Betrayer

by C. J. Cherryh

  It was a last ditch defense Jago was talking about. A door wedge was exactly that, one of several simple items his guard traveled with, a simple wedge designed to immobilize a door, so that anybody breaking in would not have easy access.

  Barring the door in the next room could not keep him safe longer than a minute or so. Attackers wouldn’t care about Machigi’s woodwork.

  But if intruders split up, some coming after him, it could give his bodyguard maybe that one more minute, in a floor plan that, with that inner hallway, roughly described a circle. They wouldn’t all be in one place.

  Jago stayed with him, standing. She was listening to something in the connection his bodyguard had with each other.

  She said something, two monosyllables, the sort of coded communication Guild used for brevity. She perhaps got an answer back and kept listening intently.

  So are we going to have intruders with explosives up here next? Bren wondered. He had his gun, right over there in the top bureau drawer. He was going to go over and get it if Jago in any wise indicated there was trouble coming. He’d fight for his bodyguard, as long as there were any of them with him. If it was just him left—probably, pretty surely, he thought, he would shoot someone to protect himself. He knew for damned certain he didn’t want to become a Marid hostage, asking Tabini or the dowager to bargain to get him back.

  He wasn’t sure they would bargain anything to get him back. And they should not. Hell of a thing, to work for years to try to knit up the fractures in the aishidi’tat and possibly to end up a pawn in the hands of the people trying to take it apart.

  If that was the case down there.

  Guild renegades. It was not a pleasant prospect.

  Jago turned, finally, still listening, but gave him a high sign—progress.

  So she was getting good news from somewhere, and if Banichi was tapped in anywhere at all, it had to be to Machigi’s guard, so if he was getting good news, it had to come from that source.

  Good news, from his viewpoint, because it confirmed what Machigi’s guard had told his guard. Truthfulness on Machigi’s side was certainly good news.

  It was good news, too, to think that Machigi’s guard was still alive, still out there.

  And it was good news because Machigi’s bodyguard was concerned that his bodyguard didn’t decide to take him and make a break for it. Machigi’s guard could be sure they wouldn’t join any other side inside the Marid, but they could certainly mess up any plan by bolting in mistrust.

  Encouraging set of thoughts.

  Not definitive, but encouraging.

  Jago stayed on her feet, pacing a few steps now and again, listening and not talking at all. He kept silent, watching her for any clues whether she still liked what she was hearing or not. She was restless. She wanted to be out there. She wanted to be doing something. He knew Jago.

  A fairly long time he watched that pacing.

  Then Jago stopped moving.

  Something was going on. He said nothing, just waited—a much longer time. Jago was staring at the other wall, at the sitting room door, as happened. And she didn’t move a muscle, a suddenly rigid black statue, armed, on a hair trigger and heeding something he couldn’t hear.

  Are they coming up here? he wondered.

  Are we about to defend this place?

  I’d surrender to whatever happens if doing it could keep them alive.

  If they were alive, I’d have options. I’d fight for them, all right. I’d fight for them my way, to do with any other Marid lord what I’d hoped to do with Machigi.

  That could work.

  If I can keep them alive, I can get us all out of this.

  I should get up. Go out there. Tell Banichi we’re not going to fight. Let me deal with whoever it is . . .

  Jago shifted a foot suddenly, looked his way, meaning business. “Bren-ji. Go.”

  To the other room, she meant. Bar the door.

  “Jago-ji, let me deal with them.”

  Fierce shake of her head.

  He was getting up. It was a process, and Jago strode over and lifted under his arm. He protested. “I can deal with whoever—”

  Lips next to his ear and a gentle simultaneous reorientation toward the other door. “Lord Machigi’s guard is coming.”

  Lord Machigi’s guard was coming.

  Reinforcements? Or was Machigi attacking them? All of a sudden he didn’t understand what was going on, and not understanding, he could offer no help at all to his bodyguard. He yielded to Jago’s insistence and went out into the hall, down to their room, at a fast walk.

