The Guild here in the Taisigi capital were nominally under young Lord Machigi’s authority now—they had declared themselves in support of him, at least. But they had very little to restrain them should another objective occur to them.
Lord Machigi could not be easy with the situation. Neither could the citizenry of the capital and the countryside. The whole damned situation was a house of cards of the dowager’s construction.
And what was supposed to stabilize it rested in that briefcase Bren folded up and set beside him.
He breathed shallowly—hadn’t realized he had been doing it until the bus began the slight climb to the Residence hill. He watched as the bus pulled into the circular drive where it had sat the last time. Rain positively sheeted down, hammering the potted plants along the driveway, veiling the front doors. Nature was not cooperating.
Banichi and Jago came forward, and Banichi settled into the opposing aisle seat—a golden-eyed darkness against the pale grays of the rain.
“We are in contact, Bren-ji,” Banichi said. “We have spoken reasonably with Lord Machigi’s aishid, as well as the Guild. They indicate you will be asked to stay the night here. Shall we offload baggage?”
At least they had the surface elements of courtesy. “Yes,” he said. He didn’t ask whether the ten juniors with them had their orders: that was Guild business, and Guild would arrange whatever they would do out here while he and his bodyguard were inside. But they were going to go into that doorway, at the mercy of whatever situation was inside, and they were going to settle business and drive back tomorrow, given good luck.
So, yes, he said, about the baggage, and he did. Banichi stood up, Tano and Algini came forward from the back. Bren put on his brocade coat, court garb, taking care to arrange the lace at the cuffs. Jago had taken a rain cloak from the overhead and helped him put it on, protecting his clothes. His bodyguard was due to get soaked—but cloaks on Guild made other Guild nervous, so Guild habitually endured such situations, that was all. The uniforms shed water—up to a point.
Bren took his briefcase under the cloak and got a firm grip on the cloak edges as his bodyguard talked to someone not present. It was, of course, blowing a gale out there, just for their arrival.
Black-uniformed Guild came out to meet them, themselves getting wet, and with no great desire to linger long, it was sure. The bus doors opened. Banichi and Jago descended first, rifles in hand, and Bren followed, with Tano and Algini at his back. Guild-signs flew one side to the other, indecipherable, generally, as they headed directly for the doors. His aishid was fully armed. Not so the Guild who met them, as he noted. But he was the traveler, so that was allowed.
Like the rain cloak, with its hood. The lord was not supposed to be armed. And he wasn’t—this time.
He kept himself as dry as possible on the way into the building, as contained as possible within the living wall of his bodyguard. Servants were waiting, one to take the dripping cloak, others hastening to mop the water off the marble entry. A lightning flash illumined the foyer from the open door as servants hastened to shut those heavy doors.
Then they stood safe from the wind and the tail end of the thunderclap—just a little clatter of rifles being shifted and the busy noise of mops.
“Welcome, nandi,” the receiving Guild-senior said, dripping water. “Lord Machigi is expecting you.”
It was a few steps up from the entry, through other doors and onto the dry, polished main floor. His bodyguard still shed rain as he walked among them, dry now, and clad in court finery, brocade and lace.
And he was very glad to see the historic hall had not suffered in the recent upheaval. The two great pillars of porcelain sea-creatures towered serene as if nothing had ever happened here.
More uniformed Guild opened the doors between the pillars and let them into the gilt-furnished audience hall. Guildsmen across the room immediately opened the polished burlwood doors on the far side, those to the map room.
That was a good omen. Machigi had chosen the more intimate setting for the meeting.
Bren walked on through. Tano and Algini stayed outside, within the audience hall. Banichi and Jago went with him.
The far walls of the map room were massive gilt-arched windows with a view of the storm, the dark clouds, the rain-battered harbor below the heights. The opposing walls supported huge framed maps, and shelves and pigeonholes were full of map cylinders, many of evident antiquity.
Machigi rose from a chair before the massive windows. Near those windows, Machigi’s personal bodyguard stood in attendance on him, men they knew. That was a great relief to see.
Bren bowed on arriving in that area. Machigi bowed slightly. He was a handsome young man. The scar of an old injury crossed his chin and ran under it. He wore a subdued elegance—dark green brocade and a sufficiency, but not an excess, of lace. By such things, one measured a man and his circumstances. Machigi was a lord. A ruler in an occupied house.
And he did not look delighted.
“So,” Machigi said, doubtless taking Bren’s measure, too, the attitude he struck, the degree of humility—or lack of it—in the bow. “Whose are you this time, paidhi?”
“In this venture,” Bren said quietly, “I now represent the aiji-dowager.”
Not the aiji. The aiji-dowager. That was perhaps the answer Machigi had hoped to hear. The nod of his head revised suspicion into acceptance, and he waved a hand at the opposite chair, offering Bren a seat, and sat down himself. Bren set his briefcase on the floor and took the chair, a practiced effort that placed him somewhat gracefully in furniture crafted to atevi stature.
“Tea,” Machigi said to the servants, and beyond that, there could only be polite talk, a ritual settling of minds, before serious conversation.
“Your old rooms are prepared, nand’ paidhi,” Machigi said. “One trusts you came with luggage.”
