It made sense, Bren thought. He had known about the last remaining lander, which, once the dowager and Cajeiri had returned from far space and the people rallied behind Tabini to take down the conspirators, Geigi had not needed to deploy. So it had stayed up where it was made, fairly well in deep freeze, but available—should any such thing ever be needed. Geigi had formed elaborate plans for it, involving the edge of the continent, or the poles, even the other side of the world.
Now it landed on the border between two potential adversaries, and it would be a very bad idea for a hostile agency to try to tamper with it.
“One thing I do not understand,” Bren said. “The handheld units. A shuttle, they say, brought them. But—to get them aboard—and to get the train carrying them here ahead of us . . .”
“The Guild has had the units,” Cenedi said. “The Guild has had them for a while . . . since, in fact, you returned from your latest trip to the station. Their deployment was delayed in controversy, but they have been here, in the Council’s keeping, against need.”
The cell phone debate, Bren thought. There had been a controversy. Nobody trusted the Messengers’ Guild, which had a history of corruption spanning centuries. There had been talk of cell phones, such as Mospheira was installing, independent of that Guild. He had invoked his long-disused authority over such technological imports—he had vetoed it because it could be culturally ruinous even limited to the lords, bypassing the Assassins’ Guild’s intervention, and making direct conflicts far more likely and far harder to stop.
At least the system had landed securely in Assassins’ Guild hands, and Geigi’s landers, distributed here and there across the continent, would serve the Guild and only the Guild. And the relay system of those landers, Geigi had assured him long ago, were utterly incompatible with the Mospheiran system, so even if, somehow a Mospheiran cell phone made it across the straits, it would do the smuggler no good at all.
Well enough. There were worse outcomes . . . especially now.
“Only Guild-seniors and those on special assignment are authorized,” Banichi said. “Any unit lost must be recovered, or destroyed remotely, which Lord Geigi can do, even if the unit is turned off. That is the order. They also have inbuilt protections against tampering of any kind. We have an edge against the renegades and we will not lose it.”
“They are completely secure?” Tano said.
“They are promised to be so,” Banichi said, “for now. They can become less so if the technology spreads abroad, but right now, and for this operation, we have surprise and we have communication our enemy cannot breach.”
“Technology,” Ilisidi said dryly, “has its uses. In this case, we are in favor. Only let this train full of generous assistance keep out of our program and away from our operations. I do not wish to deal with the Dojisigin this season, and it is not convenient for the Guild to stir them up to an all-out effort. Three days is what we ask. Three days and we should have Senjin secure. Then we can consider next steps, whatever they need be. Tell me the Guild Council is not going to war with the Dojisigin.”
“Their program is extraction of key elements, aiji-ma,” Nawari said. “Technically they are not challenging the Dojisigin.”
Ilisidi gave a breath of a laugh. “Not challenging the Dojisigin—who have no defense but these outlaws, entirely thanks to these outlaws. One cannot feel sorry for Tiajo.” Her brow knit. “Very deeply sorry for the people she has misruled and abused this long. It is time she ended. But well enough, if the Guild wishes to manage that disentanglement, let them. They deserve the satisfaction.”
* * *
• • •
Rapid clicks of the rail advised that they were making rapid, flatland-style progress toward Koperna, deep into Senjin. One wondered what folk resident near the coastal plain would have thought of the lander coming down, had they chanced to look up—the event would have been visible at a distance. And, windowless, on a speeding train, Bren wondered if there were habitations of any sort around them. There was no such thing as hard and fast borders on the mainland, no city limits, no counties, nor any firm agreement who owned the borderlands between two regions. The residents on the edges of shared hunting-ranges could go either way, pay man’chi to one lord one day and, without rancor, go the other way on the next issue. There were no taxes on such regions. They had their problems, and usually the residents were small farmers or hunters or fishermen, or had some craft locally useful—types who generally wanted not to be bothered with the affairs of lords or other people.
