Conspirator

by C. J. Cherryh

  He got up from the console to go meet the aiji’s men, and, of the two, it was Algini that got up to go with him, though Tano had started to do so, until the two exchanged a glance. That was unusual: Algini was not the one who dealt with social situations; but Algini had been, until his apparent resignation from the post, very high in the Guild. In a personnel question, Algini knew faces, knew names, knew the current man’chi of individuals in the Guild in a way even Banichi did not.

  He didn’t question, just headed down the straight central hall to the group at the front door, a cluster of black uniforms like an incoming storm front, contrasted against the lighter colors of staff—Ramaso among the latter group. Among the Guild who had arrived, there was luggage, presumably belonging to the ones who were now assigned here.

  Bren approached. The visiting Guildsmen, four of them, were standing with Cenedi and Nawari. They bowed, and the seniormost visitor handed him a folder.

  “Nand’ paidhi,” Cenedi said, “these are close associates of Jaidiri-nadi: Elidari and Nadrasi, of the Guild.”

  Jaidiri was Tabini’s chief of security: these two were the highest level currently in the field, very likely.

  “Nadiin,” Bren said with a courteous nod, “the house is honored.”

  “Nand’ paidhi—” The one who spoke would be the senior of the elder set, and also the one Cenedi would have named first. Elidari: a man of about middle years, smallish as Taibeni tended to be, quick-eyed and all business. “The aiji sends two persons whose man’chi is in no doubt: Vejico and Lucasi, sister and brother, of the Guild. They will attach to the heir.”

  No ifs, ands, buts, or “if the dowager pleases.” Damned sure the paidhi-aiji wasn’t in a position to object, even if Algini should give him some sign in the negative.

  The other pair, the younger set, bowed. They looked typical young Guild: athletic, slim, the both of them, bright-eyed, early twenties, Bren judged.

  “The young gentleman is resting,” Bren said, “but staff will direct you to his quarters, which he shares with two others. Be welcome to this house.”

  “Nandi.” A third bow, in exact unison, somewhat disconcerting. And they picked up their luggage, each bringing two heavy bags.

  “Ramaso,” Bren said, indicating that the major domo should see to that matter, and that group moved off about their business.

  “Nandi.” A bow from the senior pair.

  The Guild did not expect tea and ceremony. They did what they did and they departed. The door shut.

  “This team is,” Algini said, “good. One had no idea they had attached to a house.”

  Cenedi regarded him somberly. “Not Taibeni.”

  “From the mountains. Their training continued during the Troubles, under Ajien.”

  Clearly Cenedi knew the name, and was suitably impressed.

  He thought of the various hand-picked tutors and several security arrangements that had gone over the horizon already.

  It didn’t mean the young gentleman would be grateful.

  Or polite.

  “Let us hope,” Bren said, “things go smoothly.”

  “Let us hope,” Cenedi said with a dour expression.

  They all knew how that might go.

  16

  “Nandi,” Jegari said, or Cajeiri thought he said, and pulled his head off the pillow to find out.

  In fact it was Jegari, looking anxious. And Jegari would not waken him on a whim. It was still daylight out, though the room was dark, what staff called the storm shutters were still in place, only admitting slits of daylight. But he could see, all the same.

  “We have not overslept,” he said. He was sure of that. And then anxiety crowded after: “Mani is all right?”

  “The dowager is asleep, one believes, nandi,” Jegari said, “but your father the aiji has sent two guards to stay with us. One believes they have been assigned.”

  His father had sent guards.

  He pulled himself up to a sitting position. “When are they coming?”

  “They are here, nandi. Nand’ Bren sent them in.”

  He could deal with Uncle Tatiseigi’s men. He had been threatened with his Ajuri-clan grandfather’s gift of guards, which mani had said were far too little skilled. He had mani’s guards sometimes, Nawari and Casari and others, and they were all right: he greatly favored Nawari, who let him do things.

  But somebody from his father?

