The end result, signed and sealed with a profusion of ribbons, lay on the table with the documents yet to be finished, that copy to be sent back to the archive of the aishidi’tat, the rest kept individually. That document governed the association consisting of the aiji-dowager, Bregani, and Machigi, for the simple purpose of extending the rail line from Bregani’s capital, Koperna, down the coast to Machigi’s capital, Tanaja, in the Taisigin Marid . . . that was the agreement signed last night.
Awaiting signature this morning was another three-way document of association, that of the dowager and Lord Topari and Machigi, regarding transport and storage for the project. The two documents were interlaced in political effect: breach one, and it triggered the other, not to mention what the dowager could do on her own.
“Lord Topari is on his way,” Jago said, “with Guild escort. It is just past sunrise. It is snowing heavily.”
The hour, Bren had determined, made some sort of refreshments a good idea, in the likely event no one else had come from a formal breakfast, hence the trays of assorted little cakes: Bindanda had sent those out, his special recipe. They were well-received.
Having just had as much breakfast as he dared, Bren stayed mostly to tea. Nomari gathered up some small items from the food offering and shared them with Husai. Machigi helped himself to a small plate, and shared with his bodyguard. Bregani and Mirai just sipped tea and looked worried . . . not here to sign, but here to witness, and to have breakfast, with a bodyguard not their own. Their presence added to the pomp and circumstance of the affair, a presence that would be particularly significant to Lord Topari, especially given the aiji-dowager’s absence.
“He is here,” Banichi said quietly, and indeed, with a clang and clatter outside, the outside steps went down, Guild went on alert, and the side door of the Red Car opened to a white world and snowy figures inbound, two Guild security guards first. Beyond was a view of a snowy morning in mountain shadow, the station platform and, beyond it, the town square and its great house of a design unique in the world—interconnected wooden buildings, set on terraces to provide entry in deep snowfall. It was still summer in the lowlands, but fat snow clumps blew in with the fur-clad party, and the shutting and latching of the door against the whiteness threw everything back into shadow, warmth, and golden light.
Lord Topari brought in, besides his Guild escort, his entire personal aishid, four local folk with hunting pieces: no question, even by Guild standards, that the men would be good shots, if not expert in other things. Topari himself swept off his fur cap, with snow quickly beginning to melt on his furs and on his slightly disarranged dark hair. He had come in formal queue and ribbon, and, as he shed the furs, it became clear that he had worn his Shejidani court dress for the occasion, brocade and lace—until one came down to the fur boots—he had contended at some point with snow over his knees, and it clung and melted.
Bren hastened to meet the man, hastened to bow politely and explain the situation.
“The dowager is very pleased, nandi, at your quick response. She was waked this morning by the passage of that train—”
“It gave us no information, nand’ paidhi! If we had remotely expected, one assures you—”
“Certainly you would have. The dowager entirely understands. The reason the dowager is not here for the reception is her need to deal with this situation, to be absolutely sure that Hasjuran remains safe, and that we have clear understandings of what actions Tabini-aiji may be taking.”
“Tabini-aiji!”
“He will by no means countenance a move from the south to threaten Hasjuran, let all potential enemies understand that. And the presence of Lord Machigi, of the Association of the Southern Marid, cosignatory with yourself and with her, and cosignatory with Lord Bregani of the northern tier in the other document you see displayed, is precisely to make it clear that Hasjuran is becoming a key point, a gateway for peaceful trade with the south, and a barrier to enemies of the aishidi’tat. This agreement will have profound and important effects. The dowager has asked me to welcome you in proper style and extend utmost courtesies, and she has already signed and sealed the agreement which I am to present. She asks you kindly understand, while she attends the matter of identifying the train that passed us, and coordinates next steps. There will quickly be next steps, nandi, of that we are sure. And this agreement is an important part of it.”