  The table right by the door had a small array of odd objects he didn’t recognize,and a gun: and the wedge. He picked the wedge up, shut the door, started to bend over . . .

  With the vest, that was a problem. He dropped the wedge on the floor, managed to nudge it into place with his foot, picked up a secondary doorstop, a clever metal piece that fitted into the crack on the hinge side.

  Then he took up the gun, which was rather large even for atevi hands, and took the safety off.

  He wished they’d left one of their communications units with him. He was standing here holding the fort—but the people he cared about weren’t in the fort in question, and everything he’d thought was going on, wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would.

  It was either fairly all right out there or going very damned bad.

  And if he had to set off this cannon he was holding, the recoil was going to blow him across the room.

  He waited. He heard the outer door open. No shots followed. That was good.

  He waited a very long time.

  And finally footsteps approached the door. If Guild was involved, they wouldn’t rush a door dead center, and they’d expect a stop to be in place. They might blow the door out. And maybe him with it. He shifted over against the inside wall.

  A knock, then.

  “Bren-ji?”

  Jago’s voice, calm and ordinary. He lowered the heavy gun and let go the breath he’d held the last several seconds.

  “Shall I open?” he asked.

  “You may,” she said, and with great relief he laid the gun on the table, pried out the top doorstop, and kicked the bottom one out of the way to unlock and open the door.

  Jago looked entirely unruffled. “Tano and Algini have gone into the hall to speak with Machigi’s men. They declare they have just taken care of the local problem. They say certain other suspects have left the city or are headed in that direction—not as good news as might be, but one can at least rest easier here.”

  So his bodyguard was talking directly with Machigi’s security, who had taken out infiltrators. And maybe let others escape. Or not. Damn, he hated partial information.

  “Of what man’chi were they?” he asked. “Do we have any clue, Jago-ji?”

  Granted they could believe the information Machigi’s guard was passing them.

  Jago didn’t sign him to silence. She was trusting it was now safe to talk. She said, “We have no information yet, but Tano and Algini will be asking for details.”

  “One would like to sit by the fire for a while.” He began to walk with Jago down the hall, toward the sitting room. The thought of his comfortable chair and a cup of strong tea drew him.

  And information. Whatever had just gone on—he needed to know. There was division in the Marid. Or someone was attempting to foment division. Whether one or more of the other clans was behind whatever had happened, or whether it was renegade Guild either independently or associated with one of—

  Jago stopped in her tracks. He stopped, just short of the door to the sitting room. She was listening to something—and then she reached and opened the door for him.

  He walked ahead. Banichi was there, standing by the outer door, listening to something, too.

  He didn’t ask. Things were going on. Tano and Algini were out there exposed to whatever politics might be afoot.

  Could there be any issue between Machigi’s intentions and his
bodyguard? The bodyguard, granted they were both native and Guild, should have solid man’chi to their lord.

  They might, however, disagree with their lord about what posed a threat and what didn’t. They were capable of acting contrary to orders on that issue—God knew his own bodyguard would do it. He and Machigi were in a similar situation in that regard: there were two sets of bodyguards doing their own negotiating and, in the case of Machigi’s, apparently deciding a certain interest in the household posed a threat, under the changed circumstances of the paidhi’s talks with Machigi. So they had moved to take it out before it could so much as twitch in self-defense.

  Machigi might find himself having to mop up the diplomatic consequences inside his own district.

  Which could be an advantage, if Machigi’s bodyguard had just, in the process, tipped the scales toward the dowager’s proposal.

  “Lord Machigi wishes to see you, nandi,” Banichi said, breaking his silence, “in half an hour, in the map room.”

  Guild talked with Guild. Lords talked with lords. He had Machigi to deal with . . . the thought struck him—it was Tano and Algini out there talking to at least one of Machigi’s bodyguard. Algini, who had been high-up Guild, under the previous Guildmaster.

  The question was—and he likely would never know—exactly what Algini was now and whether Algini had done any negotiating on Guild matters that neither Machigi nor the paidhi-aiji knew about. Possibly Banichi and Jago didn’t know that answer. Possibly even Tano didn’t.

