Divergence

by C. J. Cherryh

  Bregani and Murai came to Bren’s left, Machigi on his right. There seemed, in the way of the Guild’s communication, no need to explain the situation with Bregani’s daughter to the dowager. She certainly knew.

  She was immaculate in black lace sparked with rubies, Ragi red and black. Bren was far from immaculate, rumpled, in want of a shave, not at his mental best and not up to absolute current on the city or the search in progress . . . but then, the only one who knew that was not back yet.

  Thump went the cane on the carpet. Both hands settled on it.

  “Nandiin,” she said. “We are appalled. We understand, nand’ Bregani, there is some hope of locating your daughter.”

  “Nand’ dowager,” Bregani said. “We hoped you brought news.”

  “We have nothing yet. We have been briefed. We are determined, whatever the outcome of the appeal to local sources, that we will not let anything move out of the city in any direction, nothing out of Lusi’ei either.”

  The paidhi-aiji’s mistake had set this up, Bren could only think. He had had resources. He should have used them better. He prepared himself for the dowager to say so, in front of Bregani and all present. But she did not. She turned and fixed him with a stare, and he bowed slightly, then stood ready for whatever she might say.

  “The aishidi’tat will honor the amnesty,” she said, “if it produces results. We have followed this situation from a distance. We have also alerted Lord Geigi. We are awaiting word.” The cane lifted, and impacted the carpet. “We wish to sit down. Nand’ paidhi, nandiin, join us.”

  Guild moved, in the general scarcity of servants. A table was cleared, chairs were moved, and servants scrambled to fill a new tea service, while the dowager took a chair, and Bregani and Murai and Machigi did. Bren settled in the remaining chair, which Cenedi had held empty at Ilisidi’s right, the preferred side, not—he judged—without significance, though he was not sure it was a case of favor.

  Banichi still was absent. So was Algini. But Casimi, who was supposed to be with Cenedi, had not appeared as yet, was very likely taking command of the situation downstairs, indeed, of the whole operation.

  Tano took station immediately behind Bren, which left Jago free to communicate with downstairs—if that were needed.

  Tea made the rounds. Bren sipped his gingerly, his stomach entirely uneasy. It was a strong tea, a stimulant, and his nerves by no means needed the jolt.

  The engine sound grew loud and then diminished out on the street. “The bus is going back,” Ilisidi said, “so as not to disturb the city. Or to scare off these proposed rescuers.”

  Moving by night was nothing new for the dowager. Neither was taking over a situation that had spiraled out of control. She wore placidity like a mantle, as if nothing in particular had gone wrong, but that was also an appearance she could assume, while concealing a furious anger—if it served her to conceal it. Cenedi was in charge now, Cenedi who would not leave the dowager’s side, and Casimi, who was under his orders, downstairs.

  Likely orders from Cenedi had gone out by courier to various units—she had hinted at it—and dictated certain moves that would now be underway in Koperna and relayed over to Lusi’ei. God knew how it related to what was going on over in the Dojisigin. But it was certain that Ilisidi knew what was happening over there.

  An audience had gathered at a respectful distance, meanwhile, a knot of lordly onlookers roused out from the fringes, positioned behind Bregani and Murai. The heads of the subclans were backing Bregani still, watching the situation anxiously— their lord, with Machigi, with the aiji-dowager and a force that had effectively taken over their city—while making an enemy of the lord of the Dojisigin in the process. It was not a happy expression on any of those faces. But with the capital in the hands of the northern Guild and the northern Guild now attacking their former ally, their choices were all but gone.

  “Aiji-ma,” Bren said quietly, “to the left, the lords of the subclans, Lusi, Farai, Juni, Prsegi, who are equally worried.” He named them off, one by one, political expediency, although he detected, despite Ilisidi’s smiles and nods, that she was not as serene as seemed. There was tension, a great deal of it, and probably there were things to be said about mistakes which Cenedi would say, on unbreachable relay, to Banichi.

  Not to mention what judgment Ilisidi might make of the paidhi’s management of the situation. It was not Banichi’s fault. It was decidedly not Banichi’s fault, and not Jago’s, that the paidhi-aiji had managed to lose both Husai and Nomari in the same hour.