  He got up. “Assist, ’Gari-ji.” He could call servants to help him muster a decent appearance, but all that would have to go past whoever was waiting out there, and would indicate that he had been found without a decent appearance. He helped Jegari find an unrumpled shirt, and he put that on, and his morning trousers were acceptable. He got into those, and put his boots on, while Jegari took out the rust-brown coat he had been wearing for breakfast, which he had not spilled anything on. It was good. He used that, and sat down and let Jegari braid his queue and tie on a fresh ribbon, the Ragi red and black.

  The mirror showed him a fair figure of authority. He trusted in it and walked out to confront the latest offering from adults in charge of his life.

  They were young. Not too much older than Jegari and Antaro, and one was a girl, kind of nice-looking in Guild black. But he didn’t want appearances to get past his guard. They bowed. He bowed.

  “Nandi,” the girl said, “my name is Vejico. My brother is Lucasi. You are entitled to know: we are fifth-level Guild.”

  Impressive. He knew that much; and was not supposed to talk about it.

  “Your father the aiji has sent us, expressing the hope that you may find our service acceptable.”

  No one had ever asked his opinion. That was a definite improvement.

  And clearly now, in their silence, his opinion was called for. “Vejico and Lucasi, this is Jegari, and this is Antaro, out of Taiben.”

  Bows all around, Jegari’s and Antaro’s that degree deeper that acknowledged authority.

  “You may know,” Cajeiri said, in his father’s tones, and his great-grandmother’s, “this house is the house of Lord Bren, the paidhi-aiji, who is our closest associate; and we came under attack last night by Southerners who have taken over the neighboring estate, which belongs to Lord Geigi, who is Lord Bren’s and my great-grandmother’s close associate. Lord Geigi’s nephew Baiji is at fault for his associations, and Lord Bren and my great-grandmother have him locked in the basement, and we are supposed to visit Najida village tonight to ask the Edi where the Edi are who used to serve Lord Geigi. Baiji—my great-grandmother says he is not to be given any title—says the Edi just went away, but Baiji has lied even to my great-grandmother, so he is not to be believed.”

  He left off there, not to be seen to run on with his sentences, which Great-grandmother said was a sign of poor self-control and afterthoughts. But it was a fair account. He thought he had given it well.

  And he was gratified to see two deep and solemn bows.

  “Nandi,” the girl said, evidently the older of the pair, “we would be honored to provide security tonight, respecting the efforts of Jegari-nadi and Antaro-nadi.”

  Oh, that was nicely phrased, and polite to Jegari and Antaro, who did not have the credentials even to let them wear the Guild uniform.

  “We shall see,” he said. Ultimately, he knew he was going to have to have more than Jegari and Antaro. But he had planned to pick them, and not to have spies that would stop him from everything—especially very good spies.

  “Your father says, nandi,” Lucaso said with a little bow, “that a sense of humor is requisite for this post. And we are not to report small irregularities, only to be sure nothing is broken, no one is hurt, and that you are not locked in somebody’s basement.”

  He stared at Lucaso in consternation, astonished that he had just heard anything so outrageous.

  “Should you, for instance, nandi,” Vejico said, “take out on such an adventure, we shall have to report you have left the capital, but we would stay with you. We will not, however,
use Guild tactics, except defensively, in abetting your escape. Your father says you should rely on your own ingenuity and do nothing in excess of what you can do successfully on your own.”

  He became aware his mouth was open—and shut it. He had suspected his father of many things, but a sense of humor was not one of them.

  He supposed he blushed. And then he scowled—became aware he was scowling, and decided it was what mani would do, but then he recalled something else mani had told him: when someone surprises you, rethink what you know about that person until it is not a surprise.

  Mani had said his father had been difficult.

  “Well,” he said as if he had always had it figured out, “one should not be surprised. We may get along. And that will make mani mad, and Great-uncle mad, and Grandfather. Everything I do makes somebody mad. So you should get used to it.”

