Betrayer: Foreigner #12

by C. J. Cherryh

  The talk went on, the cold table eased his back, he was without the damned vest, and to his embarrassment, he began to lose threads, and his mind began to wander back to the interview with Lord Machigi and even to the papers, the proposals.

  “Nandi.” Nand’ Juien touched his shoulder from behind, startling him, but Tano was there. He relaxed. The doctor said, “Exhale.” And having his head between his hands, suddenly rotated it quickly one direction and the other. Joints popped in chain reaction all down his spine.

  It startled him, and it hurt like hell, but it reached sore muscles all the way down between his shoulders.

  Then the doctor wanted, yes, another x-ray.

  Glowing in the dark occurred to him, but the brain was getting reports from his shoulders now, and from his middle back. The ribs hurt. But there was a faint tingling and a sense of relief. He was, he decided, in somewhat less pain. He contented himself with breathing, moving his shoulders just slightly, while nand’ Juien and a new presence, his assistant, both talked to Tano.

  No, this, this, and this medications would not be good, Tano said, and added that while the human metabolism was a little faster than one might expect, the dosage . . .

  He couldn’t hold that thread. For a moment he was just nowhere, and the doctor was saying something about the dose and that he would like to see him back in three days, once they had taped up the ribs.

  Something about the bed being too soft . . .

  Possibly it was. He didn’t intend to meddle with Machigi’s furniture. He wanted his coat. He wondered if nand’ Juien had somehow slipped him a sedative; and he didn’t want that. They went on discussing the concussion he’d almost had.

  He remembered he’d intercepted a chair arm on the way to the floor—had been blasted back into it. The chair moving out from under him had actually kept him from hitting his head any harder than he had, but it hadn’t been a clean fall, that was sure.

  He wanted to be up and have his head clear. Really clear. He had business to settle. He’d done something dire. He’d done something he couldn’t undo . . . he’d put his bodyguard in a terrible position. They’d taken over an hour down here. Better part of two, for God’s sake, and Banichi and Jago were carrying on as if everything was normal, and it wasn’t.

  And that did it. His stomach started into turmoil that wasn’t going to settle until he had a chance to talk to his bodyguard. All his bodyguard, including Algini, whose involvement in things was a little chancier than the rest.

  “I need to get up,” he said under his breath. “Jago-ji. If you will.”

  “Is he permitted?” Jago asked Tano, and Tano came aside from the discussion and helped him sit up.

  But it wasn’t over. Nand’ Juien and his assistant retaped his ribs, telling him when and how to breathe, then wrapped them about with a great deal of stretch bandage. That took another lengthy time.

  It helped the pain of the ribs. But Tano could have done it. He wanted to go upstairs. He had begun to ask himself whether Algini was all right, left alone in the suite. Were they being stalled while something went on? He’d dismissed the bus. Was anything happening elsewhere that Machigi wanted a distraction to cover? Was Tano still in communication with Algini?

  Did either have any idea what had gone on in his meeting with Machigi?

  Nand’ Juien prescribed alternate hot and cold compresses, provided the wherewithal, handing a sizeable packet to Tano, and then said, turning to him,

  “You have been a most interesting patient, nandi.”

  “One is grateful,” he said with a little bow, and he accepted Banichi’s and Jago’s help getting down off the table. Jago handed him his shirt, and Banichi helped him put it on.

  And the vest, before the coat. One was not at all surprised. Likely nand’ Juien was not surprised either.

  He buttoned the coat. He performed all the courtesies to nand’ Juien and his staff. He gathered his bodyguard and escaped out the door and toward the stairs, with Machigi’s guard in close attendance.

  It was a long climb. He thought his brain was working up to speed. He’d all but collapsed downstairs—he still felt odd since that pop that had cascaded down his backbone. It was a damned, light-headed nightmare he’d gotten them into, and the situation with his aishid was beyond uncomfortable, all the way up the stairs and into their suite, where they had at least the illusion of privacy.

