Mospheirans they weren’t participant with him in agreements he might make, make it clear to the captains one and all that if bargains weren’t kept, bargains wouldn’t be kept.

It was one policy in the elegant halls of the aiji’s residence.

It was another here, where they settled, the staff on the floor… himself in one chair, Banichi and Jago sitting on the bed, Algini and Tano standing in the corner. The place was too cold for human comfort. Though the fan was on high and the heat coming out of the vents was substantial, it seemed to produce only a fever-chill in the air. The surfaces stole warmth: walls, even the bedding seemed cold through.

“I do regret this discomfort” he said to his servants. ”Nadiin, I am hoping to improve this.“

“They do not, seemingly, adapt well to surprises,” Banichi remarked, and, caught by surprise himself, Bren had to laugh.

“We don’t know” Jago added quietly, ”whether this represents the standard of their own quarters.“

“One certainly hopes not,” Bren said. “More, one doubts it.”

“We can sleep on the floor,” the juniormost servant, Sabiso, said softly. She had banged her head quite painfully on the door of the facility, and had been mortally embarrassed, knocked half unconscious. It had raised a sizable lump on her brow. “We can use our baggage for mattresses, perhaps.”

“I don’t intend so,” Bren said. “I do notintend so. I don’t wish to move in with the shuttle crew, but if we get no better from the captains soon, we may have more words. We won’t tolerate this for two weeks.” Dismissing his servants to that greater comfort did occur to him; but it was not the atevi way of managing things, and it could not be his choice, not without shaming his staff. Tabini would much prefer a standoff.

And ultimately… ultimately, Tabini would have his way.

“We have brought sandwiches,” Narani said cheerfully, “in case of a long flight, and delays, nandi. It is the hour, in Shejidan, by the clock, and nand’ paidhi may have his supper, if he will.”

“Brought supper, Rani-ji!” He’d never even asked the servants what was in the huge, heavy baggage. “Beyond hope. Marvelous.”

Narani was delighted to have surprised him; the servants were entirely pleased and encouraged, and scurried about opening baggage, setting out unbreakable plastic dishes on the desk and the vanity counter.

Another piece of baggage opened up packets of sandwiches. A third produced fruit juice in unbreakable containers besides other black canvas packages, which Tano quietly abstracted and gave to Banichi.

What have you brought?he thought of asking, and thought perhaps he’d face the captains more honestly not knowing. Besides, familiar, homemade food sounded very good at the moment, and he was very glad to accept a plate and juice, in a glass, not the scandal of drinking from a bottle. In no wise would nand’ paidhi have other than a plate, and proper utensils.

“Excellent,” he said. “Excellent, Nadiin.—Sit, sit down, Nadiin-ji. I wish you to sit and share all this with me.”

The offering was meat of the season, pickled eggs and dried fruit, juice, with tea still hot in the flasks. And eat together, and in front of nand’ paidhi and his security? The servants were rarely comfortable with such an arrangement… and he was sorry for his failure as yet to provide them their own place, quarters of their own, their own dining room, their own place for jokes and camaraderie, their domain which Narani should rule.

But they all settled to eat, then, and the sense of ceremony with which they shared their meal made it a quiet, reserved time.

“We’ve become a village,” Jago observed then, recalling the more informal culture of field and farm, and that struck the servants as strangely funny, for reasons a human found difficulty figuring.

“We should have goda,” Tano said, which made them laugh aloud. It was country fare, boiled grain on which one slathered butter or fruit jelly or fish sauce, in season: Bren had had it.

“No fish sauce, Nadiin” said Bindanda, the outsider; all the servants well knew Bren’s distaste for that, and they shyly thought that was very funny, too.

“No fish sauce,” they echoed.

In that laughter came a beep from somewhere in the room, which drew immediate attention from Banichi and his staff.

The servants, lifelong accustomed to the goings-on of assassination-prone lords and their armed security, fell instantly silent.

“ Mr. Cameron,” a voice said from near the door, from the wall unit.

Banichi leaped up, and immediately the rest of the security staff was on their feet.

“I’ll deal with it,” Bren said, and rose and went to the wall console. Green, white, and red buttons were lit.

Green button, he decided, green for go, certainly not what an ateva would have chosen. “Hello?”

“Mr. Cameron, this is the officer of the watch. Your cargo is released, orders of the captains. It’s on its way.”

“Thank you,” Bren said, not entirely surprised, but very glad it would arrive before they wished to sleep. “Please relay our delegation’s satisfaction, captain, and its appreciation. My servants and staff will assist in moving it, at need.”

“No need,” the gruff reply came back. “ We’re sending a cart.”

“And the other problem? The mattresses?”

“Mattresses?”

“ Ithought this was understood.”

“What mattresses, sir?”

“My staff, sir, averaging well above two meters in height and numbering eight, besides myself, cannot rest on the floor, nor do I lodge with my staff, sir, excepting my security. This insults the aiji in Shejidan, it was agreed, and I am still waiting.” With whom it had been agreed he neglected to say. “On the other hand, I’m sure more rooms would solve the problem. Five rooms would be adequate. We are prepared to move.”