One wondered as well how long it would be before they began to enter Senjin proper, which would happen near the port, Lusi’ei, where the trouble might start. They had the comfort of one of the Council’s mobile units running alongside the track ahead of them, to be sure of the rail, but it would not go all the way in.
Meanwhile they had a little distance to go, and Bren was sure he ought to nap while he could, but that was not happening: his brain was far too busy on things he could do nothing about, and while brandy might settle that down, brandy was not a state in which to deal with trouble.
The lander had given him a whole new set of concerns. Was Ilisidi truly reconciled with Lord Geigi’s intervention, and was Bregani wholly sure that it was not planned from the beginning, to have that massive machine set on his doorstep? One could not be sure it was coincidence.
One could not be sure what Machigi thought, and what he would do about it, because the fact that there was a power that could reach down from the heavens to threaten the northern Marid might be a disturbing revelation, whether his intentions were fair or foul. On the cooperation of those two unlikely partners, the dowager’s plans—and safety—rested.
One thing was undeniable. It had been damned impressive watching that thing come down . . . an unforgettable kind of impression, bound to live forever in the minds of those who had seen it, with whatever implication their plans put on it. The Space Age had just come calling on the Marid’s long illusion of independence. Machigi’s steel ships, that many considered impossible, and no more than political exhibitionism, had just taken on far more credibility.
But had it pleased Machigi to witness the disparity between the technology of the aishidi’tat and that of the Marid? It had to bring a little unease.
In vivid recall, too, was Tabini’s tone, when he had said, in the conversation involving Ilisidi’s intentions—Keep her safe . . .
Damn it, had Tabini just decided on his own intervention? And why?
Geigi would not have dropped that last lander without Tabini’s permission—possibly his direct order. And the organization of this operation would have taken time. Tabini had postponed dealing with the Shadow Guild, postponed it while a great deal else was occupying his attention.
Postponed it while he had no heir named.
Postponed it while the heavens had dealt with two visitations from deep space, and need urgently to send an excess of humans down from orbit.
They had settled those problems, or were in the process of settling them. The Assassins’ Guild had solved its internal problem. Ilisidi had opened negotiations with Machigi for the sea trade, pulling his attention from the western coast.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The pieces had fallen into place, problems solved. Decks cleared. And all that time, Tabini had been moving his chess pieces into place, just as Ilisidi had been.
Still, no one could really move on the Shadow Guild until the midlands crisis was settled.
On the surface, Damiri-daja had settled that crisis in two major, unexpected moves, giving Tatiseigi an heir and presenting a viable candidate to the Ajuri lordship.
But they still had the question as to who that candidate was, really.
And Nomari’s past . . . and possibly not-so-past . . . candidate connections had to be high on the list of Ilisidi’s and Tabini’s immediate concerns. The vacancy of the Ajuri lordship had to be fil
led, and soon, for the sake of stability in the entire region. But a midlands lord with strong connections in the Marid was unacceptable.
So, on getting news of this candidate, Ilisidi had moved suddenly to pull Senjin support away from the Dojisigi, an act she well knew could trigger the Shadow Guild to move again.
Ilisidi was angry about Tabini’s interference in her plans . . . but one had to wonder . . . what had she done to his timetable?
For all Tabini promoted the notion that his grandmother operated beyond his control—it was plausible deniability that allowed him to wade in and smooth things over. One overturned a situation. The other put it back together.
But this time, instead of waiting, Tabini had hit the Shadow Guild with a spectacular move, apt to force a counter-move, and complicating Ilisidi’s dealings with Bregani before Ilisidi had quite finished what she was about. Bren had not expected it, not the lander, not the Guild intervention, and the Guild’s own real mission in the region still remained in question, because they were to a certain extent an independent player. Were they going to launch an attack on the Shadow Guild simultaneous with Ilisidi’s diplomatic efforts?
War complicated a diplomatic effort. Dangerously so, if one were sitting in the middle of the contested map.
It was not a good time for a disagreement in policy at the highest levels.
