Divergence

by C. J. Cherryh

  A small outcry to the right drew his attention, and not his alone. A servant had overset a teacup on a tray and it had upset a good half-cup of tea right over Husai’s shoulder.

  Far from fatal, and everyone was getting tired.

  “A spilled teacup,” he said, in the case Banichi had heard the muffled exclamation. “We call that a disaster here. We are entirely well, Nichi-ji. Please get some rest yourself. I assure you I shall not leave this room.”

  “I am only downstairs from you, Bren-ji. And the people around you are elite. Rely on them. The dowager will wake in the morning and, we hope, find the harbor in good order and a city beginning to return to normal. Tomorrow we plan to relax our hold on a number of neighborhoods and open related stores and businesses.”

  “One is grateful,” he said. “Thank you, Nichi-ji.”

  He handed the device back to Jago, who communicated with Banichi in a few words, and said, “Done.”

  To him and to Tano, Jago said: “We should start lowering the lights soon, to give these folk the notion of rest, and to stop all this milling about. Two older residents have retired to their apartments to rest. We are generally advising against that, even where rooms are cleared and sealed. You should sleep here, Bren-ji, whenever you wish. Everything is fairly well in hand.”

  Except the action of a naval ship, which he had authorized . . . a power only Tabini, only Ilisidi could move. Guild could not. And he had. And a ship might be sunk.

  But it was the request of a wiser head than his, where it came to operations. Cenedi had only wanted a figurative official stamp, which he had given.

  He settled back in the too-large chair and heaved a sigh, thinking he would very much like a large brandy, and that resource was available in this room, sent up from the kitchens.

  But if he was to get further calls from Cenedi, he dared not relax. He thought, however, having heard from Banichi, that he should resign the current problems and relax. At least try to think of something besides the port, and cannonfire in the harbor. He let his eyes shut, intending to rest them a moment, then caught himself with the distinct impression of having had a time lapse. And something having changed.

  The room was dark, shot through with the white light of flashlights.

  A thump. The overhead lights flickered on, and went out again. He stood up. Neither Tano nor Jago had a flashlight in hand: they had their rifles. Jago took his arm and, with Tano, escorted him over toward the wall. All over the large hall, people were on their feet, shadows against others lit in bright light, and the pale gleam of eyes beyond, atevi eyes reflecting the light.

  “Where is our daughter?” he heard Bregani ask above the general confusion.

  “Banichi!” Jago said. “We have lost the lights up here.”

  He could not hear the answer, but Jago said, “Yes!” and then, to him and Tano: “It is the entire building.”

  “Bindanda,” Tano said, listening on regular com, “requests assistance.”

  “Bindanda requests assistance,” Jago relayed. Then: “Two units are moving to him from our area,” Jago reported, which Tano relayed to Bindanda.

  And meanwhile, across the hall, Bregani was demanding his security let him find his daughter.

  “Husai . . .” Bren began to say.

  “A unit went with her,” Tano said. “She was going to change her clothes. Area command is ordering that unit to respond.”

  And a moment later: “They are not answering.”

  “I am going to Bregani,” Bren said and started that direction. Jago’s arm definitively barred the way.

  “No,” Jago said. “Tano-ji. Stay with Bren.”

  She faded backward, a shadow among shadows, and Bren stood still beside a support element, wedged in by Tano’s armored presence, and watched the shadow that was Jago approach the spotlighted group that was Bregani and Murai and their escort. A human was, compared to atevi, night-blind. Atevi eyes glowed gold in reflected light from flashlights all about the room, and he knew his duty, his imperative, was not to make his pale self a target if things were going sideways. Tano had him tucked into the best vertical cover there was. Jago, meanwhile, could communicate straight to command, and for once Banichi would know the situation faster than—

  He thought, then, in a moment of suspicion—if Husai was missing, where was Nomari? Nomari had tended to be against this same wall. He cast a look in that direction and could make out nothing.