  But the smile persisted as she addressed Bregani and Murai: “We have agents out looking, still. One hopes the candidate for Ajuri can manage this on his own, nandi, but if otherwise, we will take measures. We will keep our promises, and using an agency you yourselves have seen, nandiin, that too is involved in the search, at this moment.”

  What Bregani and Murai had seen was nothing the other lords could imagine . . . technology descending from the heavens.

  “We had rather use the Ajuri’s plan,” the dowager added, “if possible. Your daughter is our chief concern, and your law rules here, nandiin. Grant amnesty, indeed. To us, too, your daughter’s safety is a higher order of concern.”

  “To us—everything.”

  “We do have a message,” Cenedi said out of silence. “A patrol is reporting from the area of concern. Our patrol is allowing approach.”

  “Is it the Ajuri?” Murai asked. “Have they found her?”

  There was a moment of waiting.

  “Nomari-nadi’s bodyguard has evidently found him, nandi, but not alone. They have called a second unit for backup.”

  “What does that mean?” Murai asked.

  “Nandi, the network has not passed that information. We know where he is. Other units are moving to be sure of the area.”

  “They must not frighten these people away!”

  “We are issuing that caution, nandi,” Cenedi said. “We are limited in communication. We do not want to inform our enemies. We understand the Ajuri is approaching. We do not, unhappily, have direct communication with him. I am bidding them let him go or come as he wishes, under observation if possible.”

  A moment’s silence.

  “He has retreated. He is with a group of six persons, who are in deep shadow.”

  “Gods,” Bregani said. There was quiet all across the hall, as various units were reading that same information.

  Jago listened quietly to her communications, the same that Cenedi and Banichi had. Her face was grave, intent, but not indicative of bad news.

  “Do you have identification?” Cenedi asked someone on the relay system, and listened. Cenedi’s face betrayed nothing. Jago, likewise listening, gave a strong positive in her own expression.

  “They have her,” Cenedi confirmed. “They have her, Nomari-nadi, and six civilians who insist on the provisions of the amnesty. They are coming in.”

  “Is she all right?” Bregani asked.

  “Indeterminate, nandi.”

  “I am going down,” Murai said. “I am going down.”

  “No,” Cenedi said. “We do not know the situation. Be patient. She is effectively in our hands now.”

  The clan lords had moved within hearing. There was a stir, an outburst of questions, a Guild remonstrance, and then quiet. They waited, listening. The dowager accepted an offered chair, sipped a cup of tea, likewise listening, and a servant hovered, eventually to refill the cup.

  Downstairs, the doors opened: the building was so utterly quiet one could hear the entry, and distant voices.

  “She is inside,” Cenedi said, listening. “She is unconscious. There are six locals with Nomari. He says he promised them an audience with Lord Bregani as well as the amnesty and he asks for a physician.”

  “Nand’ Siegi,” Ilisidi said, and her own physician, always near, always with his kit when she was in
the field, moved close. “Nand’ paidhi!” Ilisidi said.

  “Aiji-ma,” Bren answered.

  “Be our eyes,” Ilisidi said. “Find what needs finding. Nandiin, be patient. Let Guild and the paidhi-aiji separate your daughter from those people and see to her welfare. Let us manage things with as little excitement as we can manage. Nand’ paidhi. Nand’ Siegi. Go.”

  Bren gave a short bow and went. Siegi was an old man, and entrained two assistants. Bren had Jago and Tano with him. Narani and Jeladi stayed behind, with unsecure communications; and maintained communication too, with Bindanda down in the kitchens.

  “One hears,” Jago said to someone as they started down the stairs. “We are coming with the physician.”

  19

  It was a strangely assorted lot in the lower hall: Nomari knelt by Husai, Husai unconscious in his arms. Standing by him, with Banichi, was Ilisidi’s man Casimi, with a heavy-armed and determined Guild unit and another, lighter-armed, with a scruffy contingent, five rough-looking types attending a white-haired man who could be a banker or a businessman, by his prosperous dress—and was very likely neither.

