Betrayer: Foreigner #12

by C. J. Cherryh

  If our suspension holds up, Bren thought, holding on to the seat. If our steering holds out.

  “Where are we going?” Lucasi asked faintly, getting to his knees and up to the seat.

  “There is a hunting station,” Tano said, “and another road. The place may be shut down for the season. It may be in hostile hands.”

  Comforting thought. Bren had the most confused notion of which direction they were going, but it seemed to be generally away from Najida—not due south, which would have backtracked, but southwest.

  There had been a road on the Taisigi side of the border. There was some sort of road that led down through the hunting ranges. He wasn’t even sure it continued to the border. If it did cross the border, it would do so nearest Kajiminda.

  Except—

  “The renegades staged their operations against Kajiminda from somewhere, did they not, nadiin-ji?”

  “There is that possibility,” Tano said.

  “We shall need to find out,” Algini said.

  The shooting had died down for a while. Cenedi came downstairs to inquire how mani was getting along and to report that there had been contact with intruders but no casualties on their side, except one villager who had reported in for medical treatment for a cut from a rock chip.

  Mani and Geigi had both slept, and Cajeiri had, too, at least a little nap before Cenedi came in. Now it felt like breakfast time, and Cajeiri’s stomach was empty.

  “Well, well,” nand’ Geigi said, when he mentioned it, “do not wake Cook at this hour, but is there anything in the kitchen?”

  “There are sandwiches and tea, nandi,” Cenedi reported, in the dining room. “Shall I have staff bring it down?”

  “Staff has enough to do,” mani said. “If we are quiet, let these young rascals bring us a tray.”

  Something to do. In great relief Cajeiri instantly got to his feet, and so did Antaro and Jegari.

  Mani snapped, “Not you, young gentleman.”

  “But three of us can bring enough down for everybody, mani.”

  “Then no diversions. Go straight to the dining room and straight back. No nonsense! Do you hear?”

  “Yes, mani-ma!”

  One lost no more time for fear Great-grandmother could change her mind. Cajeiri headed for the door with Cenedi, and Jegari and Antaro came right behind him.

  It was down the hall and up the servant stairs. Cenedi took the door to the dining room hall, but they kept going the back way to the kitchens and on through to the dining room, where it was spectacularly true: There were stacks of sandwiches, and an urn of hot water for tea, and and tea sets and carryingtrays. They piled up good helpings on three trays, filled a big teapot that had seven cups and then took the route out into the hall, because the kitchen, with its ovens and cabinets, was a cramped space to be carrying big trays through.

  There was a sudden strange sound, far off from the house, hard to figure.

  It seemed to be an engine, a powerful one. And all of a sudden there was shooting from off the roof.

  Cajeiri stopped. Antaro and Jegari stopped. They were in a hallway right in the heart of the house, with thick walls between them and any trouble, and Cajeiri delayed to look around the corner to the main hall, to find out what was happening—thinking maybe it was his father’s men coming in and that that was covering fire he heard.

  The vehicle was coming right to the front door, right under the portico. And the shooting was still going on. Somebody was trying to reach them, Cajeiri thought. Trouble outside was trying to stop them.

  Then an explosion banged through the main hall, like thunder breaking, and a wind came with it, and things were breaking and splintering, and the wind threw him sideways, with trays and hot tea and sandwiches spilling everywhere. Cajeiri hit flat on his back and hit his head, and before he could get up, he heard shooting going on in the main hall, just a few feet away.

  Then shooting came back from the garden hall, near the bath, and there they all were in the middle of the dining room hallway, and his head really hurt.

  “Nandi!” Jegari scrambled over to him through puddles of tea and started helping him up, dragging him to his feet. Antaro grabbed his other arm.

  The tea, Cajeiri thought foolishly. They had broken one of nand’ Bren’s teapots and most of the cups. He was on his knees in the hall, and his ears were still ringing so it was hard to get his knees under him.

  “Enemies,” Antaro said, pulling at him, “in the house.”

