Convergence

by C. J. Cherryh

“If only they are not too grim,” he said. “They look so serious.”

  “Some of the seniors are grim,” Lucasi said. “But these are the ones who rigged a choke-line in the hall during an attack drill.”

  “People could have been hurt,” Cajeiri exclaimed in dismay.

  “We are supposed to be better than that,” Lucasi said dryly. “Lives depend on us to be better than that.”

  “Well, they cannot do that in the Bujavid!”

  “One would by no means expect they would,” Lucasi said with quiet laughter. “But no junior ever takes them for granted.”

  “Do you want them to be with us, nadiin-ji?”

  “Do we want to be better?” Jegari said. “If they will teach us—I say yes. I think Antaro will say yes. We have no resentment at all for being second in decisions. How could we, if it protects you and keeps us all alive.”

  “I say the same,” Lucasi said. “I know Veijico will. You will be a target. We have always leaned on Banichi and Cenedi for help until now. On this train, now, are we enough, without them? Sensibly, no, we are not, nandi.”

  “I will not be nandi to my aishid.”

  “Convince them of it,” Lucasi said.

  “They have to listen to you,” Jegari said. “But suggesting lax rules cannot come from us.”

  Cajeiri drew a deep, long breath. “They still have to get my approval,” he said, and went back to the rear, to Antaro and Veijico and the new aishid, who gave him a look as if they knew exactly what sort of thing they had been discussing, and said not a word.

  Given some Guild equipment, the seniors might know exactly what they had said. He knew about such devices. He was not without understanding or experience, and he knew things at a higher level than some who were much older and more experienced.

  And he did not say a word about what he knew, either.

  • • •

  It was a long, late trip. The Red Train had right of way when it traveled, so they occasioned holds of other trains in their passage, even passenger trains, but there was bridge repair since the summer storms that had come so fiercely. And the need to route all trains around that damaged bridge in the midlands slowed everything on the line and made them still later than they had expected. Delays had only accumulated, and the new seniors at last sent word to Uncle’s staff that they would arrive too late for supper, and would manage.

  Their supper began to be snacks the Red Car had in store in its galley, and there was at least a good supply of them.

  It was well into twilight before they came to the wooded land, the long-disputed boundary between Taiben and Atageini land. Forest closed in about the train at this worrisome and shadowy hour, but his younger aishid had secured contact with Taiben—and Taiben reported their parents had ridden over to Sidonin, to the station, waiting there to meet them. Uncle’s estate had promised them a car that could carry them all, and the baggage truck, which also would be waiting at the station, to bring them upland, to Tirnamardi.

  “Under any other circumstances,” Cajeiri began, addressing Antaro and Jegari quietly, on the other side of the galley, “I would urge you take a day in Taiben.”

  “But under these circumstances,” Antaro said, “we cannot. We shall exchange a word or two, by your leave and theirs, but no more than that.”

  “Tell them,” he said, “if all goes well, you should manage a day while we are with Uncle.”

  “Under the circumstances,” Jegari began.

  “No. I decide, Gari-ji. I do decide. If I order you to go pay respects to your parents and your uncle, you have no choice, do you?”

  “They—” With a look toward the seniors, who were carrying on their own conversation a distance up the aisle.

  “They are to protect us, not to approve everything we do or choose not to do. Tell your parents you will very likely have a day and a night to visit while we are here. We are in the heart of Uncle’s hospitality, with his aishid as well as the seniors, Kadagidi is under Guild management, Uncle has no security threats, and you should not have to be on watch the entire holiday. I am quite sure Uncle would lend two mecheiti, and I have every confidence you can bring them back unscarred.”

  “If you say,” Antaro said, with an anxious glance toward the seniors.

  “Who gives the orders, nadiin-ji?”

  “You, nandi.”

  “So. Well. So.”

  • • •

  The train slowed to a crawl as they reached Sidonin, in the woods, and came to a gentle stop—at which point it was Guild business and staff business to talk to those outside and arrange the matter of baggage.