“One did not presume to bring it in from the bus without direction, nandi, but it is ready.”
“Have it brought to the rooms,” Machigi said, and Bren said, quietly, “Nadiin-ji.”
Banichi, in the edge of his vision, nodded, and it was a certainty it would be done.
“You will share dinner tonight, of course,” Machigi added. “One rejoices to see you fully recovered, nandi.”
“Indeed,” Bren said. “And the same, nandi, one rejoices to see you safely recovered, as well.”
“As fully recovered as we may be, with a foreign occupation in our streets.” That verged uncomfortably on business, before tea was done. “And how does Najida fare?”
“In less happy state than this house,” he said, “but repairs are in progress.”
“And Kajiminda?”
“Has its porch now restored and is busy inventorying its collections.” A sip of tea, a slight shift of topics. “One is certain Lord Geigi’s nephew sold certain things.”
A shift Lord Machigi declined, with: “And Lord Geigi himself? How does he fare?”
That was no easy interface: Geigi and the Taisigin Marid were old allies turned enemies, now turned allies again.
“Well. Quite well, nandi.”
“And does he approve your venture here?”
“He needs not, but in fact he views it quite favorably, nandi. He has, one assures you, no wish to continue hostilities which were largely fomented by others.”
The fact that Machigi had actually been in charge of the agents who had fatally poisoned Geigi’s sister—it was questionable, since those agents had betrayed Machigi, as to which authority had ordered it. It was one of those sorts of questions which, for the peace, had to be set aside, no matter Lord Geigi’s personal feelings. Or Machigi’s innocence, or lack of it.
Thank God tea was about to be served.
The servants had brought a tray, offering a beautiful tea service of the historic, irreplaceable blue porcelain. Courtesy dictated silence while tea was poured and served, and Bren received the atevi-sized cup in both hands, finding the warmth comforting after the rainchi
ll and a conversation that had veered toward a dangerous, dangerous edge.
“One is extremely honored,” he said. “One is honored even to see this beautiful service.”
Machigi saluted him with his cup and took a sip, as Bren did, from a porcelain that could no longer be made. “One was glad to find it intact,” Machigi said, in the former vein, and then, in wry irony, as lightning from the windows cast everything in white, “Lovely weather for a visit, is it not? Do we take it for an omen?”
“Spring in the west,” Bren said with calculated lightness. “But one enjoys the storms.”
“And did you seriously propose to take the bus back to Najida tonight in such weather? One would hope not.”
“Worse,” Bren said, “my destination is the airport, and one would be glad to have better weather.”
“You will go to Shejidan? Or Malguri?”
“Indeed, Shejidan. For the legislative session. One hopes the weather will have blown past by tomorrow and that we will not be delayed by weather.”
“You mean to leave from Separti?”
“No, no, once we are on the road, we will call for the plane, and it should be there long before we are. We shall be in Shejidan faster by small plane than going from Separti. It is enough.”
Sip of tea. “Then one wonders the more at your determination to visit today, in a deluge.”
“The legislative session, nandi. Not to mention our own business. And the necessity to move residence. I shall have my old apartment back this session. They inform me it is ready.”
“Just so.” A little grim amusement. “You are avenged, nand’ paidhi. The Farai lord is dead.”
“One regrets—” It was disingenuous to say that one regretted the Farai lord, who had usurped his apartment, among other offences, was gone. “One regrets the loss to his relatives, at least. But not that he is removed from my premises. Had he not been there, nandi, I would never have come to the coast and we would not be sitting here. So things worked to our mutual advantage.”
“You are leaving, however,” Machigi said, then set the teacup down. “And the aiji-dowager?”
Business. Short and sharp. Bren set down his own cup.
“One hopes you have at no point doubted the dowager’s will to stand by agreements, nandi. The dowager has stated that she will deal with you once you are lord of all the Marid. To her observation, you have become that, or are on the verge of becoming. She will be extremely pleased to deal with you.”
“And where is she? We have information the dowager has left Najida and not landed in Shejidan. That she is at this hour flying on to the East. And we still have no agreement on paper.”
“It is no impediment to the agreement, nandi. She will be back in Shejidan for the session.”
“In Shejidan and as good as on the moon.”
“Realistically, nandi, it would be very awkward to host the signing of so important an agreement at my estate, which is in disarray at the moment—we are in no position to manage security. So—”
“You mean your neighbors and allies are still inclined to shoot Taisigi on sight.”
“The Edi, indeed, nandi. One by no means denies the old enmity poses a problem. Yet once the agreement is signed, once you are an ally of the Edi’s ally, everything will change.”
“So you assure us.”
“When the agreement is made and signed, nandi, and I am working toward that.”
“You are heading off to Shejidan. She is heading for the opposite end of the continent—”
“One would expect she has arrangements to make in the East, particularly involving the agreement. As the highest lord of the East, she will not wish to proceed without at least consulting with her brother lords. She will be quite busy. As will I in Shejidan. And before the legislative session opens, one hopes that there will be a signing.”
“And will she come here? Will she come to Tanaja to sign this agreement?”
