“Nand’ paidhi.”

A courteous bow, on either side. He and Reijiri broke apart to wander. He targeted a convenient pair of committee heads he had to deal with. He needed those votes on the tribal bill. And he had them reasonably happy on his change of vote on the cell phone bill.

“Paidhi-aiji.”

Tatiseigiwanted his attention.

Tatiseigi with half a brandy in hand, and several glasses of wine taken at dinner. Overindulgence was notthe old man’s habit, but he was in a rare mood, tonight.

“One notes,” Tatiseigi said, “that you are conspiring with the west coast again.”

A joke, a slightly barbed one, but he was sure it was a joke this time. “Arranging guests for yet another dinner, nandi. Dare one hope you will actually consider my invitation? I am quite serious. I would be very honored. And getting together with Dur—I had you in mind in inviting them—if your first trial of my hospitality with the dowager persuades you.”

“Two opportunities to savor Bindanda’s dishes,” Tatiseigi said, and dropped his voice to a confidential tone. “I shall be hosting a festivity of my own soon, be it known, to which you are reciprocally invited. One assumes you will be free on the twenty-third. Perhaps we shall include Dur. He isbordering Ajuri’s association, a provisional member. One considers you may have that fact in mind.”

The gesture amazed him. “One is very highly honored by your consideration, nandi. Might one ask what occasion the twenty-third marks?”

“One might indeed. You have inspired me, paidhi. I have had a grand notion. I shall be bringing certain of my own collection in by rail.” Porcelains, the old man meant. “You need to talk to the subcommittee on imports, in the dowager’s cause, and you will have my support in the effort. She has explained her plans to me, and this new Marid trade initiative is a very bold move on her part. A very bold move, paidhi. And I shall support it. My exhibit will put porcelains in public view which have not been seen outside Atageini territory in two hundred years. It will mark the connection of this profound art with the southern Marid trade. I have no few pieces of that origin.”

God. Amazing. The old man was a shrewd campaigner, and he was a passionate collector of an item the south had produced from ancient times. The paidhi-aiji had, trying for something relatively non-controversial, proposed the south’s famous porcelains as an opening trade item in the new agreement with the Marid. And in vague hope of at least appeasing Tatiseigi, he had gifted the old man with, as he increasingly suspected, a very special piece. “One would be profoundly grateful for your support, nandi.”

“I have also told the aiji my views. We should follow up on our advantage in the south. We also shall open trade talks. We shall bolster the dowager’s agreement with this young lord—Machigi— andwe must assure he reciprocates in his acceptance of allguilds from outside his province.” Aha, Bren thought, pricking up his ears a bit—the old man lived for agendas, and nothingregarding the guilds and their ancient prerogatives was entirely disconnected from the conservative platform. “That wascertainly a part of your discussion with the aiji.”

“It was certainly part of our discussions,” Bren said. “And remains so.” Things had gone a little surreal. Ilisidi had surely been talking to the old man, and now a new twist had become an issue. The Marid’s acceptance of the northern-based guilds’ authority within its bounds—yes, that had been on the table in the agreement. It was in there, in the fine print. But the conservatives seemed to have gotten it into their heads to run farther on that matter than discussions with Machigi had yet gone. The Assassins’ Guild was down in that district in major force—mopping up the renegade elements of their own Guild who had supported Murini. There had been a little talk of the Transportation Guild getting involved in improving rail service to the south.

The conservatives,however, suddenly envisioned the whole Shejidan-centered Guild system going into place in the Marid, in every district, never mind the Marid’s long tradition of locals-only in the only two guilds they had historically accepted—the Assassins and Transportation. Thatwas not going to be a totally smooth road—though he was working on that matter with similar hope, particularly for the Scholars and the Physicians.

“I shall be offering these items of my collection,” Tatiseigi added, “for public viewing in the museum downstairs. And we shall catch the public imagination. The televisionservice may be advised.”

Tatiseigiproposed television coverage? The famed Atageini porcelains on television? Tatiseigi had had three atevi-scale glasses of wine at dinner and at least, from the snifter in his hand, three-quarters of a brandy. Bren had had one of the former, and decided that going slow on what he currently had in his hand was a very good idea.

“One has become sensible,” Tatiseigi continued, “how truly rare items one has in that collection. The honor of the Atageini is to possess them—and to offer the experience of them to the people of the aishidi’tat, who will not have seen the like, ever in their lifetimes or their parents’ lifetimes.”

“A generous gesture. A very generous gesture.” It was, indeed worth a bow, while the less worthy thought was cycling through one’s brain—that the rush of publicity and the sudden availability of southern porcelains for the collector’s market was going to mean something to certain individuals, too. Collections of scope and antiquity would become more valuable, in status as well as monetarily.

And in Tatiseigi’s blue-blooded circles, status was as negotiable as currency.

More so, if you had long been considered old-fashioned, out-of-date, and a little eccentric, were politically ambitious to the hilt, and had just had the aiji’s consort turning up in clan colors. Tatiseigi had never scored such an evening.

And if the other guilds could be gotten into the Marid without reference to the historical, Marid-born-members-only policy, the backers of that agreement would have political capital to put any financial gain to shame.

Was that it? Was the old man making a move for influence in the new shape of the aishidi’tat?

“One is certain such a gesture will be well received across the aishidi’tat, nandi.”

“Well, well, all due to the aiji-dowager’s wise notions. —Ah,” Tatiseigi said, spying someone of immediate interest across the room. “I shall speak to you about this, paidhi-aiji. Be assured I shall. But remember the date!”

Tatiseigi was off, at fair speed for an old man, and the alcohol was curiously not that much in evidence.

Bren drew a slow and careful breath, and was relieved to note that their little conversation had not appeared to draw undue interest. Only a few steps away, Tabini was deeply involved with Geigi, and across the room, Cajeiri was still talking to his young female cousin from the East, as Ilisidi carried on a lengthy conversation with the Calrunaidi lord.

He hadn’t been able to intervene in thatsituation, which was not Ilisidi’s nicest move, damn the circumstances. Damiri was on a permanent hair trigger regarding the dowager’s influence over her son, and, making matters worse, there was a very political cast on that meeting of second cousins. Calrunaidi was the clan of the bride of Geigi’s miscreant nephew. That meant ties to Lord Geigi on the one hand, and ties to Ilisidi on the other. Cajeiri was good and he was perceptive, but an eight-year-old was notup to negotiating the tricky grounds between his mother and his great-grandmother . . . and the boy could not refuse either’s orders.

Oh, damned right Damiri was keeping an eye on her son, at the moment, watching with whom he formed associations—particularly female associations; and at the moment she did not have a happy look.