  Banichi and Jago wore perfectly ordinary expressions as he glanced their way. Tano had evinced no disturbance when he had come down to the clinic. Algini acted in no wise upset when they arrived back in the sitting room.

  And for about two breaths the light-headedness took away all rational faculties, for a moment of panic. He knew he had to level with them. All of them. His declaration to Machigi had dragged them into a damned difficult conflict of man’chi—that toward Tabini-aiji, in the case of Banichi and Jago and, God only knew—to the Assassins’ Guild leadership, in the case of Tano and Algini. He was no longer sure. Everything had been neatly vertical while he served Tabini. His service to Ilisidi hadn’t upset a thing: she was attached to Tabini. Algini’s attachment to the Guild couldn’t be an issue: the Guild served Tabini. It was all one happy package.

  This declaration to Machigi, however, upset everything. And they were still bugged, so he couldn’t talk to them. He wanted them to know he felt loyalty to them and that he was doing what he had to do—but that wasn’t the way things worked, in man’chi. Theirs was upward. He was the focus. And he’d just affected the way it was aimed, in everything. He saw worry in their faces. They gave him that, at least. They let him read them.

  And he couldn’t.

  Maybe it was something he’d never felt with them: a sense of shame.

  Did he wish he had done differently than he had done with Machigi? No. He didn’t. He’d had to do what he had done. The same as he had had to trust Machigi’s staff.

  But hurt one of his bodyguard? He couldn’t do that. And he had.

  For the first time in all the time they’d been together, he didn’t know what to do. What to say.

  “Would you care for tea, Bren-ji?’ Jago asked him, and he just froze, thinking, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t just go back to life as normal. He didn’t want it. But they had their listeners, constantly watching for signs of upset. Listeners who’d want to know what they did and said in the wake of the committment he’d given.

  “Please,” he said. Activity. Any normal activity. Something to keep the eavesdroppers guessing. And not even the bath with the water running was guaranteed to mask a conversation.

  He headed for the table. For writing paper. He sat down there, a little dizzy, his thoughts trying to fog on him, and wrote.

  Tano came and brought the tea. And a pill. “This should be safe, Bren-ji.”

  “Not yet,” he said in a low voice, and wrote another sentence. A necessary sentence. He handed the paper to Tano first.

  Machigi has called on me to operate as his mediator, he had written, and I have declared man’chi to Machigi. Therefore I must give fair advantage to him and to the aiji-dowager. I feel pain, however, if I distress my aishid. I will not betray you. That I am compelled to say so with all evidence to the contrary is very painful to me. But that declaration is all I can give at this point. Please let the others read this, and let the last burn it.

  Tano read it and solemnly went over and gave it to Algini. Algini read it and passed it to Banichi, who passed it to Jago, who crumpled it in her fist and shot up a single Guild sign.

  Five fingers. The aishid-lord unit. Banichi nodded, once. And Algini held up the same sign. Tano nodded, likewise once.

  It had been a long time since something had hit him at that level. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid like break down or offer expressions of human sentiment. He wasn’t going to. He got up from his chair, bowed slightly, and said only: “One is grateful, nadiin-ji.”

  Jago tossed the note into the fire and made another Guild sign, a fast wipe of the
thumb across the fingertips. Wipeout. It meant, situationally, half a dozen things, from annihilation to none at all. And she said, pleasantly, “Go to bed, Bren-ji. Stay there. Your aishid insists.”

  Get the brain to working. Hell with the painkillers, which he hadn’t taken. He wanted to work.

  But Jago opened the bedroom door and Banichi waved a hand toward it, Tano nudged his elbow, and the lot of them took him to the bedroom and took his coat and the vest, made him sit down and took off his boots, and there was nothing for it. With the support of the vest gone, he did feel exhaustion piling up.

  Boots went into the closet. He gave up the rest of the clothes, and they tucked him into bed like a five-year-old and turned out the lights.

