Intruder

by C. J. Cherryh

  “May one ask—is there any indication which clan?”

  “Nandi, the suspicion is—the Kadagidi.”

  The clan alleged to be behind the coup, the murders of Tabini’s staff. The enemies of Lord Tatiseigi.

  “Incredible.”

  “Unfortunately,” Algini said, “credible. The Ajuri, like many smaller clans, took shelter. Their great strength was within Guild clerical administration. When an upheaval came in the Guild—say that certain members of Ajuri clan were visiting the Kadagidi. One is not certain if Lady Damiri herself knows it. But she is due to find out, since the aiji is disposed to doubt her father’s leadership of Ajuri clan as he has always doubted her uncle’s. You will note, of resources the aiji used when in exile and being hunted by his enemies—the aiji did not appeal to Ajuri Clan. Nor did Damiri-daja ever breach security to do so, so far as we have learned.”

  Tano said: “The returning officers of the Guild are dealing with some difficult judgments, nandi, whether certain persons who left and are now considered outlawed did so in good conscience, to resist illicit orders. Murini was essentially a figurehead, with a new Guild leadership guiding his hands. The culpable Guild that went south when the coup collapsed—the Ajuri that went south with them may have been guilty. Or they may only have feared partisanship. It is yet to be decided.”

  “Certain ones went south,” Banichi said grimly, “but certain ones even more dangerous had covered their tracks with skill the Guild teaches—and the younger leadership of the Guild had already targeted the Marid lords for removal…without telling Tabini-aiji, without consulting senior Guild, without respect for the tradition that keeps the Guild from altering the political makeup or balance of the aishidi’tat. That adventurism is what we saw operating, Bren-ji—a great enthusiasm for far too much intervention without restraint. And very possibly with motives we are still unraveling.”

  “If the Guild operation against Machigi had gone forward as the Guild leadership of that hour had intended,” Algini said, “the Guild would likely have created a separate administrative district—one Guild administration governing the Marid, where only the Guild would give orders. The information broke first, you may surmise, when Cenedi cracked the wall of secrecy—how he did that, best not to know. But that Guild operation is what the dowager moved instantly to prevent.”

  “And she sent me to snatch Machigi back from the brink. The plan was to assassinate Machigi and then the others and rule the Marid from Tanaja, to take care of the Shadow Guild—do you think? To put the Guild itself at the top of the aishidi’tat?”

  “We are still finding out,” Algini said. “Now you know far more of Guild affairs than you should, and we are all but Jago in violation of a general directive.”

  “By all means, add me to it,” Jago said. “I refuse to be left out. At least, Bren-ji, we believe the Guild will now stabilize, if we do not have another upset or a revelation of more problem man’chiin. Very high officers are being eliminated. And Ajuri influence has gone from very high to ruin.”

  “We are again operating clan by clan,” Banichi said, “a principle that ought not to have been abandoned by certain Shejidani units who made a critical decision to accept central leadership and directives above those of their clans, because certain clans persuaded them they were acting selflessly. Machigi’s bodyguard functioned excellently—they are regional, and they obeyed the old rules, defending their own lord, as they should, in every respect.”

  “Unfortunately,” Algini said, “no place including the Bujavid will be as safe as we would wish, for perhaps several years to come, and those who have retaken power in the Guild are not young, nor was the retaking of power without bloodletting. We have a relatively limited time to mortar these arrangements back together before we start losing key elements.”

  It was a grim report. One hardly knew what to say.

  “Protecting you, Bren-ji,” Banichi said, “is of critical importance right now. You intend certain things that your enemies will wish to prevent. The renegade Guild—Shadow Guild is an apt name for them—is particularly anxious to see the cell phone bill pass. It would immensely aid their communications, since they are being worked out of the Guild network, and they still believe you are in favor of it, so they have not moved against you. Your opposition to that bill will upset them almost as much as your support of Lord Machigi, and it will surprise them far more.”

  “You are one of five individuals,” Tano said, “that the Guild intends to protect at any cost.”

  Tabini, Cajeiri, Ilisidi, Geigi. And him. He would have thought, until this morning, that Lady Damiri would certainly be on the list.

  But perhaps no longer.

  God, what a mess.

  He would add two more to the Guild’s list: Machigi and Tatiseigi; but they might be in the second tier.

  Granted that he was at all right about who was in the first five.

  But he should not ask. If Tano had wanted to tell him, Tano would have. And if not Tano, Algini.

  “One will not ask to know further,” Bren said, “and one will cease all levity regarding the detested vest, nadiin-ji. One will not wish to make your job harder.”