Was Ilisidi upset? Yes. Before embarking, she had not visited Tatiseigi. She had not talked to Damiri or Tabini. She had not consulted Geigi, by all he knew.
Tabini and Tatiseigi had not consulted her on the matter of an heir for Tatiseigi.
So she had consulted Machigi and launched a good section of the Guild’s resources to back her operation in a completely separate theater—snatching up Nomari in the process.
It was not pique. It was not, no matter how it looked. She might be upset, but Ilisidi moved like this when she did not want to be told no, and she moved like this because she could, while Tabini had the legislature to consult unless he could prove an emergency.
Had she made herself the emergency?
It was possible. It was highly possible. But not consulting Tatiseigi—that was—
Possibly protective. Tatiseigi had been a target of an assassination attempt in the past, notably when Homura and Momichi had been assigned the job. But now—
Now she was about to annoy the Shadow Guild in their own territory. She had the questionable heir to Ajuri in her possession, and Lord Machigi and his association were committed with her. If it all was going to implode, it would touch Tatiseigi and Tabini only peripherally. They would have to find a new heir for Ajuri. And fight a war with the Dojisigin. But that was minor . . . compared to the consequences of the wrong heir for Ajuri and a replay of the whole midlands crisis coupled with Machigi’s rise to dominate the southern Marid.
God, when he tried to think like the dowager, it led down damnably dark corridors. Machigi was an ally when he had someone to restrain him. But he could lead: he was in fact a very strong leader, and one who was to be feared, if he slipped out of Ilisidi’s influence. She managed him. She, in fact, used him in ways Machigi did not mind being used. And his greatest use was gathering the Marid into one basket, stripped of the Shadow Guild.
The northern problems? They were not at issue here. She would forgive Tatiseigi. Baby Seimei as heir was a logical answer to the dilemma. Yes, Ilisidi would have major problems with Damiri being regent of Atageini, should Tatiseigi die before Seimei was of age . . . but Tatiseigi was happily nowhere near dying. There was plenty of time for Seimei to be trained in all she needed to know to be a good administrator.
But Nomari was another matter.
A cypher, the deeper one dug. And Machigi and his plans were the key to that lockbox.
And if it all went wrong?
It would be, in Ilisidi’s eyes, Damiri’s fault if Ilisidi’s carefully orchestrated stabilization of the Marid fell apart. All because Damiri blindsided her and tried to take control?
No. Because Damiri was looking out for her son, and her clan, and her uncle, who happened to be Ilisidi’s closest ally. And defending her cousin, who happened to have worked for Machigi.
So was Ilisidi emotionally engaged? Yes. But Ilisidi was not reacting in fleeting temper. Ilisidi did not favor Damiri, did not favor her, and had fought her influence—not out of spite, but out of deep mistrust of the shifting sand she believed Damiri to be. Reared Ajuri, Damiri had fled to her Atageini uncle at sixteen, then back to the Ajuri, and back to the Atageini again . . . before snaring Ilisidi’s precious grandson Tabini—a young man Ilisidi had personally reared and groomed for the aijinate—not in a contract good for an heir or two—Ilisidi could have lived with that. But in a lasting, lifelong marriage, as aiji-consort? The same position Ilisidi attained through a political alliance that had welded the East to the aishidi’tat?
A position Ilisidi had used very cannily her entire life—and did not surrender, twice aiji-regent, and finally, surrendering the aijinate to Tabini, being relegated to aiji-dowager—and his chief defender. She refused to trust Damiri, a northerner born and bred, and out of a clan with a record of treason. And Tabini, who could easily have arranged a contract marriage with Damiri and moved on, had instead agreed to what Damiri asked: marriage for life.
That had been the first and only time Damiri had outmaneuvered Ilisidi.
