His father bent an absolutely dispassionate face toward him, which, since he doubted his father had reason to lose his temper further than he had already lost it, probably meant that his father was actually amused at his account. One might take offense at that, because he had tried hard to understand what was going on—except it was certainly better than his father losing his temper.
“Tolerably well-reckoned,” his father said. “But there is risk in staying here, boy, which agitates your great-uncle considerably. Not to mention your mother.”
“If the Edi fall out of the aishidi’tat and the Marid starts fighting them, there will be a lot of assassinations, and you could be in danger, honored Father, even in the capital, not to mention other people who will get hurt all over the place. If the Edi clan protects this coast and it allies to the Gan and to Great-grandmother in the East, that will annoy some people, but it will make this coast stronger, so the Marid can never come in here again. And if nand’ Bren had not found out the Marid were plotting to take Kajiminda, then the Taisigi of the Marid would have gotten a claim to it. And they would have killed off the Maschi one at a time until they got somebody else stupid like Baiji to make a treaty with them. And then you would have to come in and fight them and it would have been a much bigger mess than having the Edi as allies and letting them have a house of their own.”
“Clever, clever boy. All your great-grandmother’s arguments in a pleasant package.”
It was not time to be pert with his father. Not at all. Cajeiri made a judicious bow.
“Do you already know you are about to become the elder of my offspring?” his father asked him then, which took a second thought, and rapidly three and four. “Is that what has prompted this current adventurism?”
Elder? As in—two? And with the same mother? Surely with his mother! He would be very upset if his father ended the contract with his mother and she went away. And Uncle Tatiseigi would be furious.
“No, honored Father. Is the mother my mother?”
“The same,” his father said, immediately relieving him of one huge concern.
“Am I to have a brother?” That could be good or bad. He had no idea. It could be fun.
“Or a sister,” his father said.
Among humans, one apparently had a way of telling. But either was important news. It affected his place in the world, but not too much, since the parentage was all the same two clans, Ragi and his mother’s Ajuri clan.
And having a baby of the same heritage might divert his mother and his great-uncle from excessive worry about him, which could be good.
But—
—which would not be good—
Great-grandmother would have another greatgrandchild to fuss over, who would get all the favors.
That was not to be tolerated. That thought got his blood to racing.
He really, really did not want to share Great-grandmother’s attention. Or nand’ Bren’s. He was not going to share. No.
“We would rather have told you under calmer circumstances,” his father said, “and we would have done so in very short order, in fact, so you would not hear it first from other sources. But you left the capital.”
“Does Great-grandmother know it?”
A snort. “There is nothing your great-grandmother fails to know. Study that woman’s information-gathering. It is highly efficient.”
“She did not know we were going into a trap at Kajiminda.”
His father flung up a hand. “Say no more on that score! One has heard quite enough of that argument!”
He bowed, not knowing what had annoyed his father, but he was sure that something had, something to do with that incident.
And whatever it was, it had nothing to do with the truly important fact—namely that his parents were having another baby.
That possibly made him a little less valuable to some people. It meant if someone did away with him, his father would still have an heir. He supposed that was a good thing.
It meant somebody else would be available for people to watch and fuss over, which was definitely good. His father only had so many security resources. And that meant more freedom for him.
But it also meant he had to be better, in everything, or people would say his sib was better, which was already unfair.
It meant he was going to have to work and stay ahead forever. Or else. That was a threat . . . a threat a lot more personal than the Marid posed by shooting at him. He never, ever wanted anybody to say his younger sib was better than him at anything.
Great-grandmother said if he was able to deal with the Edi because of meeting them and talking to them, that would be an asset for the future. And he was very sure that if they could settle the Marid’s ambitions that would be an asset for everybody’s future.
And he was not going to give up any assets he had. Not now. Not with competition on the way.
“Your great-grandmother says you can use common sense when you understand a danger is real,” his father said in that no-nonsense voice he had. “One suggests you consider that the danger in this entire district is quite real.”
“One has very well comprehended that, honored Father.”
“Continue to comprehend it,” his father said. “And obey knowledgeable elders!”
He was going to get to stay! “Yes,” he said triumphantly—but not too triumphantly. Nothing was safe until his father actually left him here in his great-grandmother’s keeping. And then he could do things to secure his future and the aishidi’tat’s. He would be important. He would make himself important—given a head start.
“Behave!” his father said, and he bowed and his father nodded an end to the matter and that was that. His father left, taking his bodyguard with him, and he—
He looked at his intimates, his aishid, his bodyguard, who had necessarily heard all that exchange. He was gratified to see they all looked very respectful, even impressed . . . even Lucasi and Veijico, who were complete snobs about everything. He had come off rather well in that exchange, he thought, except being surprised by the information that he had a sib coming.
Still, one’s aishid had to be privy to moments like that. And they had to keep quiet about what they knew. It was part of what they were.
“We need information, nadiin-ji,” he said. “We need to know what my father said to my great-grandmother, for one, and to nand’ Bren. Find out.”
