One wondered if trust and stable economy were words these people would understand in the northern sense, not just now, but somewhere in the future of all this maneuvering of powers.
Meanwhile they had their table, the one perquisite of rank he felt he did need for the writing he might have to do and for a space they could clear of listeners when they were communicating with Banichi. Jeladi moved it in, with Tano’s help. Bren set his teacup down and Jago moved a chair in. Tano brought two more. They were set up in state.
And in the relief with which people received their lord, the way Lord Bregani dealt with them, insisting on no protocol, one began to get the temperature of the place, much more than Bregani had given it to them in his negotiating with the dowager. Machigi had not exaggerated the situation in Senjin, and the extremity of Lord Bregani’s situation. But the straightforwardness of the man was an unexpected asset.
“Tell Banichi we have the doors shut now, everyone settled, and we shall hold here. Is there any word from Cenedi?”
“None yet,” Jago said. “We should have hot water soon. We have brought the means to heat it. We have a month’s supply of tea, and sandwiches at least for tonight.”
“I shall stay right here,” he said, “out of trouble.”
Jago went off to talk to Narani. Bindanda arrived and leaned on the chair she had left. “Nandi. A considerable number of staff are reported in the kitchens and halls downstairs, and Guild is interviewing them. I have some expertise with that. Narani will stay at your call. Jeladi and I will look over the situation and see if we can provide a certified kitchen, sort out the servants, and tap into staff knowledge of the situation.”
Servants saw things. Undoubtedly. And Bindanda, Narani, Jeladi, all ranking civilian staff, were plainclothes Guild, not the combative sort, but very, very good at what they did as staff, and also very good at the less common things they did.
“Go,” he said. “Do. And take care down there.”
Bindanda laid a hand on his midriff. Not at all soft, Bindanda’s bulk. “I shall stay in touch.”
With that, Bindanda moved off to talk to Narani and Jeladi, and things proceeded.
He was, thank God, well-served, but set in charge of the operation? He regularly depended on his aishid to tell him where to walk, when to duck and when to breathe. The dowager wanted this place not to be a murder scene before morning.
He tracked things. That he could do. He watched the indications in Bregani’s family, in his converse with other clans, assertive and meeting their assertiveness with a frown, but not yielding; Murai was of the same stamp, and teenaged Husai, at the same table, was watching everything, eyes moving from one speaker to the other as she followed what was said while remaining remarkably unreadable. There was a mind in that one.
Machigi was holding a quieter, head lowered discussion with his Taisigi bodyguard, while he pretended to be interested in a lowly water bottle, turning and turning before him. Few clues from that one, or his four rough-looking bodyguards, men that would look at home on the docks of Tanaja. And Nomari—
Nomari could have sat down. There were chairs enough. Instead he stood, looking generally uncomfortable, against a square pillar that met the wall, midway in the room. His aishid was with him, and there were chairs, but his aishid did not sit while he stood. He leaned there watching the organization of chaos, perhaps uneasy, perhaps watching someone or something. It was an untidy position, and an uncomfortable one. His attention seemed most often in Bregani’s direction.
Or was it Husai?
Invite Nomari to sit with him—when his table was the local center of sensitive information? It would call unwanted attention to Nomari, and in truth, Nomari had no place here . . . or none that he could assert.
Narani brought a cup of tea, among the first made. Bren took it, a simple paper cup, nothing elegant, and sipped it in relief. Servants—there were several, locals—began to move about, preparing service for those in their care. One served Nomari, and his guards, and he drank it standing. So must they.
Tano sat down with a cup. “Banichi reports the port situation. There are two Dojisigin freighters, one in the process of lading, which is now stopped. Both are taking aboard a number of passengers. The Guild is watching, but not preventing their boarding. Whether the ships will be permitted to leave is under consideration.”
It was Cenedi’s problem.
“The more Dojisigin folk we can get out of Senjin,” Bren said, “the better for us, I think.”
“We think so,” Tano said. “Banichi says there are calls from various officials wanting to inquire about conditions here. The mayor has wanted to come in, and there are a number of spouses and relatives of the several subclans wanting to return. Banichi intends to admit them with some questions.”
Jago came over and sat down. “We are receiving reports from various regions of the city. Things are relatively quiet—some instance of theft from several grocers, but nothing beyond it. An isolated instance of people fortifying a street with public vehicles, but nothing threatening us. Their motive seems to be defense. One fire, apparently someone attempting to destroy records, in an import shop, under investigation. Several drunk and disorderly, confined to one apartment building, not on the street, but notable in the general quiet. In various places, we have complaints from windows that they are in need of various things. We are beginning to let grocers and goods shops open in two districts, to make deliveries to apartment blocks and individual dwellings. We are allowing alcohol as one of the goods, but limiting the quantity of it.”
“No sign of Shadow Guild.”
“None thus far. The port road is wide open, despite published advisement otherwise—which we have hoped would discourage the honest and let the desperate grow desperate enough, but we are not making arrests, no matter the status of the person wanting to reach the port. There is also general street by street clearance going on, starting with the north and the water plant, and then on into residential areas. We are getting, apparently, general compliance.”