Topari did not look put off. It was an earnest, honest expression on that occasionally confused face, and one felt—not quite ashamed enough. Putting the best face on the dowager’s decisions was, in fact, the paidhi’s job. But he might have laid just a little too much emphasis on next steps and Hasjuran’s connection to them. He hoped he was telling the truth about Hasjuran’s safety and future profit.
“She asks me to assure you that by the agreement you will sign this morning, the integrity and security of Hasjuran will become a matter meriting direct action on her part.” That much was true. “And any move against you and yours will now be taken as an attack on her and on lord Machigi as well, entailing defense obligations and fulfillment of treaty obligations across the aishidi’tat. And meriting my own personal concern, nandi, though I am not a signatory in this matter. I take it as a matter of honor, far as my estate may be from Hasjuran.” He meant that part sincerely. They owed Topari. He felt personally obliged, and a little aggrieved, now that the dowager had put him in this position; and thoroughly determined not to let this quaint and quiet place and its fairly naive lord suffer harm in consequence of the dowager’s actions in the Marid. “This signing places you under her protection, no small assurance, you may count on it. You have met Lord Machigi. But not your immediate neighbor to the south, I believe.”
Eyes widened. Topari half-turned to look at the others, apprehension evident. “One has not, nand’ paidhi. I am distressed to have walked past . . .”
“Lord Bregani, allow me to present your neighbor to the north. And, Lord Topari, this is Murai-daja, of the Farai, and their daughter Husai-daja.”
“Nandiin,” Topari said, with a proper little bow, properly reciprocated, and Bren rapidly sorted protocols and mental notes.
“So. Please enjoy light refreshment the dowager has provided us,” Bren said, and signaled the head of staff, waiting by the table, to begin tea service all around. “Lord Topari, the others know, and I can inform you, that measures are being taken in Senjin to break association with the Dojisigin, and join Lord Machigi and the Taisigin in creating a new rail connection. We are relatively sure the train that passed us is related to that matter, and seeking to forestall problems.”
“Are we at war, nandiin?” Topari asked uneasily.
From serve-the-tea to worst case in a heartbeat. And over tea. That was Topari. But Topari had asked. He had to answer it, etiquette aside.
“Not unless Lord Tiajo attempts to prevent it, nandi. Your agreement with Lord Machigi and the dowager is properly none of Lord Tiajo’s business, and rest assured she will be made certain of that if she seeks to interfere. Lord Bregani . . .” Bren paused, as a servant was providing Lord Bregani with a teacup. “Let us assure you, this morning, too, that Guild forces report they are holding steady down in your district and that Koperna is quiet. I have no information as yet when the dowager will make a decision, but I am confident she will not delay too long in getting you back to Koperna.”
“You are leaving us,” Topari said.
“We are certainly not leaving you to mischief,” Bren said quickly. “And we are certain concern for your safety is part of the business that has claimed the dowager’s attention this morning. Please, let us proceed to the signing to have that surely done, in the case of any interruption in our business, and then we shall resume a brief refreshment afterward. The dowager is well aware of Lord Tiajo’s record, and this document you are about to sign will assure that the rails remain safe and open to the aishidi’tat. Please be assured. And one particu
larly recommends the little cakes. I believe you remember them, Lord Topari.”
“One does, yes.” Topari was nervous, justifiably. He swallowed half his cup at one go, ate the other half of a teacake, and licked his fingers afterward. His eyes moved to the signing table and the waxjack, and nervously from detail to detail in this famous car, in this place, with these people, these lords and ladies, these authoritative servants and bodyguards with their procedures, all different than Hasjuran’s easy-going court.
“Come,” Bren said. “You shall sign first, nandi, right between the dowager’s signature and Lord Machigi’s. Lord Machigi, do you mind?”
“Not in the least,” Machigi said, with a wave of his hand. “I am right behind you.”