Jegari and Antaro were equal with Veijico and Lucasi in that mission: the two young Taibeni, who had reasonable access and credit with house staff, were able to get things from the servants, who heard almost everything. And the two newcomers, being real Guild, could gather information among senior Guild in the house. Both sets looked at him very soberly.
And then they dispersed, Antaro leaving Jegari on duty with him, and Veijico leaving Lucasi with him. Two sources, two kinds of inquiries—neither leaving him alone with the other for a moment—because the two halves of his aishid were not in good agreement.
That was the problem his father had given him along with his two real Guild members.
Well, that was all right. At least all his bodyguards were primarily his, not spies for Great-uncle, for his father, or even for Great-grandmother, and he would work it out. Veijico and Lucasi would take orders: they had said so, and they had better mean it.
He had been doing some talking with the two new members of his aishid over the last couple of days, and he had arrived at a fair understanding of their position. They were good, they did understand Guild operations, and they would take the lead in defense. They had been very frustrated at having to live in the Guild house where nothing ever happened that the seniors did not take care of, and they realized that being attached to him was a great thing, and they looked forward to being in action . . .
But they also understood that they had to take general orders from Antaro and Jegari as the two who best knew his mind on what Great-grandmother would call “staff policy.”
They had readily agreed they would not tell
tales unless they feared he was making a serious, serious mistake—and he was determined not to do that, given their experienced advice. Which he promised to hear, at least, on any important question. He assured them of that, and they seemed happy.
So he had his household in fairly good order. Jegari and Antaro ran staff things and most of the defense planning for the room and all was done by Veijico and Lucasi, who could also get some information out of nand’ Bren’s bodyguard and some even from Great-grandmother’s.
And even his father had had to admit his presence here was an asset to the aishidi’tat, if he was learning things and making a good impression on people. He was proud of that.
So everybody agreed he would stay in nand’ Bren’s house, and he was so happy he could run through the halls shouting. But he did no such thing, because he was being proper.
He would be helpful. He would get the man’chi of the Edi and the Gan, the way Great-grandmother planned, so that someday when he was aiji, he would have the whole coast secure.
The Ragi? They ran the whole aishidi’tat, all the Western Association, and they might be upset with him dealing with the Edi, but they were always arguing about something. One thing he knew for certain: he had Uncle Tatiseigi backing him, which was the Central Clans; and he had Great-grandmother, who was the East; and he was fairly sure of the Isles and the North; and certainly of the Taibeni, who were Jegari and Antaro’s clan; and if he got the Edi, too, then they could flatten the Marid, and nobody was going to overthrow his father’s heir.
No little brother was going to get ahead of him, ever.
3
Tabini-aiji did not pay a visit to Lord Geigi’s nephew Baiji, in the basement. Nor did he linger for tea, let alone lunch.
In the main, Bren could surmise, this had nothing to do with Tabini’s irritation at the local situation, and was entirely due to security concerns and the insistence of his bodyguard. The less time the aiji spent in this chancey region, the better his bodyguard would like it—and, unhappy truth, the better the Edi residents of the area would like it, too. Ragi clan atevi, which the aiji was, moving in with orders and decrees and consequent upheavals and relocations, was the unhappy history of the Ragi clan with the Edi people and their northern cousins the Gan. The Edi district remained as skittish about the aiji’s actions as they were about Marid plots. Tabini, being no fool in such matters, and his guard likewise, they had kept his presence quick and relatively quiet.
What would be noted among the Edi and other observers was that Tabini’s son had stayed, evidently with the blessing of his father, and his grandmother Ilisidi stayed, and the paidhi-aiji stayed, all with their Guild bodyguards, all of them having already established a dialogue with the Edi at some little cost of life and current risk to themselves.
That, Bren hoped, would resonate clear up the coast to the Gan, who were very likely following the proceedings here with some interest.
It would resonate southward, too, around the curve of the coast to the bottom of the continent, where the Marid, that little aggregate of five clans around a deep bay—a little private sea—had strung out a long history of conspiracy, internecine warfare, and general ferment. Members of the aishidi’tat? They were. But enemies of the aishidi’tat? They always had been.
So he could look for his Bujavid apartment back. Soon. The Farai could start packing and take themselves back to the Marid, ending any pretense of negotiations and new agreements for that region. That was one good thing to come out of Tabini’s visit. Given current circumstances, the Farai might get nervous enough to quit the premises without the aiji ever saying a thing. That would be nice.
And under other circumstances, he would intend to be back in the Bujavid in short order—except for the matters he had inadvertently stirred up on the coast, namely the rest of the business that the Farai and their fellow Marid were involved in . . .
Namely the plot to marry into Lord Geigi’s clan and inherit Lord Geigi’s estate—with its property rights and treaty privileges on the west coast.
The defunct Maladesi clan, through which the Farai claimed that prime Bujavid apartment, had also been the previous owners of Najida. One wondered, one truly, truly wondered whatever had made the Farai hesitate to claim the estate as well during Murini’s days in power.
