Convergence

by C. J. Cherryh

  “They have brought a bus,” Jegari reported as they headed off across the main level. “The colors are Ajuri.”

  That was not good news. Ajuri was here to visit, his relatives and Nomari’s, not Uncle’s, and he did not want to see them, because there was nobody in Ajuri with anything good to say to Uncle. That feud had been going on since Grandfather had run off with Mother at her birth.

  Uncle was coming from his office. The seniors were coming up from downstairs.

  And they were bringing Nomari up with them.

  That was fairly scary.

  Uncle surely would not let Ajuri arrest him or any such thing, not under his roof. But Uncle had a very grim look, grimmer than ever Cajeiri had seen him.

  They all assembled in the sitting room, near the tall windows.

  “Uncle,” Cajeiri said, trying not to let his voice rise in distress, “have they said what they want?”

  “They want to bring their bus onto the grounds, and we have advised them this will not be permitted. The visitors include an infelicity of two, your great-aunt Geidaro, who is acting as clan lord, and your aunt Meisi, who wish to talk to us, along with your cousin Caradi, whose function in the world we cannot determine.”

  “I have not met him.”

  “It is no loss,” Uncle said. “The bus will stop at the gate, and if they intrude, we will stop them and we will not see them. If we disable the bus, they will walk home. We are sending the car to the gate, for the three, with two Guild of their company, and we anticipate a very brief meeting. Nomari, cousin of my nephew, welcome. Be assured you are under our protection.”

  “Nandi.” Nomari gave a little bow, well-composed and quiet, with Guild outnumbering servants in the room. “Thank you.”

  “Have you committed any offense we should know about?” Uncle asked.

  “I am in good standing with my guild. My clan will claim unanswered summonses. My principal fault within my clan, with apologies, nandi, is being the last survivor of my house.”

  “You are Sanari’s son.”

  “Nandi, I am.”

  “Grandson of Anoji, great-grandson of Nichono, twice-great-grandson of Ajuno and Haro, and great-grandnephew of Shishogi, am I correct?”

  “Nandi, you are correct.”

  Uncle nodded slowly. “You are aware of my history with Ajuri.”

  “Nandi, I am. I knew when I came here, no one has ever had to tell me, and I can only express regret. My own father, my brothers, my mother, my grandfather—all died at Shishogi’s orders.”

  There was a lengthy silence then. Uncle’s face was absolutely still. “You believe Komaji murdered my sister?”

  “No, nandi. I suspect his bodyguard.”

  Uncle’s sister was Grandmother. Muriyo. Mother’s mother. Cajeiri stood still, hands tucked under his arms as if it were winter chill in the room.

  “At Shishogi’s order.”

  “She would not go to Ajuri,” Nomari said.

  “You are extraordinarily well informed on the matter.” Uncle’s tone was ice.

  “Nandi, it was the center of everything that went wrong. Komaji was this way and that—the whole house rallied in the notion he was unjustly accused, but my grandfather, Anoji, suspected it was Guild, somehow. He thought it might be the aiji-dowager. Forgive me. But Shishogi was the one power our clan held. He was important. He held a tremendous power—we had no idea how great, or how important, or how extensive. Ajuri is a little clan. It always has been. And it has always been a conservative clan, and some of the elders more so than most—but nobody, nobody in my own family ever understood what Great-uncle was doing until he was dead. He was, we all knew, upset with the aiji-dowager being an Easterner, sitting as regent. He was upset with the aiji being a Taibeni woman’s son—and I have no idea all that he did, except that he was putting his own agents where he wanted them, and moving people he wanted in power. In Ajuri, people did not criticize Shishogi. They just did not. When we were young, we heard how important he was. When Grandfather did speak against him, everybody was upset—but some were afraid, too. My mother was afraid. And Grandfather died. That was how it was. When I was thirteen—when Lord Benedi died—my father was deeply attached to Benedi—and my father was upset. He said it was Guild responsible, and it was not the aiji-dowager, and I think now that that was enough. It was the end of our family, nandi. My mother told me go to Shejidan, to her relative, and I went into Transport Guild training. That is what I know about the things Shishogi did. We know more now. Or those of us outside know. Geidaro is still not saying it. And I know she has heard everything people outside are saying . . . that it was always Shishogi. If a lord went against him, he died. There was always another. If he wanted a tie to Atageini, he ordered one. It was Komaji’s fault he could not get your sister to go with him to have the baby in Ajiden. And Shishogi would never have trusted him if he had disobeyed orders, and stayed in Tirnamardi. That is the scenario I now imagine, behind the situation I know. I have had years to think it was a Guild plot. I have had the last several years to wonder why Guild would so concentrate its actions on Ajuri—if it were not the aiji-dowager in association with you, nandi. I do not now think so. So who else could order the Guild?”