  They looked a little surprised, themselves. Antaro and Jegari were standing over against the door and met his glance with a little handsign from Jegari. All right, that meant. Jegari was fine. Probably Antaro was.

  So.

  There had been no explosions from the young gentleman’s quarters. The dowager was asleep, beneficially so, Bren hoped, and no one wished to disturb her.

  The arrival was, however, worrisome—not least because he wanted the meeting tonight to go well, and wanted no cause of suspicion in the interference of Ragi-directed Guild inside Najida—never mind Banichi and Jago had come from Tabini’s household: that was years past, and this was current, while Ragi Guild sat in what had been the key holding on the peninsula, namely Kajiminda. Double-crossed a dozen times in recent history, the Edi had been very specific in their invitations, were probably very upset at the fate of Lord Geigi’s estate, and he wanted to calm that situation down, and get the Edi back, not drive them further away.

  Banichi and Jago had slept through the mild commotion, or at least declined to stir forth, relying on Algini and Tano to keep him out of trouble. And when they did wake, in late afternoon, their only comment on the business of the two arrivals was, from Banichi, a “Good choice.”

  Well, he thought. That was encouraging. That there was still total silence from the young gentleman’s premises—that was encouraging.

  “One hesitates to observe,” Tano said mildly, “that the young gentleman may now have Guild assistance in his mischief.”

  Bren looked his way. Algini remained fixed on his boards, taking some sort of note, and speaking to someone, and Tano did not elaborate. Banichi and Jago had opted for an off-schedule lunch, and had gone out to see to that. So he had no word from them, either. But he gathered that the two newcomers had a certain reputation, and Algini did not bestir himself to deny it, only to say that they were very good.

  Interesting, Bren thought.

  Word from the dock was, currently, that repairs had a bit to go. The Brighter Days might be fit for sea tomorrow, not tonight. They had her hauled over so they could come at an underwater patch, and that was still in progress—besides which the disorder that made inside the boat despite closed lockers and tight storage he could only imagine.

  It also meant there was no safe quarters for Toby and Barb aboard the boat.

  “Get Toby,” he said, and it took a while, but Toby himself came on with:

  “Hello, brother. What’s up?”

  “Nothing, I hope, but I understand you’re boatless for the night and we’re bedding people in the hallways up here. Can I ask you and Barb to bed aboard my boat for the night and report up to the house for breakfast in the morning?”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Toby sounded cheerful: work on the boat did that for him. “If I get any phone calls, you’ll tell me.”

  “Certainly I will. I imagine the kid’s fine by now. They bounce, at that age. But I’ll call you at whatever hour if there’s any emergency.”

  “You take care up there tonight. You think there’s any chance those guys are coming back for another try?”

  “Never can tell. But we’ve gotten everything fixed that has to be and we’re fine with that.” He didn’t mention to Toby about going down to the village. It was a phone, it wasn’t that secure, and he didn’t want to advertise his movements in any degree. “Things are settling. I just want to be sure you and Barb are comfortable.”

  “Couldn’t be better. We’re all over glue and paint. Happy as we can be.”

  He grinned. “Great. Come up for a sendoff tomorrow, all right?”

  “Deal,” Toby said, and signed off.

  On any other day, he’d figure he’d had a day at that point, and take to his study—which was occupied at the moment—and sip tea and do his correspondence.

  On this particular day he hadn’t even started his day’s work, which entailed kitting up in something suitable and—

  “Are we taking the truck to the village, Tano-ji?”

  “The bus is beyond repair, nandi.”

  “One would prefer a healthful walk,” he said with a sigh, “but probably the truck is the better idea.”

  “We shall insist on it,” Tano said.

  He was quite sure they would. And considering the dowager’s state of exhaustion—it was an even better idea.

  “Get some rest yourselves,” he said. “All of you. I shall take Koharu and Supani and figure out my wardrobe for the evening—we shall have supper as we can, and then we shall be needing the truck, Tano-ji. I leave it to you.”