  Cajeiri struggled up and had no chance even to catch his balance. Antaro and Jegari dragged him through the door back into the dining room.

  They had no guns. Cenedi and all mani’s guard and Lord Geigi’s and even Veijico were up here, involved in the fighting. They could not have enemies coming downstairs and finding mani and Lord Geigi with no protection.

  “Downstairs,” he said, out of breath, his head pounding. He had never been so scared in his life. He was ahead of his guard, blind headache and all, on his way to the kitchen stairs and down them.

  But when they got to the foot of the stairs, there was fat Baiji, barefoot, in a night robe, running toward them in panic, from the end of the downstairs hall.

  “Stop!” Cajeiri yelled, and just then gunfire broke out in the hall, just around the bend, out of their sight. “Get him!” he yelled at Jegari and Antaro, as Baiji tried to break past them and get up the stairs. They grabbed him and threw him on the hall floor at to the foot of the stairs, Baiji howling and protesting at the top of his lungs.

  The fight had spilled into the downstairs, from the garden hall stairs, from around the bent end of the hall. Mani’s guard never would have let Baiji loose, and Baiji was too stupid to get loose on his own, which meant something had happened to one of mani’s young men, on guard down there.

  And mani and Lord Geigi were in danger if the fight came around the corner and headed this way.

  Shots rang out from that direction.

  “Come on,” Cajeiri said. It was not far to mani’s door, and they could get there. They could protect mani from inside until Cenedi could get down here.

  “Move!” Antaro told Baiji, dragging him along. Baiji was shouting curses at them, protesting he was not to be handled. Jegari got his other arm, and he started howling in pain. Cajeiri did not look back. He ran straight for mani’s door and tried to open it.

  They had it locked. Of course. And when he looked back, he saw Veijico down by the bend of the hall, with a gun. “Get in a room!” Veijico shouted, running toward them.

  “Mani!” he shouted, pounding on the door. “Let us in! Let us in!”

  Lord Geigi opened it, and they started to go in, all but Veijico. She stood against the wall, her pistol aimed back toward the bend of the hall.

  “Lock it after you!” Veijico said, and they were still trying to get in, but Baiji tried to resist in the doorway and blocked them. Lord Geigi took a fistful of Baiji’s coat and spun him into the room with a fearful crash of furniture. Baiji went stumbling backward over two chairs and up against a table before he hit the floor.

  Geigi shut the door. Veijico was still out there.

  “Get over here,” Mani said to them sharply, from where she sat. “They may fire through the door. Here is better protected.”

  They all did what mani said, except Baiji, who huddled on the floor in the corner whimpering about assassins.

  “Have you decided now, fool, who is trying to keep you alive?” Geigi snapped at him from across the room, and Baiji, on hands and knees in his corner, launched into a new theme, how he had never meant any harm and had been scared by the Taisigi and had been all alone, considering his uncle Geigi was in space and he had not been certain if the aiji was going to be able to stay in power . . .

  “Silence!” mani snapped, “or I shall have you shot!”

  Baiji swallowed the rest of it, looking as if he were going to choke.

  And all of a sudden there was shooting in the hall right outside.

  Vei
jico, Cajeiri thought in distress. Veijico was all alone out there, and the shooting stopped, and there were footsteps in the hall.

  Then somebody tried their door.

  And none of them had a gun.

  There was nothing they could do. Just—

  He took the slingshot out of his pocket. He had his several choice bits of metal.

  Fire came through the door, and the lock blew in. The door flew open, banging backward, and a foreign Guildsman with a rifle swung it straight toward them.

  Cajeiri fired the hardest draw he had ever done, and the man fell backward into the door, slamming it back. Two other men were coming behind him, and Cajeiri loaded another shot just as gunfire broke out, and the men turned around, firing rifles back down the hall.

  The nearer of them lurched into the room, and all of a sudden the inward-opening door slammed back into the man from Baiji’s corner. Jegari flung himself past Cajeiri, Antaro trying for the other man, who turned, swinging his rifle toward her. Cajeiri fired.