  Bren walked in with added Guild presence, and stood with Banichi, consciously small, pale, and very foreign to these rough Senjini folk, none of whom would have ever seen a human at close range, and who clearly were not expecting it now. The looks were guarded, resentful—not an uncommon attitude in the Marid—and uneasy. The white-haired man looked him up and down with evident unease.

  “Nand’ Bren,” Banichi said, by way of introduction. “Lord of Najida, paidhi-aiji. And nand’ Siegi, the dowager’s own physician. Nomari-nadi, if you will.”

  Nomari stayed as he was, holding Husai, while nand’ Siegi checked her pulse, then her eyes, and curiously, her breath.

  “Tadja,” Nomari said in a low voice, “we think. We hope.”

  “It is,” Siegi said, and gave an instruction to his assistant, who took his kit and selected a vial.

  “She should be all right in a few hours,” Nomari said, looking up, as if he hoped to believe it himself. “We think she may have been unconscious through all of it.”

  We included his very dubious companions, it seemed, none of whom said a thing.

  The assistant prepared a hypodermic. Siegi moved Husai’s sleeve and gave an injection, which did nothing immediate. Siegi took her wrist, afterward, tracking her pulse, and held the edge of his hand near her lips, tracking her breathing.

  There was lengthy silence. Husai suddenly moved her arm, brushed at her face as if batting something away.

  Her eyes showed a flutter of returning tension, but did not quite open. The hand returned to her midriff.

  “A good response,” Siegi said to an assistant crouching near. “Take her upstairs, nadiin. I shall follow.”

  “The matter of a promise,” the businessman said, rough voice belying the fine coat, and the five with him took a stance that evoked an answering move from surrounding Guild.

  Nand’ Siegi’s assistants gathered Husai up, and Nomari rose.

  “A promise,” the businessman insisted, and put out an arm, barring Nomari or Husai going anywhere. The Senjini had not been disarmed. In an instant Guild rifles were in motion. Banichi and Algini stopped that, and everything stopped.

  Bren stepped out and lifted his hand in a forbidding gesture.

  “Deal,” he said sharply, “or lose, nadiin. One assumes you came here in trust. Stand and accept your lord’s agreement to an amnesty. But be aware, nadi, and be cautious. The amnesty on which you have acted is for past doings, not current or future ones. On the other hand, you have an excellent opportunity to change your future. So make a choice. I represent, in this matter, Lord Bregani. In more extensive matters, the aiji-dowager.”

  Motion had stopped. All motion had stopped.

  “We want paper,” the businessman said. “Signatures and seals.”

  “We are willing. Our business is here. The lord’s daughter is to be taken up to care. If you have been in any way responsible for the young woman’s abduction—”

  “I am not!”

  “—you would still be forgiven by the terms of the amnesty. If not, if instead you have been the agents of the young woman’s rescue, you may benefit.”

  “We found her,” the businessman said. “We took her back. We took out your damned problem.”

  “Did you take them out?” Banichi asked. “Or chase them off?”

  “Out,” the businessman said. “Dead. And my merchandise shot up.”

  “Unfortunate regarding the merchandise,” Bren said, not stopping to argue nuances. “Then I ask you stand aside. This is the aiji-dowager’s own physician. Do not interfere with him. He will take her up to her family, while we shall see about that paper you want.”

  There was no argument. Bren motioned. Jago and Tano moved to screen nand’ Siegi and his aides, and one of the regular Guild moved in to take Husai, a tall, solid man to whom her weight was very little. Seigi and company completed their withdrawal from the confrontation, toward the side hall, Husai still seeming unaware. Nomari, sooty as well as muddy, as two of the Senjini were, stood watching, not venturing to make himself part of that group.

  “Paper,” the businessman said.

  “Kindly honor me with your name,” Bren said, “nadi.”

  “Paigiti. Owner of Paigiti Shipping.”

  So Machigi had been right. Absolutely right.

  “Not myself, nor any of mine was involved in this,” Paigiti said. “None of us. None of it. I want that understood, top to bottom. This has cost me property. Bullets went everywhere. Five pallets of glassware! Drums of lye! Four pallets of salt spilling onto the floor! That’s a damned mess!”