  “One is gratified by that, Bren-ji,” Banichi said.

  “One is, from this side, gratified to have this much information,” Bren said, “and one assures you of confidentiality, unless you signal me that you wish me to pass along certain things.”

  “Leave that to the Guild itself, Bren-ji,” Algini said, “on Guild channels.”

  “Will you need to leave us during this, Gini-ji?”

  “No,” Algini said. “No, nandi. I shall not leave your service. I have made that clear in the Guild. But information to this household will never be deficient again, unless Tano and I go missing, and it will get to the aiji’s guard if we have to deliver it. We have established our own checks to make a silence detectible in certain quarters. We shall know. And should a signal come, that there is an assault on that system—we shall inform you, you will inform Tabini-aiji, we shall track it, and we will act. Enough—before we rouse more questions.” Algini gave one of his rare gentle smiles. “One is beyond glad to stay in this aishid, Bren-ji. Fortunately your position on the target list makes that possible for us.”

  “Then one is glad to be a target,” Bren said with a definite nod, and rose and left his bodyguard to discuss things they might not say in his hearing.

  Tatisiegi was likely one topic of interest. He was sure his bodyguard would tell him if there were the least whisper of a response from Tatiseigi. But there still was apparently no answer, no query, no action. Yet. And one could only worry.

  The old man could do several things with the porcelain. He could refuse the gift. He could refuse the meeting. One would think, in that event, the crate would turn up back at his door fairly expeditiously, with or without an explanatory note. Tatiseigi had not done that—so he had, at least temporarily, accepted it.

  Tatiseigi might be, at this moment, meeting with his own associates and deciding what to do about the item…and the paidihi-aiji.

  His bodyguard might know that answer. But inquiring into that sort of knowledge was like lifting the lid on something cooking: the intervention might ruin what might have worked itself out, given time, given the passing of delicate, unofficial hints. There were things one should not know until it was time to know.

  It might have been a thorough mistake, sending that gift. Now that the deed was done, he had no dearth of second thoughts, and more of them since he’d talked to Tabini. The old man simply detested humans, on a visceral level, never mind that they’d had to deal with one another, and there was no sign of that opinion shifting. That was a problem, not only dealing with Tatiseigi but in dealing with any of the conservatives. By the very nature of what they believed, they detested humans and never wanted to deal with one, or the effect humans had had on the world, and that was that.

  But the world was the world, and there was no changing what had happ
ened. They’d tried living side by side. They’d tried ignoring one another. Now—

  Now they had to try living side by side again. Ultimately.

  If Tatiseigi didn’t declare war on him. Possibly Ilisidi could get him out of it, if it went utterly bad. But Tabini had said it: he was in it, he had started something, and that was that.

  He had a little lunch in his office. He answered a few letters between bites of sandwich and sips of tea.

  He had had the meeting he had most dreaded. He did not yet have the one he wished for.

  But he faced a much more pleasant one in the afternoon.

  Far into the other wing, downstairs, was the paidhi’s office. It had started out as a quiet little office, answering schoolchildren’s questions about humans and the paidhi’s job, when the paidhi’s job had entailed explaining the aiji’s new technological programs.

  Then it had fielded anguished queries from village lords wanting more industry and other district lords irate that they had a factory upwind of their gardens.

  The space program had brought letters from the certifiably confused, who were convinced that the atmosphere could be punctured, letting all the air out, and it had also brought more thoughtful letters asking such things as, if here was what there was everywhere, what was out there?

  A good part of the paidhi’s job—the part that wasn’t translating for Tabini or representing his programs, or considering the social and economic effects of human technology proposed to be given out to the continent—was serving as an information office and trying to scotch rumors before they acquired passengers. Rumor management had become nearly a full-time job for part of his staff before the coup, and it had resumed it after Tabini had come back to office. They were good at what they did—the letter they could not answer reasonably and fairly convincingly in his name was a rare one.

  Since the restoration of Tabini-aiji, too—that was to say, for the last half year—he had gotten a gratifying number of letters of support and also queries about jobs—

  It at least balanced a new flood of angry accusations and death threats, persons who charged his influence had brought about the coup and misled the aiji. Those he took quite seriously—and likewise a scatter of less rational letters blaming him for all manner of ills, including the spread of radio waves through buildings.

  He could have had recourse to the Guild for the threatening letters, considering that credible threats of bodily harm outside Guild action were in fact illegal. He had not reported most of them, as general policy. A few more serious and likely threats, yes, had been investigated, but so far as he knew, no investigation had yet turned up anything serious or organized; at least that was the case before he had gone off to the Marid and dealt with Machigi.

