“My father did it. Antaro and Jegari know about guns, of course.” A shrug. “They have hunted since they were little, in Taiben. But Lucasi and Veijico say they have to have a certificate to have guns in public places. And to use Guild equipment.”

“That is so,” Bren said. “So no one is staying in your suite with you?”

“Just Boji.”

Boji was small, black, and furry, and lived in a large cage in the boy’s room.

It was unfamiliar solitude for a young boy, particularly a boy who, in his life, had traveled on a starship, dealt with aliens, been kidnapped by his father’s enemies, nearly run down at sea, and habitually went armed with a slingshot—which was probably in his pocket even here. The empty rooms must be particularly unnerving for a boy who, in the last year and in part becauseof his tendency to collect adventures, had acquired an aishid of his own, four bodyguards dedicated to keeping him safe in every moment of his life.

“And how is Boji?”

“Very well, nandi! I am training him to be without his cage sometimes.”

“Excellent.” The women had made half the circuit of the room. And unfortunately, he could not afford to be a babysitter at the expense of the Marid treaty. He spied, finally, a committee head he urgently needed to talk to. “One has to speak to this gentleman a moment. Will you be well for a moment, young sir? Will you stand right here?”

Cajeiri gave a two-shouldered shrug, a little grin and a wink. “Oh, with no trouble, nandi. There are no kidnappers here. And if they come back arguing, I shall have to go with my mother.”

Of course the scamp would find his own way. He had been doing that all his life. And Cajeiri absolutely had the priorities straight. Bren went off to intercept the head of Transport, and the head of the Commerce Committee walked up to join the conversation.

The talk became intense, and substantive, and encouragingly productive.

When he looked for the boy again, he found no sign of him. He did see that the aiji-dowager and Damiri had gone their separate ways, busy about the fringes of the room, and that conversation, which had hushed progressively as the two went about the room, had resumed.

Tabini-aiji, however, looked his direction, gave a little nod, and that was an immediate command appearance.

He went. And bowed. “One is currently looking for your son, aiji-ma, and one is just a little concerned.”

“His servants took him to bed a moment ago,” Tabini said. “He is quite safe.”

“One is relieved.” He let go a breath. “One should not have left him. Even here.”

“Oh, he has been on his own all evening. And he could not have gotten out the door unremarked,” Tabini added with a little wry humor. “My whole staff has their instructions. My son has entirely understood the current difficulty, and he has stayed very well within bounds.” A sharpening of focus, and a frown. “My grandmother. Did she plan that?”

That the aiji had to ask himwhat Ilisidi was thinking . . .

“One does not believe so, no, aiji-ma. One believes she was quite taken by surprise, reacting to your honored wife’s choice of colors this evening.”

“It was Damiri’s choice,” Tabini said somberly. “Her father has left her none. But these are not easy days in the household.”

“One well understands, aiji-ma.”

“Have you heard anything in the room?”

“Nothing regarding that matter, aiji-ma.”

“Come aside a moment.”

“Aiji-ma.” He followed Tabini to the far side of the room, through the door and into the deserted dining hall, tracked, at a slight remove, by Tabini’s bodyguards.

Servants, working at polishing the table, withdrew quickly. Two of Tabini’s bodyguards went across the room and shut those doors. The other two, from outside, shut the dining room doors. The likelihood of eavesdroppers on the aiji’s conversation outside this room had been very scant: nobody crowded in on Tabini without a clear signal to do so. But clearly there was something else, something that could not risk report. And they were in as much privacy as could be had.

“They have put a public patch on the matter,” Tabini said quietly. “But be aware Damiri is entirely uneasy, and unreconciled. She does not trust my grandmother, and I worry for my son’s impression of the situation. You talked to him. Was he upset by it?”

“Not discernibly, aiji-ma.”

“Were you warned?”

“Aiji-ma, I had no forewarning.”

“She planned it,” Tabini said, with utter conviction.

“Aiji-ma, one would tend to agree she had intended some discussion on the Ajuri matter—which I think it may have been. But she had not planned it tonight. Not that I know.”

“Damiri has said—” Tabini drew a careful breath and let it go. “You well know, paidhi, that Damiri has lost one child to my grandmother, and she has requested me to promise not to put this next one in my grandmother’s hands for any reason of security. She has bluntly said, this very evening, and I quote, ‘I am forced to choose my uncle. I have your grandmother on one side and her lovers on the other. They control my son and now they are the only relatives I have. I shall neverconcede my daughter to them.’”

“Aiji-ma.” What could one say? Damiri had lost her son’s man’chi through no fault of hers. The separation had broken the bond, when Tabini had sent Cajeiri away to space for protection. He had bonded to his great-grandmother. Intensely so. And he felt deeply sorry for Damiri.

But notsorry enough to take her side over Tabini’s, and not sorry enough to regret his own part in bringing up Cajeiri. The boy was alive. And he might not be, if he had stayed with his parents through the coup. If they had had a child in tow, they might themselves not have survived the constant moving and the hiding in wilderness conditions.

And, damn it all, if Damiri had never slipped into her father’s orbit last year, however briefly, and if Damiri had been less openly antagonistic toward Ilisidi once Ilisidi brought the boy back—

“Damiri declares,” Tabini said, with a muscle standing out in his jaw, “that she still has man’chi to Ajuri clan. But that she has no man’chi now to her father. She says shewill take the lordship of Ajuri herself, before she settles to be Tatiseigi’s tributary.”

My God. “Can she muster support to do that, aiji-ma?”

“Possibly. I think it has one motive. She views it would set her on a more equal footing with my grandmother.”

Clan lord or not—it was not likely lordship of Ajuri was going to set anybody equal to Ilisidi. But he didn’t say that.

“Will you back her in that, aiji-ma?”

The muscle jumped. Twice. “Ajuri swallowsvirtue. That her father killed his brother-of-a-different-mother to get the lordship, one is all but certain. How the late lord himself got the lordship was also tainted. My wife wants to be lord of Ajuri—in her father’s place—and no, it is not a good idea, and notsomething I support, or will even tolerate, while she brings up my daughter—even if, in every other way, it would solve the threat Ajuri poses.” Tabini folded his arms, leaned back against the massive dining table. “I have a problem, paidhi. She is too proud to be Tatiseigi’s niece, in Atageini clan, even were he to make her his heir—which might happen, and which I would accept. She feels no kinship with them. Would she consent to become Ragi?” That was Tabini’s clan; and Ilisidi’s clan only by marriage and the bond of a son born in it. “I have invited her to take those colors. She is, I think, struggling with that idea. She cannot seem to attach.” Attachin the clan sense. In the atevi emotional sense. In the husband-and-wife sense. A human had no idea, except to say that Damiri was not at home among Ragi, didn’t feel it, couldn’t get her mind into her husband’s clan—

—And that said something disturbing about the tension in that marriage.