  “Nomari,” he said to Tano.

  Tano moved outward slightly and looked. “Nomari is with his aishid, Bren-ji. He has not moved.”

  The teacup, Bren recalled. The spill. Husai’s pale blouse.

  “Husai’s escort still is not answering,” Tano said. “Area Command is sending another team.”

  Jago was coming back toward them, bringing Bregani and Murai and their escort.

  “Our daughter,” Murai said, in distress.

  “Where did she go?” Bren asked.

  “To our apartment. To change clothes. With four Guild our bodyguard sent with her.”

  “They said the hall was secure.” Murai’s arm was firmly locked in Bregani’s, anguished faces suggested in the reflection of flashlights aimed generally aside. “One believed it was safe.”

  “I have verbal contact with the search in that hall,” Jago said, “The outer door of the apartment is locked. No one is answering inside. We are forcing the door.”

  “Gods,” Mirai said.

  One could hear a distant impact, and all across the dark hall motion stopped and voices ceased.

  The power failure, Bren thought, was far too convenient. “Jago-ji. Is Banichi aware?”

  “Yes,” Jago said. “Exits are all guarded.” She gave sudden attention to the com plug in her ear, pressing it in. And to them: “Nandiin. The young woman is not there. The escort is down, condition undetermined. One—two—of the search team are reporting ill and confused.” She lifted the other communications unit. “Banichi. Escort down, search team reporting drug effects. Area Command is sending a unit to assist.”

  “Our daughter,” Bregani said, desperate question.

  “First unit is trying to report. They are in the hall. Two are trying to go back in, orders are to wait. Are there windows? They ask are there windows?”

  “Three,” Murai said. Bregani was holding her in close embrace, trying to comfort her, and Murai was visibly shivering.

  “Three windows,” Jago relayed.

  “But there is no ledge,” Murai said.

  A lengthy silence followed.

  “Can they not get her?” Murai asked.

  “Two are going in with masks,” Jago reported, and after another space of time. “All rooms entered. Servant passage under seal and locked. Windows and closets, seals unbroken. Husai is not found.”

  “Gods,” Bregani said. “She cannot—cannot have vanished.”

  “There is a large wall vent,” Jago said. “That seal has been broken. A team with masks has gone in and extracted the others. The vent has been sealed and the fans have been shut down. But the substance appears to dissipate rapidly. They are hoping it will not reach beyond her room, but we are evacuating the two corridors to be sure.”

  “There are ducts,” Bregani said, “in every room on the upper level.”

  “Where does the ducting lead?” Jago asked.

  “Down to the basement,” Bregani said. “Lower than the kitchens. To cool the air.”

  “Gods,” Murai said in despair.

  “Banichi,” Jago said. “Room vent seal was broken. The ductwork runs through second level and the central shaft goes down to the subterranean.”

  How long had it been? Bren wondered. How much time had they had?

  And who the ‘they’ might be was no question in his mind. ‘They’ were operating not like servants trembling their way through a
forced act of betrayal—except only—perhaps—

  “The tea was no accident,” he said.

  “Sachibei,” Bregani said. “Sachibei.” It was a name. A servant, one gathered, the one with the tray. “Find him!”

  A servant blackmailed, maybe a sleeper agent activated, who knew the backstairs and the servant passages.

  Seal broken. And something in the air, maybe—something general, or something released as a weapon . . .

  “She is not there,” Jago said. “She was taken out through the ancient vent system. They may not be out of the building yet.”

  Banichi would be giving orders to search all rooms with such ducts . . . but whoever it was, of whatever agency, had a head start.

  “If you were attempting escape, nandi,” Tano asked then, “to exit the building complex anywhere on the lower levels, nandi, where would you go?”

  Bregani looked at him, momentarily at a loss. “There are the store rooms, there is the well room, there are doors—There is an escape route to the Justiciary, across the street . . . and the garage there. A stair from the deepest basement on this side. We used it . . . going to the train. It is barred. From inside. And there is another exit to the gardens.”