  The regular complainants (and he had a list of those) were going to have an apoplexy when they heard about peacemaking with the Marid and about the Edi and Gan acquiring seats in the legislature. Death threats were going to come out of the woodwork. He could only think about Algini’s warning.

  Years, Algini had said, of not knowing if the noisy ones were the problem. He personally bet on the ones who said nothing at all.

  “Nand’ paidhi!” he heard whispered as he entered the office, and the head secretary, elderly Daisibi, one of Tano’s remote kin, came down the aisle between desks in all haste, with a happy expression on his face.

  “Nandi! One is so happy to see you safe!”

  “One is very pleased with the work from this office,” he answered, bowing in turn. “One is very grateful for your handling the inquiries—and one hopes to make your work a little easier, nadi-ji. Is there anything extraordinarily urgent since my return?”

  “Nothing extraordinary, nandi. Of course the children write. People from the remote districts do ask about the cell phone issue…”

  God. He could not have his office out of step with him on that.

  “…a few direct threats, which we have referred to the Bujavid offices…”

  That was normal.

  “…forecasts of doom from certain ‘counters…”

  Normal. The paidhi attracted lightning. The number-counters who worked up fortunes and predictions and declarations of felicity or infelicity for various believers tended not to give any innovation good numbers. In this case, he was going to agree with them.

  “…recommendations for policy…”

  Some would be sane, and many would not.

  “…queries about the aliens…”

  People should be worried about that. But not panicked. The fact that there were aliens, and that there was more than one kind of them out there was known—but it didn’t sound as though it was generating any great fear. Yet.

  “…and inquiries from Transport, Trade, and the Messengers, nandi, regarding the committee schedules with the next session.”

  The latter were business. Entirely.

  “I shall have to issue a new policy statement, nadi. For the phones, one has studied the cell phone issue. My opinion—and this is not yet for public issue—is increasingly negative on that matter.”

  “Negative, nandi.” The old man absorbed that in some bemusement and nodded.

  “Be warned, too: you will shortly be inundated by inquiries on west coast policy, as more and more of the recent action at Najida and Tanaja appears on the news, and I shall have a statement ready for you. Nadi-ji, this will be a difficult legislative session. First of all, there is a new Maschi lord. Lord Geigi will be your source on that matter—it is a quiet arrangement with Lord Geigi’s approval. Lord Machigi is about to be the aiji-dowager’s guest in the capital, and I shall be personally involved with that visit. You may be sure there will be prophecies of doom from more than the ’counters, I fear. Lord Machigi is expected here to sign an agreement with the aiji-dowager. And threats regarding that matter should be reported, to me, to the object of the threat, to the aiji, and to the Guild. Take them very seriously.”

  The old man looked as if he had swallowed something unexpected. “Yes, nandi.”

  “Peace with the Marid is a complex matter,” Bren said. “But in general, I shall be working toward that agreement. I shall be talking to various committees affected by it, among them those you have already named, so I shall immediately contact them today. We shall provide this office a detailed statement on the Marid matter and on the West Coast arrangements as soon as possible, but we cannot release anything ahead of my reports to the legislature, either on this peace proposal or on the cell phone issue.”

  “One entirely understands that, nandi.”

  “I have caused you great difficulties. Among them, I am facing the Merchants’ Guild, the Transport Guild, and the Messengers’ Guild, and I am arranging an exhibit of Marid art in the lower public hall, in advance of meetings with the corresponding Ministers and Committees. Trade will have early access to the exhibit.” He reached into his inside breast pocket and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “These, Sibi-ji, are the essential answers to questions that will arise. I wish to provide these in printed reports, for each Guild, legislative committee and Minister. The reports may be essentially identical in some items, but not in specifics of the interests of the parties. I need not tell you the sort of thing. Appropriate room arrangement is also essential. Accurate reports one must have, with photographs and examples, specific numbers. You have done admirably with each of these three concerns in past. Now you must outdo yourselves, because certain persons will be looking for infelicity.”

  “These are our honor to manage, nandi!”

  “One offers the most profound respect, Sibi-ji, and one has absolute confidence in your discretion. And if you will accept my suggestion, Sibi-ji, answer or refer only the most important inquiries today, send the staff home early to rest, and tomorrow, and for subsequent days, arrange for meals to be brought in, because staff must work overtime. You are, rest assured, absolutely indispensable, and when this is done, if I survive this next session, I shall personally send you and your staff and immediat
e families on a half-month paid leave. You and your staff will deserve it by then. You will have earned my profound gratitude.”