  “So all of you are innocent, and have no motive for asking amnesty,” Bren said. “Just the damage.”

  There was a moment of quiet. “Everybody has something he needs amnesty for.”

  Bren absorbed that philosophy with a placid nod. “Indeed. And Nomari-nadi, you were able to contact these people quite handily—as a resource. You knew where they were.”

  “I knew nand’ Paigiti’s office,” Nomari said.

  “And he knew about the kidnapping?”

  “I know how to find out.” Paigiti’s language was rawer, rougher than his clothing. “Anything that moves in this city, in the port, I know it!”

  Nand’ Paigiti, was it? Was there a lordship involved?

  “How,” Bren asked, “were you informed of a kidnapping?”

  A little light of caution went on in Paigiti’s eyes. “The boy came asking. I asked around.”

  “Your warehouse, however.”

  The light flickered. “I rent space to a lot of people. I don’t ask. And all that is under the amnesty, whatever it is. Right? We got her out. We brought her back. Taisigi-boy says we get to meet with his lordship.”

  And now they had heavily-armed criminals standing one floor below the aiji-dowager. Disarming the ruffians presented a delicate situation. Getting them out the door was preferable; but rewards had been promised, and Paigiti was clearly not happy to deal with a human, especially one that asked embarrassing questions.

  Well, it was not the first time he had met that problem.

  “Nomari-nadi,” Bren said quietly, nodding with full courtesy. Taisigi-boy, indeed. “We are glad to see you safe. You may go upstairs.”

  “No,” Paigiti said. “No such thing. We know who she is and what her father owes us. We want this amnesty in writing, signed and sealed with ribbons, and we want it legal!”

  “You have it from the representative of the aiji-dowager, nadi,” Bren said, “which is better than paper. You have to be patient with the process.”

  “No talking around it! We want that document.”

  “Paigiti,” a strong voice said from the intersection of the corridor, Paigiti’s bandi
ts twitched, triggering a like reaction from the Guild; and Machigi strolled into view from the adjoining hall and stairway, with his own non-conformist bodyguard of four ex-rangers. “Paigiti! My old associate!”

  “Machigi!” Paigiti said. “The blaspheming gods’ own foot-washer. I heard you were involved.”

  “I hear you want to be forgiven.”

  “I hear you got yourself a deal. Too good for your old connections these days, are you?”

  “I hear Tiajo has made you a good many deals. I hear a lot of things. I hear that you hid that boy of yours up north. You should move him home. Word is getting around to very dangerous places.”

  “You!”

  “I am not the source,” Machigi said. “But if I have heard it, she has. Ask the paidhi. You might make protection for that son of yours part of the deal. It costs a very little ink.”

  A son, in the north, hidden from Tiajo’s increasingly frequent recourse to kidnapping and murder—the same they had just prevented. There was no trouble understanding that, or the value of Machigi’s intervention.

  “Ink is extraordinarily cheap,” Bren said. “As is wax and ribbon. Good will is harder come by. A good relationship with lords other than Tiajo would be a sensible thing to ask, forgiveness for past misdeeds, a reluctance to commit more.” One had no illusions that Paigiti was in any sense an honest man. There was every likelihood he had worked with the Shadow Guild. The damaged warehouse being his property and the place Husai had been held—all that pointed to complicity in everything that had ever crawled in Senjin. “There will be no problem in getting your immunity. Understand me: the Marid is changing. Everything is changing. New commerce is coming here, along with Guild enforcement, in which transactions off the books are a crime. You will have your amnesty, you and yours. The moment the amnesty is signed, all past crimes are wiped out. Your hired men will be immune from prosecution for anything done for you or others, as, Paigiti-nadi, you will be immune from prosecution or lawsuit for anything you have done or asked them to do. Absolutely clear and clean and as fresh as a new flower. You will have a document signed, sealed, and ribboned, as you ask. But the text, nadiin. The text and the legalities. To gain immunity for crimes, you must list the crimes you wish to be forgiven. You must identify—”