  The seniors took charge. They opened the doors. And the baggage car was surely open, just ahead of them. One could hear Boji’s screech above everything else. It was like last time—and not. The last visit he had had his guests with him, and they had seen mecheiti for the first time.

  His young aishid exited, and he did, with the seniors following, and indeed the Tirnamardi estate had sent a car, and the truck, which sat on the roadway next to the wood-planked station platform, ready to move. And on the other end of the platform, a number of Taibeni riders were there, on mecheiti that shifted about, tall shadows voicing their low complaints at the train and people moving about. Bronze peace-caps were on the short side-teeth, and riders in green and brown kept them well back from mischief. The two lead riders he recognized immediately as Antaro’s and Jegari’s parents, and a third might be their younger sister—with four more for company, possibly cousins. They had come to meet the train, a courtesy as well as a chance to see their son and daughter, and Cajeiri personally took his aishid to the edge of the platform, gave a little bow—politely returned, from the saddle, as mecheiti turned and shifted in threat, under absolute control, he was quite confident.

  But just then there was a horrid metal bang, an indignant screech from Boji, and mecheiti shied off and surged back under rein . . . one never turned one’s back on mecheiti in an upset; but Cajeiri retreated out of range and turned, with a clear view of Boji’s cage on the platform, and the perches askew—set down hard with a wheel collapsed under the cage, dishes all spilled, and Boji bounding from one side to the other in wild-eyed upset. Eisi and Liedi were trying to quiet him, Eisi’s hand was dripping blood, and Boji’s screaming reached new and painful notes as Cajeiri reached the cage.

  “Hush!” Cajeiri said sharply—sometimes Boji would listen to him. Boji kept screaming, thoroughly upset.

  “Hush, hush,” Onomi said, arriving beside him, and made a strange sound that was very like Boji’s chattering. “Settle. Settle, settle.”

  Boji settled.

  Right away. The silence was shocking. So was Boji’s wide-eyed stare. It was outright daunting, that Boji shut up and stared, his whole demeanor changed. He shifted about on his perch to get a look back at Onomi as Eisi and Liedi and two of Uncle’s men hefted the cage up on three rollers, moving it toward the edge of the platform, and the truck’s own loading bridge.

  Wardrobe cases across. Antaro and Jegari went back to the edge of the platform, talking with their parents, among the Taibeni riders, who had settled the mecheiti.

  He followed close as Boji’s cage was carried onto the truckbed, asked Eisi about his hand, which was wrapped in a cloth, and not, at least, dripping blood onto the boards.

  “It is a cut, nandi, no great consequence.”

  “You shall have that seen to,” he said. “Will you ride in the car, Eisi-ji?”

  “No, no, nandi, it hardly hurts. We shall stay with our charge. We shall see the rascal to Tirnamardi.”

  “You shall definitely have it seen to,” he said. “Veijico. Lucasi.”

  “Yes,” Veijico said. One of the items in the black bag that always went with them was a little medical kit. “But—”

  “I am not likely to need it, and one is sure the seniors have a kit, Jic
o-ji.”

  That was a delay in itself, past the time that they had the wardrobe cases loaded, and Boji’s cage secured, and they were now in deep twilight. The Red Train lingered, and Veijico and Lucasi and Janachi together took Eisi back into the car to deal with the wound under the lights, and with a place to sit down. Uncle’s men waited. Antaro and Jegari squatted down at the edge of the platform, talking with their parents, in the aftermath of commotion.

  Cajeiri found himself standing on the platform alone with Rieni and Haniri and Onomi, with night coming on, in a quiet momentarily deep enough to hear the trees whispering, with the dusty grassland of Atageini land up the road, just beyond the fringe of woodland about Sidonin station.

  It wasn’t as if the senior Guild were trying to take over. It was just good they were here, or it would have been complete chaos.