  Uncle sat down. There was a terrible stillness in the room, that went on and on. No servant moved. Guild did not move in the least. Cajeiri himself felt his heart beating hard, felt a massive sense of things utterly in suspension. Nobody talked about Grandmother. Nobody mentioned her to Uncle. And Uncle almost never talked about her.

  But this stranger dared defend Grandfather, dared to tell Uncle and the Guild all about them that Grandmother had indeed been murdered, and that Grandfather was in a sense to blame, but that he had not necessarily been the murderer—that Guild had carried out an unFiled assassination, that Grandfather had stolen the baby—Mother—and carried her off before Uncle knew it.

  Maybe it had saved Uncle’s life, that Grandfather had gotten away with Mother as a babe in arms, and taken his guard with him. Maybe the feud had misdirected suspicions in Atageini and in Ajuri, so that more people were innocent than anybody might have thought, but that even Mother being born was Shishogi’s planning . . .

  Shishogi might have planned Mother’s life, but he had done nothing that he knew to prevent Father marrying her. Had he? Had he designed Mother all along to marry his father?

  He felt a need to sit down, too. His heart was racing. His thoughts were racing—over every scrap of half-heard discussion that had not involved him, things that Mother had said to Father, that one could, when they argued, hear through the doors.

  Mother had lived her life in a state of anxiety and upset, angry at secrets, angry at his father taking him away, angry at Great-grandmother—had she heard that in Ajuri? That Great-grandmother, mani, had had her mother killed? And did she even halfway believe it?

  “Interesting,” Uncle said in that cold tone. “These are not things we discuss in this house. Perhaps we should.”

  “Nandi,” Nomari said, and gave a little bow. “I deeply apologize for anything I may have said which distresses you. My clan is troubled. It is troubled by the very people you have arriving to visit you. If you wish me to leave before they do arrive, I know a gap in the hedges, and I would rather not put this house to the inconvenience of defending my presence here. If I leave, you can very properly tell them you have no idea where I have gone.”

  “You will kindly leave my abused hedges alone, guest of mine. Do not dare suggest to me that I would face this harridan of a woman with any evasion. One appreciates that Ajuri is fallen on hard times and lacks a lord to see to the niceties of the situation, but by the less felicitous gods, I hope that woman gives me cause. Do you have any substantiation for your defense of Komaji, thin though it be?”

  “Lord Tatiseigi, I have nothing but my memory. I know what was said in the house, and eventually, after the event
s in the Guild, among certain of us in Shejidan. I cannot prove any of it.”

  “Lord Komaji was coming toward Atageini lands when he was killed. And that killing, killing, I say, no Guild action, was itself unsanctioned. I have asked myself, had we met, what Komaji might have been so desperate to say to me, because it was not the safest direction for him to go. Hiding would have been safer. Any other direction would have been safer. I have asked myself—was he coming to gain my help? And how did he look to explain himself? What you say offers at least a rational explanation.”

  “Nandi.” Nomari made a second bow. “If I can do anything constructive in the situation—”

  “Sit down. And respect this house.”

  The car had arrived. Cajeiri heard it on the paving, which meant the lower doors had opened.

  He had his aishid. He had the seniors. Uncle had allowed these people to come with two Ajuri Guild, which he wished now Uncle had not done.

  He said, quietly, “Uncle. This is your house. But I do not wish Ajuri Guild to come onto this floor.”

  “The heir-designate can so order,” Uncle said.