  “It’s not dark out, nadiin-ji,” he said.

  “So,” Banichi said. “But it will be.”

  It was conspiracy. They left, except Jago, who leaned very close to his ear, set her hand on his bare shoulder, and whispered, “Man’chi stands, Bren-ji.”

  He was quite moved, but he had no time to enjoy that sensation because she tipped him backward into the covers and threw the blanket over him.

  And walked out and shut the door behind her.

  His aishid was out there discussing the problems he’d made them. He needed to get his wits about him.

  But the bed was soft. He found it possible to relax. His aishid was still taking care of him.

  Having said what he’d said, he had to deliver and just shut up and trust them. He was so used to thinking in huge territories, in planetary terms and centuries. His area of acute concern had gotten down to one set of rooms, four people, and himself. Five. And a finite number of hours.

  Machigi had tested them. But Machigi had seen, and his guard had seen, with clearer sight than a human could, that that relationship stood.

  If Machigi thought he’d fractured them, if Machigi’d imagined he’d panic or that there could be any distance between him and his bodyguard, Machigi was obliged to revise his expectations. Considering that Machigi’s own aishid had stuck fast to him under pressure, that said maybe they had something unexpected in common.

  He used that thought for a pillow. And his mind focused down to a single sharp point. Machigi and I have that in common. If we didn’t, his aishid wouldn’t have taken the action they did this morning.

  9

  It was a lot better, Cajeiri thought, to have Barb-daja back. Barb-daja took over watching nand’ Toby, and that meant Cajeiri could go back to his own suite.

  And first of all, he just wanted to go to bed early, in his own soft bed. It was embarrassing. There were so many things one could do, and he simply went to his suite with his aishid, well, with the two he wanted, and fell into bed and slept in his clothes and all.

  But when he waked up, realized it was after dark, and walked into his sitting room to find out what time it was and if there was any supper at all, Veijico had come in. She was just sitting there alone at the table, with Antaro and Jegari across the room in chairs by the fireside.

  He was a mess and caught at disadvantage, with his shirt and trousers wrinkled and his hair falling into his face.

  “What time is it, nadiin?” he asked, looking at Antaro and Jegari.

  “Midnight, nandi,” Antaro said.

  “Did you get any sleep?” he asked.

  “Some, nandi,” Jegari said, with a little move of his eyes toward their interloper, over at the table.

  It was that bad, the feeling in the room.

  Veijico had a right, one supposed, to come here, but they were not sleeping and letting her be here unsupervised, with, by now, the whole estate abed. They had all probably missed supper. And Jegari and Antaro had been at least as tired as he was.

  He had slept right into dark and wasted all his chance to know what was going on in the house, was what.

  “I shall have a bath,” he said, never mind the hour, which meant Jegari, and only Jegari, would attend him.

  And that served two purposes, only one of which was a quick, hot bath.

  The other was getting Jegari alone and finding out when Veijico had come back and had she said anything.

  “An hour ago, nandi.” They shared the ample bathtub, both in water up to their chins, although Cajeiri had to sit up more and half-float, balanced on his heels. “We were not yet in bed. And she has apologized to you and to us.”

  “Apologized.” That was certainly an improvement.

  “She has been under the direction of nand’ Bren’s aishid,” Jegari said with a little look under the brows. “She tasted their food for them. She stood guard at night. She cared for Barb-daja. She said they were very hard on her, but she agreed they were fair.”

  “Ha.” That was good. But it was very sad about her brother, and he remembered her sitting alone at the table, only looking up when he had come into the room. “Has she any news of Lucasi?”

  “No. Nand’ Bren has people looking, but it is Taisigi that are doing the looking.”

  “That is by no means the best thing, Gari-ji!”

  “No, it is not, nandi.”

  “Do you suppose they are even doing it?”

  Jegari shrugged and made ripples. “One is sure they are looking, nandi, if they know he is in their territory, but how they will deal with him, one hardly knows. Except if Lord Bren says they are looking to recover him—one would think that was true.”

