Do not say this, she would say. Do not tell mention this to your great-grandmother, but . . . He did not enjoy such secrets, and often they were stupid secrets.
But the more he understood Ajuri, and the more he understood that her father, Komaji, had very possibly killed her mother . . .
He had not believed that. Komaji had scared him so that it was even possible he had contributed to Komaji being killed. He had told Father Komaji scared him, and Father had banned Komaji from the Bujavid, even from the capital, and Komaji had died, not that it was directly his fault, or Father’s, but that it was the chain of events, that Komaji had tried to deal with the Shadow Guild and had decided to betray them, and he had died.
All that was Mother’s clan. Ajuri. And Mother had grown up in Ajuri and then been in and out of it, sometimes with Atageini clan, with Uncle, and sometimes angry at him and back in Ajuri for a while.
What he had not known, which he should have realized, given the distance involved, and the situation—was that Mother rode. Mother rode. Children did not ordinarily teach themselves. They had to have a teacher, and there was none better than Uncle unless it was mani.
And if one rode, one understood mecheiti, and knew how to take care with them and knew how to manage them. Getting a mecheita to leave its herd was no small feat. And one doubted she had run to Ajuri with Uncle’s whole herd: that would have been a situation.
No. Mother had managed it, Mother had gotten one mecheita away, and through the gate, and she had done it with the whole herd upset and Uncle apt to have to repair the fences, but . . . not pursuing her. He doubted that.
Mother rode, because Uncle had taught her. And that meant there had been times they were close. And then not. And it was not what mani called flightiness. He did not read that in Mother, who could be as level as Uncle in a crisis. He had seen that in front of him. Mother did not panic. Mother was decisive with the staff, here, when she wanted something done. And Mother deferred to mani, Mother had deferred to mani even when Mother had lost him, because—
Because it was what made sense. Because he was Father’s heir, or would be. And getting an education Mother could not give him. Nobody had consulted Mother when mani took him aboard the starship and they were gone for two years; and nobody had consulted Mother when she and Father had had to deal with the Shadow Guild, either, but Mother knew what they were, even before anybody in the rest of the world knew. Mother had had Grandfather and Aunt Geidaro and all sorts of problems claiming kinship with her, and Uncle on mani’s side, and Father trying to settle the midlands . . . it had been a mess. All of it.
Now Grandfather and Aunt Geidaro were dead and Ajuri had no lord. Mother backed Nomari, mani was against it, and Father—Father let mani take him away to question, involving Lord Machigi, who was one of mani’s associates, and a scary person, besides that.
But then Mother said—he could hardly believe she had said it—that it was a good thing mani was doing that, because it was important to know.
It left a cold feeling in his heart, because he would have leaned more to his feeling in the matter, but—it was the aishidi’tat at stake. And the heart of the aishidi’tat, at that, in Ajuri. And the safety and peace of a lot of people.
It was Father’s kind of decision. He was used to that from Father. From Mother . . .
Mother knew what had to be done. Mother had arrived at Uncle’s when so much was going wrong: Mother had taken the train and moved in with Guild to back up Uncle, and she had both backed her cousin Nomari and said that mani should question him.
And first Mother had invited him to a sort of pretend-brandy; and then Mother and Father had, and they had talked to him as if he were a person with an opinion, and explained things and told him things they might tell an adult, things they would not tell him if they thought he was too young or too stupid.
He had to talk to Uncle tomorrow. Tonight was too late, but he had to get Uncle on his side, and then maybe he could get Uncle to talk to him, and figure how to talk to mani.
It was hard to sleep. It was so hard to sleep. He was worried about mani and nand’ Bren, worried about cousin Nomari, and worried, too, about the direction things were going, because there were forces moving, and mani had just learned Tiajo was moving first.
That was scary. That was just scary. In the middle of everything was not the time to have to change plans. It created mistakes. And there had been too many in the Shadow Guild’s favor.
20
It was, Jago reported, the faintest edge of dawn—the great hall had no windows. There might have been a room for him, Bren recalled, nursing the ache in his neck, but the great hall was still the center of what they held, Guild came and went here from the operations center downstairs, and it seemed, respecting the commission the dowager had handed to him—to be in charge—that staying visible was the right choice.
He washed, in the accommodation that served the assembly hall. He managed a shave, a vast relief, not to look so odd to atevi eyes. He had Narani rebraid his queue and apply a new ribbon from his luggage. He had two changes of clothing in his personal case, and an indoor coat, however slightly creased. To his surprise, Jeladi turned up slightly out of breath, with the coat freshly pressed, courtesy of Bindanda and the house staff.
His aishid had seen their own hard night, but they had an uncanny ability to catnap, and Guild uniforms were tougher stuff. Banichi had received a couriered message from Casimi, currently in charge downstairs, and sent one back, but there had been nothing from the dowager since she had retired to a small guest arrangement connected to Bregani’s expansive residence, with Cenedi and a segment of her ordinary guard. Ilisidi was resting well, one hoped. If she wanted another hour, that was well and good. On her health and sanity, everything depended.
