His appetite was still off, at supper. He didn’t feel up to formal dinner, and ordered simply a bowl of soup and wafers—which tasted better than they had yesterday, and he decided he felt up to a second bowl of it, in his televisionless, fellowless, phoneless exile.
Mealtimes had become a marker in the day, which thus far, lacking even a clock, he measured in paces of his quarters, in pages turned, in the slow progress of clouds across the sky, or boats across the wind-wrinkled lake.
He forced himself to drink an ordinary tea, and lingered over a sweet milk pudding, in which there was only one questionable and lumpy substance, exceedingly bitter to the taste—but one could, with dexterity, pick the bits out.
Food became an amusement, a hobby, an adventure despite cook’s assurances. The book he had open beside his plate was an absorbing enough account of lingering and resentful spirits of Malguri’s murdered and accident-prone dead. The lake also was given to be haunted by various restless fishermen and by one ill-fated lord of Malguri who leapt in full armor from the cliffs, thus evading what the book called ‘a shameful marriage.’
Curious idea. He resolved to ask someone about that, and to find out the doubtless prurient details.
He discarded the last bitter bit in the pudding, and had his final spoonful as Djinana came in, to take the dishes, as he supposed.
“I’ll have another cup of tea,” he said. He was feeling much better. Djinana laid a tiny silver scroll-case, with great ceremony, beside his plate.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I don’t know, nand’ paidhi. Nadi Cenedi conveyed it.”
“Would you open it?”
“It’s the dowager’s own…” Djinana protested.
“Nadi. Would you open it?”
Djinana frowned and took it up—broke the seal and spread out the paper.
He took it, once Djinana had proven it only the scroll it seemed to be. But he was thinking of the Bu-javid post office, and Jago’s comment about needles in the mail.
It was almost as welcome. An invitation. From the aiji-dowager. For an early breakfast.
The hospitality of an aiji of any degree was not easy to refuse. He had to share a roof with this woman. She’d nearly killed him. Refusal could convey a belief it wasn’t an accident. And that could mean hostilities. “Tell Banichi I need to talk to him.”
“I’ll try, nadi.”
“What,‘try?’ Where is he, nadi?”
“I believe he and nadi Jago drove somewhere.”
“Somewhere.” He’d become reluctantly well acquainted with the vicinity, at least the historical sites within driving distance of Malguri. There wasn’t anywhere to drive to, except the airport and the town just outside. “Then I need to talk to Tano.”
“I don’t know where he is, either, nand’ paidhi. I rather thought he’d gone with your security staff.”
“Algini, then.”
“I’ll look for him, nand’ paidhi.”
“They wouldn’t have left me here.”
“I would think not, nand’ paidhi. But I assure you Maighi and I are perfectly well at your service.”
“Then what would you advise?” He handed Djinana the scroll, case and all. Djinana scanned it, and frowned.
“It’s unusual,” Djinana said. “The aiji-dowager doesn’t receive many people.”
Fine, he thought. So she’s making an extraordinary gesture. The stakes go up.
“So what do I answer, nadi? Is it safe?”
Djinana’s face assumed a very official serenity. “I couldn’t possibly advise the paidhi.”
“Then can we find Algini? I take it there’s some urgency to respond to this.”
“A certain amount. I believe nand’ Cenedi elected to wait—”
“He knows Banichi’s not here.”
“I’m not sure, nadi.” The facade cracked. Worry did come through. “Perhaps I can find Algini.”
Djinana left on that errand. He poured himself another cup of tea. He had to answer the summons, one way or the other. The thought unworthily crossed his mind that the aiji-dowager might indeed have waited until Banichi and Jago were otherwise occupied, although what might legitimately have drawn the whole damned staff to the airport when Tabini had said he was in their charge, he didn’t know. He carefully rolled up the little scroll, shoved it into the case, and capped it. And waited until Djinana came back, and bowed, with a worried look. “Nadi, I don’t know—”