  “She must be worried.”

  “One would think she is very worried. This is more than her brother, nandi. This is her partner that is missing. Within the Guild—that is—very difficult.”

  “I shall speak to her,” Cajeiri said. He did not look forward to it. It was serious, grown-up business. It was the sort of thing he preferred grown-ups to do. But Veijico had come back to him, to his rooms, so she still thought she was his.

  So he supposed he had to do it. It was what mani would expect. And what mani would expect—well, that was just what he had to do.

  So with Jegari’s help he dressed and put himself in order, with a crisp ironed shirt and a fresh coat and trousers despite the late hour, and then he agreed with Jegari that Jegari would leave him alone. He had no private place to talk, just three rooms, so he found something for Jegari to do—going out to find out how nand’ Toby was getting along and what was happening in the house, and maybe to get them supper. And in the meantime Antaro was to have her bath. So that would leave him only with Veijico for a guard.

  That was a little scary, considering she had done things that put her on the wrong side not just of Cenedi and mani but of the Guild, and she had not been a reliable person. She was tall and strong and she was real Guild, and she could kill people faster than you could see it happen.

  But Cenedi would not have let her come back into his rooms if she had not satisfied Cenedi and mani about her behavior. That gave him confidence. And he was absolutely sure Cenedi even if he was asleep was aware where she was.

  So Jegari went out, Antaro went to the bath, and he went back into the sitting room where Veijico was.

  Veijico stood up, properly and politely, finding herself the object of his attention. That, in itself, was an improvement. She looked very tired, and thinner, and just worn down.

  “One is very sorry to hear your partner is still missing, nadi,” he said.

  A quiet little bow. “Thank you, nandi. One is gratified by your expression.”

  A textbook answer, mani would call it.

  “Did you want to come back to us?” he asked.

  “If nand’ Bren had wished it, nandi, one would have stayed there. They needed me. But they sent me with Barb-daja. Now I am here. If you wish me to leave—”

  “Are you sorry to be here, nadi?”

  She bowed her head. “One regrets the difficulties, nandi.”

  “You left without calling the security office.”

  “We saw the kidnappers, nandi. We chased them to stop them.” She bit her lip. Then said nothing at all.

  But he knew he had ca
lled out to stop the kidnappers. And she did not offer that excuse to him.

  That was way better behavior than he had seen.

  “You followed my order,” he said.

  She gave a little nod, a bow, and said: “We ignored procedures, you being both a minor, forgive me, nandi, and a civilian. One is aware we did not exercise mature judgement.”

  “Did Banichi tell you that, nadi?”

  “Algini-nadi did, nandi,” she said. Algini was the grimmest of Lord Bren’s bodyguard, and not the one Cajeiri would personally like to have reprimand him. He could imagine Algini, who said very little, might have said exactly those words and made every one of them sting.

  He was sorry for her. But he did not forget that she had been rude to Jegari and Antaro, and if he said he was sorry, she might move back in and start running things again, and telling him how to behave, and ignoring all his orders except the one she absolutely should not have obeyed.

  She obeyed orders, he thought uncomfortably, the same way he obeyed orders—he picked the ones he liked and managed not to be there in any official way to hear the others.

  So off she and Lucasi had gone to be important and do the big thing, getting Barb-daja back, because they knew they had just made a huge mistake in putting Barb-daja and nand’ Toby in danger.

  He had less sympathy for her and her partner when he thought about that.

  And about her attitude toward Jegari and Antaro.

  And then suddenly, in the middle of remembering all the reasons he had been angry with her, it struck him what he was feeling, right in the middle of his stomach. He discovered the reason she made him nervous, and the reason he was just a little scared of her and never really believed she was going to do what he told her.

  “You have no man’chi here,” he said to her, right out in the open. “You were never mine, not from the time you came here. Maybe your man’chi is to my father, nadi, but it never was to me.”