That he was, the sole other signatory, and one of two reasons for Lord Topari’s anxious glances. Neither Machigi nor Bregani had any close dealings with Hasjuran, excepting exchanges between shippers, and trust was a still unexplored territory.
“I promise,” Bren said under his breath, for Topari alone, as the documents were being laid out and the ribbons arranged, “I am very certain that you are making the best possible move for Hasjuran. Your isolation will never cease, which I think is your preference, nandi. But your importance as a gateway is only dawning. Let me tell you, I personally have associates in the heavens, aboard the space station, who can provide you with additional benefits—like the same weather warnings Lord Machigi will receive down in the Marid. You can be warned of winter storms from a vantage even your mountains do not reach. And you will see improvement in communications.”
Topari stared at him for a moment . . . looking down to do it, but it was a hopeful and respectful stare. “Can you say so, paidhi?”
“It is all one piece, nandi. The weather warnings will come with a system Lord Geigi is setting in place for Machigi’s ships. And your elevation and your situation are an asset in establishing a weather station. There will be all manner of advantages to come.”
Not to mention—and he did not—that it was not only storms the system could track. When Lord Geigi had shown the dowager the world from space, and casually pointed out the storms of the Southern Ocean, and how they moved . . . after-dinner conversation that evening had meandered on to proposals some on Earth would call pointless and useless—Lord Geigi’s desire, for one thing, to map the whole globe, when everybody knew there was no land to be had but the several great islands and the continent. Ocean, people understood, covered the rest of the world.
Not so, Geigi had said, and showed a very curious view the Ship had gained, and pointed to a series of three parallel clouds. Volcanoes, Geigi said, in a chain of very small islands, which he also showed. So, however small, there was land in the Great Ocean.
And, Geigi said, the storms that swept that expanse were massive, and if the rocky headlands of Mospheira and Crescent Island did not help break up the seas and if Mount Adam Thomas and the central ridge did not break up the weather, coastal civilization on the mainland would have had a much harder time of it.
A strange, strange evening, that had been. Geigi had even proposed submarine ships to cross that space and explore the ocean bottoms.
So here he was, standing by a rural lord of the most remote town in the aishidi’tat, telling him about Geigi’s weather system, and how it could serve him.
He would never have predicted Geigi’s project would result in the dowager proposing a treaty with Machigi, of all people—proposing a sea route and steel ships and an eastern harbor, which no one in their right mind would have expected could ever exist, economically. And here they were about to expand on the concept and link on another piece of the Marid. One still doubted it would ever take shape, though the dowager was investing steel and political effort in Machigi’s port . . . by doing that, she had convinced Machigi to accept some of the northern guilds, and gotten the northern guilds, notably the Assassins’ Guild, oldest of all guilds, not only to acknowledge her Eastern branch, which Cenedi headed, but to acknowledge irregular operations such as Machigi’s local militia, and personal guard; and Topari’s, Topari’s little state not seeing the need for professional Assassins . . . well, until now, perhaps, that Ilisidi had brought reasons to Topari’s doorstep.
Who knew but what the steel ships would work? Who knew but what submarines were feasible, despite the hazards of the Southern Ocean. Or the Great Ocean itself.
Submarine ships. Irregular guilds. Weather satellites—which Geigi was preparing—and the promise of other wonders.
It was a strange place for the mind to drift, watching first Topari, then Machigi sign and seal a document that, on the surface of things, simply declared Topari might support the dowager’s agreement with Machigi, saying nothing of Bregani.
But when added to the document which the dowager had signed with both Machigi and Bregani, the structure, atevi-style, began to appear. Bricks in a wall. One agreement linking here, and there. Topari’s non-Guild bodyguards conversing with Banichi and Jago, and Machigi and Bregani talking quietly to each other, with Murai looking on.
And . . . not unpredictably, Husai talking to Nomari, which was a linkage not so desirable, and one he had to discourage . . . two young people as yet unable to affect anything. On one level they had nothing in common, and on another, they might feel united in their youth and their status as onlookers.