  Damned right the Guild’s ruling hierarchy up in Shejidan was concerned about what was going on down here. In one single day they’d gone from a debate on outlawing all of Machigi’s Guild members to—

  Maybe they were adopting a different position and were making their own offer.

  Hell of a situation. He had come here representing the dowager.

  By the terms on which Machigi was willing to talk, he was now representing Machigi.

  And now half of his aishid was very likely representing the Assassins’ Guild in what was a districtwide crisis.

  “One doubts we will be discussing the maps or my proposals in this meeting,” he said wryly, wishing he could stay safe in this apartment for, oh, the next few days. “But yes, Banichi-ji, one will be glad of the opportunity.”

  6

  Nand’ Toby ought not to be coming upstairs, but there was no reasonable way to stop him. And Barb-daja was with nand’ Toby, helping him.

  Cajeiri just climbed the steps behind them, with Antaro and Jegari in front of him, on the theory that the two of them could stop both of them falling backward.

  Nand’ Toby wanted to talk to Great-grandmother directly. And there were very few people Cajeiri thought might go up against mani to get an answer, but nand’ Toby, while ordinarily very quiet and polite, had gotten himself dressed and declared he was going upstairs, and that was that. Barb-daja had wanted her cosmetics, which were down on the boat, and had gotten upset about it, but nand’ Toby had talked her out of that.

  So they all went upstairs. Nand’ Toby was out of breath by the time they reached the upper hall, and Jegari unceremoniously took hold of his left arm—Barb-daja had his right arm—and made him stand still a moment.

  It was a chance to get out in front of the expedition and maybe to keep mani from blaming him for nand’ Toby being mad at her. “You wait there, Toby-nandi,” Cajeiri said. “I’ll find Cenedi.”

  Nand’ Toby was too out of breath to argue. Cajeiri took that as agreement and hurried off with Antaro in close company, past two worried household servants and Ramaso-nadi. The whole household knew that nand’ Toby was supposed to stay downstairs, and it was clear to anyone now that there was some sort of trouble keeping him there.

  Cajeiri went straight to mani’s door, since that was where one generally found Cenedi, and Antaro knocked before Cajeiri opened the door and went in.

  Mani and Cenedi both were there, with Nawari, and they were talking to Veijico, who was sitting in a chair in front of them.

  Mistake. He had walked in on something that was not going to put either mani or Cenedi in a good mood.

  Great-grandmother turned her attention toward him, shifting her cane ominously to rest squarely on the floor. Cajeiri pulled a fast bow to his great-grandmother and a lesser bow to Cenedi, who was standing, looked sternly down at him.

  “Mani-ma,” he began, “nand’ Toby has come upstairs. Barb-daja has told him nand’ Bren is in the Marid. He has questions.”

  “He understands the Marid, does he,” mani asked.

  A third bow. Fast. It gave him time to get a breath. “One is sure he understands, mani-ma. He wishes to talk to you. One apologizes. He is very upset. One dared not restrain him. One is not certain . . .”

  Thump! went the dreaded cane against the carpet. “Uncertainty gets no respect, Great-grandson. That is why he has come up here against your advice.”

  “Yes, mani. But—”

  “But he is out the hall with his questions, is he?”

  “Yes, mani, in the dining hall. I told him to wait.”

  “We shall speak to him.” Mani thumped the cane more gently and gave a wave of her hand. Nawari had moved from near the wall to stand beside Cenedi. Veijico quietly got up from her chair and retreated to the edge of the room to stand. At a flick of mani’s other hand, Nawari went to the door and opened it, while Veijico, who was probably glad not to be debriefing to Great-grandmother for a moment, tried her best to be furniture.

  Nand’ Toby and Barb-daja arrived, both very pale and very frail-looking . . . so much so that mani instantly waved her hand and ordered Nawari to have the staff bring tea and cakes. And Veijico—

  “You ! Chairs for them! Be useful!”