  “It will be there,” Tano said, not objecting to his leaving in search of Koharu and Supani—no, Tano went with him to the hall, and, once he had passed orders for the pair he wanted, to his suite. Tano stood by, pleasant and affable, while he and his dressers took account of the wardrobe; and while those two consulted with Ramaso, and Ramaso himself came to fuss over the problem.

  Simple beige coat, little lace, but enough to be respectful: a country gentleman, with the paidhi-aiji’s white ribbon for his queue, not the grandiose black with stars.

  And when he turned out for dinner, to meet Ilisidi and the young gentleman and his enlarged company, the dowager had chosen simple black with a great deal of lace; and the young gentleman was nicely turned out in a brown coat with his hair done up with a smallish blackand-red ribbon, the colors of his father’s house, but not extravagantly displayed. Ramaso had been behind that, he would almost bet. The dowager had her own sense of proprieties.

  And she was, Bren was glad to see, energetic and bright-eyed, perfectly herself, plying her cane as she entered the dining room with Cenedi, taking her place at one end of the table, while Bren with Tano and Algini in attendance—Banichi and Jago were taking their ease at the console in quarters, and doubtless doing a little touchup on the evening’s arrangements—took the other end of the table, and settled with minimal flourish and fuss.

  A small dinner, he had ordered, and a single glass of wine, followed by water. Mental acuity would be a very good idea this evening.

  The young gentleman settled in, with his entourage attending, the two newcomers quite stiff and proper.

  And: “The paidhi may have noticed the addition to my great-grandson’s company,” the dowager said. “Do you approve, paidhi-aiji?”

  “My approval is neither here nor there, aiji-ma.”

  “Ha!” Ilisidi said, and picked up her water glass. “My interfering grandson.”

  “He has, however, assured that your staff will be protecting you, aiji-ma, which pleases all of us who—”

  “Shameless,” the dowager said. “We shall watch this carefully,” she added with a sharp look toward the nearer of the pair in question, who affected not to have heard a thing. “And we starve ourselves this evening, one trusts, with the promise of a small offering before we retire.”

  “If the dowager is in appetite for a sweet and a cup of tea when we return, one is very certain the kitchen will be delighted.”

  “Oh, give us an argument, nand’ paidhi. Everyone is agreeing and dodging. Probably these two are a politic choice and we shall have some of
those cream pastries, shall we?”

  “Granted a felicitous outcome tonight, aiji-ma, one will be extremely delighted to argue with you over pastries.”

  Dinner consisted of a good chowder and whole grain crackers, a small glass of wine, and a fruit compote . . . by no means up to the dowager’s usual standard, except she had a second bowl of chowder.

  And by then it was toward dark, and they had only time to gather up essentials and to go out to the portico, where the village truck had pulled up to take them down to the village.

  But not just the village truck. Someone had wired substantial iron sheets to the wooden sides. It was the cab that was the more exposed to fire; and consequently their security proposed to put their principals on a small bench roped in place within the truck bed, and to have Nawari drive, with Cenedi and Banichi up front, and the rest all behind, under cover.

  “This is ridiculous!” was the dowager’s protest. “We shall be bruised from head to foot.”

  “We shall sit by you, mani,” Cajeiri said. “We shall not let you fall.”

  “Impudent youngster! We do not fall off a mecheita going cross-country. We hardly plan to fall off a bench on a graded road!”

  Cenedi had climbed aboard, and, standing over the small iron ladder that was welded to the back bumper, offered his hands. Ilisidi climbed gamely up, pulled aboard, and, cane in hand, stalked over to take her seat on the wooden bench, while Cajeiri scrambled up, with a shove from Jegari from below.

  “Just wait until your bones carry a certain number of years, great-grandson! You will appreciate the discomfort of a bare bench and truck springs!”

  “One is certain, mani. But one is certain Nawari will be careful.”

  Bren climbed up, just behind Jago, who reached down to haul him aboard. He took the end of the bench, where, indeed, he could assist the dowager if they did hit a pothole.