  “Then I do,” Cajeiri said, with a lump in his throat, and immediately, as if a switch had been thrown, his senior aishid moved toward the doors and down the steps, and his younger aishid took up positions on either side of his chair, Veijico and Lucasi behind and Antaro and Jegari a little in front.

  There was the noise of protest from below. It did not continue. Uncle’s bodyguard took positions at Uncle’s chair. It was the house servants who went to stand by the doors, and Uncle’s estate guard who came up the stairs with the visitors.

  Cajeiri had not seen Geidaro or Meisi since Father had sent Grandfather home from the Bujavid and thrown all the Ajuri out with them, even Mother’s nurse and her maids and her security. Everybody had gone. And now Geidaro came up the stairs, an elderly woman with a cane like mani, but always, always scowling. Meisi helped her, scowling to match. And behind them came a thin man in a gold-thread coat, a little ostentatious for a country estate. A gold-thread coat and lace. It would have been ordinary in the Bujavid. Here—it was a little in excess.

  “Lord Tatiseigi,” Aunt Geidaro began, a little out of breath, but that voice could penetrate doors. “This is an outrage. My aishid half barred and now held at gunpoint—this is entirely excessive.”

  “It was my order,” Cajeiri said. “It was my aishid, Aunt. I take full responsibility for them.”

  Aunt was not expecting him to interfere, he was fairly sure of that. Her face went from scowling to impassive and cold, and she stared at him in a way he was sure she would not dare do with Father.

  But answer back? He thought she might, but he would remember. He would already remember her and hers, and if she thought she could make him flinch, she was wrong.

  “We are not prepared for tea or hospitality,” Uncle said, drawing Aunt’s attention to himself. “We ordinarily receive notice of impending visits.”

  “We are not prepared to take tea with this renegade,” Aunt retorted. “Clearly he has deceived you and made himself seem acceptable company. He is not. He has chosen to leave his house, to desert his clan, and to create a nest of opportunists and petty thieves. Clearly he is here because of your nomination of our cousin, which you well knew would meet a veto. Your political maneuvering has agitated this opportunist into making you an offer he can never deliver.”

  “Atageini is not accustomed to have unannounced arrivals criticize our decisions or attack other persons under our roof. You are treading close to the brink, Sister-in-law, and if you wish a car to take you and your niece to the gate, at any point, I would suggest you moderate your tone and reconsider your approach. Your son is quiet. Has he a voice of his own?”

  “I have, nandi.” That was from the middle-aged man and that was, Cajeiri thought, Aunt Geidaro’s son Caradi. “And Ajuri requests you, as a neighbor, consider backing someone who can be an ally, someone within the line.”

  “Do you not think the aiji has noticed your existence?” Uncle asked sharply.

  “Nandi!”

  “I believe he has,” Uncle said. “I believe he has fully considered a candidate even more directly descended from the last lord, but he will not expose her to the politics that have taken down her father. Likewise he has surely considered the vacancy and the candidacy of her son—”

  “A minor child!” Aunt exclaimed. “The situation of Ajuri needs mature leadership. Someone trained in the lordship.”

  “Alas, they die. Benedi, Kadiyi, Komaji . . . all dead.”

  “I can manage this,” Caradi said. “I offer you a good association . . .”

  “With no fear of assassination,” Uncle said. “Certainly the chances are less, now, since the scoundrels now sit in charge.”

  “You have the scoundrel under your own roof!” Geidaro said. “You have the faction that has repeatedly struck at Ajuri’s stability! He sits there, smug and satisfied.” In fact Nomari’s expression was nothing of the sort. “And you accuse us of discourtesy. You have been no neighbor to us. You have abandoned the policies of your uncle, you have led the seven clans astray from our principles, you have associated yourself with Easterners and liberals, you have made peace with the Taibeni bandits, you have voted to admit the Edi pirates to the aishidi’tat, you have made association with the aiji’s pet human, and you have sold our heritage!”

  “Diplomacy,” Uncle said dryly, “diplomacy, diplomacy, Sister-in-law. Caradi, you are standing there like a stone block, doubtless wishing your mother understood discretion. The habit of being feared, perhaps, encourages her indiscretion. Easterners and liberals, is it?”