Well, but it was a brief meeting, not one that they could prolong: there was other business to deal with, and the timing and conduct of the event had devolved totally on him, granted the dowager’s absence. He signaled the staff to start carrying things away.
“You will be protected as never before,” Bren said to Topari, in preparing to send him off. “One is certain among other things that the dowager will have you in mind, whatever her other decisions; and one is equally certain, considering the matter of the transformer, that you post guards and be suspicious of strangers until the matter in the Marid is settled.”
“We will be protected,” Topari repeated, as if for assurance.
“The dowager does not permit her allies to suffer attack. Be assured, you will not lack force should any threat materialize here, though I have read, in my own study, that Hasjuran’s own people have met threats in their own way and with very good success.”
“That is so.” Topari nodded emphatically to that. “Indeed we have done, paidhi.”
“There is one man in town, too, that you should know about and somewhat keep in mind. His name is Homura. He had been in conversation with one of my bodyguard when the transformer blew. We do not yet know the agency that destroyed the transformer, and you should both be aware he may be an ally, but do not hesitate to take action if he proves a threat to you. The Guild is concerned about the incident of the transformer, and is looking into it, as is the Transportation Guild, and they will also be investigating this man Homura. I will tell you he is Guild, he has partners held hostage by the Shadow Guild, who have tried to compel him to hostility against us, and he has since pledged man’chi to me and to the dowager, so his is a very mixed report.”
“I do assure the dowager no one of my people would have exploded the transformer.”
“I am very sure she knows it, nandi.” There was so much simple honesty in the man it was well he had protectors, Bren thought—it was also well he governed a very small region, and God help them, if there was to be a war, they would rely on Topari only to stay where he was and to ask for help if he needed it.
But in command of their own mountain trails and passes, in winter warfare, Hasjuran had held its territory. They were not to discount, a force to be reckoned with in their own element.
And without fail, one was sure, in Topari’s care the designated copies of both documents would reach Shejidan and be filed in the archive of all such compacts, in the room with the Great Document that had founded the first railroad and set Shejidan as the capital. By such little steps the Great Document had expan
ded from the earliest railroad to cross a number of clan territories, to lines serving the Padi Valley, to the transcontinental line, to the extension southward, and last of all, and from both directions, to Koperna, in the Senjin Marid, the hope of a time of relative peace to bring the troublesome south and the southern plateaus into the system.
The history of the railroads was the history of politics on the continent. So when Ilisidi decided the head of the Taisigin Marid should have his own railroad, and that it should tie on to the system at Koperna, in Senjin . . . yes, it was an earthquake. Because of Machigi’s own associations, southward, the dowager’s signed agreements now embraced four of the five parts of the Marid, and the Dojisigi were suddenly alone on the rock, as the saying went, meaning everybody else had been offered a seat in the boat, and Tiajo was left out.
“I shall do my best,” Topari said. “We know the routes trouble could take,” Topari said. “We know the back ways and the passes. And we will stop them, nand’ paidhi.”
The fur-clad, rifle-bearing hunters from the remote villages, the same that had risked avalanche to get here and had never yet gotten a meeting with the dowager—they would safeguard this place, and their lord.
“I shall tell the dowager exactly that, nandi. And I know she will thank you.”
“Nandi.”
It was a far better sense he had of the man, and he resolved to convey that not only to the dowager, but to Tabini. God help him, he had begun to respect the fellow.
It was not a lengthy festivity they had had. The outer door of the Red Car shut, leaving a dank chill gust with Topari’s departure.
It closed. Jago locked it. Staff began clearing the solitary table of refreshments.
Banichi moved close, but Tano and Algini, who had been there a moment ago, were not there now. The passage door was open, leading forward.
“I suppose that we shall hear,” . . . from the dowager, Bren began to say, and then heard the blast of the Red Train’s horn, three blasts in succession, drowning all else.
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