  Which meant that his father was right, and he should not be out on his own, without the seniors. Things that had always just happened in good order with mani’s aishid or nand’ Bren’s—would not happen without the seniors. That was how things were. On their own, they had not thought to signal the engineer to move. Without the seniors, they would be later than they were.

  Being out on his own was not the freedom he had expected it to be.

  And Boji . . . it was not Boji’s fault the antique cage had finally had a wheel fail on the rough ramp.

  Maybe it was an omen. The thought came to him that maybe he should just open the door and let Boji go, here, in the forest, which was his native habitat.

  But if Boji did escape into this woods, the poor fellow would go into the trees and likely starve, helpless without two servants to bring him eggs.

  And where would he ever again get boiled ones, which were a treat for him?

  No, he had to find a better answer than that.

  “Has anyone contacted my uncle,” he asked them, “to say we are a little delayed.”

  “Lord Tatiseigi’s staff is aware,” Rieni said. “The Taibeni have requested to camp near his grounds. They wish to escort us. He has approved.”

  All that had passed, no one mentioning it. Things were happening that should reasonably have happened and no one had advised him until he asked.

  “One would wish to know it,” he said.

  “Nandi,” Rieni said, acknowledging the instruction.

  There were so many, many things he had to learn. So many things mani or nand’ Bren knew about their bodyguards’ routines. And he was out here in the dark with a broken cage and no proper supper, which he was sure Uncle had intended to be a fine one, welcoming him. He was embarrassed. Deeply embarrassed. He so wanted to make a good impression, and his staff’s first request had to be for something to prop up the damaged cage, once they got the thing upstairs.

  • • •

  There were enough seats for them all, with Uncle’s estate bus, which seated twelve, so Eisi and Liedi could ride with them, but Liedi insisted on riding in the truckbed with Boji, and Antaro and Jegari said they would ride there, too. They would be within sight of their parents, who would follow them as far as the gate in the tall hedges, and camp outside the grounds—one never wanted to mix two mecheita herds absent supervision, and Uncle’s stables were right up next to the house, beside the orchard. Taibeni were much in the open air by choice. They had a grand hall, and lodges here and there, and many small cabins and campsites in the deep woods where they might, in their wandering way, spend a night or two when the mood took them. Other clans had townships, and villages, and one could count the number of their people, but the Taibeni were hunters, much on the move, and did commerce, but never admitted their numbers, their armament, or their births or deaths to official records. They were ghosts, and showed up here and there across a very wide forest, some of which was disputed land . . . it was only last year that Uncle’s Atageini had made peace with Taiben.

  But Taiben was a solid floor under the north, which had been so sadly disarrayed, and it was a good thing that the Atageini had made that pact, and now took no alarm at Taibeni riders in plain sight—who now guaranteed Atageini security, and kept a watch as far as Ajuri in the north and Kadagidi to the east, just to be sure.

  One could at least draw breath, riding in the bus Uncle shared with the near villages, one was quite sure. Everything was in order, though it was full moonless dark by the time the road bent toward the iron gate in the high hedges, the living walls of Uncle’s grounds, standing and replenished for three hundred years.

  At that turn, the Taibeni fell away from them.

  They passed the iron gates in the dark, and gravel sounded under the tires, a long drive even yet before the lights of Tirnamardi showed in the distance, two lights, at first, and then more, a peaceful sight, the windows unshuttered and shining in the dark.

  They pulled up on the curving drive, in front of the steps, and Uncle’s major domo came out with staff to meet them, to welcome them in, to supervise the offloading of Boji’s cage—Boji was already setting up a fuss, disturbing the peace of the night, rousing a bellowed challenge from the stables beyond the house.

  “You will have your great-grandmother’s suite, young aiji,” the major domo said.

  One had wondered, among other questions on the train, where one was to put the second Guild unit in Great-uncle’s house.

  House staff had come out to meet them, to meet them, to direct them and their baggage inside—baggage went one way, past the front doors, and they went up the other, up the stairs to the great hall, where Uncle Tatiseigi waited to greet him. “One so regrets the dinner, Great-uncle.” He at least knew how to present himself with proper manners. “One wished to be here earlier.”