“No violence.”
“Not to speak of,” Jago said. “A few accidents, a few burns, nine arrests, a number of cautions, but general compliance. These people are afraid. They are mortally afraid. We have had vehicles up and down the streets advising people to remain calm, and informing them that if they have an emergency that they may get emergency services. The phone system is functioning, and we have set a guard on them. The city has five babies born in the last number of hours, one of them in a hardware storeroom, now in hospital. And regrettably two people have died since the shelter order went into effect, but in a city this size, that is actually less than ordinary. This is not our management reporting the details: this is the commander of the original Guild force. And the people have been remarkably restrained.”
“One wishes them well,” Bren murmured, the usual thing one said, but it was a small, weak thing to say when one was in some measure responsible.
At least, to his observation, and in this room, a number of local officials and clan lords who attended Bregani were huddled together, talking quietly and apparently constructively. There was a double, even a triple ring of chairs of persons trying to hear or participate in the discussion.
And finally, to his relief, Nomari had found a chair and sat down, with his aishid, exchanging a few words.
They all were tired. Tension ebbed, and energy went with it.
“The district is getting messages,” Jago relayed from Banichi, in a periodic report, “communications from officials in the towns and villages downcoast. We have assured them the Taisigi are not invading, and they should continue to rely on the broadcast center for information. Some city folk who have run to the country are calling the information services, and getting the same message. We are still holding firm on the shelter order, but we will be giving a neighborhood by neighborhood release once the situation in the port is qu
ieted.”
“At least it gives people a foreseeable release,” Bren said.
“Even so,” Jago said. “There is an identification card system, which may be of some use, though forgery is likely. There are no photographs.”
“Lord Bregani’s cousin is continuing broadcasts,” Tano said. “Repeating the same message, that Bregani is in charge.”
“Which now is true,” Bren said.
“We have to see,” Jago said. “Either he is or not. He alone signed the agreement. He knew what it would take.”
Meaning his ability to lead, his position as lord of Senjin, rested on his personality, his leadership, his record, and the character of the people who upheld him. He was asserting that, over there at that table, with people who were considering the risk of their own lives in the process.
It said something, that that discussion was quiet, respectful and attentive. People were afraid. The Shadow Guild had made a name for itself. It was feared. Having uniformed northern Guild let loose on them had to have terrified people, but the broadcast from Bregani’s cousin had kept saying trust Bregani.
Clearly these people had that or Tiajo for their choice.
The hierarchy had to hold in order for Senjin to stay together, the whole order of man’chi was potentially challenged, larger authority to smaller, all the way down to the households. Clans had subclans, subclans knew their houses, and houses knew their households. Everyone belonged, all the way up, everyone moved together or it all broke down, starting with a fracture somewhere, and a faithless breach.
That was what the Shadow Guild’s tactic was aimed at, finding a way to break that most basic of bonds . . . as in Murai-daja’s bodyguard, when a man named Tenjin had known his family had been taken hostage, their lives for his cooperation. Tenjin might not have shot Murai, to whom he had man’chi. But being expected to spend his life to disrupt what was going on, even to sabotage or assassinate someone dealing with Bregani . . . that might have satisfied the Shadow Guild. That was the intent behind the tactic.
Had Tenjin been so enterprising as to get off a warning to his controllers that they were being taken north, to Hasjuran? Had he possibly told them it was a call from the aiji-dowager?
Had he been handed a target?
Possibly not. Possibly he had simply reached a desperate stage in his situation, divorced even from his unit, having to think how Bregani’s return as Ilisidi’s ally would affect his family being held hostage . . .
And that was the unit Bregani had trusted instead of taking, say, Saigi . . . with him.
“Bregani took Tenjin’s unit with him as absolutely trusted,” he said to Tano. “He took a Farai unit. Did he leave a Senjin unit that routinely guarded him? A human cannot quite judge that. Do we assume that the unit he left in place is Saigi’s?”
Tano took a moment answering. “Your aishid has discussed that. Certainly he wanted reliable people to hold the residency safe. And reliable people to guard his cousin and maintain control of the broadcast center. He put his own guard on duty here, and a second unit with his cousin at the broadcast center. Both held man’chi, and still do. But it is a question . . . again involving the Farai.”
“Dare we ask him—politely?”
“You might. Banichi might.”
“I do not think a human can.”
Tano considered that a moment. “Perhaps not.”
“I think it a question we should ask,” he said.
“I shall relay that.”
“Good,” he said. He was not used to operating with his aishid in two places, but it was what it needed to be. And it was going fairly well, counting that the assembly hall was a large gathering of black uniforms, with himself in one place and Bregani’s knot of concerned officials in another.
They looked in his direction now and again, furtively, none of these local folk ever having seen a human, none of them ever expecting, surely, to see either him or Machigi, who drew his own share of stares. It was his job to look absolutely neutral, absolutely involved with his own group. That was all. It was all up to Bregani, who could not look coerced or dependent.