  Jago relayed that, too, almost as quickly as Bregani said it.

  Then Jago said: “We are stopping all exits, all vehicles exiting the area. We are contacting units across the city to stop all vehicles. All available units will cordon off the residency and the gardens, priority.”

  A shadowy presence had turned up on the edge of the light, light reflected from habitually sullen eyes, light dimly sketching a scarred face. Machigi was with them. “What is going on?” Machigi asked.

  “Husai-daja,” Bren said, “went to her room, with an escort. She is now gone and, we fear, taken. Have you heard anything?”

  “Nothing,” Machigi said, and with a nod to Bregani and Murai: “Nandiin, my old opponents, whatever help I can be, I offer, if only to guard us here, but my aishid are excellent trackers.”

  “The vent system itself,” Jago said. “Nandi, by your grace, we will use them. Go to the righthand hall and assist. Be warned. They are using something in the air, dust, or an aerosol.”

  “Go as he says,” Machigi said. “I shall rely on the paidhi’s bodyguard. All of you. Go. Split up as need be.”

  “Banichi,” Jago said, “Machigi’s aishid is moving to try to track them in the ventilation system.”

  Banichi evidently responded. Machigi’s entire unit was away. There was movement out across the vast darkened hall, but little of it.

  “What do we know?” Bregani asked Jago. “What if anything do we know, nadi?”

  “Your daughter’s escort was overcome, but they are alive. That, and the fact she was taken indicates she is also alive, and that the motive is what we saw with your aishid, nandi. We suspect Guild-level action, speed and stealth and either a deep concealment in the residency or escape by that network you describe, nandi. We are trying to throw a cordon around a sufficient area, but maps we have do not indicate the understreet tunnel or any garden exit.”

  “The air system,” Bregani said. “Serves only these two halls. The old shaft, I have heard . . . is a straight drop to the lowest basement. But there is a grille. I am sure there is an iron grille.”

  “Neither would be a barrier,” Jago said. “If they do get out of the building, the port road is closed, which the kidnappers may not know, and any vehicle will be stopped, which is a point of risk. We have not picked up any transmissions not our own. If we can block the streets and escape routes we may force them to hide close by, which is what we want.”

  “Records,” Bregani said, “records may have. I have no idea. I have no idea if there is a complete map of the old stonework. Security knows. And the building manager. If one can find him. The maintenance office will have his name.”

  “Gods,” Murai said. “Just get her back.”

  Quiet had set into the hall. Various units had been communicating. Now there came a lull. And it was deathly quiet.

  17

  It was a primitive system, God only knew how old, not a mechanical system and not on the maps because it just—existed as the stub of a system. A historic feature. An architectural curiosity. Guild doing the clearance had seen the vents, probably looked into them, and put seals on them, with nothing on the map they were given, perhaps, to indicate anything except the sort of anomaly ancient buildings had. Like the dumbwaiters in the Bujavid. There. Not functional since their own tragic incident.

  Damn, Bren thought. He had sat there falling asleep. Jago and Tano were under strict orders to stay with him, and he had not been awake to see Husai go off to the hall. She had taken an escort. What could go wrong with four elite Guild to see her there and back?

  An elite Guild unit had gone down and two others were affected, in what condition he had yet to hear.

  Hell. Bloody hell. His fault. His job, and his fault . . . a sixteen-year-old girl kidnapped by cold-blooded killers, Guild injured, a treaty compromised and the dowager’s entire map for the Marid in jeopardy. Brilliant job he had done.

  He felt sick at his stomach.

  But—the streets were blocked. The culprits could not get as far as the port carrying a kidnapped teenager, not that fast; and the only vehicles allowed to be moving out there would be under control of their forces, not of locals.