  “You cannot stand without us,” Aunt said. “Your power, such as it is, comes from your association, from the Padi Valley, and do you think you can replace us, pure Ragi, with Taibeni? With humans? Think again! Without us, you do not have Purani, you do not have Madi, you do not have Ardiyan.”

  “And without us, you do not have access to east or west or south. You think I will tremble?”

  “My son is lord of Ajuri! It is his inheritance!”

  “A lordship is no one’s guaranteed inheritance. And I have yet to hear much from your son,” Uncle said. “He seems a silent sort. Another Shishogi? Or is he simply shy?”

  “Great-uncle was an infelicity,” Caradi said stiffly. “We were more affected by his actions than any other. We do not know all that he did. Likely no one ever will know.”

  “That would be comfortable for some, perhaps, but we will continue to pursue it.”

  “Support my son,” Aunt said. “You can restore a good relationship with Ajuri, nandi, by proposing him as lord, not some distant relation of Komaji’s house. Ajuri will never accept an outsider.”

  “Your son seems incapable of speaking for himself.”

  “Do not insult my mother.”

  “Ah,” Uncle said. “There is an opinion. Speak your mind, Caradi. I wait to be amazed.”

  “You insult me, a guest under your roof.”

  “You are no guest. Your cousin is a guest. You have turned up at my gates presenting demands. I have been courteous enough to invite you to make them here, rather than relying on messengers, but you have quite the same status as some traveler on the road. If this is the way guests arrive in Ajuri territory, I beg to be instructed.”

  “This person,” Caradi said, “is a thief.”

  “I am not!” Nomari said.

  “How,” Uncle asked quietly, “did his family die?”

  There was a small silence.

  “I ask,” Uncle said.

  “There were unfortunate accidents.”

  Nomari made a move as if he would get up, but one of Uncle’s Guild moved slightly to the fore and Nomari sank back with a clenched fist.

  “Unfortunate accidents,” Uncle said. “Like my sister’s?”

&nb
sp; That made a dreadful quiet.

  “Leave my premises,” Uncle said. “I will convey you back by car only to have you off these grounds. Delay, and I shall loose the mecheiti on you as trespassers.”

  “You are making a mistake,” Geidaro said.

  “I never Filed in the case of my sister’s death. The agency was unclear. Do not try me now.”

  “You dare nothing of the sort.”

  “I beg you try me.”

  Uncle had never used that tone. Ever. The three Ajuri stood still a moment, angry—but not pushing further, either.

  Meddling in the affairs of grown-ups was not usually a good thing. But these were Mother’s relatives. And his. And Cajeiri stood up with all the height and calm he could muster.

  “Leave,” he said. “Now.”

  Aunt fixed him with a dark, sharp stare that grown-ups in Ajuri probably dreaded. He stared back, mad, on Uncle’s account, on his mother’s account, on Grandfather’s and Grandmother’s, because this woman, this one old woman, was their enemy, and his, and Uncle’s. If Shishogi had acted inside Ajuri—he had a notion this woman had been his hands. This woman had been scary, and powerful, and had acted oh, so prim and proper when she had visited the Bujavid with Meisi and Dejaja—and Grandfather, who was newly lord of Ajuri and very soon dead, like all the others.

  Geidaro kept surviving. Geidaro had blamed mani for everything, just the way Shishogi had.

  Enemy? Among all his pins, he had never placed one. But he would now.

  And Aunt stared at him last when she turned about, stamped her cane on the floor and said to Meisi and Caradi, “We shall go.”

  She was smart enough not to speak any threat, not against him, not against Uncle. But Cajeiri thought, she meant one. She very much meant one, as she turned and walked down the steps to the foyer; and he was shivering, not because he was afraid—well, he was—but mostly because he saw a danger he could do nothing about. He had his aishid on those steps, if the Ajuri Guild dared draw a gun, but they were not the danger. That was not the way that woman would work.

  He looked toward Uncle, who looked to be carved of stone, still seated; and he saw, next to Uncle, Nomari, whose hands were clenched, whose composure was not as perfect as Uncle’s. Nomari looked as if he would fling himself out of the chair and after that company . . . or bolt for the doors himself, in another direction. Nomari had not had mani thwacking his ear and saying, Face. Face. Stand still.