“If it is signed here, there will be side issues. Signing in Shejidan will have the full attention of all the provinces; it will have the smell of something the aiji at least countenances, and that will be valuable in negotiating our way further.”
“So you are asking me to leave my people in a crisis, occupied by foreigners, and go off to Shejidan for a holiday, in hope the aiji-dowager will see fit to arrive and honor her promises?”
“You will not have to wait that long, nandi. And a face-to-face agreement, with access to the news media in Shejidan, will be seen in every village throughout the aishidi’tat, with the status of fact, not rumor. Television is very powerful in Ragi lands, where most people have access. It is, for situations like this, extremely useful. People will see you. People will see you and the dowager at one place, acting with one accord, and they will watch your expressions and hear your voices, and then they will believe it is a real agreement.”
“I repeat: I have foreign Guild walking the streets of Tanaja. I have country folk afraid to go out into their own fields, believing they may be shot. I have inbound ships querying us about the safety of the ports. Not to mention I have lost two ministers to assassination and have their departments in completely disarray. I cannot leave my capitol to be seen attending the Ragi aiji in festivities in Shejidan.”
“This agreement does not involve the aiji in Shejidan, and absent your request to speak to him, there will be no meeting. But before you arrive, send a proxy to set up an office, manage Marid affairs and arrange things to your satisfaction; come to Shejidan only when he indicates he is satisfied about the situation. You can then return to the Marid as soon as the ink is dry—or stay as long as pleases you. The aiji-dowager is staking her reputation and her political influence on the success of this agreement, far from putting it at a low priority; and in the coming session she means to put this alliance directly in the minds of legislators who will vote to reshape policy in various directions. It will affect perceptions. It will change the Ragi perception of the Marid. You are young, you are well-favored, and you will televise very, very well. It is important you go…and it will be useful, should someone ask, that you personally support the dowager’s plan for the West Coast.”
“Oh, now we get to it! My appearance assists her cause, confirms the Edi claim and what does it do for the Marid? I shall be seen as ceding the West Coast, to no profit to my people at all!”
“If you, of all people, back this state for the Edi, then it will pass the legislature despite the central clans’ objection—and there will be some objection, one is sure of it, persons who want to keep the status quo. Your appearance and agreement will shock them into rethinking what they believe of the west and south. Once the west coast plan passes, that will strengthen the dowager’s credit when she puts forward the rest of her program—which directly involves her trade agreement with you, nandi.”
“So far, the advantage and the gain are all hers, since our ships are in this port, a long way from hers, and if I agree, she has the entire West Coast in her pocket!”
“Hear me out, nandi. Let me say that Lord Dur has guaranteed support on both parts of her proposal, that for the West Coast, and that regarding the Marid. And so has Lord Geigi.”
“Geigi, do you say?”
“I have his very solemn word on it. For the dowager’s sake, and for mine, he will support you and deal with you. He is her firm ally, and mine, and he will not pursue any possible bloodfeud. Let all that business at Kajiminda recede into the past. As he will. The West Coast will have two new lords in the tribal states, and they will also support you if you support them: I have the word of the Grandmother of the Edi, and Her of the Gan, that if you do support the West Coast plan, and if they get their seats in the legislature, they will vote for the dowager’s agenda despite their past relationships with the Marid.”
“And the moon will turn green. This is a house of glass, paidhi! Every piece of it is poised on spit and promises.”
“It has been difficult to build, nandi, but it stands because the benefit t
o all parties is clear. Foremost of these promises are yours and the dowager’s. She has staked a great deal on this. And on their firmness and fairness, all other things rest.”
“I have staked my life, paidhi, and the lives of my officials—as you well understand. I cannot do more.”
“As do I,” Bren said, “in coming here, considering the feelings in this region. But I judge the risk of your life is not what troubles you, nandi. I do not think you can be frightened by threats. What is at stake is one’s power and reputation. I lay mine on it. The dowager has laid hers on it, no less difficult of recovery, at her age, than is yours, given your region’s situation. We are all at risk. But you are not the man to retreat from a challenge, nandi: I saw that from the first. And I would have advised both sides of this agreement far differently if I in the least doubted your courage or your good sense. By allying with the renegades from the Guild, your neighbors to the north fell into a trap that you were smart enough to avoid. And you have the vision they lacked. Spend a handful of days in Shejidan and sign this agreement, nandi, and you can do more good for the people of the Marid than any leader has done for them in two hundred years. They will protest at first—”
“I shall be lucky if I am not assassinated forthwith!”
“You have now allied with the Guild proper and have their advice and protection. They will defend you with all their resources, nandi, and that includes the law itself. More, I have brought more with me than distant promises. I have brought proposals of a very specific nature, which may help your people understand the safety in this agreement and the prosperity right behind it; I have brought a letter of committment which the aiji-dowager has signed. I have brought a signed statement from Lord Geigi, and a detailed proposal of my own, which the dowager has heard with favor but not yet signed. I have them with me, and I will give them into your possession, for legal record of what we say and do here.”
Machigi regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then suddenly nodded. “We shall hear them.” He snapped his fingers, and Tema, the head of Machigi’s bodyguard, took a step forward. “The ministers should hear this, Tema-ji.”
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