  Veijico moved in an instant, and meanwhile nand’ Toby and Barb-daja both bowed very properly. Veijico had chairs under them as fast as possible, and they were able to sit down, nand’ Toby first.

  “Well!” mani said. “We shall have a nice cup of tea. And you, boy!”

  “Mani!” Cajeiri said, immediately standing forward.

  “Inform nand’ Toby that we have heard from the paidhi-aiji, and he is faring very well, accommodated in lordly estate and courteously dealt with in Lord Machigi’s house.”

  He translated that quickly. Nand’ Toby already knew something about that, from Barb-daja.

  “Thank you,” Toby said in Ragi, with a little nod, and said flatly in Mosphei: “I want to know why she sent him there.”

  “They are grateful for the news, mani, and hope to understand.”

  “Pish! Let us anticipate their questions and do quick business, since the tea will arrive quickly. We are relatively confident Lord Machigi has become worried about his own survival and has found his neighbors plotting against him, thinking him young and in over his head in trouble with the aishidi’tat, all his plots having collapsed. The paidhi on his own initiative has extended an offer from us. Lord Machigi is considering it. Should Lord Machigi deal badly with the paidhi-aiji, he would not long survive our retaliation, and he knows it. And if he will not deal with us reasonably at all, it is not likely he will long survive his neighbors’ actions, especially since we would then File with the Guild. Lord Machigi is a brilliant young man, attempting to counter what is going on in the north of the Marid, but his operation on the west coast has been infiltrated, and he is in danger on two fronts. If his precarious situation becomes known to his subclans, his position will be substantially weakened, and he will not see the summer.”

  Cajeiri drew a breath: mani grew very angry if anyone missed any of her spoken messages, but he did not know how to say all that in ship-speak. “Mani is answering fast before tea comes and nobody can talk. She’s pretty sure nand’ Bren is safe, because Lord Machigi is in bad trouble. His enemies in the Marid want to kill him because he’s very smart and they’re scared of him. The Guild was going to kill him, and Great-grandmother stopped that. And if he did anything to nand’ Bren, Great-grandmother would kill him.�
� He could not think of all the words he wanted. His ship-speak words were going away under pressure, even though he had been practicing with nand’ Toby, and that upset him. “Lord Machigi’s enemies have taken over what he’s doing here at Najida. His Marid allies want him dead. So he’s in trouble, and mani knows it. She sent nand’ Bren there to get Machigi out of the trouble he’s in, and then he’d better listen to her.”

  He got it all out, in scrambled order, but he must have said it fairly right. Nand’ Toby listened, frowning a little, and slowly looked happier.

  “One is very grateful, nand’ dowager,” nand’ Toby said in passable Ragi. “One is grateful for your patience.”

  That made Great-grandmother happier. She set her hands on her cane and nodded back.

  What mani had said made a sort of sense. And mani was getting phone calls from nand’ Bren.

  And Machigi had gone from attacking them to sending Barb-daja and Veijico back. So maybe the other lords in the Marid were starting to worry about Machigi.

  When one played chess with Great-grandmother, one really had to watch everything on the board.

  He thought of questions. He was suddenly absolutely bubbling over with questions.

  But just then the servants brought tea in, and everybody had to be quiet a while.

  7

  Tano and Algini arrived back to the suite half a minute before Machigi’s guards showed up at the door as an escort to the conference with Machigi.

  So there was no time for Tano and Algini to indicate what they had discussed, either with whom, or where, but it seemed highly unlikely that the arrival close at their backs was coincidence. They were probably, Bren thought, the same individuals Tano and Algini had been talking to.

  Banichi and Jago elected to go with him as his own escort, their usual divison of labor, both armed, the same as the aggregation of Machigi’s guards around him—but they were outnumbered three to one.

  Tano and Algini had given them no sign that things were going badly—at least that Bren had caught. More, Banichi and Jago had eased off indefinably—they didn’t feel quite as tense as they had been on the last outing.