Conspirator

Excerpt

Spring was coming. Frost still touched the window glass of the Bujavid and
whitened the roof tiles of Shejidan at sunrise, but it left daily by
midmorning. This was a sign.
 
So was the letter, delivered by morning post, discreetly received by staff,
and, understood to be important, delivered with Bren Cameron's morning tea.
 
The little message cylinder hadn't come by the automated systems. It had
most certainly traveled the old-fashioned way, by rail, knowing the bent of
the sender.
 
It bore the seal of Lord Tatiseigi of the Atageini of the Padi Valley. It
was silver and sea-ivory, with carved lilies.
 
When opened, its exquisite calligraphy, in green as well as black ink,
written on modern vellum, nicely paid courtesies due the paidhi-aiji, the
human interpreter for the ruler of three quarters of the planet; the
paidhiaiji, the Lord of the Heavens, etc., etc....
 
Tatiseigi was being extraordinarily polite, and that, in itself, was an
ominous sign, since Bren was currently, and for the last several months,
sitting in the old man's city apartment.
 
Foreboding settled in before his glance skipped past the ornately flowing
salutation to the text of the letter.
 
The paidhi will rejoice to know that repairs here at Tirnamardi have gone
extremely well and we have greatly enjoyed this winter sojourn watching the
restoration. However, with the legislative session imminent and with
business in the capital pressing upon this house, one must regretfully quit
these rural pleasures and return to the Bujavid as of the new moon...
 
Two days from now. God!
 
One most fervently hopes that this will not greatly inconvenience the
paidhi-aiji. A separate letter exhorts our staff to assist the paidhi-aiji
in whatever arrangements the paidhi-aiji may desire for his comfort and
expedition...
 
Expedition, hell! Two days was extreme gall, never mind that he hadn't a leg
to stand on...nor any place else to go. The man could have phoned. He could
well have phoned instead of taking up a whole day of grace using the trains
and the whole message process.
 
One naturally hopes that the difficulties attending the paidhi-aiji's own
residence have now been settled...
 
Tatiseigi's current house guest in his country retreat was the aijidowager,
who absolutely knew everything going on in the capital, including the
paidhi's situation. So the old man knew damned well the paidhi-aiji's
apartment difficulties were not in fact settled in the least, that
Tabini-aiji's apartments were not yet repaired, either-which meant Tabini
was still residing in the dowager's apartment while the dowager sojourned in
Tirnamardi with Lord Tatiseigi.
 
God, one only imagined whether Tabini might not be in receipt of a similar
letter from his grandmother...requesting her apartment vacated.
 
He somehow doubted Ilisidi would be that abrupt-or share the roof with her
grandson for long. She likely would be off for the distant east, on the
other side of the continent, where she had her estate.
 
He himself might, however, be sitting in the hotel at the foot of the hill
in two days. This historic apartment, which he had occupied since Tabini's
return to power-and his own return from space-had served him very well
through the winter; and, thanks to politics, there had been no delicate way
to get him back into his own apartment, not as yet. Scions of a Southern
clan, the Farai, were camped out in it, and for various reasons Tabini-aiji
could not or would not pitch them out and get it back.
 
From Conspirator by C.J. Cherryh