Until Damiri, out of long inaction, had used her relationships to settle two of the key three lordships in the aishidi’tat. Damiri was of the midlands as Ilisidi could never be. Damiri claimed authority in the midlands simply by existing. She backed Nomari to take Ajuri, and pledged her infant daughter as Tatiseigi’s heir, to inherit Atageini—at one stroke, outlining the future of two clans essential to the aishidi’tat and cementing their future connection to—and influence on—Ilisidi’s cherished great-grandson, Cajeiri.
So—Damiri could re-shape the midlands and the north in her own favor?
Ilisidi had, in her own administrations, done a great deal to stabilize the south, so far as stabilization went. Ilisidi as aiji-dowager, had made an inroad into the Marid, understanding a young warlord who had managed to build an alliance against Tiajo. Yes. An unqualified yes. The Marid did not trust Tabini. But Machigi had found an ally in Ilisidi, and the Shadow Guild had found attacking Machigi a very bad idea.
Tabini knew how that worked. Tabini also knew his grandmother, and Tabini was no fool. They had worked the game for years, Tabini the reserved, quiet ruler, Ilisidi the volatile and aggressive former aiji, no stranger to conflict.
And through it all, Ilisidi’s opinion of Damiri remained unchanged.
But then, so had Tabini’s attachment to his consort remained unchanged, and Tabini was no fool. He had agreed to a permanent, not a contract, marriage. He had supported Damiri’s recent moves in the north.
North and south. Both needed stability. The same events had destabilized them both, and related events were moving again. Tabini and Ilisidi needed to work together.
He, Bren Cameron, was officially the peacemaker. He worked with Tabini. He had gotten Ilisidi to trust him. He had gotten Geigi to trust him. He had overcome Tatiseigi’s utter distrust of humans. Least likely, he had gotten Machigi to negotiate with Ilisidi . . . and gotten Tabini to assist the landing of humans on atevi soil, to assist the Mospheiran government.
He had brokered a three-way treaty among three intelligent species, for God’s sake . . .
But despite all the peace negotiations he had managed, he could not seem to get Damiri and Ilisidi together.
And as years passed, that was getting to be a problem.
Perhaps . . . perhaps it was time he talked . . . actually talked . . . to Damiri.
* * *
• • •
Narani set a tea service at Bren’s elbow and served a cup. Bren took a sip. It was Night Tea, a calming sort.
“Ho
w are we?” he asked.
“Banichi is talking with Cenedi now, nandi,” Narani said. “We are about half an hour from Lusi’ei.”
Half an hour from the port, where apparently there were problems. It was not a forecast of a restful hour.
He sipped the tea and tried to encourage its restful qualities. He tried to think about bed. Which meant lifting the table.
Banichi came to the table and sat down, Jago and Algini eased onto the opposing bench as Bren made room.
“The system is working well,” Banichi said. “Very well. We held a quiet discussion, and clarity is remarkable. We will be providing them for units in Koperna, and we should take the advantage fairly rapidly after that.”
“Is there word from either?”
“The dowager’s operations are now unchallenged in the railyard area. There is some significant opposition in Lusi’ei, at the port. We shall deal with that if we have to, but we shall not stop until we get to the railyard.”
“What is that freight car we have hauled all the way from Shejidan, nadiin-ji? One assumed it was not wardrobe.”
His aishid was amused. “No. It is not,” Banichi said. “The Red Car was modified to take that coupling, we understand. For your curiosity, it is the usual: water, shelter, and field rations, a contingency. But the equipment will be useful . . . tactical transports. The first train in carried five. We bring five more.”
He had seen them, some time ago, in the action in the south, small, fast-moving, and able to transport five or more in cramped fashion.
“As for Lusi’ei,” Algini said, from beside him, “we are encouraging those who wish to escape from Koperna to escape, and we are setting up detention facilities in a warehouse. We want as many as possible of our problems to leave the city, and the first units in have spread emergency evacuation orders in the name of various Dojisigi officials, to encourage compliance—along with, on the compromised network, our own complaints of escapes, with orders to get fictitious units to establish barriers, which for some reason we are not doing.”
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