Possibly a little reluctance on the part of Murini, himself from the central clans, to have the Farai, and thus the Marid, get too powerful too fast? The Farai had already claimed the Bujavid apartment. Maybe Murini had rebuffed their more important claim to the old Maladesi west coast estate—or told them to wait for that.
Maybe Murini had had enough common sense not to want to stir up the Edi in his first year in power. If the Edi-Murid feud had gone nova, Murini would have had his most important ally, the Marid, distracted with that old quarrel—and having the Marid’s main force pinned down in a guerilla war would have weakened Murini’s hold on the capital, and thus on the aijinate. It had been rumored, at the time, that Tabini was dead. It had been rumored, at the time, that Tabini’s heir was lost somewhere in the heavens along with the aiji-dowager and the paidhi-aiji and never would come back—but there would have been claimants soon enough, if Murini had at any point looked distracted.
Timing, timing, timing. Contrary to Murini’s expectations, the dowager had returned from space, Tabini had launched his counterattack on Murini, and Murini had gone down to defeat . . . before the Marid had wormed their way into their hearts’ desire . . . namely the west coast.
So—with Murini gone—the Marid had just kept working toward their goal while trying to stall Tabini with promised new agreements. The marriage offer to Baiji predated Tabini’s return to power: so the Marid had been quietly pursuing their objective regardless of who sat in power in Shejidan. Murini might not have known what they were up to, offering Geigi’s foolish nephew a Marid wife, or had turned a blind eye to it because he did not want a public break with his allies.
But certainly the Edi had understood what was going on. The Edi servants in Baiji’s house had found a stream of Marid agents visiting the estate—agents who had set up shop in the township that neighbored the estate. Agents who had evaporated following the failed attempt on the paidhi-aiji’s life—and now were rumored to have set up again.
Tabini’s men were, one hoped, discreetly ferreting out that little nest, which had fled from Kajiminda estate down to Separti Township.
Possibly the Edi people were helping the aiji’s men find those cells—though one doubted it: the Edi historically had blamed the Ragi for the treaty that had lost them their homeland, over on Mospheira, and they had only marginally attached to the aishidi’tat. The old, old resentment had never died, and they particularly did not cooperate with the Assassins’ Guild.
Which made it all the more remarkable that the Edi people had approached both the paidhi and Tabini’s grandmother—herself an Easterner, from another region dragged somewhat unwillingly into the continentspanning modern state.
So Tabini had just paid a personal visit? The Edi would have known it even while it was in progress. The paidhi had absolutely no doubt of that—since there were Edi servants under this roof. They would know, they would be concerned, and they would certainly have an opinion, based on whatever those servants reported, which might well be the whole content of the conversation with Ilisidi—the conversation had hardly been quiet.
Considering the fragility of lines of communication just ever so tentatively reopened, it did seem a good idea to be sure the Edi did not feel the paidhi had been communicating their closer-held secrets to the aiji . . . in a conversation which had been much lower key.
So the paidhi went out into the hall and located, with no trouble at all, his majordomo, Ramaso, who was his most reliable link to the Edi. Ramaso was standing between the servants’ wing and the dining hall, a high traffic area in the house, and a very convenient place to watch who came and went in the main hall: its view included the master suite, the library, the office, the dinin
g hall, and the doors to all the guest suites and formal bath.
Not an accident, that position: Ramaso kept himself informed on all sorts of matters: it was his job to do that. And Ramaso very politely bowed when accosted. His dark face was absolutely innocent of motive, which was to say, expressionless, in the best formal fashion.
“Rama-ji,” Bren said. “This has been an interesting morning.”
“Indeed, nandi.”
“The aiji asked no questions into Edi business. His visit seems a signal, and the aiji’s specific decision not to pull his heir back to Shejidan seems so, too. He knows the contact with the Edi people took place and knows what was said. Tell the Grandmother that. If the Edi wish to meet formally again, their neighbor the paidhi would be willing to come to the village—or we would welcome the Grandmother or her representative here, should she wish.”
Ramaso read him quite well, Bren thought, and signals were not lost on him. A hint of expression touched the mouth and sparkled favorably in age-lined amber eyes. “Very good, nandi.”
Signals. One of the things at issue in the district was the dowager’s suggestion that the Edi should seek a lordship of their own, and establish themselves, after two hundred years of limbo, as a recognized presence in the Ragi-dominated legislature. There would certainly be a bit of a fuss about it, when the aishidi’tat had to accommodate a new presence and new interests—but there it was. That was the situation which Tabini had walked in on, and only mildly mentioned, in his dealings with his grandmother. It was the aiji’s lack of comment, ergo tacit acceptance, that needed to be communicated to the Edi.
Others of the staff, too, had witnessed the meeting and knew exactly what they had seen and heard. Ramaso had had his clarification on that. But it was not the only issue the aiji had brought into the household.
Deceiver: Foreigner #11 Page 4