  His last stone hit the man and made the rifle jerk as Antaro tried to shove it out of line.

  But all of a sudden a shot from outside hit the man, and hit the door behind him, and there was blood everywhere. Veijico heaved herself into view on the hall floor outside, grabbed the doorframe with a bloody hand, and pulled herself halfway up as footsteps rushed closer.

  “Nandiin!” somebody yelled, and uniformed Guild showed up in the doorway, helping Veijico, standing over the three attackers. It was Cenedi and mani’s bodyguard, and they held the hall out there, and they were all safe.

  Cajeiri started shivering. He didn’t intend to. But he was out of ammunition; and everybody was all right, and he just wanted to sit down.

  Mani did sit down, her cane braced before her. “Well,” she said.

  Baiji crept out from behind the door on his hands and knees.

  “Do not attempt to run,” Lord Geigi said to him, “or they will have no patience.”

  “How is Veijico?” Cajeiri managed to ask as, Jegari and Antaro having disentangled themselves, mani’s young men dragged the attackers out. He tried not to let anybody see he was shaking all over. “Cenedi-nadi, how is Veijico?”

  “And how are you, Great-grandson?” mani asked sharply, from his left.

  “We broke the tea set,” was the first idiotic thing that came out of his mouth. He had never sounded so stupid, and his voice did shake.

  And there was still gunfire going on somewhere above, but distant.

  “They used a grenade at the front door,” Cenedi said. Cenedi was bleeding all down his left arm, red dripping from his fingers, but he had a rifle in his right hand. “It blew out both ends of the hall, nandiin, regrettably. They used a truck to get under the portico, blew the door, and then got in through the front. Our people stationed on the roof got in through the back to stop them, but some of the intruders got down the garden hall stairs and let Baiji loose, doubtless while looking for higher-value targets. One apologizes profoundly for letting that happen.”

  “We will have to apologize to the paidhi, when we get him back,” mani said dryly. “One supposes the house is now open to the winds, and we are sitting in an unfortified sieve, while my lazy grandson has still not managed to get his forces out of the airport.”

  “That would be correct, nandi,” Cenedi said. “They are still pinned down.” Cenedi then added wryly: “We do, however, have the enemy securely pent up between us.”

  Mani laughed. Actually laughed.

  Cajeiri was amazed. Shocked. He just stood there shivering. And Cenedi’s men dragged out the man he had hit with the slingshot, who had not moved at all.

  “Nadiin-ji,” he said, as Antaro and Jegari edged close to him. “See how Veijico is. Help her. We have help coming.”

  His father’s men were trying to come in. Cenedi said so. But they were stuck. And there was no front door any more, and there were still enemies.

  The whole place smelled like gunpowder. And there was cold air blowing through the halls, taking that smell everywhere.

  At one moment Bren was sure they had driven off the edge of a ditch and in the next, the van, hitting the full compression of its shocks, and grinding something on its undercarriage, bounced. Bren, sitting on the floor, held on.

  Then, surprising him, they leveled out onto a defined, mowed road, gathering speed.

  They were clearly not conserving fuel now. But they were making time. Lucasi had gotten up on the seat again at Tano’s order, without a word. It was one more armored body between the paidhi and trouble, but Lucasi didn’t object.

  The floor was not, however, a good vantage point, and after they had run on gravel for a while, on an unexpectedly well-maintained road, Bren got onto his knees and carefully levered himself up onto the seat, with Tano’s help.

  He still couldn’t see anything but grass and a little trace of previous wheel ruts beyond the foglights and what might be a few sprinkles of rain on the windshield. He sat still, not asking pointless questions, composing what he could say if they did get him a civilian phone. It probably, he thought, it didn’t matter that much what he did say: the reaction his voice got was going to get them protection or it was going to bring every enemy on the west coast howling in pursuit.

  He didn’t know what they were going toward, but he hoped for luck—baji-naji, when it got down to it, blind luck to hold out just a little longer. There was less of value out here in a hunting preserve to encourage hordes of enemies to set up roadblocks. There was scant reason for the occupants of a hunting station to expect an armed invasion.