Bren returned to the table in the assembly hall, which had become their command center, and found a pot of tea and small container of eggs and toast waiting for them. Tano and Algini, under the rule of anything might intervene, had not waited. He did not. He sat down, with Jago.
Banichi’s plate was as yet unused.
“Has he gone back downstairs?” he asked the others. Cenedi would not leave Ilisidi; but Casimi might want relief. He should have it from Casimi’s partner Siemaji—someone other than Banichi, in his own opinion, and he would say so to Cenedi.
“He has gone down for a briefing,” Jago said. “One understands Paigiti-nadi has been at it all night and is now asking for a lawyer.”
He took an unsauced egg and a piece of toast. “I have yet to draft that amnesty. One presumes he is getting a lawyer? One might be useful to both sides. This is the Marid. And Lord Bregani has enough questions to deal with.”
“Banichi,” Tano said, looking past them, and Bren turned his head. Indeed, Banichi had just passed the doors. Information was coming. And Banichi had a handful of papers with him.
Bren washed down the egg—and a bite of toast. Banichi reached them and slid into a chair and laid a small stack of papers on the table in front of him. “Paigiti’s confession has run ten pages, and involves murders, he says, of rivals threatening him. Persons of no good character.”
“He says. But we will keep our word, in hope.”
“He is refusing to have his aishid contribute to his list. Theirs are collective, and less literate . . . Casimi says they are asking the guards to spell such words as arson. More than once. But his account stands alone, and it is producing information of more than legal significance. I have sent to Records, inquiring after a string of addresses he has rented, disclaiming all responsibility.”
“One keeps hoping,” Bren said, “that we may find Tenjin’s family, or any others we do not know about. The hostages may have been moved out of the city, but I fear worse, if our speed in getting here caused the majority of the Shadow Guild to run.”
“We have directly asked Paigiti about places he may know about and separate
ly asked his aishid, one by one, and they claim no knowledge of such hiding places. Paigiti says he may have rented a number of apartments and two garages to them, but he has, he says, no idea what use they made of them. Our inquiry to Records, and they have been open and helpful all through the last watch, is converting the property registration numbers to addresses. We do not know what we shall find. But we hope to learn something.”
“One hopes,” Bren said, with no good feeling. “It is something, at least.”
“Paigiti has also asked for a book to be retrieved from his office, under a floor tile.”
“Are we retrieving it?”
“It is on its way here. In these pages, Paigiti has also given us information on the Dojisigin he knows, names, most of which will be false, incidents and descriptions, which may be of use. We are sending that to Guild operations to the east. We also propose sending to some of Paigiti’s identifiable associates, to extend the same offer: provide us information and stay forever clear of the law.”
“I will approve it, if the Guild will accept it and if Lord Bregani will accept it. The dowager need not touch the matter.”
“We are giving Lord Bregani a fairly extensive and useful network, if he can handle it without falling into their traps, and he is no fool. He has dodged Tiajo this far, and one doubts the likes of Paigiti can get the better of him.”
“Paigiti’s character will not improve. He will begin to think his own cleverness has given him another chance to profit, and he will transgress the first chance he sees. Do I understand, or not? I do not see a chance he will change his ways.”
“If he truly benefits,” Banichi said, “there is a remote chance for him, if he were to find his man’chi, and he is uncommonly shaken, but he has a distance to go yet, to admit he is not the better of everyone he deals with. We have moved the ground under him. We shall see who he is when he catches his balance.”
One doubted, with that one. But man’chi was an inestimable factor. A chance, Banichi said, a remote chance.
“I do not want to present the idea to Lord Bregani myself. I do not want him to assume I understand. Present it as an idea, not a decision. And tell me his answer. If he agrees, I shall draft much the same language. It will be no problem.”
“I shall do that. We are loosening the curfew over sections of the city this morning, and that will be going on through the day. We had rather see the dowager back on the train before we do, but she has declined that request.”
She would say no. He was not surprised.
“If you can use your influence, do. The city folk have been pent up and frustrated. The Guild would rather that she go before the crowds move about. We will be using the services of the broadcast center to inform people and give directions—Lord Bregani’s cousin deserves great consideration for his service thus far, if you will report that to the dowager, and to Tabini-aiji.”
“I shall. The whole family, down to the young ones. They at very least deserve a remembrance.”
“Meanwhile,” Banichi said, “we are receiving reports from the other force. The operation is proceeding, one gathers. Two bases are now established. This is standard. They are making no great effort at speed, letting the navy ship move into position to control the harbor, quietly so, possibly without the Shadow Guild being aware they are there. Both ships were likely sighted when passing the Sungeni Isles, and the presence of one in this harbor is noisy enough. The Dojisigi are apt to assume they might receive attention from the second ship, and reports are, they will be certain of it by midmorning and the Guild force will be moving. I am about to go down and relieve Casimi. Is there anything in particular you wish to tell Paigiti, Bren-ji?”
“I shall deal with these papers. Additions and amendments will still be possible. I will send the framing language down when I have it composed. Thank him and his associates, and I will see copies made once I have the thing composed.”
“Paigiti may have more this morning, after he recovers from his hangover. You will note the writing deteriorates.”