Eventually Algini called to say they had messages from a group of staffers and family members, located, some of them apparently, at a hotel, and that they were sending letters upstairs, as directed to various people in the residency.
A collection—a quite large collection of rolled or folded papers—was brought up in a message basket, and handed to Tano, who, being Tano, began to distribute them himself, seeking out names, which, being Tano, he was very likely remembering, face by face—to an anxious reception. Some were for servants, and several of those were sent down to the kitchens. The rest were for the lesser lords and their staffs, who were beyond anxious to read them, and anxious to reply.
And anxious to reply.
“These people will want paper, Ladi-ji,” Bren said, “and writing supplies. I do not suppose we have an office of the Messengers.”
Being in the Marid, they did not.
But, with minor inquiry, there was a similar office headquartered in the other side of the residency, and since that office was also in charge of the phone system and the broadcast center, it was one of the few offices on premises that was open, however understaffed at present.
Asking the broadcast center to request all staff of the communications center in the residency to report to work was the matter of a phone call, getting the message delivery personnel reporting to their office was a series of phone calls, and getting a list of persons safe and present in the residency broadcast to the city at large was the matter of a sheet of paper being circulated in the assembly hall and another in the kitchens.
Providing a message exchange was not necessarily the Guild’s driving priority, but the aiji-dowager had put the paidhi in charge, and relieving people of worry seemed a good forward step.
The broadcast center had already, as a matter of Koperna’s own preparedness, been broadcasting places to call to report elderly or sick persons who might need help. Fire and medical personnel, exempt from the shelter order, were handling those calls. That was good.
And shortly after, perhaps inspired by the exchange of information, perhaps requested by Bregani or Murai, a number of servants came up from the kitchens with trays of sandwiches and teacakes and sealed bottles of wine.
So there was, unexpectedly, a sort of lunch. Along with the sandwiches and water meant for Guild personnel and for Bren, Bindanda sent Jeladi up to report that the kitchens were in decent order, staff was at work and beginning, through the phone system, to recall absent personnel.
Bren was relieved. Finally. They all were tired, all who had been on the train. Sleep last night had been a case of moments caught when they could get them. With only minor movement in the hall, with many of the Guild taking the opportunity to rest now, some in chairs, some quite unapologetically stretched out on the floor, he tried to catch a very small nap—sitting upright.
A shadow crossed the light. He blinked. A Senjini servant had come near, bowed, asked, nervously: “Lord Bregani asks will you join him, nand’ paidhi?”
Join him. That was the table with all the chairs, where not only Bregani and family were seated, but the subclans, and the elderly heads of Senjin and Farai, the latter of whom Bren had engaged in two fairly heated—though polite—exchanges of letters, in the matter of his estate, and most recently, of his Bujavid apartment.
The lord’s name was Agahi, a withered little fellow with a greatly receded hairline.
Bren went to that table, bowed politely to Bregani and his family. “Nandi. Daji. Nandiin.”
“Nandi,” the general reply was, dispassionate and careful. It was Agahi who had reason to worry in the encounter, under the circumstances, Bren said to himself. And he was not going to give cause for unpleasantness.
Bren took the provided chair, facing Bregani, Murai, Husa
i, and Madisu, Bregani’s grandfather, and Agahi, among others.
Machigi, not given to sociality, but apparently invited, also came over and took a seat, typically not smiling, but not frowning either.
There was tea. That was the social cue. There was to be tea. Polite discourse.
Senjini servants set up cups and went about with teapots, while the rest of the room was all black uniforms and conspicuous weaponry, and the majority of non-black dress was collected about this one table, servants, lords, and staff, green and blues and a murky red.
Tea went the rounds only of those actually at the table, those of highest rank, and the talk was, perforce, thank you, oh, indeed, and not much more.
Bren pretended a sip, unassured, when at the mercy of another staff’s preparation, but the smell was proper, a blend he knew; and others were drinking. If no one fell over, Bren decided, the tea must be safe enough from additives. He let Machigi take a sip, and failing reaction, he took a sip of his own, then added four heaping spoons of sugar, not without the notice of the other side of the table. If it was a southern test of endurance, he was not ashamed to fail.
There were introductions, himself, and Machigi, both of rank, and then of the subclans. Agahi of Farai was one. Madisu. The minor clans of Juni, Lusi, Prsegi presented themselves, along with some minor clans Bren had never seen on the maps.
“There were worrisome moments,” Bregani said, setting down his cup, and with a look toward Juni and the others, on his right: “You have asked, Juni, why our guard is Shejidani. I left my principal guard to protect the residency, another unit to protect the broadcast center; and Murai’s guard to go with us, for what it could do, did it come to that. And now with nand’ Bren to witness, I will say we had a very sad security issue. One of Murai’s guard is under duress, and we have withdrawn them all from duty. I cannot complain of the courtesy and attention of the aiji-dowager’s guard, or the service of the unit we were provided. Nand’ Bren, I have told them that the aiji-dowager is here, in the city.”
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