  But there was no reason for an ordinary hunting-range road to have been well maintained, either.

  And a hunting station probably constituted the most heavily armed, resourceful sort of citizen populace they were likely to meet, well, give or take the Edi.

  That meant he might have to get out, talk to the locals, risk another shot to the torso or worse—he could hardly contemplate it without flinching—and look like the degree of authority that private citizens had no business shooting at. Even if the locals viewed him as trouble, or an outright enemy, they would most likely just want him to get out of their district as fast as possible and not have him draw fire or damage their property.

  He felt his collar lace and straightened it, straightened out his cuffs, which were a disgrace—he had to pick grass seeds out of the lacework.

  The road climbed, then descended. There was a little flickering of lightning out the south side of the van.

  “There,” Jago said, and Bren saw nothing . . . which by no means surprised him.

  “Let us out, Nichi-ji,” Algini said, and the van immediately slowed.

  The sound of one lonely engine out here might catch someone’s attention. And he knew what Algini and Tano were doing, even before Banichi slowed to a stop and those two got out.

  They were exhausted. All of them were exhausted. They sat a time with the engine pinging in the chill night air, waiting.

  Look it over, figure what they were dealing with. Signal. One of them had to go off passive recept if they were going to do that. That was a risk.

  So was driving blindly into an enemy outpost.

  It was a long wait. Jago slept, catnapping. Lucasi slept. Bren tried to and succeeded intermittently. At his third or fourth waking, Jago was awake, and Banichi was catching a little sleep, his arms folded on the steering wheel.

  Tano and Algini were out there somewhere on a cold, increasingly rainy night, looking the situation over.

  “Ah,” Jago said suddenly and nudged Banichi. “A come-ahead,” she said.

  Banichi just started the engine and drove, not breakneck but at a fair clip, with the fog lights on.

  It was about a kilometer farther on that the lights picked out a distant set of log buildings at the edge of a stand of trees. An open-sided equipment shed: There was the tractor and mower; a small open-bed truck, and a fuel tank. That was what they were looking for. A few buildings, one the
typical barracks for the seasonal commercial operation of the center, one the manager’s residence, one larger building—a processing center, again, for use in its season.

  Banichi pulled into the center of the cluster and parked near the porch of what looked like the manager’s residence.

  Jago opened her door and stepped out. Bren clutched his gun in his pocket and watched as Jago went up the steps.

  “Attention the house!” Jago called out as he rapped on the door. “Assassins’ Guild, on other business!”

  No shot came. That was encouraging.

  A machine growled out of the dark. Bren’s heart jumped. But it was a generator cutting on. Floodlights slowly brightened. A light came on inside the house.

  The door opened. A man wearing only trousers came out into the cold and spoke to Jago, quietly. Bren couldn’t make it out. The man’s stance looked anxious. But unless he knew someone, an angry ex-wife or business partner, had Filed Intent on him, a citizen should have nothing to fear from legitimate Guild.

  Lucasi waked, sat up, looked around him. And asked no questions.

  Jago walked back toward the van, down the short steps. Then another figure, in Guild black, showed beside the house.

  “Banichi,” Bren said in alarm.

  “Tano,” Banichi said calmly, and as Jago walked up to the van, he rolled his window down.

  “There is a radio in the office,” she said. “We have agreed not to drain the tank. The manager has a wife and children, one an infant.”

  “Let me go out, nadi,” Bren said quietly and got up, no one hindering him this time. Lucasi opened the side door, and Bren climbed down as the man came down off the low porch.

  “The paidhi-aiji,” the man said.

  It was hard to be mistaken in that point of identification. Bren gave a little nod.

  “At the moment, nadi,” Bren said, “I am on official business. Is your man’chi to Lord Machigi?”

  “Yes, nandi.”

  A second nod. “Have you had news from Tanaja?”

  Hesitation. An answering nod.