  The situation was not beyond recovery. The best thing he could do now was not issue his own orders to confuse things and just trust his aishid. It was Guild against Guild at the moment, and Banichi had studied the maps they had. So had the rest of them. The problem was—the maps had—likely deliberately—excluded other escape routes. The kidnappers had dark on their side if they had gotten out of the building, but there was a lot of building to search, too, in event they had not left.

  He could hear Jago’s side of the exchange with Banichi as the downed unit was being treated—Tano had gone to the area to gather information. The four who had been with Husai were still unconscious, from a heavy, possibly lethal dose of something. A field medic was trying to help them. From what he himself could hear from Machigi, near his own position, talking to his own aishid, Machigi’s men were in the vent system, and descending a shaft with hand- and footholds.

  “We have blocked streets at several removes, nandi, notably routes toward the hills and toward the harbor, likewise the two bridges,” Jago informed Lord Bregani, in Bren’s hearing. “We have drawn in the other Guild command to assist the search. We have also been made aware of the third basement entry port for city utilities. We are moving out into the utility tunnels.”

  Tano came up on Bren’s left, in some urgency, appearing out of the dark. “Nandi. Nomari is missing.”

  “How?” It was another elite unit, assigned to Nomari directly from the Guild, at Tatiseigi’s request, from before this operation had ever begun. “When? Is his aishid with him?”

  “No,” Tano said. “Their attention went aside to an elderly man having difficulty in the dark. They were briefly distracted. They turned back to Nomari, could not see him in the vicinity and thought he might have gone to the hallway where Husai-daja vanished. Two went there, two went to the accommodation in case it was that. Aishi-aigure.” That had no translation, but was something like a bodyguard getting too close to his principal, a loyalty too deep too fast, in this case.

  Bren cast a look around and saw, by indirect flashlight—Machigi’s frowning countenance, not the most encouraging sight. Machigi’s former spy was missing and now he had dispatched four of Machigi’s own out to track Husai.

  Could Nomari be Shadow Guild, the ultimate deep plot to remove Geidaro and insert a younger, smarter lord of Ajuri?

  Nomari would not betray himself if that were the case. Unless the plan had utterly shifted to stopping Ilisidi’s association.

  Or . . . Damn. Unless his
focus was neither. And it was Husai.

  “Advise Banichi,” he said, which necessarily entailed advising Jago, whose whereabouts at the moment he could not find in the dark. There were flashlights, a black on light kaleidoscope of black-uniformed Guild moving about lighter-clothed civilians, gold-reflecting eyes and shadows upon shadows of every scale, among the tables and chairs, about the walls.

  Ordinary com reached Banichi. Tano relayed the message in verbal code, the edges of which even Bren could catch, and in that tiny distraction, Bren thought, if it were only his clothing that was pale enough to notice, he imagined he could be out of the light and moving, maybe into the side corridors, maybe out the great doors at the rear, where there was no light either. If a young man was bent on disappearing, he could be very rapidly out of view and gone.

  The young man’s aishid was likely searching, split up, going through the room, asking questions, going down the side corridors, checking doors—checking every clue Nomari might have given them.

  Nomari’s Guild-appointed aishid had trusted him too soon, too much, and likely now hoped against all fear to the contrary that the potential lord of Ajuri might just have strayed into the moving shadows, one of them apt to turn around at any moment and say, “One regrets, nadiin—I lost track of you.”

  Jago turned up right beside him, backlit by glare. “Algini and lord Machigi’s aishid are going outside, circling the building in opposite directions, hoping to find some indication. It is full dark. The street is entirely vacant. No vehicle has moved.”

  “The underground. The escape tunnel.”

  “Staff is already searching there,” Jago said. “Bindanda is leading the search in the basement. He cannot have passed the kitchen.”

  “No telling what ancient details they may have left off the map,” Bren said, and there was a distant thump. The lights came on without warning, flickered as if they would go again, and stayed on. All across the huge space, people, mostly Guild, stopped and looked about, taking stock of the situation, where they were and who was there. Bregani and Murai gazed about them, as if hoping for their daughter to appear after all, but that was not the case.