One was amused. “We will do the editing,” he said. “Preserving the original, should there be any question of accuracy. How late did they go, one wonders?”
“To the bottom of three bottles,” Banichi said with amusement. “It was a cooperative effort, until they overset an inkwell.”
One could only imagine.
“I shall deal with these. One wishes you a tranquil day, nadiin-ji. Let me know what that tome of Paigiti’s deals with.”
Banichi stood up. Algini, seated on the far side of the table, likewise stood up. Jago and Tano were arriving, and Narani and Jeladi brought more eggs and toast and tea.
Over to the east, a ship was moving, and a land assault would also be moving, and if things grew complicated their departure from Koperna might be delayed for an unforeseeable time.
Jago and Tano settled to breakfast. At their table against the wall, by the embedded pillar, Nomari and his aishid were having their breakfast.
A distance away, Lord Machigi had set himself up for breakfast with his aishid.
Well enough, Bren thought. He could have another cup of tea. Paigiti’s case was not an emergency.
Then a stir of attention among the Guild breakfasting in the area drew his attention to the room behind him. He thought it might be the dowager making an appearance, but the Guild did not have that sense of urgency in their rising.
Tano and Jago had noticed. Bren turned in his chair and saw Lord Bregani and Murai with Husai—Husai walking on her own, though with Bregani and Murai’s hands on her elbows, and scrubbed and well-dressed, a very different appearance than the sooted, bloodied and wilted girl of last night. She seemed weak, quite weak, but she walked where she wished to walk, and her parents were there to help her.
Bren stood up. Machigi and his guard did, and prepared to move their breakfast, but Bregani signaled no, let it be. So Machigi and his guard only stood. Tano and Jago moved to stand at Bren’s side. And Nomari and his guard stood up, quietly, unobtrusively.
Except that was Husai’s direction. She walked over to Nomari while the whole hall watched, and Nomari gave a deep, prolonged bow, and she gave a little one when he was done.
Something was said. Bren could not hear it, but Bregani added something; and Machigi, watching from a distance away, had an ironical, almost pitying expression, that could have been amusement.
Husai offered her hand. Nomari took it and held it a moment, and let go, then bowed to her and her family. Husai kept standing there, until her parents gently moved her away, and back the way they had come. People remained standing while the family made their way back to the righthand corridor, Husai still walking, but slowly, leaning a little on her father.
Everyone sat again, as they were.
It was a deserved thanks. It was moving. It was not the dowager’s intention to see an appointee to Ajuri developing one more Ajuri tie to the northern Marid. The lines were old, even ancient, the connections had translated to nothing but trouble, and the paidhi-aiji felt disheartened to have to agree with Ilisidi. It was not the best match for the future of either region.
Bren glanced Nomari’s way. Nomari was not looking at him. Instead he was looking down, and talking to his aishid, who doubtless had instruction from the dowager by way of Cenedi.
One hated to stand in the way. An association was possible, a connection of alliance. That would be valuable—if youth and attraction did not turn it into another generation.
Nomari did look at him, in looking up. It might be chance. It might not. Bren gave him his true face, a worried face, and Nomari looked down again.
It was due, it was proper, it was a good outcome. And they were each heirs of districts inconveniently far apart, each with their history of troubles—while a Guild force was moving even at that moment to deal with the effects of the last such round of unions.
Jag
o said, arriving at his shoulder: “Cenedi is speaking. The dowager invites you to breakfast. An escort is coming. He assumes that we will remain here.”
Another breakfast. And God knew what else. His aishid did not leave him by choice. Jago and Tano were assigned not to leave him. But the dowager sent an escort.
His papers were here, the documents Banichi had left him. His writing kit.
His oversight of the situation here.
“Jago-ij. You have to be in charge. Of communications. Of everything. Refer to Banichi if need be. Tano-ji. Be Jago’s guard. Or messenger. Narani and Jeladi will assist. I trust I shall not be that long absent. I do not think I am in disfavor. Or that much disfavor.”
They were not happy with the situation. He saw that, plainly.
“Gather my papers together. All of it. If anything should happen—guard them.”
Nothing could be that certain while they were in the field, as they were now. Nothing was as it usually was.
Nor was his situation with Ilisidi.
* * *
• • •
It was the Farai lord’s personal suite that was lent to Ilisidi for the duration, the Farai lord moving to guest quarters, Bren understood, in Lord Bregani’s massive apartment.
It was a generous move on the Farai lord’s part, possibly gratitude for Husai’s recovery, with perhaps some small odor of advantage-seeking: Bren’s own career had crossed their ambition more than once, but in this instance, favor-seeking or not, it was a gallant and convenient gesture which Ilisidi had not demanded or even suggested. They had offered; and Ilisidi had had the luxury of a good bed and, one hoped, a safe and decent breakfast from Bindanda’s kitchen.
Bren entered, uneasy in the absence of his own aishid. One of Ilisidi’s staff conducted him alone to the fairly luxurious dining room, where a not quite luxurious breakfast was laid on a shortened table.
“Nand’ paidhi,” Ilisidi greeted him. Cenedi was also seated, at Ilisidi’s left. Bren bowed properly and took the right.
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