  “Well, it would have been happier with your company,” Uncle said, “but you will find a good representation of it laid out in your room. Traveling with a full complement, we see, excellent, excellent choice. We are glad to see it. Men of very good repute. Welcome to Tirnamardi. Go up and rest, young gentleman, and safely dispose that creature of yours.”

  “I swear he will not get out, Uncle! We have had a small accident with the cage, but only to the wheel. The latch is secure.”

  “We have every confidence,” Uncle said, and waved his hand toward the steps. “Come, come. I shall show you up myself.”

  So upstairs it was with Great-uncle, up and up the grand stairs, and down to the other end of the upper hall, opposite Great-uncle’s own suite.

  “Enjoy the freedom of the house,” Great-uncle said, “and call staff to attend your slightest need. We shall talk at breakfast.”

  Breakfast, at Tirnamardi, was with the first edge of sunrise. That, he did know.

  And through the doors, they entered what was ordinarily mani’s suite, a sort of place he had never occupied, not even in the Bujavid. It was a guest quarters that could house an aiji and his guard, grand furnishings, antiques at every hand and underfoot, gilt, gold, silver, and tapestry—porcelains—one winced, even thinking how Boji had behaved on his last visit.

  In the sitting room of the suite was a buffet laid out. Eisi and Liedi handled the tea service with utmost care, Eisi insisting to serve despite his bandaged hand, while Uncle’s staff attended the dishes.

  So quiet descended, and they sat and stared at each other, with none of the train noise to soften the silence.

  “Do you ride?” Cajeiri asked.

  “Yes,” Rieni said. Which disposed of that topic.

  Silence again.

  “You have to talk freely, nadiin,” Cajeiri said. “Please. Jegari, Antaro, I am going to talk to Uncle about you visiting your parents.”

  “There is a problem,” Rieni said.

  Cajeiri stopped in mid-sip and frowned. “Say,” he said. One did not discuss business over tea or during a meal, but information from one’s bodyguard was a universal exception.

  “Our parents,” Antaro said, “say that there has be
en some difficulty in Ajuri—an Ajuri intrusion into Taiben, ending in an instance of other Ajuri appearing along that area. The intruders left Taiben, and apparently there is still activity along that border, though of what sort we do not know. We have no idea what it is.”

  “Therefore,” Rieni said, “two rode in the rear of the truck tonight, armed.”

  He was not supposed to swear. But he did think of the words.

  “You should have told me, nadiin. Somebody should have told me.”

  “Lord Tatiseigi should now be aware,” Rieni said. “So should Guild Headquarters and Guild units watching Kadagidi. The decision was not to distress you on the drive or shadow your meeting with your great-uncle, but we are indeed informing you.”

  “Our parents,” Antaro said, “advised us. It happened late today. There was no incident between these persons and Taibeni, but considering your presence here, Lord Keimi sent our parents and he is sending others, just to be sure. Our parents will hold a camp within sight of the hedges as long as needful.”

  “We shall still ride! And you will still visit your parents. Ajuri is probably upset with Uncle over the nomination. They are probably upset with Father. They certainly will have heard the news today, and they know I am here. They very likely did this just to upset us.”

  “Not unlikely,” Rieni said. “But it is also not unlikely they would like to be in the news, too, and with no one in charge, there is no one to rein back bad ideas.”

  “We still shall ride,” he said.

  “With precautions,” Rieni said. “We ask, young aiji. Your security asks you to observe caution. Your junior security will hesitate to ask you. But do not put their lives at risk.”

  It was polite. It was respectful. He could not argue with that.

  It was also infuriating.

  “We have Taiben on watch now, right at the gate. Uncle will take precautions,” he said. He wanted not to be angry. He wanted not to have the urge to swear they would go where they liked and do what they liked and that politics was not his concern. It had to be. He had seen what happened when people were fools and ignored their bodyguards. “Are there not precautions you can take, nadiin, in all respect?”